From the Other Side

It is impossible to feel the exact feeling that another person felt. Even if we think we have experienced the exact same feeling, the intensity, context, and sensation experienced by empathy’s target. Poetry may be the closest we get, but even the carefully selected words tell different stories to each reader. This emotional barrier inherent among all humans causes some tragic misunderstandings. Racism, which spawns from this communication barrier, is something that many people will never understand. Black people are racist towards whites, whites to blacks, and every other color variation you can think of.

Though we may be able to recreate this situation, we will never be able to fully comprehend how this guy felt at that moment.

Racism itself is fascinating to me. For some reason, dark colored skin has been considered an inferior trait for thousands of years. The caste system in India is based on skin color, the Europeans enslaved Africans, and Native Americans were seen as less-than-human savages by explorers. To this day I cannot see why people would view such a superficial trait as a judge of character. I am not saying that I am immune to racism; I sometimes catch myself stereotyping people because of associations I have made from past experiences. But to me, my judgments seem justified. But upon further reflection, I realized that everyone probably thinks their views are justified—why else would they make them?

Racism is far from an American plague--this video shows how prevalent racism is in Europe, and how absurd situations can get.

I decided to look from the other side: how are the racists’ views formed? Their parents probably taught them the hatred, and provided evidence for their stances. Toni Morrison offers a penetrating view into a child’s delicate mind. Pecola is dumbfounded by her social stance in her world, but cannot seem to explain to herself why it is such. She is forced to believe that she “belonged to them.”[1] Just as her hatred for herself is formed, so must be the hatred of a racist. Pecola will always hold a deep contempt for her existence, and after years of living in this way, convincing her otherwise would be an impossible feat. I watched a documentary about a Navy ship last year, and one episode dealt with a racist crew member. The captain tried desperately to explain that any black soldier on the boat would risk their life to save his, but the racist still hated them for the color of their skin. He was discharged. I was amazed that even with such compelling evidence for the morality of the ethnic sailors, the racist was still unconvinced. He was as stubborn as Pecola.

Again, I took another viewpoint. The view of the discriminated is as complex as the racists. Many people are taught from a young age that they are inferior, just as Pecola was. Claudia and Frieda both felt as if their dark skin deemed them less desirable than the lighter-skinned Maureen; “If she was cute—and if anything could be believed, she was—then we were not.”[2] The self-restricting hate towards “acting white” is passed on through generations of black families, and the kids are taught to reject academic success and formal speech from a young age. Why this happens baffles me; if acting white is to speak intelligently and embrace scholastic achievement, then what defines “acting black?” Still, the blame for this view does not rest on the naivety of the children. The view is embedded in the culture, and is not adopted like a fashion statement—it becomes part of their cultural identity.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acting_white

This article briefly explains acting white and the term's origin.

If we are ever to truly end racism, it will not be through laws or supreme court decisions. It will have to go beyond “cash[ing]… a check that will give us…the riches of freedom and the securities of justice.”[3] Both whites and blacks alike must be taught to discard their notions of inherent superiority or inferiority—especially the inferiority complex. There is no easier way to find failure than to assume that it is inevitable or deserved. It is no longer an issue of legality; now, racism is a matter of self-image, and the ability to try to see life from the other side.

This picture always reminds that my perspective is only one in a billion, and that I should strive to go beyond the way I see things.

[1] Bluest Eye, 45
[2] BE, 75
[3] A325 King

The Journey

Figure 1: An interesting take on the relationship between light and dark. The importance of having both “light" and "dark", as well as many other similar motifs, is repeated in many teachings, and are seen as necessary for a balanced universe.

“All the voices belonged together: the lamentation of yearning and the laughter of the wise one, the scream of rage and the moaning of the dying ones. All was one, and everything was intertwined and connected…All of it together was the flow of events and music of life.”[1] Unity, as explained by Siddhartha, is the essence of existence. Without accepting the necessity of darkness, the contrast of discord, or the pain of suffering, one cannot fully appreciate or even realize the existence of all that is good in the world. In my composition, as well as in my life, it is my goal to not only accept, but embrace the contrast that the world provides. With this in mind, I created this song that captures the journey I have taken through UT. Many aspects of my persona have changed since high school, and this composition is an attempt to explain my new self in an abstract way.

The song begins with a quiet and eerie chord progression that wanders between major and minor chords. The melody starts on the tritone, a notoriously dissonant interval, and weaves down to form more standard harmonies. To me, this represents the fact that life, though it has its high and low points, is generally hard to classify. When I first arrived at UT, my experience was one of confusion and apprehension. The excitement of independence, new friends, and success in some courses was coupled with feelings of isolation, some lonely days, and academic challenges. I wandered through each day not knowing if I was going to be successful or make mistakes. I was bombarded with so many new experiences and so much information that I barely had time to register progress; the melodic line of the introduction reflects this, as it goes between landing on bright and dark chords.

As the piece goes on, I made an effort to move the progression to unexpected chords for two reasons: The first is that college put me in situations that I wasn’t used to reacting to. It was during these times that I learned the most about myself. After receiving a very low mark on my first paper for this class and struggling to impress my studio teacher, I found that I do have a strong emotional connection with my academic success. I was furious at the grades I was receiving, but I realized that I couldn’t change them by force. My next reaction was to let the stress overcome me, and I began to rely on afternoon naps from stress-induced fatigue. It didn’t take me long to realize that this was also a deleterious method to deal with the hardship, so I changed once again. From that moment on, I learned to deal with the shortcomings by working harder in the future; I realized that the purpose of education isn’t to pass through with flying colors, but to build up my knowledge slowly and thoughtfully. The second reason that the unexpected chord changes are relevant is because I found that when I put myself in new situations, the results could be gratifying. Because I was out of state, I had not a single acquaintance to fall back on, and an outgoing nature was essential. For the first time since first grade I was walking up to strangers and introducing myself. Slowly but surely, by stepping out of my comfort zone and putting myself out there, I built many meaningful relationships with my fellow Longhorns.

Apparently this movie is titled "Revenge for a Bad Grade"...I quickly learned that the response to acadamic struggle is not to fight it, but to learn from it. No bloody cellos for me.

At two minutes and twenty-two seconds, the song transitions into a darker melody. This part of the composition represents the middle of the semester, when all of my classes were in full swing. This was a very challenging time for me academically; socially I was comfortable, and I had a supportive group of friends, but architecture was extremely difficult. Demanding and frequent projects consumed my free time, and I became enveloped by schoolwork. During this stage of college, I found that when I needed to, I could push myself to heights that I previously believed to be unreachable. During one particular week, I had two projects and three important papers due. With almost no sleep, I was able to not only complete everything, but to also improve in all of my classes. From that moment on I have been comforted by the knowledge that, when necessary, I can thrive under extreme pressure. The melody follows this realization: it is a dark, minor section of the song because of the challenges I faced, but the melody remains controlled and restrained.

