philosophize

Socrates- “Beauty is a short-lived tyranny”

Dostoevsky- “Beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and devil are fighting there, and the battlefield is the heart of man.”

The past eight months, and especially the last ten days, have tested me to the core. I totally engaged myself in the recent election process, beginning in early spring, then campaigning non-stop through the hottest part of summer to the intense final weeks leading up to General Election Day. Almost all of the candidates I supported won, but I did not partake wholeheartedly in the celebrations; the two closest to me, and on whose campaigns I had spent most of my time, both lost by narrow margins.

It was a huge disappointment, crushingly so to one of the candidates who will probably never run for office again and depressingly so to the other, who will lick his wounds for months to come, then eventually brace himself for another run in 2010. My own loss was much less personal than theirs. All I lost was an opportunity to claim victory and the rewards that go with it (read: “a steady income”). So it goes.

There is a tendancy to rationalize in the aftermath of defeat: The odds were against us from the start. We can take pride in having run a clean campaign. We put up a good fight. We didn’t win this time, but we made lots of friends and set the stage for future wins. We’ll get ‘em next time.

Baloney. This was not a sporting event. People’s livelihoods have been affected, including my own. Which may be why I feel a bit more compassion, perhaps, for those who worked so hard and invested so much opposing the wave of change that has washed over the country in this election cycle. Some won. Others lost. Many cheered. Others were enraged. Now, we must face the huge challenges that lie ahead. We will have to pull together to make this country, our society, whole once again.

The signs are clearly posted all across the country. But I ignored them and turned 56 anyway. Life. It just keeps on rollin’ along, doesn’t it? Or at least it does until it doesn’t anymore.

My father died at age 56 and 13 days. He exceeded limits quite frequently, drinking and smoking in excess, no matter how often he was told to quit or at least cut down. A doctor once told him, “If you don’t stop smoking and drinking, you won’t live another year.” My father replied, “If I stop smoking and drinking, I won’t live another week.” In fact, he lived another decade after that.

Towards the end, another doctor said, “There’s a race going on inside your body between your liver, your lungs, and your heart. I’m not sure which is going to kill you first.” The winner? His heart. A ruptured aorta. I sometimes say he died of a broken heart.

In 1982, I made a vow to myself. I would take better care of my health than my father did. Death at 56 is much, much too young. Unimaginable even. His own father died of a stroke at age 68. His grandfather passed away after a heart attack at 71. His great grandfather reached age 67, when an industrial accident ended his life. His great-great grandfather died at age 75. And my own mother recently turned 77. There is every indication that I can live to 70 or even 80, if I take care of myself. That’s two dozen years to look forward to, much of it spent in retirement.

Of course, the goal of living is not a long life, but a life well lived. Better a short full life than a long enpty one. But why not a long full life. Why not have it all? And as for limits, they are made to be tested, are they not? No male in my family has ever lived to age 80, but there is certainly no reason to limit my thinking on what age I can achieve. Let’s just see how long I can continue this full, full life of mine. If 55 is a limit, so is 65. And 70 is too. Why not break them all and set the family record for longevity? If there is a limit on how long (and how well) the males in my family can live, I don’t care to know about it.

I had to answer a question about my poltical philosophy on a recent job application – in ten words or less. Wow. That’s a tough one.

Over the years, I’ve embraced several different political positions. At times I’ve been a liberal, a progressive, a closet socialist, a borderline anarchist, and a humanist. My beliefs have shifted based upon my life experience – a work in progress, nothing carved in stone. How, then, to answer this question clearly and succinctly?

After lots of thought and several rough drafts, with particular reflection over the very first word, I finally settled on this description of my current philosophy:

All problems can be resolved through education, compassion and diplomacy.

I wonder how others will answer.

Someone applied that label, “activist,” to me today as a group of us peacefully protested the Iraq war in front of Congressman (R-NV) Jon Porter’s local office. It’s the second week I’ve participated in a peace rally, and I intend to go tomorrow to the Federal Building and join a group of Moveon.org members who are holding a press conference there about the insane cost of the war – Over $460 billion and rising.

So does that make me an activist? In the late 60’s and early 70’s, I guess I was considered a “radical” among other students at my university (DePauw). I went to D.C. in 1971 to protest the Vietnam War. I was among the 35,000 camped out in West Potomac Park and ousted Sunday morning, May 2nd, by Nixon and the DC police. Later, I headed up the local Free Angela Davis campaign on my campus. I actually met her in New York in the summer of 1972 as she was flying to Bulgaria after her release from prison. I had been to Sophia, the capital, as part of my junior year abroad program. We chatted a little. SHE was an activist.

And maybe I was, too, 35 years ago. Indiana has always been a bright red state, so the label “radical” or “activist” applied to anyone left of Dan Quayle’s politics (he graduated four years ahead of me, same school). Fact is, I’m a Buddhist, opposed to war and violence in general. Although I empathize with our troops, I do not advocate their harming other human beings under any pretense, even defense. War results from the failure of diplomacy. Politicians are to blame, not soldiers. War is nothing less than government-sanctioned murder. So I guess the most appropriate label for me is “pacifist” or even “passivist,” since I’d much prefer to follow the path of least resistance. But am I also an activist?

