Religion's not the problem, zealotry is

As I said the last time, human beings are neither inherently good nor evil, and the world is in the shape it is because we have allowed it to be as it is. We have a say in how the world is. We don't take our own voice seriously, and more often than not, we believe things to be a certain way, when maybe they're not that way at all.

Our debate on terrorism, to take but one example, has turned into one of religious bigotry, and as is so often the case, those screaming the loudest know least about why they're screaming. We humans like to think we know a lot of things, but in the end, we know very little. We believe much more than we know and when we believe long and hard enough, we make religions out of things when and where we least expect it.

Sometimes it's more than worth the effort to stop believing for a moment, to take a step back and think, but even more importantly, reflect on why you think the world is a particular way. Serious reflection never hurt anybody.

Religion, believe it or not, is a good example, because it is the one subject the world over that you're never supposed to talk about in polite company. Why? Because it is very fundamental to how we understand the world to be, whether we are aware of what we believe or not. There's an old saying, "Feelings tell us what to think." And what we believe most often drives what we feel.

Since I'm going to be using the world "religion" a lot in this post, I think it only fair that you know what I mean when I use the term. Now, you can think what you want about Wikipedia, but given that I'm looking for a fitting description, not an authoritative statement, I think it's perfectly legitimate to draw on it in this case. The first paragraph on the relevant page reads:

Religion is a cultural system of behaviors and practices, world views, sacred texts, holy places, ethics, and societal organization that relate humanity to what an anthropologist has called "an order of existence".[1] Different religions may or may not contain various elements, ranging from the "divine",[2] "sacred things",[3] "faith",[4] a "supernatural being or supernatural beings"[5] or "... some sort of ultimacy and transcendence that will provide norms and power for the rest of life."[6]

The key is that religion is "designed", if you will, to help us understand why things are the way they are and why life is the way it is. The "system" side of it includes behaviors, practices, special texts, and societal organizations, among others, though we can agree that these are probably the most important aspects overall.

The nice thing about having such a comprehensive description is that you can apply it to any number of observed phenomena and ask yourself whether what you're dealing with could be considered, in this case, a religion or not. The results can be quite surprising.

Let's take something that's on a lot of people's minds these days: capitalism. Is it just a economic theory, or has it become more than that? Let's see:

It is certainly a "cultural system" (we love to distinguish us from them in terms of it). There are definite behaviors associated with it, such as reducing discussions to economic terms, making money the basis of all valuation, consumerism; and practices, e.g., speculation, stock-market activity, and marketing/advertising; and world views, for example, there is no such thing as society (cf. Thatcher on this one), or simply, there is no alternative. It has sacred texts: Smith's Wealth of Nations is comparable to the Old Testament; Friedman's Capitalism and Freedom, perhaps the New, if we compare it to Christianity. It has special, particularly revered places like Wall Street, the City (in London), and Frankfurt. It has a notion of divinity (the Almighty Dollar), sacred things (stocks, speculative instruments of all kinds not meant for the masses), and while it is silent on the topic of supernatural beings, it does like to think its principles describe the natural order of things. It most certainly, as attested to by its most ardent devotees, a "sort of ultimacy and transcendence that will provide norms and power for the rest of life". Capitalism has become, for all intents and purposes, a driving basis for all our lives.

Oh sure, there are branches and denominations here as elsewhere: different central banks can be seen analogously to the Papal See or prime archdioceses. Stock exchanges and bank headquarters take on the role of temples and churches, and stock-holder meetings rival the spectacle of old-time big-tent evangelists. I don't think it's all that far-fetched to maintain that capitalism has become a religion for many people, and probably more people than are willing to admit to it. That doesn't change the reality of the situation.

The things believed in are not any more substantial or "real", to use the everyday word to describe them, than anything any of the major religions have to offer. Buddhism has no supreme being and neither does capitalism.

The similarities go on: all major religions have "founders"; that is personages, mostly historically verified, to whom believers trace their roots, even though those individuals themselves are not adherents to the faith (i.e., Moses wasn't a Jew; Christ wasn't a Christian; Mohammed wasn't a Muslim, Buddha wasn't a Buddhist). And they have a variety of special figures (often termed "holy", though the Hebrew root of this word, QDSh, means, more or less, "set apart") who may be considered minor prophets, saints, or mere holy persons, like Smith (whom we mentioned), Ricardo, Malthus, Say, Marx (comparable to Lucifer elsewhere), Hayek, von Mises, and others. These are "authorities" in the ecclesiastical sense, not just in the literal sense, of the word. Depending on the flavor of your own belief they carry more or less authority of course.