Architecture has taught me that I can perform brilliantly when...well, under pressure.

The song moves to a brighter section, and slowly merges back into the original theme. This parallels the relief brought on by winter break and the fact that I did well on my finals. The basic, harmonious chords illustrate comforting sensations of being back home with my family, friends, and dog. As the restful break drew to an end, apprehension for the coming semester began to build—thus the return to the drifting introductory melody. However, the melody departs from the original one and slowly builds into a more uplifting chord progression. This parallels the emotions I felt upon returning to UT; as I got back into the swing of things, I realized how much I had learned and found I had much more confidence in myself. The hardships I had experienced during the first semester prepared me for the next semester in ways that I hadn’t noticed. My demeanor was one of relaxed confidence: whatever was coming, whatever needed to be done, no matter how challenging, was something I could handle. I began making time to enjoy myself, put more emphasis on my social life and recreational activities, and realized that my work load, though much more demanding than many of my peers, was not going to control my experience at UT.

At about five minutes and twenty-five seconds, the music changes into a quiet, building melody. The notes become faster and louder, until they finally explode into a joyous chorus. Hopefully, the end of the semester will follow the current vector I am on, and reflect the ending of my piece. The path I have taken since the first semester, as the piece symbolizes, has been convoluted and challenging, discouraging and inspiring. With my newfound confidence, my ability to more positively react to struggles, and my new outlook on the patience required for an education has made this semester infinitely more bearable. The piece winds down slowly, and has some dark chords mixed in to show that, even as a stronger person, there will still be challenges ahead. The final chord ends on a fourth, as opposed to the root, or “home” chord. These final notes, as they slowly die out, show that the song of my life is far from ending. If it is up to me, I hope the future is as unexpected and amazing as this year has been.

http://jrbbumpthis.blogspot.com/
Words: 1,117
[1] Sid 126

Sid and Me

Not your typical location for philosophical discussions...

This spring break, I participated in one of the most ridiculous arguments of all time. Although I’m not exactly sure how it began, as I jumped in partway through, from what I gathered it started with the value of traveling abroad and ended with the meaning of life. When it came to be my turn, I started my explanation in an unconventional way. It went something like this:

What is the purpose of a tree? I know that they produce oxygen, nourishment, shelter, etc. That’s all dandy. But when you really think about it, why do trees exist? More importantly, where are they going? I can’t imagine that trees are working towards an ultimate goal, or that they will evolve and eventually turn into an unquestionably perfect organism. They have no significant impact on the universe, and they don’t really care whether they live or die.

Trees: they're everywhere! Why?

The majority of the group participating in the argument agreed with this, so I proceeded to the more controversial aspect:

So, if trees, an effective organism that will exist as long as conditions allow it to, are essentially trudging onward without a purpose, why are humans different? Just because we are aware, just because we have feelings, perceptions, goals, and cognitive reasoning does not mean that our existence is any less pointless. We too are not evolving towards anything, there is no ultimate “end” that we will reach and say, “Well, that was a good run. Good job guys.” We, like trees, are simply reproducing and churning about in an essentially directionless existence. Once you think about it, our existence isn’t only insignificant; it’s pointless.

People: they're everywhere! WHY?

At this point in the argument I was assaulted with a raucous. “Existentialism is stupid…You can’t just dismiss…Are you saying you don’t care if you die…Why do you even argue then?” After a few minutes of calming the group down, I was allowed to proceed:

Well, even if our existence is pointless, I still want to be a part of it. I have no issues working towards nothing; I have no problems with humanity following an endless path. Think of all of the amazing things around us. A tree, for example, is one of the most beautiful organisms on the planet. Who doesn’t want to visit the oak at the end of Shawshank Redemption and sit under its cool canopy? If there is no meaning in our world, then it is our job to make the best of it. In fact, maybe that is the meaning.

One of the most epic trees I have ever seen.

After my speech, the argument immediately transformed into something else (I think it moved towards how intolerance is the root of all war), but the verbalization of my world view helped me align my own thoughts. Since the conversation, I have been looking for my own “meaning” to give my life, and I’m certain that it will take many years to find it. Still, when reading the end of Siddhartha, a few of his views really hit home. For example, when he described his realization that all parts of the world were meant to exist together, I agreed completely. “The longing voice, however, changed. It still resounded with suffering and seeking, but other voices had joined it: voices of joy and suffering, good and evil, laughter or sadness.”[1] Later, Sid realizes that “All the voices belonged together…All was one.”[2] I too realized that the pointless aspects of life and the ones I care about were all part of the same thing. Every part of my life was dependent on the other.

At that moment, I realized that perhaps one of the goals of my life could be to embrace and enjoy every part, just as Siddhartha does at the end of the novel. “Perhaps I intended to say that I love this stone, and the river, and all the things at which we are looking and from which we can learn. I can love a stone, Govinda, as well as a tree or a piece of bark.”[3] Although I am far from achieving nirvana, and though I may pursue it in an unconventional way, I’ve found that it fits well with my goals. If I can give meaning to my tragically puny life in this tragically large universe, and that meaning is to be able to love all of it, then I won’t be that bad off. Hopefully I can make the transition from being a “seeker” and “make some time for finding.”

[4]

[1] Sid 126
[2] Sid 126
[3] Sid 135
[4] Sid 130

“What is mystic contemplation? It’s a brief escape out of the agony of self-existence.”[1]



Something is making Buddha hate his life.

Wait, what? The agony of self-existence?

Although self-existing can be trying at times, for me it is essence of life. The world I observe with my eyes, ears, touch, and taste is the only thing I know, the only way I can connect with my surroundings. Even so, I find it in no way limiting or disappointing. When I go swimming on a hot summer day, the brightness and warmth from the sun, the churning life that rejoices with the season, the cool sensation of the water, the birds sing and fly about—all of these things are delightful to me, and I never feel bound by my human existence. Even if the body is only a vessel for my soul, I think it is one of the greatest ones. Physically it is resilient; the hands are the most versatile tools I know of, and our muscles acting in synchronization move our bodies in beautiful ways, be it lifting a heavy piece of wood or the most delicate and graceful dance. Mentally, it is unparalleled. Our minds far surpass the intellect of any animal we have observed, and even allow us to be self-aware. This awareness, though it may be despised by Sid, is the reason he can even think about despising his existence. Is it better to live in ignorance?






Maybe I'm a sap, or maybe it's because I am one, but I find beauty in the human form.



