We often hear about strife and conflict, or at least I do. There is an endless stream of events and occurrences: a bombing here, a shooting there, a catastrophe in the foreground and an angst-driven confession in the distance. Violence, which is not innate (is it?) is our constant bedfellow. We are not in the Digital Age, but in the Age of Destruction: we must simply wait for the demise of civilization and, eventually of Earth. The great difficulty we all face, I am sure, is that we do not naturally or environmentally experience this kind of suffering: life is “pretty good,’” especially on a bright and sunny day! To comprehend my conceptual world, the world that is being constantly “streamed” to me, the world presented by my device(s), I have to make a leap into the chaos: all is dark, all is pain– I simply await the end. We know, however, that this is one big lie. This termed was first coined by Adolf Hitler in his hugely successful book, Mein Kampf. Our big lie, however, is not a people; it is a concept: the world is a dangerous and violent place.
To quote Adolph Hitler in Mein Kampf: But it remained for the Jews (or the Chinese, the Westerners, the successful, the rich, the happy — fill in your excuse here) with their unqualified capacity for falsehood, and their fighting comrades, the Marxists, to impute responsibility for the downfall (of Germany in World War I) precisely to the man who alone had shown a superhuman will and energy in his effort to prevent the catastrophe which he had foreseen and to save the nation from that hour of complete overthrow and shame. By placing responsibility for the loss of the world war on the shoulders of Ludendorff (1) they took away the weapon of moral right from the only adversary dangerous enough to be likely to succeed in bringing the betrayers of the Fatherland to justice.
All this was inspired by the principle—which is quite true within itself—that in the big lie there is always a certain force of credibility; because the broad masses of a nation are always more easily corrupted in the deeper strata of their emotional nature than consciously or voluntarily; and thus in the primitive simplicity of their minds they more readily fall victims to the big lie than the small lie, since they themselves often tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to large-scale falsehoods.
It would never come into their heads to fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously. Even though the facts which prove this to be so may be brought clearly to their minds, they will still doubt and waver and will continue to think that there may be some other explanation. For the grossly impudent lie always leaves traces behind it, even after it has been nailed down, a fact which is known to all expert liars in this world and to all who conspire together in the art of lying. (2)
Perverse and morally bankrupt, isn’t it? But, our acceptance of the big lie is slowly making inroads. Yesterday, at a school function, two intelligent and educated young women told me that travel, after university, should be limited because of the dangers of terrorism (say what?). Life is a fantastic and exhilarating experience, but it is a choice: my choice. If I shroud myself in ignorance, I must be prepared for the consequences. When we don’t think logically, we must be prepared for the consequences (ponder recent history in North America). We need to look no further than the Myth of Chicken Little:
Chicken Little was a simple being. She liked to walk in the woods; she liked to look at the trees; she liked to smell the flowers; she liked to listen to the birds singing. One day while out walking, an acorn fell from a tree and hit the top of her small head. She was startled, but quickly drew a conclusion: “My, oh, my, the sky is falling — I must go and tell the lion (the ruler of the jungle),” and she began to run. She ran and ran. Soon she met a hen. “Where are you going?” asked the hen. “Oh, gosh, oh gosh, the sky is falling and I must find the lion and warn.” “How do you know the sky is falling?” the hen inquired. “It hit me on the head, so I know it must be true,” said Chicken Little. “Let me go with you.” the hen implored. The two ran on and on until they met a duck: “The sky is falling,” said the hen. “We are going to tell the lion.” “How do you know?” asked the duck. “It hit Chicken Little on the head,” said the hen derisively. “May I come with you?” the duck pleaded. “Come!” said the hen. So, the three of them ran on and on until they met a fox. “Where are you going?” asked the fox.”The sky is falling and we are going to tell the lion,” replied the three in unison. “Do you know where he lives?” asked the fox.”I don’t know.” said Chicken Little. “I don’t know,” said the hen. ”I don’t know,” said the duck. “I do,” said the fox. “Come with me and I will show you the way.” they walked until they came to his den “Come right in,” said the fox. They all went in and were never seen again. The moral of the story: when you go looking for a lion expect to at least find a fox. Meaning; if you look hard enough, you will always find — at least — something bad.
The other day, I sat on the esplanade in front of the art museum. It was a warm day and the area was simply buzzing with children: their energy is always contagious. In front of me, two preschoolers were rolling down a hill. What they lacked in speed, they made up in screeching. I was sitting without my shoes on feeling the grass (a first for me, encouraged by my yoga teacher). My imagination leapt to the front of my mind. “Why not roll yourself; it looks like fun? Did I? No, I was constrained by my age, my clothes, my self-perception. Stupid! Next time, I will roll: a launderer and new self-image awaits. Imagination is but action wrapped in a shroud of joy. The great artist, poet and philosopher, William Blake (1757- 1827) leaves us with a thought: The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity… and some barely see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
A closing thought: My advice: stop looking for the negative, the situations that cause us fear. They exist and are easily accessed. Spiritually grow by turning the box off, or at least down. The mind responds more readily to positive stimuli than negative. This is not fanciful, nor is it naïve. It is simply the truth. Where am I? I am not standing in front of you: I only exist in your thoughts and perceptions. My world is created through “my” five senses. Thus, why not strive for excellence in thoughts, words, and deeds: why not?
To sum up: This week we spoke about the great gift that life is. Unfortunately, it is not always perceived this way. Many look to its more negative side. This is one big lie to enfeeble us. We gave two examples: a passage from the book written by Adolph Hitler and the consequences of naïve belief, as in the Myth of Chicken Little. We offered a solution; get to work building joyful experiences.
An amusing occurrence: When I first came to Taiwan, my senses were assaulted by the exotic smells and tastes of her food. At the time in Canada, the cuisine was basic, to say the least. As children, we were constantly told, “Leave the peel on, it holds the nutrients of the fruit.” Once, at my school in Daya, I was offered some lychee nuts by the patron of the school. I slowly began to break them off their branches and eat them one by one, all the while wondering, “How many will I have to eat to appear polite?” The eyes of the director grew in direct proportion to the number I ate. Finally, he whispered something in Mandarin to my co-worker. “Tell him he has to take the shell off first!”
This week, please consider how you bring joy into your life on a daily basis.
Every day look for something magical and beautiful.
Quote: My reality is 100% determined by me. In any given circumstance, the physical outcome may be uncontrollable, but the mental conclusion is derived from my perception of the world.
Footnotes:
2) Mein Kampf, by Adolph Hitler: vol. I, chapter X (1925)