The bottomline is: This war needs to end. Label me whatever, I’m going to do what I can to help see that it ends sooner, not later. Too many have died already.

“If life is a journey, then philosophy is like a compass. It helps us to find our way through the jungle of possibilities that life presents.” – Thomas Knierim

I came across this quote on Knierim’s The Big View website, which is devoted to philosophy, religion, and pondering the nature of life and the universe. It made me think. What has my personal compass been? What’s my guiding philosophy?

In my angst-ridden youth, I embaced Nihilism which led me to nowhere and nothingness. That’s not a destination I’d recommend, to be sure. But in my struggle with meaninglessness, as a young adult, I found something good in it. I discovered Buddhism, which put me on a path out of despair. I settled down and stopped fighting the world. My 20’s were happy and pretty much carefree. Some who knew me at the time might have thought Hedonism was my compass. Hmmm… they would not have been wrong.

Then in my middle ages, I experimented with Capitalism and lived for nearly two decades in its dreamscape, ignoring the emptiness of its promises and the transitory nature of its joys. When the straw house of “success” I had created finally collapsed, I temporarily lapsed into depression. I tried clinging to Capitalism and found myself sinking with it. I reached again for Hedonism, and its comforts ran out just as quickly as the money did. The path I’d been on with Buddhism was nowhere in sight. My compass was missing. I would not have admitted it at the time, but I was lost.

Only quite recently have I remembered the location of the magical weapon that breaks open the prison of suffering, that defeats misery and banishes depair. It’s what got me through the hardest times of my childhood, what brought me back from the brink of suicide/bankruptcy and gave me the strength to pull out my compass once again and move forward. The force that makes all of life’s pain disappear:

Laughter.

You see, I’d forgotten that Life is a joke, and the joke is on me for taking my own so damned seriously. When I was child I knew it was all about having fun. But I lost my sense of humor for a time. I forgot to laugh through the insanity. I started believing the six o’clock news, the morning headlines, and the Dow Jones average. The world is a scary and dangerous place… NOT!

Ah, such a fool I was. And such a fool I’ll always be. I’m Life’s very own jester. And it makes me smile to think of it. So I am writing it down here, as a reminder, for the next time I let the events of the day get to me (and believe me, they will). I’m so very much more than a paycheck or a job title, a prospect, a voter or a billpayer, or whatever society wants to brand me. I am a source of the three most important elements in the Universe: compassion, love and laughter. I can bring much happiness to this dreary little planet. All I ask is the opportunity to share the blessings I’ve received with others. Let’s have some fun!!!

The vast majority of my entries on 43T are about activities. My blog site tends to be that way, too. I’m adopting this goal so that I can occasionally just write something that has nothing to do with getting things done, meeting people or going places. Watch this space for thoughts and ideas… assuming that I actually still have them from time to time.

I’d like to consider myself a thinker. I believe that at one point I was somewhat of a thinker. I’m not sure where my thoughts have disappeared to, though. I feel almost like my interesting side, if there ever was one, has completely vanished. I’m going to have to do some mental exercises to improve my philosophizing abilities lol.

Existence before essence:
Existentialism is blowing my mind, especially after my “universally speaking” paper in philosophy last year. It had the same possibilities, you can almost arrive at a Kant-like conclusion coming from the opposite direction. No universals, no eternal essence, no collective morality. But like I said, you can still get to the same kind of points, if you want. Or if you don’t want. The sudden realization of free will is more than liberating. Well, liberating and then daunting, and then the meaninglessness creeps in (gah!) but then you know you exist, and it gives you a hope and a security that is more comforting than the daunting smite of the universals (beautiful though they are)-and thats considering I haven’t read any religious existential lit yet…and also considering I’ve only had one class. The exciting part is how it coincides with waiting for Godot (more mind exploding) and world religions/seminar. Independent Study is just a cool format all together. In world rel today I sat on the floor with a pillow. Thanks, Lee.

Why do I feel like being into things all of a sudden? action action its got me feeling good. Waiting for Godot, Lucky’s rant:
“In the plains in the mountains by the seas by the rivers running water running fire the air is the same and then the earth namely the air and then the earth in the great cold the great dark the air and the earth abode of stone in the great cold alas alas in the year of their Lord six hundred and something the air the earth the sea the earth abode of stones in the great deeps the great cold on sea on land and in the air I resume for reasons unknown in spite of the tennis the facts are there but time will tell I resume alas alas on on in short in fine on on abode of stones who can doubt it I resume but not so fast I resume the skill fading fading fading and concurrently simultaneously what is more for reasons unknown in spite of the tennis on on the beard the flames the tears the stones so blue so calm alas alas on on the skull the skull the skull the skull in Connermara in spite of the tennis the labors abandoned left unfinished gracer still abode of stones in a word I resume alas alas abandoned unfinished….”