Month: October 2012

I received the following email from the contact form on my blog:

Subject: Living a life of fear

Message: fear of G-d is the true fearless life…you just seem so afraid of it,
you spend your time coming up with so many theories to explain it
away. … [Praying] that [God] helps you [soul] come back to him before it’s too late!

I replied back to her email, but since the email address bounced, I thought I would respond publicly.

First a little personal background, I spent about 20 years searching for God.  And failed. Well, it certainly wasn’t a total failure, but I have yet to find God, in the classical sense.  (i.e. Supreme being that manipulates the physical world.) So if that was the goal, I guess it was a failure.  On the positive side, I did find inklings of what I think others refer to as God, and am still open to changing my mind on the supreme being thing (i.e I’m not jaded.) so that to me is a success overall.  And an opportunity.

With that in mind, I think that she has a point.  Fear of God, which she is defining as a personal God who holds the strings of the world, would allow for one to live a truly fearless life.  Of course, we would have to add some religious beliefs that would take us beyond the control aspect of things, and include life after death which the God fearing person would be able to partake in.  But putting these two things together, I think I could live quite fearlessly in this world.

Now having said that, I do know plenty of people with both of these beliefs.  And it doesn’t actually remove their fear, rather it helps pacify the fear.  Basically, the conversation in their mind goes like this: “I am fearful of ____”.  To which they respond to themselves, “there is nothing to fear because God is in charge.”   In fact, I know many devout people, that I am honored to called friends, but I have yet to meet a man (or woman) who is truly fearless.  That person who is so sure of God that he has no fear.

Of course, you will note that the fear is still there, someone know knows God just use the message of God’s control to manage their fear.  So with that in mind, I think what she meant is that the answer to fear shouldn’t be self-reliance rather knowledge of God.  That’s certainly a fair approach, and a model that would work.

The only problem with that approach is that I have yet to find God.  (Which she alluded to as well at the end of her email.)

Here was my response to her, and the world, since I wasn’t able to respond to her directly.

“My question for you is how do you know God exists?  What logical proof can you provide that would impel me to have the same clarity of knowledge?  If experiential knowledge, what are the steps to replicate that experience myself?  I certainly don’t know that, and it is that piece that is missing, and I would love to hear your thoughts on.”

So if any readers have something worth sharing with me, I hope they will.

 

 

I wanted to take some time to write about consciousness.

Since I know nothing about the makeup of the brain, obviously, the perspectives here are coming from a mix of a guess about how things work, based on my personal experiences playing around with my grey matter.

A few months ago, I learned how to observe my thoughts.  You can do this too, by finding a place with few distractions, and closing your eyes, and thinking about a topic in your mind and observing it.

However, thinking about things a little, I realize that I had not gone all the way.  For in fact, there was something observing this observer.   What I found peculiar was that I could even observe my observer observing my observer, however, in this state I could not simultaneously view this while viewing the original observer.

So I got to thinking. 😉  What exactly is going on inside me?

My current perspective is based on left/right brain theory, that I know pretty much nothing about , other than 1) one side of the brain is focused on feeling and one side analytics and 2) that one can survive with one half of the brain, either left or right.

We’ll this got me thinking, and the model that I am currently running with is that in fact there are two ways we think, and two ways that we observe ourself thinking.

One way of thinking is analytical thinking, and the other way is what I will call picture thinking, or guttural.  Analytical thinking is made up of taking discrete pieces of knowledge, and using logic to come to some conclusion for action or feeling.  The other way to think is picture thinking, where the mind creates a picture to model a thought, and these pictures are then manipulated to help us determine action.  The source of each of these thinking comes from either the left (pictorial) OR right (analytical) brain.  However, both models are then integrated by the self to form a conclusion for action.  Each of these ways of thinking have an “observer” that communicates back to the underlying self.

Ideally, both sides of the mind show the same thing, in which case the decision is easy.  Other times, both sides end up with a different conclusion, resulting in additional processing (for lack of a better term).

On a side note, when we meditate, there are actually two parts of the brain that we have to arrest, both the analytical and pictorial, which is why I think that when I meditate I need to focus my attention (analytical) on an imaginary object, if even nothing (pictorial), to free my mind.

Here in the states we have developed a rather materialistic society.  All one has to do is turn on the TV to watch objectified boys and girls that serve as the role model for the next generation, and as we walk down the street we are bombarded with beautiful people wearing stunning clothing, that often include some type of identifyable symbol to help others know that we are able to afford the ticket to the “in crowd”.

I’ll tell you a secret.  I like poverty.   No not true poverty, that is a curse, rather, that poverty of having the basics, and nothing more.  Of course, I have never lived there, but I have visited, and constantly found it a wonderful way of life.

I have seen it in my travels, and found it rather agreeable.  I have to be careful here, since I don’t want to romanticize a hard way of life, but in their life, I have seen true joy.  The kind of joy that I haven’t seen anywhere else that has been influenced by the curse of materialism.

You see, when materialism comes to a society as a way of life, it sucks the life out of the society, since it goes from being a group who are in it together, to a group where each member is out for themselves.  For in a materialistic society, it is the success of the individual that matters, even at the expense of others.

