The Problem with Purpose

INTRODUCTION   

            Scientists must have a difficult time with reconciliation. I mean, it must plague them. Things yet uncovered, things beyond definition, things outside of statistical explanation. Categorization, methodology, sample size, confidence levels, variable dependency. I imagine, like a Mountain Dew on a Tuesday evening, it keeps them up at night.

            That is why I must tell you I do not count myself among their numbers. I am logical, sound and deal with problems utilizing the scientific method, more often than not, anyway. But none of this makes me a scientist in the traditional sense.

            And oh the door knockers, the abortion clinic protestors are just as anxious. How they must squirm at all the facts and figures that defy their beliefs. Post-trib, pre-trib, mid-trib…I mean you’d think religion(s) being based on such ancient texts would have long ago at least settled the differences among those within their own camps. But alas, this isn’t the case. So while the scientists are up at night experimenting for enlightenment, the religious pray for it instead.  

            It is also worth mentioning, before I launch into what will likely be a heady look at science versus faith, that I have never considered myself much of religious fellow either. To me, church also seemed so impersonal and gaudy. Moreover, it seemed to defy the point of fellowship with a Creator. To commune with my God, I must do so in the presence of other people, and pay you for the privilege? I also must confess to you, I am no atheist. I believe in a God, but do not claim to understand, Him, Her, It, Them…but I do believe that we are no accidents.

WHAT EXACTLY IS THIS I’M READING?

            …Or have stopped reading, or told my kids not to read, or scrolled past on Facebook etc…Truthfully, it only (and perhaps sadly) boils down to my thoughts after reading The Problem of the Soul by Owen Flanagan (2002). I suppose it is a book written to examine and reconcile the “manifest and the scientific image” of creation. Further, I imagine the author set out to write a book capable of motivating those who questioned religious ideology (though perhaps not moral value) to side fully with the idea that humans are (to dumb it down for people like me) very special animals.

WHERE I STAND (AND JUST WHAT THE HELL HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO)?

            If you’ve bothered to read this far, I suppose it’s only fair to state that I am not writing this from the perspective of a religious person, or even a scientific one. Beyond that, I hold no qualifications as far as philosophy. I am writing this as someone who thinks (perhaps too much) about things great and small.

            I am not an atheist, but don’t believe I can call myself quite the agnostic anymore either. If I had to give it a name I would say I am some sort of Monotheistic-Gnostic-Skeptic.

            Yes, it’s complicated. For instance, if you accept the fact that God is omnipotent, than you accept the fact He, She, It was intelligent enough to foresee not only that each cultural group would never concede to worship the same God, but also that humans by nature would distort and pervert any God’s teachings for their own gain. Of course, this level of thinking is never addressed by most figures of Western religion.

            As you might’ve guessed, my thinking (and knack for making things complicated) has only been amplified after reading what Professor Flanagan has written in his aforementioned book. This was a surprising after-effect, as when I initially began reading this work, I assumed it would deliver solid answers to ethereal questions. Despite the rave reviews I have read of Flanagan’s work, I felt less open-minded and more unconvinced that anyone on this planet’s has anything bigger than our individual selves figured out (of course most haven’t even gotten that far).  

            So there you have it. What you are about to read, or perhaps (just got tired of reading) isn’t a critique, but rather an expression of thought brought about by something I myself read. I found Professor Flanagan’s explanations intelligent, but also lacking at times. This again, is no review, as I would describe myself and most people in general, in much the same way. Also, as I typed that sentence, I equated to “I ate something foul and the end result was an upset stomach and a night on the can”. At any rate, so it goes…

BURDEN OF PROOF

            Science tests and measures the physical. Faith attempts to test and measure the non-physical (i.e. spiritual). Much of Flanagan’s premise throughout the book (particularly its last chapter) is that those that approach life from the manifest perspective must “give up” some fundamental notions of their manifest image in order to happily co-exist with the scientific image (Flanagan, 2002, p. 267).