I think I've made my point: We can think of capitalism as a religion. It is possible to frame the discussion such that we can expand our religiously based discussion of "terrorism" in a very unexpected direction, and one that would not be all that absurd. But, that's not where I want to go with this, nor is that where I need to go.

Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Capitalism ... in and of themselves, they just are. They are a set of beliefs, worldviews and practices, etc. that attempt to help us make sense of our lives and the world around us. They are -- and here I'll put it in very mundane, secular terms -- explanatory models of reality.

What is so fascinating about thought experiments like this one is that the deeper you delve, the more fascinating it all becomes. As long as I don't come up with the crazy idea that my way of believing and seeing the world is the only valid way of believing and seeing the world, we don't have a problem. All of these ways are seen for what they are: ways of believing and seeing the world, and in that moment, I can not only recognize and acknowledge that other way of believing and seeing, I have the wonderful opportunity to learn from that different perspective.

Unfortunately, that's not how we seem to function as human beings. Once we find a way that makes sense to us, we start thinking that this is the only valid way of seeing things, of understanding things. That step to exclusivity, to "only my way" is what utterly dumbfounds me. The borderline between a believer and a zealot is a very thin one, to be sure, and what I see is an increasing number of zealots. I think we need to be a bit more careful with our beliefs. Granted, someone who benefits -- or who believes they benefit -- from a particular way of seeing will be inclined to favor that view, but the fear that they have that perhaps taking another view would disadvantage them in some way can only be accepted if one plays through the possible scenarios in order to find out if the fear is justified. That, of course, takes time, energy, and effort, and who is really willing to sacrifice much of any of those these days.

It's not that ignoring them and falling back into one's own belief of correctness can't be accomplished without expending lots of time, energy, and effort. It's hard work defending one's views against others. Unless, that is, you happen to align yourself with a large group of other folks who have bought into the same exclusivity that you have. And that's where we are today. And, when push comes to shove -- and that's unfortunately what happens all to often: we start literally pushing and shoving ... then injuring ... then killing -- we pull out the miserable old might-makes-right stand-by, and things simply go downhill.

My point is that what we appear to be doing is driving the Devil out with Beelzebub. I purposely chose this particular approach via religion because it is religion that appears to be doing most of the driving of our thinking, and I think we're leaving a major player out of the game. In the end, we believe. We don't know, we can't prove, but we've been given the ability to think. I'd like to think we'll start using that ability more not less. And that starts when we become more reasonable, not zealous. My example with capitalism was to show that the frameworks and categories that we simply take for granted can be used to find meaningful avenues of discussion and exchange with others.

For the most part I can't help but think that we're all looking for the same things but have chosen very different words to describe them. Maybe the words aren't what really matters. Think about it.

Meaningless or meaningful: the choice is yours

The astute observer may have noticed, and the wary reader may have suspected, that the last of couple of blog threads were rather oddly intertwined. I say oddly merely because these themes are not often brought into close proximity with each other. Science, religion, a Christian holiday, paradox, politics and business are not often thought about together. We moderns -- especially the more rationally inclined among us -- love to separate, classify, keep apart and compartmentalize. (And if you can believe Bob Altemeyer, which I do, it would seem the authoritarian-minded amongst us are better at this than everyone else. Go figure. But that's another post for another day.) I'm convinced that's one of the reasons I have so much trouble getting anyone to pay attention or listen to what I'm saying: I'm often confusing the issue with the facts, or I'm talking about the other side of a given coin, or ... well, whatever.

Personally, I don't care if you're a hard-over materialist, militant atheist, fundamentalist or evangelical Christian, or simply a go-with-the-crowd-because-if-I-don't-show-up-for-church-on-Sunday-I-won't-have-any-friends believer. Really, it doesn't matter (or, as they used to phrase it where I grew up: it don't make me no nevermind). What you say you believe means very little to me. I'm an action-speaks-louder-than-words type, and what you do (including what you post on Facebook or other social media, whether you participate in demonstrations or boycotts, how you vote or the number of actual notches in your six-gun tell me most of what I need to know.

