On the completion of Life

What is the problem? The problem is, remains, always-and-already one of time. The problem is, I have so much I wish to do, craving in a fervent spirit to engage the world in endlessly flourishing ways. Of course, I hope to record the album that perhaps touches a soul or two. I would like to eventually write something toward the existential, perhaps a formal book, perhaps a novel, perhaps both. I yearn to spend my days simply walking through the days of Autumn, crunching the dry leaves and watching the excitement of another school year in some small town in which I now reside. I hope to find God, maybe have a heart-to-heart with Him.

In my golden years, withered and wise, will I collapse into an old rocking chair with a sigh, relieved but exhausted to finally have completed life's rich endeavors? I doubt it! Will a time surface when life has been "finished" and the lush valley of "relaxing" can begin? Unlikely. The problem remains, always-and-already, that life is incomplete by nature. The difficulty is living into this, in spite of this. Then again, is this really the "problem" of life? Or, rather, is it that incompleteness which gives life, makes it full? Is being incomplete and finite a cosmic curse, or is it a Divine blessing?

Fellow travelers,

My apologies for not being more present to the blog. Appalled when viewing the date of my last entry, I feel ashamed for my existential abandonment of this blog. I am here, still existing. I am in the midst of much school turmoil, but shall return, and soon. I promise.

Slimming the crowd?

For perhaps those small few who may happen upon this blog or even read semi-regularly, I find no way to cleverly mask my own manner-of-being, who and how I am, those elements in which I believe and live toward passionately. I realize I am attempting to keep this blog anonymous, which conflicts a tad with my last statement. Nevertheless, as an ultimately unique life, I see no point in remaining "politically correct," but rather perceive much use in existing as a transparent soul, into which one can see and ask easily.

That being said, I must address an argument imposed upon other living beings (humans and other animals alike). That is, I tire of being informed of the "overpopulation" of some creatures. As some may realize, this frequently arises within the context of the hunting season, which for some creatures and some regions exists incessantly. "We are really doing society a benefit here, there is just too dern many of them," they state. Thanks for the favor guys. Nonetheless, I continually fail to find killing other living, soulful beings for sport a favor for any loving piece of this thing we call life. This is, however, not my argument...

My argument resides in the utilization of the concept of "overpopulation." It simply does not work and breaks down rapidly. Overpopulation implies the existence of a "correct" population. If such is the case, who determines the correct population? Us humans, the reigners-supreme of the world? Unfortunately, such an approach rests upon an unfounded assumption of superiority. From what source did we gain the keys to Gaia's kingdom? Even from a theological perspective, about which I am very interested, such an interpretation is either literalism or is a questionable reading of Biblical text. For instance, many translations utilize the word "steward" in regards to the relationship between animals and humans. Utterly regardless, though, humans have received no formal statement of the proper balance of humans:animals. There is no "objectively correct" ratio. For Christian individuals, look to the compassionate St. Francis of Assisi as a model. He treasured animals as God's children, preaching them, giving thanks for them, caring for them, and instructing that they too give thanks for their existence.Let us lightly put down the theological/biblical element for a moment, though.

Let us pretend we are wandering, random humans. As our suburbs devastatingly move into the surrounding countryside, we realize, "Oh no! The deer, they are eating all of our flowers!" The response? "Clearly, there is an overpopulation problem." I inquire, what does that mean? There are too many? That, again, implies an objectively correct or preferable number of animals, an optimal number at which animals properly exist. Anything beyond this is just being greedy on their part, right? Rubbish. Do deers exist merely for our sport? Do cows exist simply to provide the ingredients for steak? Are puppies bestowed upon us by the universe to entertain us and obey us. Spiritual or not, I challenge such thoughts. (If I don't have you on board with this, read below entries) From a purely scientific lens, if we have been "lucky" (for randomness/chance is all then it could be, scientifically) enough to exist as humans and not the fly you swat, there still remains no universally correct number of animals. If it is all a universal mistake, how could there be any Truth, any "correct" manner of living, in which animals must be regulated? If you find faith in a transmigration-based belief, then again, is not your humanness a blessing? If you were once the annoying fly, would you wish to be casually swatted out of existence?

We, humans, continually pilfer land from them, decrying their trespassing upon our new backyard when they need to search farther for food. "Overpopulation" remains a human-made, a socially-constructed, concept. It is not real, it is an abstraction, behind which absolutely nothing exists. Animals are more populated than we would most benefit, or like them to be? What a dangerous world would unearth if all annoyances were instantly acted upon, yes? To animals, I am sure we are overpopulated, for we steal land, hunt for pleasure, farm, control, imprison animals without remorse. Planet of the Apes regularly seems silly, as dirty humans are kept in zoos. If you view the reality of what we do to other living, feeling, loving creatures, it is actually rather harrowing.

