"one hundred trillion synapse man"
better faster stronger
this structure will endure
but not as it has endured
as I have never stood still
this repository contains
experiences and protein sequences
fit for a life, fit for a deluge
of stimuli and images
I am a vessel
there is no flesh and blood
there is no hair and sweat
there is only an impeccable order
descending through the generations
descending through matter in the limbs of my body
minute insights concealed in my membranes
subtly spawned genetically or environmentally
these handed-down tendencies essentially
compose a parade of uncertain moments
passing insubstantially
judge me by my activity
coursing through my neurons
the chemicals concocting my pride
the pathways diverting my anger
a streaming tide of unknown reaction
flowing without pause
expanding the caverns beneath the surface of my thoughts
I may not have a direction
I have a cause and I have a reason
dismember my love
find the anxiety which provokes it
you will notice the tension
your birthright and mine
there is a crack and a schism
never relinquish that
that is life itself
- Alex Abbott
Showing posts with label existence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label existence. Show all posts
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The Prism of all Beauty
I must warn you, that I am not the type for revelations. But who is? Have you ever met someone who’s had a revelation who was the type for it? Or heard of someone? Of course not – revelation in its very nature is entirely unexpected. Archimedes never expected to solve calculus problems in his bathtub, as I am sure his neighbors never rightly expected to see a naked Archimedes running wildly through the streets. And yet, I have had a minor revelation. I was sitting in my bed, thinking about the movie “Up”, and how it hit me so close to home, when I realized something important.
Humor is distance. It is the distance between pain and reconciliation - it is the path a beam of light travels from emptiness to solid form. Humor is a prism – you can see the light running through it and view at first-hand all the colors of human emotion. In that emotional distance, you can see everything: tears and sadness, regret, happiness, betrayal, excitement, anxiety, joy.
Humor is a way to cover up the void, or at least, to cover up what seems to be a void. But the secret to humor is that there really isn’t a void there, after all. I mean, it may seem that way once or twice, or maybe a few times, but when you keep checking, the void disappears. I’ll show you what I mean:
There’s a void, and it could be empty. And you would say, why is the void always empty? And I would say, why does it matter – look how quickly it fills again. The void just fills and refills, the finite running through the infinite, the light running through the prism and allowing its reflections to bounce off of all objects.
Or you would say, why do you suppose there is a void at all? Isn’t there always something filled, so how could it be empty? What kind of a fool would you have to be to believe in an empty space? That’s the joke, really – the joke is that it doesn’t actually matter whether there is an empty space or not. It really doesn’t matter whether there is a void or not, at the end of everything, mostly because it’s always being filled…whether it’s filled with love or compassion or sympathy or understanding or brotherhood…it doesn’t really matter what was there before, but only what is going into it.
And I suppose that’s why I am a humanist. I see light pouring in from all sides – although I must acknowledge I do not know what was here before. For me, it is a mystery – and it is enough to say that there is a void and that it is being filled up, like the beginning of a joke followed by a punchline, or despair followed by consolation. And I see all kinds of beautiful strains of light pouring into the world, beautiful stained glass revelations from every creed and tradition, overflowing with wisdom and compassion.
Before I was here, there was nothing to tell you what I am telling you. Now I am here. That is enough for me. I know my family and friends will ask me, how can you see the light in this world and not acknowledge its beauty? Please believe me, I do. It is beautiful, and ghastly, and haunting.
I can imagine it with some difficulty, as is usually fitting for these sorts of experiences. I begin to imagine that everything which has ever been imagined does not exist. Then it exists, and it is incredible, and stunning - and then I realize, too, that none of it may ever exist again. I don’t know where it comes from, and I don’t know where it’s going. All I know is that I am surrounded by this beautiful light and I want to fill this seemingly empty and desolate canvass with all of its gorgeous shades and pastels, to pass something surreal through that great void and create beauty again.
Humor is distance. It is the distance between pain and reconciliation - it is the path a beam of light travels from emptiness to solid form. Humor is a prism – you can see the light running through it and view at first-hand all the colors of human emotion. In that emotional distance, you can see everything: tears and sadness, regret, happiness, betrayal, excitement, anxiety, joy.