Yes, the world is full of theories, but we have developed good, sound, reliable, processes and rules for deciding which ones are the ones worth considering. Some call it the scientific method, some call it good-old common sense ... it doesn't matter. In the end, at bottom, when all is said and done, most things simply make sense, or they don't. Lord knows there are lots of people who can live without it, apparently, but I don't happen to be one of them.

There is a difference between whether something makes sense (generally) or whether something makes sense (to me .. and those who think like me). Take Easter, for example: there are those who believe that the Resurrection makes sense. To others, it is a mere myth. As I have never tired of saying, though, myth is more real than most of us like to think and whether a tortured and murdered Jewish rabbi rose from the dead 2,000 years ago is really not the issue. It's what we think it means that makes all the difference in the world. Or, take evolution: there are those who believe it is a fact, others who believe it is a theory, and still others who believe it is a bunch of crap. Theories are not truth, but they can be, and most often are -- good ones, at least -- helpful ways of thinking about things. But, here too, it's what we think it means that makes all the difference. There is, however, just a slight problem here, but it's an important one.

One of those unavoidable paradoxes of life is this one: does our (both personal and collective) existence have any meaning, or is it meaningless? You can't have it both ways. There are consequences -- far-reaching and existential -- to our decision on this matter. If life has meaning, then we have to say why and find a way to explain how things can be as screwed up as they are in this world. If life has no meaning, we can easily explain why the world is as screwed up as it is, but we're going to have a bit of trouble trying to justify why we just don't do whatever we want whenever we want, because in the end, it doesn't matter anyway.

That's the problem. The issue, however, is that if you choose "sense", then you must make clear to me what there is so much nonsense in our world. Are you putting it in, or are you cleaning it up? I have my suspicions, but ...

The root of paradox

To be sure, I'm the last person to claim we live in an either-or world. That's a mistake a lot of people make, though. For too many people these days, if you are not for A, you are automatically -- at least in their minds -- for B. That's ignorance in one of its simplest forms.

In general, between any two extremes, there is an infinite number of shades of gray, so to speak, just as there are an infinite number of numbers beween 0 and 1. Our computer geek wizard friends never tire of their digitality, but it is so limited and artificial, but too many ignorant souls like to think they also have something to say about life in general, but they don't. Not all opposites are digital. For example:

The opposite of "love" is "hate". We have two distinct words for these two notions and I think we all agree that they can be considered complementary; that is, there is some kind of scale along which you can go from one to the other. We characterisze the one as positive and the other as negative, which is a methaphorical way of describing them. Then we have single words that describe differences, like "temperature". To make clear what we mean, we use adjectives, like "hot" or or "warm" or "cool" or "cold" to describe just what we mean. There is a difference between, say, hot and cold, but it is not as extreme as are "love" and "hate". It's nice having a cold drink on a hot day, for instance. And then, we have what the Swiss-German cultural philosopher Jean Gebser characterizes as Ur-Wörter (that is, literally, "primal words"); that is a single word to identify a notion and its opposite all in one. For example, the Latin word altus (from which comes our English word "altitude) means both "high" and "low" or sacer (from which we get our English word "sacred") meands both "blessed" and "cursed"; or the Hebrew word GAL, a verb which can mean "to redeem" and "to defile". (In English, we only have one such word left: "cleave" which can mean "to cut apart" and "to meld together".) In the case of such primal words, of course, it is the context that gives the meaning away.

What this all tells us is that human beings haven't always had today's oh, so beloved if-you-not-with-us-your're-against-us mentality. There was certainly a time when the experiential situation brought forth the distinction; and there are times even now when we have to describe to which degree we want to express something, and we all know that the distance from love to hate can be no more than an exceedingly fine line. For the Ancients, all Life played out between 0 and 1 (cf. the Egyptians, the Pythagoreans, etc.), but around the time of the Renaissance, we finally made the split (we -- literally -- divided our thinking and became "rational", which we have imbued with positive connotations, even though the root of the word is division: ratio, as in a/b. Yes, we turned this notion on its head as well.

The point is that if you pursue a notion or a thought deeply enough, you come to a point at which is becomes paradoxical. This is, in fact, one of the primary methods for determining if you are getting to the root or wellspring of a concept, an idea, a notion. In other words, either-or, 0 or 1, is completely meaningless at the level of superficiality of everyday, modern life, regardless of what our geeky friends would have us believe. To delve into the depths, however, takes time, energy, willpower, fortitude, and a good dose of courage, which explains why most people never ever make the effort. It is so much easier to accuse another of not being for you, so obviously they're against you. But it is so only in your own mind.