            As a mere mortal (I hate to admit that) watching from the sidelines, why would anyone with a faith-based ideology wish to concede to any other world view? This becomes particularly true as Flanagan attempts to resolve conflicts between core ideological values between atheistic and theistic views. Typically, all the reader is offered is the equivalent of “That’s the way it is, trust me.” (Flanagan, 2002, p. xiii,  123, 155, 266…).

            Ultimately, in writing this I suppose that’s a main theme; you can neither prove nor disprove what is unseen. Aligned with this concept is the notion that quoting men like Darwin, Skinner and even Socrates will give your scientific argument traction with a theist. To the theist, these men are just that; merely men. To the theist, their musings and findings my have value in the “present” world, but hold little weight when compared against the intellect of a God, or even the perception of a God.

            Many scholars (theist and atheist alike) have sought to harmonize the manifest and scientific views. I myself am not qualified to try, nor do I believe it possible. Therefore, I will not be arguing for or against here.

THE HIGH POINTS

            As I have mentioned, Flanagan’s final chapter in this book (Ethics as Human Ecology) was a pleasant surprise to read. This is due to the fact that it highlights the notion that lack of religion does not equate to lack of morals. While this concept is perhaps more accepted in our modern times, I still believe it worth reiterating, and Flanagan does a fine job of this. Even if it is done at the attempted expense of “God’s moral code” (Flanagan, 2002, p. 317).   

            Further, this chapter gives readers a thorough view into how strict religious code under any cultural context can limit how the human race as a whole progresses and thrives. Flanagan uses the idea that working together for the betterment of all does not need to be an idea handed down from a deity. Instead, he ties this notion of ethics as a mechanism developed for survival and perpetuating the species.

WHERE WE AGREE (AND DISAGREE SLIGHTLY)

            Flanagan is right (at least in this author’s mind) regarding the fact that we all want all lives to have purpose (Flanagan, 2002, p. ix). While the definition of this purpose varies throughout time and across cultures. Still most, if not all, humans like to believe they serve a purpose[1].

            Flanagan also discusses repeatedly that most people are religious in ways they do not realize (Flanagan, 2002, p. xv). This speaks to the fact that much of what we inherently know, or think we know, about religion is handed down to us at an early age based on ecological factors. Essentially, we are Baptist because we were raised as such; we are Buddhist because our families are etc…        

            Flanagan also challenges the idea of free will. He posits that we are wired for certain behavior based on factors that we cannot tame - among them; cognition, causation and statistical predisposition. The author also offers up an experiment in which researchers observed the response of those willing (or unwilling) to help a woman pick up dropped papers on a busy street (Flanagan, 2002, pp. 153-155). The study determined that while most people professed a desire to help those in need, they seldom actually act on it. Bearing to mind that we enjoy seeing ourselves as the hero of the narrative that is our life, even if we are more the villain, or worse, an extra in the background amidst someone else’s starring role.

            And hereby we arrive at the title of this essay, for as I pen this I see little problem with the soul. Instead, I see a distinct and fractured problem with purpose among most that I meet. It seems most people have great difficulty understanding why it is they do what they do, and don’t do that which they are capable. To me this question needs answered ahead of the debate between scientific versus manifest image.   

THE END

            This brings to mind a question I asked of a Sunday school teacher years ago. A young woman who looked like a 70’s librarian had just closed a children’s picture Bible. She looked at the class of 30 or so elementary age children and said, “So it’s our job as Christians to spread the good news, so that everyone can know God and have a relationship with Jesus Christ so they may dwell in Heaven forever.”

            My immediate response was, “What about a kid in the country who can’t get to Sunday School? Or deaf kids that can’t hear me tell them about Jesus?” Keep in mind I was seven, so my concept of Heaven involved all you can eat pizza and unlimited time on my NES. I also knew nothing about sign language. However, my question was begging for answer that was more immense than I imagined at the time.

            I apologize if you came here looking for some type of epiphany on this state of being we refer to as “humanity”. How to live with it, how to control it, maybe even how to cure it?     

