“Am I an empiricist: am I faced with knowing the world only through my senses and my experiences, is nothing innate (1)?” These are questions that constantly “buzz around” in my mind, juxtaposed with, “Do I then have significance: will the world I create through my actions have consequences? Will I die without my mission fulfilled?” (2) Fear is an emotion that seemingly comes to us far more easily than the feeling of love – though love, when experienced is tremendously more powerful. I have contact with many, many people on a weekly basis. More than a few, because they are young, share their negative thoughts about the world at large – how dangerous and evil it is. I inquire as to where this view comes from.
Bravery is not enhanced by size but by action.
We live in a world that is seemingly inundated with violence, both personal and societal. Most history books attest to the carnage of the First World War (1914-1918), for example, a war that eviscerated thousands of young soldiers on both sides: their remains yet to be unearthed. Individual scholars point to this conflict as normalizing our acceptance of murder and carnage. (1) I often ask my students who would they like to hit or abuse. The answer is invariably one of shock and disbelief. No one it seems wants to strike anyone. Who then is committing its most extreme state: killing? We all are guilty by accepting violence and murder as normal, and the way that human beings express frustration, ennui and pure uncontrolled anger. We must begin to turn to Gandhi’s Satyagraha philosophy for guidance. This was far beyond “passive resistance” and lent its power to non-violent methods. In his words: “Truth (Satya) implies love and firmness (Agraha) engenders and therefore serves as a synonym for force. I thus began to call the Indian movement Satyagraha, that is to say, the Force which is born of Truth and Love or non-violence, and I gave up the use of the phrase ‘passive resistance,’ in connection with it.” What Gandhi is saying is that we must speak with our family, friends and associates when we hear of violence and eschew its central tenet that “might is right.” The president of the NRA (1) was quoted recently as suggesting that the American government put a policeman in every school. This kind of sickness will do nothing to advance the concept of world peace.
Continue reading Bravery is not enhanced by size but by action.
Enlightenment awaits those who try
In North America, as is well documented, the industrial worker is quickly disappearing. The concept of quitting school in Grade Ten and securing a well-paid job now exists in the realm of fantasy. There is a large group of individuals, however, that have little to no interest in university life, the costs and time of tertiary training seemingly unattainable. What happens to them? They become wage slaves: DBAWageslave.com. It is safe to say that few become titans of industry like Steve Jobs (1955-2011). The ranks of the working poor have overwhelmed entry level positions. Visit any fast-food location and you will be shocked by the average age of your server or clerk: many are middle aged, trying to survive on minimum wage.
Gratitude: the first real gift
The other day, as I was driving down one of Taichung’s busy streets (carefully minding my own business, as the pundits like to say), a woman “appeared out of nowhere, driving like mad.” She drove across her red light as I was going through my green: you know the result! I struck her and we both tumbled to the ground. I have had, some would say, fortunately, very little exposure to the Taiwanese emergency services, and they are truly excellent. It was like a bad drama. As I began to strike the side of the woman’s vehicle, everything entered the twilight zone. (1) My reality slowed down: my body shuddering in apprehension as it was thrown to the ground. Then the fog slowly began to clear: I couldn’t move: pain radiated down my neck, shoulders and chest. “Gosh,” I thought to myself, “this is not good.”
Imagination must lead to experimentation
We are told that the disintegrating state of our mind and of our school system, for that matter, is because we lack imagination. Even further: this innate creativity is decaying because of the age we are living in, the Internet Age. “Has modern society really extinguished the creative spark among our youth? Experts say creativity is innate, so it can’t really be lost. But it needs to be nurtured. … The current focus on testing in schools, and the idea that there is only one right answer to a question, may be hampering development and creativity among kids, … But the situation is not hopeless, … In fact, there’s evidence to suggest that, worldwide, youngsters are very creative, particularly with their use of digital media, … And a recent study found that, at least in their playtime, kids are becoming more imaginative. Experts agree changes can be made in the classroom to cultivate creativity.”(1)
Every career move has its risks
By twelve, I had figured out how I was going to escape the drudgery of industrial work as a career – or work in general, for that matter. I was going to be a rock-and-roll star. My poor qualities of talent and musicality did not seem to be major challenges: maturity, however, affords us a totally different perspective, doesn’t it? Music was the rage. It dominated the youthful society of the time in a way that social media does today. At the top of this social hierarchy were the musicians. God took lessons from them, obviously. When John Lennon said, “Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. I needn’t argue about that; I’m right and I’ll be proved right. We’re more popular than Jesus now; I don’t know which will go first — rock-and-roll or Christianity. Jesus was all right but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It’s them twisting it that ruins it for me,” (1) he may have provoked outrage – but he wasn’t far off for the times.