Sometimes either-or is all you're left with

There is a tension between science and religion, which is, as we saw last time, more imaginary than real.

As most of you know, I'm not a big fan of religion per sé; that is, how those institutions that declare to represent a particular faith go about their business. By the same token, I've made it clear from time to time that I'm no big fan of science either, whereby I mean "science" in the same sense as "religion": how it is practiced by whomever declares themselves representatives of this non-spiritual form of faith.

Fundamentalism -- the most negative and least useful form of belief -- is not restricted to religions, as we commonly understand the term, rather it applies to any way of thinking that insists on belief in spite of facts and which restricts all methods and means of interpretation to those which they are willing to accept or sanction. We have religious fundamentalists that all of us more or less recognize and agree upon, but we have scientistic fundamentalists as well. Most often they make themselves known as militant atheists, such as Richard Dawkins, or revered figures of science who are taken to speak with authority on issues of which they know nothing and are eminently unqualified to pass judgement upon, like Stephen Hawking. Don't get me wrong: I think that both Dawkins and Hawking (who are merely examples, not personifications in any way) are very bright and intelligent people, but being bright is hardly qualification for anything.

There are a lot of bright people in the world. And I would bet that we all know someone every bit as bright or intelligent as Mr. Dawkins or Mr. Hawking, but for some reason, we don't accredit them with much authority at all, which is how it should be. Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom, or the Dali Lama, for example, are both exceedingly bright and intelligent individuals. Both of them are capable of communicating deep insights into matters of a spiritual nature. But I don't know anyone who would go to either of them to find out whether reality may be a matter of wave-function collapse or for thoughts on whether there is validity to the multiple-universes hypothesis. And rightfully so. What doesn't make sense to me is why individuals like Dawkins and Hawking are allowed to make extra-subject-matter pronouncements that should be taken seriously while individuals like Sacks and the Dali Lama are not (though oddly enough, they don't, for they recognize limits to their own "authority), boils down to a simple fact: at the moment, there is a dominant belief system, and if you don't subscribe to it, you siply have nothing important to say.

Science-as-we-know-it assumes that matter is primary and everything else that we know to be the universe, or any part of it, derives from this basic starting points; this is the fundamental premise of materialism. Anyone coming from the religious or spiritual side of things assumes that G-d or something spiritual/non-physical is primary and everything else that we know to be the universe, or any part of it, derives from this basic starting point. And, the real issue involved is this: both are assumptions; neither can be proved; there is no way that we can know for sure which assumption is true.

In other words, when it comes right down to it ... literally ... we're left with an either-or situation: you can either believe the route to where we are and where we find ourselves is from matter-to-spirit, or you can believe it is from spirit-to-matter. At the moment, we're not aware of a third possibility (whereby, I, personally, don't believe we'll find a third one either).

At first glance, it may appear not to matter what we believe, but it does. Every action we perform, every statement we make, every decision we make can be traced back to this most fundamental distinction. More importantly, what we think, do or say all has unavoidable consequences for all our futures, and for that reason alone, we should get clear with our own selves, just where we're coming from.

Just what happened 2,000 years ago?

Although it's not generally treated as such, this is one of the biggest and most significant days for Christianity. Today marks the day that one "Jesus of Nazareth" (or whatever it is you decide he should be called) was crucified. OK, we don't know for sure if it was him, in particular, but it this day that we set aside to remember whoever it was that was crucified around this time who, by all indications, changed the course of world history.

I'm not making light of the fact that we don't know historically for sure what happened oh, so long ago. I mean, in the end, what difference does it make? Normally, none, but we have the reality that more than 2,000 years later, the whole world, not just some obscure Jewish sect, arranges its calendars around this particular and specific event. I don't care who you are, you have to wonder about that. And, I don't care who you are, playing it off as nothing does no more for us than claiming that this is the be-all-and-end-all of human existence.