When Sid talked about existing “[as] a heron” or “[as] a dead jackal”, it seemed freeing and interesting, but seemed slightly hypocritical to me. Why is existing as a heron, jackal, or any other animal more noble than the existence of a human? Sid seemed fixated on the idea of leaving the human form behind and embracing nature as an entirety. Still, I don’t see humans as separate from nature. I can rejoice in myself and my relation to nature. Society and consumerism has made great strides in its attempt to isolate humanity, and if this is Sid’s issue, then I can relate. Some of the most peaceful days of my life have been in isolation from civilization. I’ve hiked deep into the Jemez Mountains with my family to natural hot springs; I’ve walked rode quietly through the Amazon on a boat with the Albuquerque Youth Symphony; I’ve sat on a rock in the Grand Canyon by myself while my friends took pictures and talked. Though all of these moments have been spiritual and freeing, there is one significant difference between my take on them and Sid’s: I enjoyed being with my family and friends during these times, and sharing the experiences with them was almost equally gratifying. I, as a human, am a social animal, and I see no reason to disassociate myself with this quality.





The heron seems like it has a pretty ideal existence, but I don't see why it is more noble or less agonizing than my own.

I think there are some aspects of Siddhartha that do line up with my views of the world. For example, after seeing the suffering in the world, Arnold Edwin states how he was filled with “such wide love for living things, such passion to heal pain, that by their stress his princely spirit passed to ecstasy.”[2] Needless suffering is something that is revolting, just as sadistic violence is. However, I am not displeased with the state of nature. When “lizard fed on ant, and snake on him, and kite on both,”[3] I was not disgusted or disappointed. Life has evolved from competition, and therefore it needs it to continue. If one wants to connect with nature, the acceptance of this fact is vital.





Competition is part of the "Circle of Life"--that's why its a circle.

[1] Siddhartha 19
[2] A 241
[3] A 241

Do No Harm

I'm sorry, Mr. Mosquito, but I will never love you. It's not me, it's definitely you.

When I was in elementary school, I heard a story that flabbergasted me. Apparently, some kid, somewhere, saw a mosquito land on their arm and had an idea. Instead of smacking it, they squeezed the flesh around it vigorously, forcing more blood into the insect than it could handle. The bug exploded in blood. From the moment I found this out, I was determined to do it myself. It was appealing for two reasons. First, it seemed like a certain form a justice. The mosquito, who was trying to take the blood that my body had worked so hard to produce, was destroyed by its own actions. Secondly, it just seemed awesome. It isn’t very often that you get to see things explode in blood (unless you played Area 51 in the arcade). Unfortunately, I never achieved my goal. Whenever a mosquito landed on my arm, I smacked it instinctively. To this day, I still don’t know if the myth is true. This is an awful representation of one of my favorite Larson comics, but the concept is the same: popping mosquitos.

I guess the only thing that this story proves is that I probably could never be a Jain. I’m sure I could prevent myself from slapping it if I were “drugged to insensibility”, as Kipling observes the Janis doing when they enter the room in which they feed the vermin, but one fact remains: if I ever see a mosquito biting me and I don’t slap it, I will most certainly squeeze the skin around it. And, if it pops, I will probably do it every time.

Despite my acceptance of my inability to practice the religion, I have wondered if it would be possible to live a completely Jain life in America. I immediately realized that I couldn’t live in a house; termites alone would prevent this, because it is illegal to live in a house without a solid build. I couldn’t live in a city, because pollution is deleterious to animal health, and the lights cause countless moth deaths each night. I also determined that any use of plastic would be a violation, because to produce it requires petroleum drilling, transport, packaging, etc…all of these things would probably involve some sort of animal death. Jains “are dissuaded from throwing any waste into river and lakes”, and I’m certain that at least one of the workers handling any manufactured product would disregard this sentiment. So, the only setting I could find that fit the bill involved living in isolation in a handmade shelter.

This would be my home. Seems nice, but it might get old.

Although living in a shelter would be fun, it seems a little extreme. For some reason I can never find myself feeding a “a host of vermin, as dense as the sands on the sea-shore”, as described in “Jain Animal Shelters”. I can never see myself feeling compassion for parasitic worms that can cause people extreme pain (a picture will be omitted because it is unnecessary imagery). I can respect people that have adopted such an intense respect for animals, but it seems unnecessary to me. Insects and other “pests” have already evolved to compensate for their short lives: mass-production. My view on this extent of compassion will never change, so I guess Jainism just isn’t for me.

Sorry buddies, I'm still going to squish you if you try to eat my food!

New Mexico

I can hardly mention the state of New Mexico in my dorm. If I do, whatever statement I was planning on saying is inevitably interrupted by the moans of all of my friends. It’s not that they have any problem with the state. No, they complain because of me; it is safe to say that I reminisce about my home state at least once a week. For some reason, I have become unbearably nostalgic about the entire identity of New Mexico. The food, the weather, the scenery—I crave it all of the time.
New Mexican "rivers", home of the cutthroat trout. Yes, I memorized my state fish.



I did not always have this infatuation with Albuquerque. In high school, it was common to refer to Albuquerque with disdain. It seemed as if my friends and I had exhausted every benefit imaginable, so many of our nights were spent playing video games or poker. New Mexican food, because it was so abundant, was never something I craved. I simply ate it. Now, I can hear green chile calling me before I fall asleep. William Blake wrote in his poem, “A Divine Image,” that “The human face a furnace sealed, the human heart its hungry gorge.” [1] In my case, the furnace was the burn of the chile, and my love for the taste was the insatiable chasm. Here in Texas, where there is great pride in their attempt at Mexican food, I am seen as a snob or picky. Sadly, these people don’t realize how naive they are. In fact, I was naive until I came here. Now that I can’t find breakfast burritos or Christmas enchiladas (a mix of red chile and green chile), I am fully aware of the miraculous cuisine I left behind.

That green sauce that's on everything--that's what I love.


Even the weather is better in New Mexico. When an Austinite tries to explain how wonderful the “low-humidity” is, I feel obliged to modify Hopkins poem, “Spring”: “Nothing is so beautiful as Spring”—in New Mexico. [2] With zero percent Humidity and rain that has a scent, there are few places that compare. Again, while I lived in the state I never realized this fact. It wasn’t until my college search during senior year that I realized there was such a thing as 100% humidity. I also feel like I am losing touch with nature. This is probably due to my lack of a car, but there is something to be said about the scenery in northern New Mexico. Mountains of epic proportions are abundant, hikes can lead through aspen groves, and camping in complete isolation is easy. When I am hiking in these parts, I realize how powerful nature is. Like Barney says in the poem “On Greer Island a Copperhead Lies Slain”, the animals are “the owners of [the] isle.” [3] It makes me realize how unnatural humans have become.




If you haven't been through an aspen grove, I reccommend it.


I’m not sure if I’ll ever stop craving green chile, but I hope I don’t. It certainly dominates my diet whenever I make it back for a break. It, as well as the weather and culture, will always remind me of something that is more satisfying than food: home. Although people may not realize it, the place where they grew up is special to them for reasons they sometimes can’t explain—even New Jersey has its fans. Austin is amazing, and I am excited for the coming years in Austin. Still, if you want to hear anyone rave about the “Land of Enchantment”, you know who to talk to.

One of the many great New Mexican ski resorts.