Humor is a way to cover up the void, or at least, to cover up what seems to be a void. But the secret to humor is that there really isn’t a void there, after all. I mean, it may seem that way once or twice, or maybe a few times, but when you keep checking, the void disappears. I’ll show you what I mean:
There’s a void, and it could be empty. And you would say, why is the void always empty? And I would say, why does it matter – look how quickly it fills again. The void just fills and refills, the finite running through the infinite, the light running through the prism and allowing its reflections to bounce off of all objects.
Or you would say, why do you suppose there is a void at all? Isn’t there always something filled, so how could it be empty? What kind of a fool would you have to be to believe in an empty space? That’s the joke, really – the joke is that it doesn’t actually matter whether there is an empty space or not. It really doesn’t matter whether there is a void or not, at the end of everything, mostly because it’s always being filled…whether it’s filled with love or compassion or sympathy or understanding or brotherhood…it doesn’t really matter what was there before, but only what is going into it.
And I suppose that’s why I am a humanist. I see light pouring in from all sides – although I must acknowledge I do not know what was here before. For me, it is a mystery – and it is enough to say that there is a void and that it is being filled up, like the beginning of a joke followed by a punchline, or despair followed by consolation. And I see all kinds of beautiful strains of light pouring into the world, beautiful stained glass revelations from every creed and tradition, overflowing with wisdom and compassion.
Before I was here, there was nothing to tell you what I am telling you. Now I am here. That is enough for me. I know my family and friends will ask me, how can you see the light in this world and not acknowledge its beauty? Please believe me, I do. It is beautiful, and ghastly, and haunting.
I can imagine it with some difficulty, as is usually fitting for these sorts of experiences. I begin to imagine that everything which has ever been imagined does not exist. Then it exists, and it is incredible, and stunning - and then I realize, too, that none of it may ever exist again. I don’t know where it comes from, and I don’t know where it’s going. All I know is that I am surrounded by this beautiful light and I want to fill this seemingly empty and desolate canvass with all of its gorgeous shades and pastels, to pass something surreal through that great void and create beauty again.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Surrender, Surrender (But Don't Give Yourself Away)
"Surrender, surrender, but don't give yourself away". - "Surrender", by Cheap Trick, © 1978
I have already affirmed the contest between change and stability as the greatest conflict in human life. Many other essential conflicts of human existence spring from this: the contest between the individual and society, between individuals and a relationship, between individuals and their religion, between individuals and morality, between individuals and ideology.
What does it mean to exist in such confusion? What does it mean to be an individual when one's very existence can only be defined in terms of its attachment to other, larger groups? What does it mean to live as one person in a world dominated by forces greater and more complex than any single human being?
It's fun to pretend that individuals can live only for themselves. We're all rational human beings, with perfect information at our disposal, considering all our options carefully, and then making the best decision for us. Our thoughts, our beliefs, our actions, our language, and the very words we use to express our innermost sensations, belong primarily to us first and foremost: they're not products of our environment, the groups to which we belong, or any long and tedious processes over which we have little to no control. We individuals like to imagine that we are more powerful than we are, but we are wrong.
What is the price of this knowledge? Have we sold our uniqueness and worth as individuals? Have we given away the sanctity of a precious human life?
No. We surrender, and surrender, but we do not give ourselves away.
I surrender to those groups in which I belong, to all those groups which make my life possible and meaningful. My parents, my family, my peers, everyone I've ever met: you gave me norms, values, ideas, words, and symbols -- you equipped me and gave me my power, gave me my ability to interpret this world and to shape it in my own image. And yet, this image toward which I shape the world is not just my own, but it also belongs to all of you, because you have given me the image of the world which I hold now.
I surrender some of my desires and goals, my resources, my aims and ends, because I have agreed to participate in a project which is greater than myself. When it is late at night and there are no cars in the streets, I stop at traffic lights until I receive the proper signal. I register for the Selective Service, which means I am eligible to be drafted into the military should my country ever decide again to mandate citizens to fight its wars. This summer, I worked a minimum wage job in the fast food industry to help pay for college, and some of my earnings went to pay taxes which support an entire system of government.