Me? Well, I have a very pragmatic streak: we all celebrate Easter (which was initiated by today, Good Friday) and I really have to ask myself what it means that more than 2,000 years after the alleged event, we're not only remembering it, but we're marking our time in relation to it. For sure: why is it 2016 and not some other year? And more significantly: why is it 2016 and not the-year-in-the-reign-of-so-and-so? Not only is it not insignificant ... it is downright defining of who we think we are as a culture (and, in the meantime, the world). Take a moment and let that sink in -- be you devoutly "Christian" (whatever that means) or an "atheist" (whatever that means as well).

I'm sorry: any way you take it, something happened. It might have been meaningful or it might have been a delusion, but something happened, and it doesn't really matter if that "something" was institutionalized "at the time" or some time later. Whatever it was, it changed the way we perceive and understand the world we encounter.

Even though I'm not necessarily so, I have to take the direct route this time: we don't know. I've got a lot of fundamentalistically inclined friends, and they have a lot of emotion and lot of themselves invested in believing that what happened then is a particular fact. I have a lot of other friends who are just as adamant about the fact that nothing -- and I mean absolutely nothing -- happened. The former have the burden of proof; the latter have the burden of explanation. Neither of them come close to shouldering their burdens.

So, here's my own, personal, take on the matter:

It doesn't matter. Neither of these extreme positions explains or accounts for anything.

I'm not saying that nothing happened. It is as plain as the nose on any of our faces that something did in fact happen, something so significant that we decided to change how we count the years. Oh sure, you can maintain that after the fact the dominant group imposed its way of counting on the masses, but that dominant group has changed identities as often as most people change their underwear and we're still counting in the "new" way. If I'm wrong, let me know. You may be able to rationalize or explain away the "event", but you're going to have trouble explaining away the consequences.

What I love most about today is that neither the die-hard believers nor the die-hard disbelivers can offer up reasonable evidence to support their case. In these days of scientific understanding, neither the totally-for nor the totally-against can make any kind of convincing argument to "prove" their position. I love that. We just don't know, and we have to live with it.

The big day is here

OK, I'll admit it: I'm absoluetly gob-smacked that today is just another holiday. It's Good Friday, fer Chrissake (with a tip o' the hat to Salinger), and while we're all happy that we have the day off (that is, for those who work for companies that recognize today as a holiday: some do, some don't, some only half-way), most people I know have no idea why we should care (be aware of the fact) at all.

OK, I have to insert a personal comment here: in the US (my other "home"), Good Friday really wasn't a holiday. I never got the day off; here in Germany, it has the status of an almost-official holiday, and most people get the day off with pay). This fact, in and of itself, is worth reflecting upon. In a country that prides itself of its "Christian values", the day is, at best, a half-day-not-having-to-work-day, while the world's export leader still has it enshrined as a full-fledged day-off-work-with-pay day, go figure.

But this brings us directly to the point:

A culture's values are reflected in it so-called holidays; that is, those days on which its commercial interests are willing to spend money even though they get nothing in return.

Let's face it: a truly modern-capitalistic organization can't be in favor of any holidays; that is, working days with pay. How could they be? Profits are generated through work, not through non-work or the absence of work or not working, or whatever. Holidays; that is, days without work, are unjustifiable. How is it possible, why should one pay wages for a day in which nothing constructive is done? Oh, I understand the logic, but at the same time I have to ask whether the logic is reasonable in the first place.

This is no pseudo-issue. It's real. Money may "work" 24/7. Profits may be generated 24/7. But, human beings don't function 24/7. I don't know about you, but every once in a while, I need to sleep.

And so, here we are with this "pseudo-holiday" that "business" would like to eliminate, but which, people be damned, it just can't do. And why? Well, it turns out that the answer lies neither in the holiday itself nor in the weakening cultural framework that imposes it.

For all the materialistic, money-talks-nobody-walks mentality that we like to propagate, the truth of the matter is that we have to accommodate and deal with people anyhow. For all the blustering about growth and ROI and stability in the future, we're all still dependent upon the fragile, unknowing, fallible human beings who do our bidding, to the best of their ability.

We've set up a system in which it appears that the "knowers" know what they are doing, but this is increasingly showing itself to be a facade. We like to think that this is how things have always been, but we're increasingly coming to realize that this is just the way we've made things for now. We want to believe that those who say they know actually know, but we're seeing day in and day out that the "experts" sleight-of-hand can't possibly be the way forward.

According to the "'myth' of the day", someone called power's bluff. Why is it that we still think that power has the winning hand?