[1] A 146

[2] A 164

[3] A 162

My personal image of Jesus may vary from the norm. However, after you read the evidence presented in this paper, you too may begin to see him as the man he really was.

The life of Jesus, as documented by the bible, which is formed of collections of writings written by unknown authors perhaps centuries after the man’s death, translated by numerous people in numerous contexts, then interpreted by millions of different people that emphasize different parts and readings to form countless derivatives of Christianity, is most likely complete and thorough. Why else, then, would it be deemed Holy by the Pope, the dude who can talk directly to God after he is elected to do so by a bunch of other dudes who want to talk to God? That’s right: there is no argument against this. However, there seems to be something that many people overlook. “Today, most scholars think that the Last Supper of Jesus and his disciples was a modified and transformed Passover.”[1] Interestingly, there is no record of Jesus NOT being able to lift the Passover table over his head.

Hercules wasn't just a TV show, he was actually a person!

My question is this: Could it be possible to argue that Jesus was able to curl over 250 pounds? It is important to remember that Jesus was half man and half God. Like Hercules. And Hercules was ripped. In fact, there is autobiographical evidence of Hercules holding up the earth while Atlas retrieved some apples. For the sake of argument, let us pretend that Jesus was only one one-millionth of the Man-God that Hercules was. This means that Jesus could shoulder press 6,000,000,000,000,000 kilograms[2]—a statement that is never refuted in the Bible. Now, it is reasonable to argue that Hercules could curl more than 250 pounds, but due to lack of hard evidence, we must search elsewhere. After doing some research, I found an interesting video of Ronnie Coleman, aka Mr. Olympia for nine years straight. Watch this video starting at 2 minutes 5 seconds:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TECV1DtFyRo
If my eyes aren’t deceiving me, that video indicates that Ronnie Coleman was able to preacher curl 240-260 pounds—a style of curling that Jesus seems particularly capable of. Now, if I may deliver the punch of my argument:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W1KD7cGRDDc&feature=related
This video is of Ronnie Coleman dead-lifting a mere 800 pounds, a task that would seem trite to Jesus and Hercules alike. If Coleman was able to dead-lift 800 pounds for every 250 pounds he could curl, then Jesus would have theoretically been able to curl 4,133,437,500,000,000 pounds. Hercules would be able to curl one million times more than this. As you can see, even if Jesus’ dead-lift to curl ratio was one one-trillionth of Ronnie Coleman’s, his abilities would have far surpassed 250 pounds.

Something that is even more interesting is apocryphal material that emphasizes Jesus’ muscular figure. For example, in Luke 22:19, it reads: “And he took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, This is my body which is given up for you: this do in remembrance of me.”[3] It is common knowledge today that when someone has a “body”, it means that they are well toned and/or muscular. Jesus must have looked at his massive biceps, after completely owning the bread by snapping it right in half, and been inspired to reiterate the beautiful muscular form that was about to be sacrificed.

These guys would have been no match for the Son of God, JC. He would have knocked their matching socks right off.

In sum, when Christians partake of the body of God, it is not a remembrance of Jesus’ spiritual and emotional last meal, but as a psychological blow when we realize our shame of not being able to lift even a tenth of what Jesus could, our identification with Jesus in all of his animal cries and grunts as he worked out, and our own affirmation of the struggle to work out and overcome our weakness. Ronnie Coleman captures perfectly the human condition when he prophesizes, “everyone wants to be a body builder, ain’t nobody wanna do bench-press.”[4] We must remain focused and partake in the sacred ritual of strength training that Jesus was so fond of—even through our toughest lifts. "It is only at this most vulnerable point of pain, uttering unintelligible cries, that God redeems all suffering and asks for our participation in the end of”[5] our workout.

Back and Biceps MF, Triceps and Chest TTh, Legs and Abs WS, and on the seventh day we rest.
Join me next week when I prove that Jesus could fly; how else could he make it to heaven?

The Wright Brothers were decades behind this guy.

[1] A 135
[2] http://science.howstuffworks.com/question30.htm
[3] A 132
[4] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nsh_JSX2pkY
[5] A 137

Why We Do What We Do

HOBOS THINK OF A LOT OF WAYS TO GET ME TO GIVE THEM MONEY...BUT DO THEY EVER THINK OF ME?

It is amazing to think about the staggering amount of people on our planet. It is not the numbers that impress me; humans have been extremely prolific by biological standards, but this feat is diminished in comparison to the resiliency of the cockroach. No, the thing about humans that baffles me is this: every person I see is leading a life that is as important to them as mine is to me. I know that this only makes me sound vain, but it always amazes me when I sit and ponder it. The bum that just asked me for some change (they even specifically tell me that it’s for beer here in Austin)? Normally I just say “sorry man” and keep walking without even a hitch in my stride. I’ve even mastered the whole putting-hands-in-pockets-and-shrugging gig. Sometimes after I walk by, however, I wonder what the rat is thinking about me as I pass. At first I think that he is thinking “What a jerk. He probably has change. He doesn’t even care to try to help me.” But to be honest, he probably doesn’t give half a poo about who I am. He just wants his beer. I then begin to speculate about what everyone thinks of me as I walk by. I don’t think it’s cynical to assume that not a single person I pass thinks about my life story in the slightest—which is all dandy, because I usually return the favor. This is where I get the funny feeling in my tummy; not a single person I see throughout my day cares about my life, and I rarely care about theirs, a far stretch from Gods command to “love one another…as I have loved you.”[1] With billions of people like this all over the planet, it is hard to imagine how—or why—we manage to accomplish the things that we do.

So, despite our general apathy towards each other, we still manage to make some astounding things. A combustion engine, a crane, a cell phone, nuclear power plants…these things that we take for granted are amazing bits of technology. Our highly developed capacity for intellect has allowed us to master our domain and harvest the power that nature has to offer. I am not implying that humans are necessarily superior to animals or nature, but this is a vast difference between our motives. As David Lurie states, “We are of a different order of creation from the animals. Not higher, necessarily, just different.”[2] While an animal is content with food, a mate, and shelter, man wants more food, more mates, and better shelter. There is no question about whether we can achieve this or not, but Dana has brought up an interesting point: do we deserve it?

WE ARE STILL TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHO IS DOMINANT.

After thinking about it, I realized that it doesn’t really matter. For in the end, does anything really matter? Virgo alludes to the inevitable rhythm of nature in his poem “Pollio”, saying “Erunt etiam altera bella, atque iterum ad Troiam magnus mittetur Achilles. Hinc, ubi iam fermata uirum te fecerit aetas, cedet et ipse mari uector, nec nautical pinus mutabit merces (New wars too shall arise, and once again some great Achilles to some Troy be sent. Then, when the mellowing years have made thee man, no more shall mariner sail, nor pine-tree bark play traffic on the sea, but every land shall all things bear alike).”[3] It is my belief that eventually the human race will die off or evolve, thus nullifying the issues that we grapple with each day. But until then, the real question is this: does anything deserve anything? What does a flower do to justify its existence? When has any organism proven to be essential to the existence of the universe? The obvious answer is never, and to the “real” question, the answer is no. Regardless, I don’t think that this means we should give up on living. If we make the effort to lead compassionate lives, entitlement becomes irrelevant.