But I do not give myself away. Because who am I anyway? After all, I am society; I am a relationship; I am a religion; I am a morality; and I am an ideology. I express my individuality through the collective character I share with others. I accomplish my individual goals and ambitions because I am motivated by values which are instilled in me by other people, that I share with other people, and which serve common ends and common interests. A true individual must always, when acting in his or her own interest, strive to remember how this interest is inseparably and inextricably linked with the interests of others.
Yes, I am in one sense a self-made man. But I'm not the only self that's made it.
I have already affirmed the contest between change and stability as the greatest conflict in human life. Many other essential conflicts of human existence spring from this: the contest between the individual and society, between individuals and a relationship, between individuals and their religion, between individuals and morality, between individuals and ideology.
What does it mean to exist in such confusion? What does it mean to be an individual when one's very existence can only be defined in terms of its attachment to other, larger groups? What does it mean to live as one person in a world dominated by forces greater and more complex than any single human being?
It's fun to pretend that individuals can live only for themselves. We're all rational human beings, with perfect information at our disposal, considering all our options carefully, and then making the best decision for us. Our thoughts, our beliefs, our actions, our language, and the very words we use to express our innermost sensations, belong primarily to us first and foremost: they're not products of our environment, the groups to which we belong, or any long and tedious processes over which we have little to no control. We individuals like to imagine that we are more powerful than we are, but we are wrong.
What is the price of this knowledge? Have we sold our uniqueness and worth as individuals? Have we given away the sanctity of a precious human life?
No. We surrender, and surrender, but we do not give ourselves away.
I surrender to those groups in which I belong, to all those groups which make my life possible and meaningful. My parents, my family, my peers, everyone I've ever met: you gave me norms, values, ideas, words, and symbols -- you equipped me and gave me my power, gave me my ability to interpret this world and to shape it in my own image. And yet, this image toward which I shape the world is not just my own, but it also belongs to all of you, because you have given me the image of the world which I hold now.
I surrender some of my desires and goals, my resources, my aims and ends, because I have agreed to participate in a project which is greater than myself. When it is late at night and there are no cars in the streets, I stop at traffic lights until I receive the proper signal. I register for the Selective Service, which means I am eligible to be drafted into the military should my country ever decide again to mandate citizens to fight its wars. This summer, I worked a minimum wage job in the fast food industry to help pay for college, and some of my earnings went to pay taxes which support an entire system of government.
But I do not give myself away. Because who am I anyway? After all, I am society; I am a relationship; I am a religion; I am a morality; and I am an ideology. I express my individuality through the collective character I share with others. I accomplish my individual goals and ambitions because I am motivated by values which are instilled in me by other people, that I share with other people, and which serve common ends and common interests. A true individual must always, when acting in his or her own interest, strive to remember how this interest is inseparably and inextricably linked with the interests of others.
Yes, I am in one sense a self-made man. But I'm not the only self that's made it.
Friday, February 4, 2011
My Doubt, My Threat, My Appetite
The band Jimmy Eat World wrote a song that I'm in love with: "My Best Theory", from their album "Invented". A brief snippet of the song goes:
"My doubt seems fine/
My true desire/
My threat/
My appetite"
Outstanding lyrics.
Doubt is many things. It is my annihilation. It is my preservation.
Doubt erodes, a steady stream of questioning which removes the face of well-worn notions, and it sculpts a new impression in old surfaces.
Doubt in its own nature embodies the biggest and most substantial conflict we know of: the chasm between permanence and stability, and change and chaos.
Every human being is a product of change. We originate as embryos, progressing through many stages, until a fully-grown adult form is realized. Each facet of our physical body is in flux: a multitude of cells appear and die each day within our body. Each facet of our consciousness and personality changes, too: throughout our interactions with other humans, we are molded and crafted in accordance with our fellow human beings. Their being is ours.