It's that time of year again

To the pagans of ancient times, the end of April and the end of October were special times: this was their celebration of the beginning of Spring and Autumn, the start and mid-point of a year, the celebrations that had to do with balance.

We don't think like that anymore. One day is like the next, one season like any other, even if we all have our personal preferences. We live by the clock, not by the sun; we are aware of the time of year, but never of its significance. We moderns are so arrogant, we have no idea how ignorant we are.

Prior to the railroads, we lived by the sun. We arose when it was light and retired when it was dark. Our days in winter were much shorter than those in summer, and we acted and interacted accordingly. Now, we have not only standardized our "time", we forcefully distort (e.g., Daylight Savings Time), regardless of what it costs us financially, personally, or even spiritually.

OK, I outed myself: I'm old school. The particular numbers on a clock, the position of the clock's hands don't really mean a whole helluva lot to me. It's not because I don't care, not at all, but rather because it doesn't matter.

Six in the morning? Some people get up, others continue to sleep. Twelve noon? Some people are looking for (or enjoying) lunch, others are back at work or waiting. The evening news comes at five, six, seven or eight ... it doesn't matter. We pay little attention anyhow. The news only tells us whether we can move into evening-relax mode or have dinner or, well, whatever.

But for me, today, Walpurgisnacht (Walpurgis' Night) is always special. It is a forgotten holiday, but a traditionally mystical-magical day (night). We have retained part of that magic in May Day Dancing and festivals, but of course not in America, because May Day is also the "communist" Labor Day. Our modern, sterile, ignorant-of-tradition, and ignorant repression of the natural cycle of nature have obscured and thereby made meaningless the inspiring beauty and enlivening of nature's rhythms.

In truth, I feel sorry for all those contemporaries who can only live in a clock-determined, clock-driven world. I am saddened by all those who cannot escape their self-created prisons of time. I am disheartened that I cannot make clear to them that they have enslaved themselves to an illusion we call time.

Many people that I know are enamored by and love their radio-controlled watches and clocks, because, well, you really know what time it is. That this "absolute time" is a mere average of 11 different "nuclear clocks" should give us pause to wonder just how exact and precise an average really is. If nothing else, it is a fixation on a detail that merely obscures the bigger picture: the wonderful and wondrous cycles of nature.

This is what I think of on this particular day of the year. Not because of the absurdity of our modern obsessions, but because of the respect it gives me for those who came before and who understood.

Yes, that's our modern malady: we know, but we really don't understand.

The meaning of life?

The controversial, yet nevertheless fascinating, German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche once wrote, "He who has a why to live can endure almost any how." If you've been following the most recent posts, you'll have little trouble understanding that I think the man was onto something.

Another German (language) thinker, Viktor E. Frankl, survivor of the Holocaust and psychoanalyst, said, "Challenging the meaning of life is the truest expression of the state of being human." Those of who you've been following the most recent posts will have little trouble understanding that I think this man was onto something as well.

There is no lack of "good" advice as to what you should or should not be doing at any point, at any stage, at any minute of your life. Most of this advice is naturally well-intended, but we all know about how the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. While not necessarily being so critical of such intentions, in the end, what really matters is not what think or believe, but what we decide to do about it. Frankl also informed us that "A human being is a deciding being." At this point, I also feel compelled to remind us all that deciding not to do something is still making a decision.

There is no book on the face of this planet, nor has one ever been written, that contains the answer to question regarding the meaning of life. The only person who will ever be able to answer that question is you. And, you can only ever answer it for yourself.

No one is more surprised than me at how many words I can find to throw at this one particular topic, but given the magnitude of the question, the importance of the answer, the consequences of decisions made on that basis, I feel justified in trying to get this horse up on its feet again. You see, when I look out into the world, at the state of affairs, at the news -- from shootings in Ferguson to the Ukraine to Iraq (again), through all the political posturing going on in both East and West, to what we're doing to our home (the Earth, in case you were wondering) -- or merely at my fellow commuters trudging to work everyday, I have to ask myself repeatedly why we make life so hard on ourselves? If there were such a thing as aliens and they were "checking us out", they would have to be confused by the sheer degree of contradictions we foist upon ourselves each and every day.

And so, I can only encourage -- admonish -- each of us to take a step back from the brink, for the edge of whatever abyss (actual, psychological, emotional) we've driven ourselves to and reflect for a while on the "why" of your own life.