But can we ever lead compassionate lives? (See this link for the dramatic ending: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1Y73sPHKxw)

http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=world%20ending&rls=com.microsoft:*:IE-Address&oe=UTF-8&sourceid=ie7&rlz=1I7GWYE&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&hl=en&tab=wv#q=galaxy+colliding&hl=en&emb=0

EVENTUALLY WE WILL BE AT THE MERCY OF PHYSICS, BUT UNTIL THEN WE ARE AT THE MERCY OF EACH OTHER...

[1] A132, John 13:34.
[2] A 77
[3] A 124

Pee Pee 3

“Are you going to change?” I asked. Ben Warren, a friend who lives in my hall, and I were going to ascend the UT tower on a warm autumn day. “Why?” he asked me with a puzzled look. It was Saturday afternoon, and we had been watching the UT football game on TV. We were both wearing sweatpants and slippers. “You can’t just wear sweatpants and slippers around,” I explained. Again he replied, “Why?” After thinking for a moment, I realized that I couldn’t think of a good reason other than “no one else does.” So we headed out to the tower in our sweatpants and slippers. I’m not sure if the outfit was directly responsible, but that day turned out to be one of the most enjoyable weekends of the school year. After the tour, we met up with some other kids from our hall and ate pizza before going to see the new James Bond flick at the cinema. The entire day I felt relaxed and carefree. The next day I reflected on the occasion to try to figure out what made Saturday so pleasant. Eventually I realized that it was the first time in a long time that I had spent an entire day simply relaxing. In fact, it had been a while since I had done anything for the sole purpose of enjoying myself. The experience was so rewarding that I decided to make a deliberate effort each week to do the same thing. It was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

I CAN TELL THAT THIS GUY IS READY TO HAVE A GREAT DAY. THE ONLY THINGS THAT COULD MAKE IT BETTER ARE SLIPPERS.

The fateful “sweatpants day” inspired me to reexamine my priorities, and has had a profound effect on my persona. Prior to the incident, I had been stuck in a rut of apathy. During my senior year in high school I managed to suppress my capacity for emotions. Applying for college was a somewhat traumatic experience, and for me there was a narrow margin of success. It had been my goal ever since I thought about the college experience to attend a school out of state. I had no qualms with the University of New Mexico, but the fact that I lived 3 minutes away from campus seemed to detract from the college experience I envisioned. In order to attend an out of state school, my parents informed me that I would need to receive enough scholarships to cover all of tuition. Although I wasn’t hopeless, the sheer difficulty of the task was intimidating and frustrating. In order to protect myself from disappointment, I adopted an apathetic view. The process was slow, but my subconscious defense mechanism was thorough; by the second semester of senior year, I didn’t have any strong feelings about anything. This is hardly an exaggeration. When I found out that I received the Dedman Scholarship, I had very limited emotional response. The lack of excitement made me feel uneasy about my decision to attend UT—was I making the right choice? Even when I tried to figure out why I felt uneasy about the decision, I dismissed the endeavor with the expression that seemed to define my existence: “whatever.”

I FELT LIKE I HAD AS MUCH EMOTION AS THIS GUY. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, I RECOMMEND IT--THOUGH IT IS DISTURBING.

Emotional awareness is something that I feel is intrinsic to happiness. When I forget to take a step back and examine how my actions make me feel, I inevitably feel overwhelmed. Since the beginning of this semester I have made a conscious effort to spend at least an hour a day doing something that I enjoy. One of my favorite activities is composing songs for piano. Lately, I have nocied a change in the way I approach composition, and I believe it is because of my newly egained emotional capacity. This may sound strange to non-composers, but for the first time in years I am able to hear songs I want to compose before I play them. Although it is possible for me to write songs by following music theory and generic chord progressions, pieces derived from this mechanical process are never fully satisfying to produce. I would even complain to friends about this stagnant form of composition, saying that I felt as if I was playing the same song over and over again. With my new approach, the song is driven by my feelings and intuitions instead of a rule or known chord change. The resulting songs are remarkably more personal. If the music I produce is any measure of my emotional health—and I believe it is—then my demeanor has improved tremendously from senior year.

FINALLY, I REALIZED THE SECRET TO COMPOSITION--EXPRESSING EMOTIONS!

One aspect of emotional intelligence that I have focused on since this assignment has been embracing my academic successes. My typical response to grades (especially from architecture) is to dismiss them; if I receive a low mark, I immediately put it behind me and focus on the next project—if I receive a high mark, I do the same. With this method I never fully appreciated the lessons that can be learned from each assignment. Instead I tread tirelessly through each course, working on each project as if it is pointless, nonessential busywork that stands between me and my degree. On Tuesday, we turned in two drawings in which we drafted parts from model airplane kits. At the end of the review, my drawings were selected to hang in the lobby of the school. My immediate response was to ignore the obvious compliment. “I can’t believe they chose mine; there are so many better ones. Whatever.” On my way back to the studio, several students congratulated me on my success. After the third compliment, I realized that there was something fundamentally wrong with my response. It was almost as if I was refusing to rejoice in my success so I wouldn’t be disappointed when my work wasn’t selected from the next assignment. What, then, was I working for? If I didn’t strive to be noticed and praised by the professors, I was setting myself up for failure; even if I produced high-quality work, there was no reward. I decided to enjoy the spotlight, and called my number one fans for a little encouragement. “They’re putting them in the FRONT? Send me a picture! Here, tell Dad,” exclaimed my mother. Their excitement fueled mine, and the endless work demanded by architecture seemed slightly less trivial.

ONE OF MY DRAWINGS THAT WAS SELECTED TO HANG IN THE LOBBY. I'VE REALIZED THAT ITS OK TO BE PROUD OF MY SUCCESSES!

If I haven’t made it clear already, I want to state it plainly: I am happy. By turning inwards and sorting things out in my own heart, I have gained an awareness of the emotions all around me. For example, last Sunday I attended church after constant pressure from my mom. I am still working out what I believe myself, and have dubious feelings about the role of the church. Most of the time I feel that mass is pointless and only attended out of obligation, but I saw something during the ceremony that erased my doubts. During one of the songs, the man in front of me was singing along quietly. He was moving subtly with the music, which at first annoyed me. As I watched, mostly to see if he was going to annoy me more, he turned his head slightly and I could see that he was smiling. Immediately my emotions changed; this man was happy, and whether it was because of the song, his faith, or the community around him was irrelevant. I was overcome with happiness, and I realized that the church, regardless of my qualms, was an essential part of the world for this reason alone. Even if there is no God, even if faith is as pointless as our human existence, it brings people happiness and guidance and love, and there is no basis to destroy an institution that provides these things. Each day I notice instances that resemble my church experience; the world, though it has its ugly sides, is full of beautiful things.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ztkd6VP8vHw&feature=related

LISTEN IN PARTICULAR TO THE PART WHERE HE DESCRIBES BEAUTY FLOWING THROUGH HIM--THIS DESCRIPTION INSPIRED ME TO LOOK FOR IT IN EVERYDAY LIFE. BELIEVE IT OR NOT, ITS THERE.