I believe that this is why those places like Jamaica and the Bahamas, and perhaps even in America there is very little pleasure in the lives of the poor.  This is due to the fact that they are introduced to a material society, but don’t have the means to live within their own society, resulting in extreme disappointment in life.  Also unfortunate is that when materialism comes to poor societies, the real money often flows to a few of the rich people in the land, or perhaps even to other countries, but the money often doesn’t trickle down.

Of course, I hope I never find myself in a position of poverty, but if I do, the first thing I will do is find a non-materialistic  group of friends.  In truth, I have tried to do that recently in America, but have met with little success to date.

Well here is my predicament after yesterday’s post.

What is the difference between a locale or the world.  Meaning, that while I bemoaned the unrealness of the Bahamas, isn’t our world just as unfair and therefore just as unreal.

The only difference is that in America, I don’t bump into desperate people very often.

But they are there.  I just don’t frequent those areas.

In fact, it could be argued, that I don’t frequent those areas because they are there.  (Note that this last statement is meant as a societal perspective, not personal. I hope you understand.)

So what am I doing about it.  Not much, if I am honest.  I’m lazy, caught up in my own life, and don’t really care much more beyond paying lip service, or making myself feel self righteous about things, apparently.

Or perhaps, I don’t quite know what to do.  Or I have tried small things, but nothing seems to work.  Or no one else really seems to care so I feel that the task is to great.  Or I get a sense that my efforts are doomed to failure.

Or perhaps all of the above.

My gut is that I don’t quite know what to do stops my action.  This is because, often the answer is found in the question as “they” say, and I just can’t figure out what the question is.

On a deeper level, this is a good model for my life overall.

While it looks like I am trying to find answers, really I am trying to understand the nature of the question.  So by answering the questions, I am better able to reverse engineer The Question, since other questions and answers have been acknowledged and carefully tucked away.

Of course, perhaps this work in andWhat  of itself is my gift that I can offer the world, and will lead to profound change.  Probably not, but who knows what tomorrow will bring.

 

I just want to write about my experiences today, since something is bothering me, and I hope something logical forms along the way.

I have found myself in the Bahamas for the weekend.  And its just wrong.

Now as you know, I am typically a pretty positive person, so I’m trying to figure it all out.   This post is certainly not to be in any way construed as a complaint.  The fact that I had the opportunity to make my way out here for the weekend, speaks of the great blessing of my life.

From the day I booked the trip, I was not looking forward to it.  I didn’t know why.  I just wasn’t.  Of course, who complains about a trip to the Bahamas so I kept my thoughts to myself, where the belonged.

By the time it was time for my trip, though, I was excited about getting away, and having an adventure, in a strange place – which is what adventures really are all about.  The day started well.  An interesting conversation with a UAV pilot just home from Afghanistan  brought the war effort home in a way it never had.  Some time to journal about recent events in my life, and question assumptions.  A brief discussion with the TSA agent was an interesting exercise in translating mumblings to coherent ideas.  And jovially, I went to my flight.  A stiff drink and small nap later I awoke on the approach to the runway.

Landing I had a nice exchange with the customs agent, who pointed out that I seemed anxious being grilled by her, to which I responded, I was just excited for a nice weekend.  (Um, who tries to smuggle anything from the US to the Bahamas???) I was greeted by Jermaine, a taxi driver I found on trip advisor, and is giving me a historical tour on Sunday, and will take me to an old British fort from the 1700-1800s.

He dropped me off at the hotel, and I went exploring, finding a food cart (a 1980s dented minivan with food served from the back) with some of the best boiled veggies I have ever eaten in my life.  Seriously.

However, on my way to the food cart, I passed the stalls with women selling chatchkes, or whatever word you use where you come from, and the facade lifted, and I realized why I had no desire to be here.

I’m in a place of unfairness.

Now don’t get me wrong, I believe that someone who works is entitled to enjoy what they have.  Good for them.  They earned it.

However, when I saw the desperation in these purveyors of crappy suviniers, selling to rich vacationers without a care in the world, the juxtaposition of the two, just seemed so unfair.  So unreal.  My vacation began cracking at the seams.

So I went back to my room, put on my bathing suit, slathered up, and found my way outside to the beach.  I go into the ocean, and there is canned music being thoughtlessly pumped from the bar, dredging upstream from me, and the view from the ocean is buildings, and chairs for as far as the eye can see – neatly arranged.  Once again, the juxtaposition of uncontrollable nature was disturbed by man’s attempt of control of their environment and it tore at my heart.

Putting these two things together, I then realized why I had dreaded this trip, once I planned it.  It reminded me of my trip many years ago to Jamaica.  I had the same response there.

Let’s get to the point a little.

You can’t fake real.

Real is sitting with locals on a beach sharing a beer or a smoke.  Real is visiting someones house and meeting their family.  Real is joining locals for dinner at a place where they would normally eat.  Real is playing ball with kids in the street.  Real is taking the bus, instead of a cab.  Or walking.

Real is being in the place, instead of passing through it.

Lesson learned.