Relational, Phenomenological Animalism

Sorry for my extended absence... I have some good thoughts to get out in the coming month or so ... here is a quick tidbit

Buber illustrates eloquently the allowance of an other to be, as they are fully, freely, and recognized as a distinct and whole entity. He contrasts this well with “reflexion,” the tendency to merely acknowledge one’s existence as “part of myself.” That is, one’s worth becomes measured and determined solely through an individual’s use to the other person. The being is not worthy simply as a consequence of living; rather, one approaches in a “what use are you to me” manner. In any case, I recognize well the struggle to not consider others in such a way. Generally enfolded into the umbrella of selfishness, it remains easy (or lazy) to consider another’s worth to myself; effortful is the intention of allowing the whole of an other as is.

My relational situations with animals yields an interesting example of the above. My girlfriend and I have a dog, actually it is her dog, Steve. He is a very small, all-black Yorkie. Admittedly, my affection toward him has grown intensely and immeasurably. I love him dearly. Growing up, a dog was ever-present in the household. That is, I always felt I “knew” dogs pretty well. As my own existential journey and accompanying questions grow, however, so do my existential considerations toward animals. That is, I wonder of what they think. Do they wonder of their plight, their mortality, their forced submission to humans? With this increasingly on my mind, I am about walking Steve, an extremely loving and nervous creature, with my girlfriend’s sister in tow, visiting from out of town.

She views Steve’s “poor” and “undisciplined” behavior, such as walking around corners before his master and running quickly to the end of his leash, and begins to offer advice. “He is handling you,” she exclaims. “You have to show him you are the leader of the pack.” At one point in my life, I may have heeded such offerings, continuing to behaviorally modify my animals. As I continue to envision animal’s existential throwness, including attempts at sympathetically imagining myself in similar facticities, I can become saddened, at the leash constricting their movement and at the walls surrounding their existence. In essence, while I treasure their presence and its benefits to me, I increasingly experience a deep remorse regarding my own hand in their captivity. In essence, I am saddened by their lack of freedom. Therefore, when inviting advice from the future sister-in-law, I felt dissent. Compliance from the other (in this case, little Steve) no longer exists as my goal. No longer is the aim to solely possess him for gain. Within his terribly constricted existence, which I do believe he enjoys with me at times, can I offer him additional freedoms? Indeed, sometimes when he pulls at the leash so hard I become annoyed. More frequently, though, if I run with him when he does this, simulating a freedom-from-leash-ed-ness, I smile and laugh at his delightful and joy-filled run. Increasingly, when safe, I let him off the leash and walk with him.

See You Soon

While I hesitate to offer a broad generalization to humanity (or moreso to life in general), saying “goodbye” to another is beyond a mere difficulty or struggle. That is, rarely have I encountered the infrequent event of one individual saying goodbye to another. “Bye” and goodbye’s of a sort exist and happen all the time, no doubt. But one person, offering to another person, a final statement of departure – an acknowledgment that I will never see you again in this life – is so truly rare. Yet, how often does one encounter such a situation, where one wholeheartedly realizes that paths will not cross again? My guess is frequently. Many of these, perhaps, are mere chance crossings in life that personally and internally matter very little. A distant cousin you have met at a family reunion, for example. Still, consider the “goodbye” occurring between the two individuals. “Good talking to you. I’m sure I’ll run into you again.” “So great to meet you, your Uncle has my e.mail, so just get in touch sometime.” Are you sure, though, that you will run into them again? I propose (although wary of blanketing such a statement, while realizing I am anyway) that such statements and manners of leaving or ending-in-the-world are delays or avoidances of truly acknowledging the gravity of the moment. Am I guilty of this? Of course! For instance, when I encounter the occasional “Have a nice life!” comment, I think to myself how odd this person is. Yet, is he/she being more honest than myself?

So, what is it? Why the reluctance? I argue or posit that this tendency results from the natural being-fear of finitude, temporality, mortality. To say goodbye with the heart and meaning of the word in mind is to recognize endings, that our time with others will end, that we will cease to be. I think of those rare instances where I have seen or imagined “real” goodbyes: standing with a beloved pet as they are ‘put down,’ watching his eyes looking into mine and asking many questions, or perhaps worse, having no idea they will never open again. Watching his breathing slow and finally cease. This, to me, is ultimately sad. I get teary-eyed merely thinking about it, every time. Similarly, I recall wondering every time I bid farewell to my Grandpa if that was the last. Then, I begin to wonder if, honestly, I will see them again, in any life. A number of religions offer the promise of reunion, and I find comfort. Yet as faith is not steadfast certainty, I ponder such afterlife meetings. That is, I pose the most terrifying question of all: Am I just duping myself into comfort because I’m so horrified of not seeing these beings again? Because I’m so afraid of saying goodbye, for the final time. I hope not. I pray not.