I have decided to make it my priority to enjoy these things. Don’t get me wrong—I do get upset, annoyed, and have every desire to experience the full range of human emotion. My intention is to embrace everything for what it is, and realize that it all comes together to form our tragically futile lives. Every day we are faced with decisions regarding our emotional states. It is easy to dwell on our failures, become irate with mistakes and incompetence, or curse the injustice that seems to pervade our existence. However, it is just as easy to realize that shortcomings can be improved, that people are all doing their best to enjoy what they have, and to make a positive effort to deal with the situations we find ourselves in. I know, it sounds cheesy. But if you do it right, by staying honest with yourself and true to your emotions, the happiness is real—and worth it.

The Afterlife

WHAT IS HEAVEN? A RAINBOW OVER A WHITE CASTLE?

A few weeks ago, during one of our discussions we were asked to imagine being dead. I closed my eyes and tried to comprehend the inability to comprehend, I tried to experience nothingness. Of course I could not, because the essence of nothingness, or death, is the fact that it is never experienced. Afterwards, we were asked to imagine eternity. I imagined sitting in heaven with my family, friends, perhaps observing the planet and the endless toiling of life. I imagined a future so distant that everything I knew and loved became irrelevant. The idea of the planet became so detached that I couldn’t see myself relating to it. Again, I failed to grasp the notion of infinity; however, I realized that I didn’t want to exist in such a state. The discussion continued on some aspect of animal rights, but my mind was focused on the inevitable experience of death. If I feared the concept of nothingness, and was disinterested in eternity, what end could satisfy me? Before I examine the end, I would like to clarify what I believe about its counterpart—life.

I have never been too keen on the idea of suffering in this life in order to secure admittance to heaven. Did God really create mortal life to tempt people into pleasure, only to damn them if they indulged? I love the quote in Sullivan’s preface, “put away anxious thoughts about food and drink to keep you alive, and clothes to cover your body. Surely life is more than food, the body more than clothes.”[1] However, I disagree with part of its message. Yes, spirituality is important to me, and the image of a loving and all-knowing God is comforting and something I cherish. I want to live my life in a good, respectable way that God and I will deem worthy. Where I differ is in the total glorification of the afterlife. Life is not only more than food; life is more than death. There are so many beautiful things on the planet that I find it dubious to dismiss them as “worldly.” The trend Sullivan observes, that many religions “emphasize otherworldly goals and rejected this world as corrupting”, is something that choose not to believe. In my mind, life here on earth may be trivial compared to the eternity of heaven, but it is something that can be beautiful.

THERE'S MORE TO LIFE THEN MONEY...RIGHT?

When I was young I thought that there was a distinct heaven and hell. My faithfulness and careful observance of the Catholic dogma was the only surefire way to get in, and I thought that God was judging my every move. This belief is frightening and stressful to me, even today. As I grew older, my views changed. The idea that God is immovably just conflicted with the description of him as a loving and forgiving entity. Ben Gibbard also noted this in his song, “I Will Follow You into the Dark”, saying “They told me ‘son, fear is the heart of love’, so I never went back.” In high school, I read the book On a Pale Horse. It was written by Piers Anthony, it is about a man who becomes the incarnation of Death, or the grim reaper. In the novel, sin was determined by what each person believed; that is, if someone acted against their moral code, then it appeared as a sin on their soul. This view interested me because it accepts all religious views, even atheism, as valid ways to live life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vIOHUR2TWPU
BEN GIBBARD'S SONG, I WILL FOLLOW YOU INTO THE DARK.


So, assuming that I can follow my beliefs and live this life full of love and happiness, what would my ideal ending be? More importantly, can I choose what it is? Phillip Pullman, author of The Golden Compass series, has an interesting concept of death. When spirits die, they dissolve and become part of everything on the earth. This parallels environmental ethics, which states that we should have a “moral consideration for inanimate things such as rivers and mountains, assuming pain and suffering to be a necessary part of nature.”[2] If we become a part of everything when we die, that gives us all the more reason to respect and love the mortal life of flesh and bone. Another interesting view of the afterlife is presented in the film, American Beauty. At the end, there is a narrative explaining death. The character explains that the second that your life flashes before your eyes actually feels like an eternity, and one cannot help but revel in the beauty of life and everything they’ve experienced. Although each of these views is interesting, I find it strange that I often try to choose which one appeals to me the most. We will never know what the afterlife is, if there is a God, or our death will resemble the one we believe every other living creature experiences.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYrgHju3d-E

THIS SCENE WAS A SURPRISINGLY UPLIFITNG END TO AN OTHERWISE DARK MOVIE. IT ALSO ILLUSTRATES A VERY POETIC WAY TO THINK OF DEATH.

It is interesting to imagine what would happen if someone managed to “prove” religion. In Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, Mercerism, humanity’s religion of sorts, is proven to be an act. “Mercerism is a swindle. The whole experience of empathy is a swindle,”[3] an android states. J.R. Isidore, a human character, proceeds to have a panic attack and hallucination. Would the same thing happen today? The essence of faith is that one believes without knowing. Jesus even scolds the apostle Thomas who only believes in the resurrection after he feels Jesus’ wounds. Regardless of one’s faith, it is important to remember that everyone is essentially clueless. The sheer number of religions on the planet show that there isn’t one moral code that satisfies everyone’s beliefs. Although I may never follow the vegetarian code, “Thou shalt not kill for food,”[4] I am trying my best to follow the moral code I believe in. In the end, this is all we can really do. What happens after that isn’t up to me, so I may as well not dwell on it.
[1] A 96
[2] A 100
[3] DADOES 210
[4] A 110

Reaping What They Sow

When I was young, the only time I thought about the future was either for Christmas or my birthday. Long term goals typically involved finding a good snack to eat during a cartoon show. Emotions dominated actions, desires and motives; it may as well have been the end of the world when my mom wouldn’t let me have another pack of gushers. Snyder captures the essence of childhood perfectly when he describes the realm of the “primitive”: “Having no concern with history…no overriding social goals…such people live vastly in the present.”[1] In fact, most of my earliest memories involve immense satisfaction for very simple things. I can vividly remember eating the end piece of a French bread loaf, while watching Shaggy on Scooby-Doo do the exact same thing. The emotional connection obviously had a profound effect on me. Another memory from many years back (well, relatively—I am only 19) that still gives me warm and fuzzies was acting like Mortal Combat characters in the snow with my older brother. It was rare for him to want to play with me, and the remnants of gratification for being included still move me when I think of it today. At my current age, if I were to derive the same amount of pleasure from eating the same food as a cartoon character, I would most likely be teased. I guess we learn to suppress our emotions.