We depend on change to sustain us. If the seeds for our crops remain seeds, then we die. If the water which feeds many of our reservoirs remains snow or ice, then we die. If the rain which waters the crops remains water vapor in the sky, then we die.
Is it really true that we look for things to stay the same? We are surely blind to the immense changes which surround us in their exquisite insignificance.
We owe everything we have to change, but we seek to ground our lives in eternal truths. To doubt these truths, to chip away at them, is a betrayal of the truths towards which we aim. Our lives are bigger than this trivial nonsense. "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter", such great religious authorities as Yoda from Star Wars inform us.
Yet what exactly are we considering when we ponder these eternal truths? Our messages and teachings come to us from specific historical eras, and specific cultural contexts. Is it really appropriate to allow the message of Jesus, for example, to remain stale for two thousand years, when he castigated the religious leaders of his day for allowing the laws to become stale within their own hearts?
We humans express our knowledge and our truth through what we actively partake. We partake the body and the blood of truth, when we speak its voice for our times, when we allow our own doubts to refine and distill our beliefs and our values.
Doubt threatens to undo everything, but doubt also allows us to remember everything. Doubt allows us to exercise our faith, to propel ourselves upward, to participate again in the sacred enterprise - we are captivated by it and refreshed by it. We remember. We remember both why we believe now, and why we believed in the first place.
Certainty cannot exist without doubt, nor without change: for if we do not doubt, if we do not risk the possibility of change, then we forget why we are certain in the first place. When we forget to doubt, then we lose ourselves entirely. Our own desire for certainty enables change to erase ourselves: we become clean on the outside, but rotten within. Oh, you hypocrites, you brood of vipers...
"My doubt seems fine/
My true desire/
My threat/
My appetite"
Outstanding lyrics.
Doubt is many things. It is my annihilation. It is my preservation.
Doubt erodes, a steady stream of questioning which removes the face of well-worn notions, and it sculpts a new impression in old surfaces.
Doubt in its own nature embodies the biggest and most substantial conflict we know of: the chasm between permanence and stability, and change and chaos.
Every human being is a product of change. We originate as embryos, progressing through many stages, until a fully-grown adult form is realized. Each facet of our physical body is in flux: a multitude of cells appear and die each day within our body. Each facet of our consciousness and personality changes, too: throughout our interactions with other humans, we are molded and crafted in accordance with our fellow human beings. Their being is ours.
We depend on change to sustain us. If the seeds for our crops remain seeds, then we die. If the water which feeds many of our reservoirs remains snow or ice, then we die. If the rain which waters the crops remains water vapor in the sky, then we die.
Is it really true that we look for things to stay the same? We are surely blind to the immense changes which surround us in their exquisite insignificance.
We owe everything we have to change, but we seek to ground our lives in eternal truths. To doubt these truths, to chip away at them, is a betrayal of the truths towards which we aim. Our lives are bigger than this trivial nonsense. "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter", such great religious authorities as Yoda from Star Wars inform us.
Yet what exactly are we considering when we ponder these eternal truths? Our messages and teachings come to us from specific historical eras, and specific cultural contexts. Is it really appropriate to allow the message of Jesus, for example, to remain stale for two thousand years, when he castigated the religious leaders of his day for allowing the laws to become stale within their own hearts?
We humans express our knowledge and our truth through what we actively partake. We partake the body and the blood of truth, when we speak its voice for our times, when we allow our own doubts to refine and distill our beliefs and our values.
Doubt threatens to undo everything, but doubt also allows us to remember everything. Doubt allows us to exercise our faith, to propel ourselves upward, to participate again in the sacred enterprise - we are captivated by it and refreshed by it. We remember. We remember both why we believe now, and why we believed in the first place.
Certainty cannot exist without doubt, nor without change: for if we do not doubt, if we do not risk the possibility of change, then we forget why we are certain in the first place. When we forget to doubt, then we lose ourselves entirely. Our own desire for certainty enables change to erase ourselves: we become clean on the outside, but rotten within. Oh, you hypocrites, you brood of vipers...