The meaning of life

Taking the time to come up with a reasonable, considered answer to the question "Why am I here?" is worth the effort because it provides you, quite simply, for your own personal reason for living.

People with severe depression, terminal illnesses, who are imprisoned, being persecuted and tortured, starving to death, or worse often lose (at least sight of) their reason. I am saddened deeply when I think that so many will leave this place without ever having the slightest inclination of why they were ever here. But you, dear reader, are in a very privileged position: you have the time, the ability and the wherewithal to do just that: find your real reason for living, for being on this planet at this time, in whatever place you are. But as I never hesitate to remind you: it's not just about you, it only starts with you.

You may discover "a" reason for your life, but is it "the" reason? How would you know? Remember, you are not alone here. There are plenty of others around you all the time, some close physically, some genetically, some psychologically or socially ... your mileage will vary. How does your reason stack up against theirs? How compatible is it with theirs? How much in conflict is it perhaps? Is your reason better/more important/more worthwhile than theirs? What makes you think so and what do you think you ought to do about it? My guess is that you'll come up with a pretty significant number of reasons along the way to finding the "real", the "true", one.

One of the things that both amazes me and simultaneously disgusts me at the same time is how lightly we take such questions and how ready and willing most of us are to assert our reasons over and at the expense of others'. I think it's all too clear -- and even a casual look around you or at the news on any given day will confirm -- that way too many people think their supposed reasons are much better/more important/more worthwhile than others'.

What entitles me (or any of us) to more water, food, shelter, clothing, natural resources, security, happiness, recognition, or love than anyone else? Why do I think I should have more of any of these and that others should simply have less? How did we come up with the idea that coincidentally being born at any given place at any given time should determine what I may be allowed to even expect from life, let alone justify the reason for my existence? That's never really been clear to me and no one has ever explained it in any reasonable way. And so I continue to wonder, to be amazed, and, of course, disgusted.

I'm not foolish enough to think that many of you will take up the challenge. It's much easier to dump a bucket of ice water over your head (or not) than to stop and ask yourself what is the real meaning of your own life.

Take a step back from the brink

The last couple of posts were a bit of an excursion, a slight diversion. They were, if you will, simple exercises in what I was implying in regard to knowing oneself.

If we're honest, most of get up in the morning, go about our daily business, find fleeting moments of happiness, others of frustration and aggravation; we chat with others about nothing in particular and wish the world were a better place, but are, for the most part thankful, that we live in a pretty good part of that world. And that's it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not faulting anyone for that ... the phrase "most of us" implies at least that I'm part of that group, though I have my days when I don't really feel like playing the usual game. (On those days, I generally write this blog.)

But here's the thing ... well, two things actually: first, we're not here just for ourselves; without others there would be none of us individuals. But, second, the deeper, more important question is why we're here at all? I know, I know, you're thinking, "he's finally lost it," but I haven't lost anything at all.

Seriously, did you ever really stop to think about it? Why are you here, where you are, why do you even exist?

Any quick-and-dirty answers you might come up with ("because I was born", "because my parents had children", or any other nonsensical statements) are not answers at all. They are things we say so we don't have to think. Materialistic science will tell you that we -- any and all of us -- are here by mere chance; we're accidents of nature; there's really no reason at all. Some people may be satisfied with that, but I would bet that if they took some time to seriously think about the question, they wouldn't be so satisfied anymore. Fundamentalist religion will tell you that you are here to participate in some Grand Scheme in which a select few will live forever and the vast majority of others (mostly because they didn't say the right things at the right time or didn't do the right thing when told to by someone who had said the right thing at the right time) will be tortured forever and ever. Sounds more like a Sadistic Plot than a Grand Scheme if you ask me. It also sounds like a useful way to dupe a lot of people so that they can be controlled more easily. In other words, even some of the alleged, thought-through answers aren't answers either.

No, the only person who can answer the question for you is you. You are the one who has to take some time, stop and think, and come up with your own personal answer. It won't be easy, I can assure you, but it is worth the effort.

The Guy II

So, why do I think I understand that guy, and what difference does it make?

Most of us like to think we're that guy, but we're not. Most people aren't even close. I'm not accusing anyone of anything. That's just the way it is. We'd like to stand out, but we don't want to feel the heat. We'd like to oppose, but we don't want the pain. We'd like to be the one who's different, but we don't want the rejection. Most people I know would be cheering and saluting. Why? Because they are merely everyday people like everyone else, like most of the people in that picture. We think it's the Germans, but it could be anybody. It could just as easily be Americans.