Do-Gooder

Yes, defending altruism's legitimate existence remains a difficult argument in which to engage. Undoubtedly, those arguments illuminating the intangible gains of helping another seem nothing-but-true. That is, it is a difficult task to say altruism exists, and we humans are not perpetually selfish.

Perhaps you are thinking, "this is a worn-out argument." Is it, though? This philosophical, psychological, evolutionary-scientific argument would basically "decide" whether or not the human species (and other animal species, for that matter) are ultimately selfish, or are granted the freedom to break loose from hedonism should we so desire.

So, what about Neuroscience's evidence on the matter? Engaging in an action that benefits another while detracting from oneself apparently activates the Mesolimbic system of the brain: the brain's basic reward system. This is the same system implicated in drug-taking behavior. So is this evidence of our selfishness? I don't think so. Engaging in an action merely to benefit yourself from it - and doing a good deed "just because" and benefiting from a sense of wellbeing as pleasant side effect are two different things entirely. Just because one benefits does not mean they acted simply to gain a reward of sorts.

Perhaps a new argument (perhaps not, I don't know) is that from the view of one who believes altruism does not exist. Does this individual (the non-believer) gain from an altruistic act? Maybe if they aren't directly contemplating the fact that they will gain from such an event, then they do. Then, as a consequence of a thoughtful act, they are bestowed with good will (or endorphins or dopamine). This unearths several questions:
1.) What was the motivation, then? Are we posing altruism as some "unconscious" act, where our body secretly knows (that sneaky body of ours) that we will revel in some warmthy goodness if we do some good deed, so it urges us along to do it without informing our "conscious mind." Wow. That is kind of hardcore for an element that is not physiologically needed for survival. Okay, but if we aim in bettering another through the sacrifice of our own self without knowledge of its benefits, is that not an ultimately selfless act? If we are not consciously aimed toward a "prize," aren't we by definition engaging in altruism?
So follow me...
2.) If one knowingly aims to aid another because they expect to feel good as a consequence, do they actually garner a warm emotional-soulful sensation? Does the warmth only follow one's intention to receive nothing in return for the giving of one's self? Instead, does one feel ashamed for having done something "good" only to ultimately better their own being?

I think it boils down to freedom. We may engage in a selfless act. It may be rewarding. Ultimately, though, we don't have to. Sometimes we give. Sometimes that is enough.

living in injustice

Some die young, very young. I was reading an article written by a father grieving his 4-year-old son's death, recounting the horrific pain. Regularly (but not always - obviously), parents decry the injustice of the world, what Irvin Yalom phrases "cosmic indifference." Not that I think Yalom has hit the nail on the head, either. Admittedly, I frequently read similar stories and feel very removed or distanced from the occurrence. It personally surfaces as a rare event. And statistically speaking, it is. We have average lifespans, for instance. That is, I am supposed to live longer, older than I am now.

So now, I am to have a right to live the "average" length? It seems natural, human almost, to consider that fair; I deserve to live until...oh say 70 at least. A tragic accident or congenital disease would arise as unexpected and unfair.

But nature happens, put simply. We watch it befall animals regularly. Tragic but regularly accepted (on another day, I will address my thoughts on animals' precarious situation). So why the anger toward the cosmos, toward the transcendent, toward God? If nature favors none, and "the fit survive" (a harrowing thought, I think), at whom are we angry? Becoming enraged with a larger entity or Divine implies a pull, a sensation, or a belief in an order. Do we attack the unjust and absurdity of the universe because, in our hearts, we feel a larger presence than our own? Perhaps.

exercising death

Undergoing unique professional training, I engage in a number of exercises designed to engender self-reflection and existential growth. A month or so ago, our class did a "death exercise," which explored our thoughts and wishes in regards to our own personal passing. A horrific or senseless assignment? Not at all. On the contrary, it directly confronts the unmentionable: we all face mortality.

One of the most fascinating and burdensome aspects of the assignment surfaced when we were asked how we preferred to die. For example, there were options of "short painful" or "unexpectedly but painless" or "long and painless." Essentially, there was a polar opposite for each choice. My first instinct brought me to "long and painless" ... to know ahead of time, possess time to accomplish existential meaning because I would be aware of such an inevitable fate. Indeed, those diagnosed with cancer frequently garner an empowerment toward life and consequently live passionately.

But I am already aware of my inevitable fate. A diagnosis may simply shorten the clock (then again, maybe not, who knows). Additionally, it would bring death to the forefront of existence. Being fully cognizant of death right now, why do I need a diagnosis to live passionately? I have a diagnosis: as a human, I will die. Thus, a seemingly simple exercise wrapped my mind and spirit in tangles. Ultimately, I believe I was pulled toward an "easy" route out: no pain, and plenty of time to really dig into life. The difficulty remains in living passionately now, regardless, simply out of appreciation for being. "Life can longer be postponed"