Monday, August 17, 2009
Why I Love Rocky (Embracing Desperation Part Two)
Sylvester Stallone's film Rocky is an American classic, and I must profess my admiration of the title character, Rocky.
Rocky is a boxer down on his luck, who comes out of nowhere to make an appearance in a title bout with champion Apollo Creed.
Americans have long embraced the underdog, but that is not the only reason I identify with Rocky.
Rocky is a somewhat stereotypical boxing/sports flick, but Rocky the character has great lines.
"Why are you a fighter?" "Because I can't sing or dance."
So many of us are terribly repressed and insecure. So many of us are moody and lack confidence. So many of us are too withdrawn and shy and think we've got nothing to say to anyone.
I have a lyric for everything. I think music is a proxy for the irritation of being alone with my own personality. My life feels like a Jackson Pollack painting. I'm just pouring everything out and letting everyone else say what it means, and I'm not really sure that it even means anything at all.
I emphatically agree with Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young that "fear is the lock and laughter the key" to the heart. I really do believe that.
There are so many people that are paralyzed by fear. Am I one of them?
There are so many people that wish not to be alone.
That's what Rocky wishes.
I love what he says to Adrian:
"I always knew you were beautiful."
That's how I feel - about everything, about the absurdity and uncertainty of my life and my existence, and my pursuit and perseverance not only of it, but in it.
Why do I persevere? To prove I'm no chump, just like Rocky. Rocky's not paralyzed by fear, even though he's terribly insecure. He just keeps on fighting.
"When the truth is found to be lies, and all the joy within you dies, don't you want somebody to love? Don't you need to somebody to love? Wouldn't you love somebody to love? You better find somebody to love."
Great Jefferson Airplane lyrics, there.
Fear and lust, there they are again. I wrote about those two things on this blog many months ago, and still those two specters pop up yet once again in my thoughts. Is this all there is to existence? Embracing desperation, indeed.
And that's what Rocky does. And that is why I love him.
He embraces desperation. He has no chance with Adrian, no chance against Apollo Creed, no way to make it in this world -- and what does he do?
He's desperate, so he keeps going anyway. I love Rocky.
Rocky is a boxer down on his luck, who comes out of nowhere to make an appearance in a title bout with champion Apollo Creed.
Americans have long embraced the underdog, but that is not the only reason I identify with Rocky.
Rocky is a somewhat stereotypical boxing/sports flick, but Rocky the character has great lines.
"Why are you a fighter?" "Because I can't sing or dance."
So many of us are terribly repressed and insecure. So many of us are moody and lack confidence. So many of us are too withdrawn and shy and think we've got nothing to say to anyone.
I have a lyric for everything. I think music is a proxy for the irritation of being alone with my own personality. My life feels like a Jackson Pollack painting. I'm just pouring everything out and letting everyone else say what it means, and I'm not really sure that it even means anything at all.
I emphatically agree with Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young that "fear is the lock and laughter the key" to the heart. I really do believe that.
There are so many people that are paralyzed by fear. Am I one of them?
There are so many people that wish not to be alone.
That's what Rocky wishes.
I love what he says to Adrian:
"I always knew you were beautiful."
That's how I feel - about everything, about the absurdity and uncertainty of my life and my existence, and my pursuit and perseverance not only of it, but in it.
Why do I persevere? To prove I'm no chump, just like Rocky. Rocky's not paralyzed by fear, even though he's terribly insecure. He just keeps on fighting.
"When the truth is found to be lies, and all the joy within you dies, don't you want somebody to love? Don't you need to somebody to love? Wouldn't you love somebody to love? You better find somebody to love."
Great Jefferson Airplane lyrics, there.
Fear and lust, there they are again. I wrote about those two things on this blog many months ago, and still those two specters pop up yet once again in my thoughts. Is this all there is to existence? Embracing desperation, indeed.
And that's what Rocky does. And that is why I love him.
He embraces desperation. He has no chance with Adrian, no chance against Apollo Creed, no way to make it in this world -- and what does he do?
He's desperate, so he keeps going anyway. I love Rocky.
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