SUB-ZERO WAS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER--PROBABLY BECAUSE HE WAS MY OLDER BROTHER'S FAVORITE TOO.

As a boy, I did encounter the social pressure described by professor Bump. Crying was a definite sign of weakness, and I developed the ability to stifle tears completely around fifth grade. It may have been the result of social pressure, but the “rule” of boys not crying was also something I wanted to follow. After years of practicing this rule there are very few things that can make me even think of crying. I feel like this could have been the first step I took to end, and even reverse, growth in my emotional intelligence. Social standards emphasize the scholastic intellect over emotional awareness; there are no classes that teach empathy or self reflection until college. As a result our society as a whole seems to be more detached. People go to therapy to try to figure out why they are depressed, but even our solutions mimic what is causing the problem in the first place—drugs that neutralize peoples emotional capacities certainly help prevent feelings of depression, but they also eliminate happiness. One of my good friends quit taking her medication because she said she couldn’t “feel” anything. She said she hadn’t felt happy about anything for the past two years. The standards we hold ourselves to intellectually seem to have a similar effect. When will we stop taking the drugs?

THIS DUDE STARTED A WEBSITE CALLED "REAL MEN DON'T CRY"...JUST ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF WHAT WE GROW UP THINKING.

The complex spectrum of emotions that we comprehend are what separate us from animals. Crows, for example, exhibit remarkable problem solving skills considering the size of their brains. They can learn tricks and vocal patterns through repetition, much like a third grader learns their multiplication tables. However, a crow will never contemplate how it or its peers feel emotionally. In Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, emotions are the only thing that separate people from the robots. However, Rick Deckard was convinced that his fellow bounty hunter, Phil Resch, was an android. He was disturbed by Phil’s lack of empathy for an android, saying “[It’s] the way you killed Garland and then the way you killed luna.”[2] Phil’s ability to detach himself from his job caused Rick to question Phil’s humanity. What, then, would Rick have thought about a slaughter house worker? Phil, and many people today, are simply practicing what they are taught to from a young age. Maybe the answer in animal cruelty doesn’t involve making people feel for animals, but reminding them that deep down they already do. Hopefully I will be able to use P3 to regain a connection with my emotional intelligence—I know it will help me appreciate life to its fullest.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jF_0tZdbqo

THIS FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE A HOOK TO GET SOME FOOD. QUESTION: IS THIS MORE OR LESS HUMAN THAN IF IT WERE TRYING TO HELP ANOTHER INJURED BIRD?

[1] A 194
[2] DADoES 137

Mersault

I FELT LIKE THIS DUDE...A VERY MILD VERSION, BUT A VERSION NONETHELESS.

At the beginning of last semester I drifted through the days in an unfamiliar emotional state. For the first time I found myself lacking any type of feelings—good or bad. After reading the excerpt from “The Man Without Feelings”, I realized that I had been in a milder state of Gary’s alexithymia. I could identify perfectly with his statement, “I have no strong feelings, either positive or negative.”[1] This mindset was disturbing and frustrating, but it seemed like I couldn’t escape; anytime I sat and tried to figure out was going on, I would eventually lose the train of thought due to apathy. When I tried to explain it to people the closest example I could come up with was Meursault from Camus’ The Stranger. This was ironic and embarrassing for me because when I read that book, I abhorred that character. Luckily I am back to normal, though remnants of the alter ego remain and are probably what allow me to have a “chill” state of mind.

LIFE IS EASIER WHEN YOU'RE CHILL--AND MUCH LESS FULFILLING.

The transition into this colorless mood was slow and unnoticeable. It started during my senior year of high school about the time of college applications. As I reflect on it now, I realize that it was most likely a defensive reaction to the stressful time. College applications are pretty disturbing if you think about it; someone determines your overall worth by simply looking at test scores, grades, and an essay. It is disturbing because it doesn’t seem possible to do, yet it determines a profound part of one’s life. During this time I was careful to not get my hopes up too high. I wanted to get out of state, but this would require a hefty amount of scholarships—the kind where the chances of winning them are depressingly slim. In order to protect my emotions, I adapted the mindset that I didn’t care anymore. This soon transferred to my opinion of high school. Grades were suddenly less important and being number one was an afterthought. This technique is effective, but the consequences are unnerving. Not only was my life less enjoyable, I likely appeared to be aloof to others. Rick Deckard despises this quality in androids, and when he describes the demanor of the andriod he is hunting he says that "[It's] always the same: great intellect, the ability to accomplish much, but also this. He deplored it."[1.5]

I TURNED INTO A ZOMBIE TO PROTECT MYSELF. IT WAS GOOD UNTIL I REALIZED THAT I WAS A ZOMBIE.

In a sense I became an android myself. Instead of working to achieve my emotional goals I got into the habit of simply trying to make do with what happened, whatever that happened to be. Even my ability to have compassion was dampened—although I could pity my friends, I was never really “moved…by the desire to relieve it.”[2] As a result, life was much less disappointing, but inevitably less exciting. Even when I found out that I received the Dedman Scholarship, I had no real feelings about it. The only thing I had was “now what?” It was hard for me to make any decisions with confidence because I had no emotional response to the situations. Because of this I was never sure if I was “happy” with my decision to attend UT.

I WOULD OFTEN TELL PEOPLE HOW HAPPY I WAS WITH MY DECISION, BUT IN REALITY I FELT LIKE THIS OLD GUY.

Luckily my emotions have been returning to me. Maybe it’s because of this class, or maybe it’s because I’m returning to a comfortable emotional state, but I have realized my priorities in life and am slowly moving towards my new goals. In response to the prompt, I am not sure if I would have considered myself “human” during this period in my life. Today, I am working towards leading the most human and fulfilling life I can. It is much more enjoyable to have these goals, and I hope I don’t lose touch with my emotions again.

[1] A 62

[1.5] Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, 100
[2] A 41

My Response To Nature

YES, THESE ARE EDIBLE. AND QUITE TASTY.

Every year in the fall, my friend, Nate, and his family invites me to Chama to go mushroom picking. We look for Chanterelles, a bright orange species that is considered a delicacy. I don’t consider myself a big mushroom fan, but each year the trip is amazing. The scenery in northern New Mexico is epic; the hiking alone is worth the three and a half hour drive. Each time I go I am thrilled by nature’s resilience. Packs of deer move silently through the trees, hawks and eagles quietly patrol the skies, and the streams are full of river trout. How can these animals arise out of the chaotic elements and thrive without human intervention? I see dogs that look ratty and starved trotting through streets, the obvious result of bad owners. But the deer looks powerful and frightening, the eagle is clean and graceful, and the fish are abundant. It is then that I realize that mongrels are not foreign elements in a city, but that cities are foreign elements in nature. The superiority complex that is taught to us by everyday observations tells me that the health of animals is dependent on human intervention. This is far from the truth. It is during these trips, or any exposure to raw nature, that I realize how ignorant I have become.