No? Think about this:

The leaders of America (for the past decade at least) are guilty of war crimes, just like the German leaders back then. America engages in unjustified and unjust military actions to further its own interests (e.g. Iraq), and it will exert great pressure on countries which dare to resist falling into line (e.g. Iran). The government has passed a number of laws that suppress, if not oppress, its weakest and most vulnerable citizens (or why is Social Security on the budget-bargaining table?). The State is anything but adverse to using excessive violence against anyone who takes it upon themselves to call them on their misdeeds (e.g. Occupy and Bradley Manning). It has instituted and enforces draconian laws that target certain ethnic minorities (e.g. highest incarceration rate in the world and a disproportionate number of these are Blacks and Hispanics). It is also willing to manipulate its own legislative and judicial processes to benefit certain, selected, special interests at the expense of the greater population (e.g. the 0.1%). It indoctrinates its young with revisionist history (e.g. was the US' treatment of the Native Americans genocidal or not?), and it declares unabashedly that its own patriotism is of far greater value and of a higher moral quality than anyone else's in the whole world (e.g. the Global War on Terror) ...

Oh, I could go on, but being able to come up with so many parallels so quickly, so easily, truly unsettles me. Americans today are really not all that different from Germans then. The motivations, the causes may be different, but the effects are too disturbingly similar to ignore.

It's hard for me to believe that Germans now are all that different from Germans then. I find it difficult to believe that Americans then are so different from Americans now. But, appearances can be deceiving – both then and now. I can't help but wonder what someone like me sixty years hence is going to be thinking when he looks at a picture of Americans now?

The guy in the picture stands out in his crowd. Are you standing out in yours? It would seem to me that if you're not condemning what is wrong, your condoning it. Now, more than ever, we need to be that guy.

The Guy I

A picture someone posted on Facebook is haunting me. It showed a circle highlighting an unsmiling man standing in the middle of a crowd, his arms folded demonstrably across his chest. He appeared annoyed. Everyone else was standing with their right arms extended, palms down, giving the now notoriously infamous Nazi salute. Many were cheering.

The picture's caption was simple. It said: Be this guy.

I can't get that picture out of my head. I'm assuming the people in the picture were Germans. They don't have to be, but it really doesn't matter. Just about everyone who sees that picture is going to think they are Germans anyway. That's just the association most of us will make. We like to think Germans – Nazis – nasty – cruel, mean, violent, vicious.

It's not a good thought. It's not accurate. It's stereotypical.

Not everyone in that picture was a Nazi. Not everybody who was saluting was a Nazi. Not everyone in that crowd was a bad person either. But, that also doesn't matter. Most of us think: you're saluting, you're cheering, you're a Nazi, you're guilty.

That's not a good thought either. Be the guy. That's a good thought.

We cannot know whether any of those saluting and cheering was doing so out of conviction or only because they didn't want to draw attention to themselves. We know where one guy stands. The rest? It's all speculation. But, even that doesn't really matter.

We think we know, even if we're not sure. We act according to what we think we know. That's what we believe.

For a long time, most people simply thought the Germans were not very nice people. There are a lot of Germans today who still think they not very nice. These folks feel like they, as a people, should have tried harder, and because they didn't, they let a lot of bad things happen. I can tell you that it's going to take a long time for all of them to come to terms with that past – whether deserved or not. Some of them will never get over it completely.

The Germans are, though, at heart, good people, as people go. They are warm, hospitable, friendly, open, curious, interested, and socially minded. Their basic life philosophy these days is "if my neighbor's doing well, then chances are that I'm doing pretty well too". Sure, they can be direct to a fault and they may not laugh at every joke (or even know a joke's been told), but they mean well and they try.

So, what's haunting me?

I identify with the guy. I've been told often enough in my life to get with the program, to get back in line, to get in step, to stop being the oddball, to, well, conform. I don't particularly mind people (parents, pastors, teachers, coaches, commanding officers, bosses, to name a few) telling me that. It doesn't bother me all that much. As far as I'm concerned, if they're telling me that, well, then I must be doing something right. No, I may not be the guy, but I understand him.

Why? I'll tell you next time.