Freedom: how it all begins with a moment.
I remember a freshness and an excitement when I think back some sixty or so years. In this, I am sure that I am not unique: life with all its complications and frustrations begins much like a distant vessel on the horizon. It is initially just a small dot that slowly gets bolder and bolder, and finally looms fully into view. It is only then that you can make out its details: its huge size, its complicated structure, its blazing color, its sublime profile. In all of this, you sense a feeling of lightness, the embrace of optimism. You do not know why you feel this way, but you do. You are alive, though somewhat dull and awkward. Now: what do you do with this life? This is the fundamental question that sticks with the thinking person until the end is presented. Its answer does not seem to reside in money, power or the things of the world; it appears to be a higher goal – almost unreachable. It is “to know the unknowable,” to paraphrase Averroes (1) or “to achieve my meaning to life,” in the parlance of Dr. Frankl. (2) I was just too young to properly articulate this question, though I felt that the query was there, nonetheless. I also suspected that to not adequately address this concern would fill my life with needless pain and suffering, the classic unrequited life. I wanted freedom, whatever that meant!
Don’t be a Wage Slave: a career is a must.
My trip to India has only reinforced that what beats in the breast of every human being is the desire to be an adventurer, a dreamer, a seeker: coupled with the knowledge that we are intrinsically free. These are universal qualities and define us more than religion, race or culture. They delineate our very humanity. This is a bold statement and requires explanation. When we first left the Rift Valley (in modern day Ethiopia) approximately 200,000 years ago, (1) we were in search of a better environment: climate change was upon us. Homo sapiens were certainly few in number and not braver than our hominin brethren, Homo erectus, who had ventured out of Africa 1.5 million years before. But, we had our advantages: we had bigger brains; resourceful ingenuity and the ability to adapt to any habitat. We were also not selfish – we worked together. These capacities allowed us to dominate our species and populate the world, and we did.
The return never leaves you the same
We have come to the close: my final day dances with delights. I am up early, yoga and my morning ablutions. The lady of the house makes me a truly sumptuous English breakfast: bacon, sausages, eggs, tomatoes, beans, toast, and jam — I am forgetting the percolating coffee! (1) I sense a tinge of guilt concerning last night’s water, or lack thereof. This permeates the crisp linen tablecloth and polished silverware. “What century am I in?” I ask myself. In an earlier age, I would have graciously accepted the meal and suffered from gluttony for the rest of the morning. Seniority has its advantages: I opt for a small bowl of yogurt and, as a concession to her kindness, a cup of black coffee. I refuse to feel the requisite guilt at the unconsumed meal. I take my leave and say my goodbyes: the driver is waiting. I suddenly have more luggage than I remember, though this is not possible. The woman sensing something amiss summons a nearby neighbor to act as valet: remember — 1.25 billion people. She pays him a pittance which she states, condescendingly, is already too much. The man trundles my, now overweight, suitcases to the entrance of the building. As if acknowledging he has been overpaid, he carries them to the taxi. He proceeds initially in the wrong direction. Exhausted but morally satiated, he deposits them in front of the vehicle. His fee has been equitably used. We are off. New Delhi is a leafy and beautiful city. I, of course, have come just after a typhoon so I have no exposure to the choking air pollution that I often read about.
Nirvana awaits: are you ready?
I catch the train to Agra. It is an uneventful trip. The only truly exciting occurrence is that the Indian Rail Corporation does not view Agra with the reverence that I (or we) do. I am sitting rather contentedly, half asleep, in my seat when the train suddenly comes to a lurching stop. I am jarred to attention. As I glance out the window, I see an enormous sign: Agra. “Are we in Agra?” I inquire with some urgency. The incredulous look of the weary conductor says it all: another ridiculous foreigner with an inane question! “You have three minutes!” he responds rather haughtily. Life moves in slow motion. I cannot seem to disengage my valise from the upper rack.—the seconds tick by. I tumble out of the train scuffing my newly polished shoes: such are the blemishes of travel.