NORTHERN NEW MEXICO--YOU CAN SEE WHY I DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE MUSHROOMS. THE HIKING ALONE IS AMAZING.

Nature is essential to a healthy life. Nearly everyone you ask will mention that exposure to its beauty is soothing. In Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, animals are rare and coveted, and to own one is as satisfying as it is dangerous. “[People] will knock you off to get a hold of [your animal],” describes one character[1]. It is hard for us to imagine people killing each other to get an animal, but in the future it may not seem so extreme. Even today rare animals sell for thousands of dollars, and lucrative businesses are tapping into this strange market. So why is nature so important to us? One thing that I think many people fail to realize is that humans are still animals. The definition is pretty clear, “anything living,”[2] but we sill forget. Intellectually we may be superior to our fellow inhabitants, but our instincts are still the same. Like Derrida explains, the only difference between humans and animals is that we think they are “naked.”[3] The irony is that by dressing ourselves and building shelter from the elements, we are not only protecting ourselves from nature but separating from it as well.

IMAGES LIKE THIS MAKE ME REALIZE HOW EXTREME OUR MANIPULATION OF OUR ENVIROMENT HAS BECOME.

Separation seems to be a common theme when it comes to animals. Yes, we yearn for nature hikes and walks through the park, but we also separate ourselves from the parts of nature that we don’t like: consumption. I do have leather belts, and when I received it I was more impressed by the stamps in it that by the cow that produced it. However, my lack of disgust is not the result of a lack of compassion-it is the result of our society’s lack of exposure. Breaking tails, starvation, and the tragic working conditions at Indian tanneries is depressing to watch. After witnessing these things on film, I have a different outlook on leather products. I do have “the desire to alleviate the suffering” of the cows[4]. So where am I going with all of this?

I’m not even sure myself. I am in a position where I know the horrors of animal cruelty but am powerless to stop it. Even if I bought cloth belts and never ate meat again, the inertia of our culture would be unchanged. People do not see the logic in Bentham’s argument, that though we can dominate animals, there is no “reason why we should be suffered to torment them.”[5] We are quickly approaching a point where our actions will have irreversible consequences, but I have this hunch that we will merely react to the situation. That is, we will desperately try to fix the problem after it appears instead of taking measures to prevent it. I may have a defeated view, but it is not an unreasonable one. Maybe the solution is to get people to see the same way as me. Instead of images of chopped up pandas, what if we focused on images of pandas in the wild? What if we made efforts to get people to love hikes instead of sitcoms, parks instead of restaurants, and cows instead of hamburgers? Maybe, just maybe, that would make enough of a difference. We’ll see.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95-NPelTTas

THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE SONGS, BUT THE IMAGES ARE ALSO A REMINDER OF WHAT IS AT STAKE IF WE DON'T START RESPECTING NATURE.

[1] Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep pg.11
[2] A 34
[3] A 22
[4] http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/compassion
[5] A 47

Darwin vs. Existentialism

Humans are in a unique position because of our advanced brains. At some point in our evolution, our minds surpassed the mental capacity of every other animal on the planet. The result was increased survivability due to innovation, cooperation, and increased adaption. The trend continued, eventually leading us to our situation today: sophisticated social behavior and cooperation that has allowed us to achieve amazing feats. Every modern comfort that we take for granted is amazing if we look at it from a primitive perspective. A book, for example, requires paper, printers, and binding (a process that uses machines that are amazing in their own right). Books are filled with a written form of our language (a language that is complex and precise), and whoever can read the words learns the thoughts of the author—thoughts that range from trashy vampire-romance novels to calculus equations and theories. Humans perfectly illustrate “the law of Mutual Aid,” and prove Kropotkin’s observations that “[cooperation], for the success of the struggle for life, and especially for the progressive evolution of the species, is far more important than the law of mutual contest.”[1] Ridley made a similar observation, stating that "the most successful animals, indeed, seemed to be the most cooperative." [2.5]In fact, we have eliminated all of our natural competitors, increased the carrying capacities of our environments, and create comforts for ourselves to such dazzling extremes that we disgust each other.

BUILDINGS ALWAYS REMIND ME OF WHAT PEOPLE ACCOMPLISH WHEN THEY WORK TOGETHER.

SCENES LIKE THIS REMIND ME THAT I AM NON-ESSENTIAL PART OF THE UNIVERSE.

Sometimes when I feel particularly small (usually after stargazing in a place without light pollution), I realize how pointless everything we do is. Life, and by life I mean the contorted and self-constraining form that we have created for ourselves, is a constant struggle for something we don’t quite understand: happiness. Even those who are in a position to gain happiness tend to redefine it until what they have isn’t even close to enough. The Milky Way has the unnerving ability to show me how stupid everything is. That homework assignment, grades, money; all of it will go away when I die, and even the memory of my existence will fade away as the people that loved me die. The entire human race will eventually die from something random and pointless, like a meteor or the sun exploding, and everything that everyone thought was so important will fizzle out in some alien’s night sky.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuM9oauZVxY

ALTHOUGH THIS IS A RIDICULOUS SCENARIO, IT WOULD BE THE PERFECT END TO OUR STRANGE EXISTENCE.

During these moments I find that I lose my competitive drive. It is at these times that I realize my true biological purpose, that my function is to “[reproduce] genes, and serve as their temporary carrier.”[2] I revel in the absurdity of life. Seriously—sometimes I even laugh. However, this state of mind does not last for very long. Eventually I realize that even if happiness is merely chemicals being released in my brain, even if all of my hard work and the gratification it brings is pointless, these things I do are enjoyable, and I may as well enjoy it. I yearn for the small voice that Carnagie mentions; I want it to whisper those exact words. “he…is soothed and sustained by the still, small voice within, which, whispering, tells him that, because he has lived, perhaps one small part of the great world has been bettered just a little.”[3] If I do fight, if I claw or suffer, it is because I realize that even though life is fleeting and pointless, I may as well enjoy it. And for me, this doesn’t mean I will act only to better myself—helping others does bring satisfaction. Though people may be “motivated by feelings of solidarity or selflessness” to help each other out, in the end the main reason we help out our peers is because it brings us pleasure. It is for this reason that I feel many people, including myself, are not controlled by desires to become the fittest.

THIS PERSON, WHETHER THEY REALIZE IT OR NOT, IS DERIVING PLEASURE FROM HELPING OUT HIS FELLOW HUMAN.

[1] Darwin 400
[2] Darwin 409
[2.5] Darwin 518
[3] Darwin 398