            However, I can say with certainty believing that the immaterial can save you is no more dangerous than believing science can.

            Truthfully, I can’t help you. I suppose therein is the rub. I don’t believe anyone on Earth has that ability. Though a lot of people think they can, or at least will try to convince you they do.  

            The best advice I can give you regarding the human condition is as follows: Be open to new ideas, do not seek to reinforce your own timeless beliefs, no matter how well they shine, or how well they’ve served you in the past. When someone talks (or writes for that matter) listen (or read) with a skeptic’s eyes and ears, but never a dismissive hand.

            And of course, thank you to Professor Flanagan for getting me thinking.

---

[1] Personally, I might venture beyond Flanagan’s words by saying this is a falsehood greater than religion, or unquestioning love of science. The fact is most are born only to die and will never achieve some definition of “a life worth living, or well-lived”.  If you need proof, look no further than the person that popped into your mind as you read that statement. You know that one guy…we all do…

Damage

INTRO

                This blog entry came about after watching God Bless America  a couple weeks ago (which if you haven’t seen it, use the link to take a quick read and then watch it on Netflix- it’s brilliant!).  Beyond that some recent interactions I’ve had with some close friends that led me to thinking about my own (less than)

flawless past.

Moreover, it’s a quick glimpse at the negative behavior people force onto others, and our reactions to it, and quite frankly something I’ve needed to get off my chest.

The Antagonist Approach (Being Human)     

I’ll first take a look at how we as humans dole out this behavior, which oddly enough also encompasses perpetuating the negative behavior on others:

               

                “People have no regard for the damage they do to other people.” - God Bless America (A.K.A. The Every Self Serving Sonavbitch you’ve ever met Approach.)  In what is perhaps the oldest example of “Do unto others as they have done unto you.” in history, people that take this approach are usually the ones that irk you in some regard. And while the vast majority of the population is guilty of this, I will say it’s a matter of degrees.

                For instance, you let someone borrow a pen, which they never return. For illustration sake, let’s call this a “Level 1” offense. A lot of times we can justify these slights easily. We’ll that co-worker of mine took my pen, so I’ll take the one from the cable guy.

An example of a “Level 3” offense might be, the oaf that doesn’t pick up his dog’s shit after it craps on your front yard, slightly more aggravating then our first example. However, still reasonably justifiable by most standards. I ALWAYS pick up after MY dog, so leaving this turd here on this schlub’s lawn won’t hurt, just this once. 

You can then go all the way up to true abuse be it; mental, physical or emotional.

 If we say this list represents “Level 10” offenses. And as absurd as it might sound, a smaller portion of those diagnosed with the human condition can justify even these reprehensible actions, whether through conscious recognition or subconscious understanding. Don’t get me wrong- when I say that these too represent actions that can be justified, I am not talking about by those with mental fallacies, or other peculiar conditions. I mean people like you, me and yes even your grandmother. I can put it in perspective easily by saying; Spouse A cheats on Spouse B. Spouse B may feel compelled to do the same out of retaliation, or vindication. See, with that example it’s not such an obtuse point of view any longer…but my point is, Spouse B’s circumstances don’t make their actions appropriate. “Two wrongs don’t make a right.” said your grandpa after he caught your grandmother revenge cheating.

                Life is full of people who commit innocuous versions of these transgressions. They are so commonplace that we almost expect one or two of them to occur in a day, chalking them up as inconveniences of dealing with our fellow man (or woman). Have a string of these dealings in one day; you may even refer to it as a bad day. Largely, you are unaffected by these setbacks, and you either go about your day barely noticing them, or shrugging them off as part of the rat race, like the asshole that was hell bent on not letting you merge onto the freeway this morning- he clearly saw you!

                Where these infractions begin to mount is not typically those committed anonymously by strangers, those repeatedly carried out by loved ones, friends and others that are close to you. This turns an ignorant, selfish act into a seemingly targeted attack.

REACTIONS (Trying to be More Human than Human)

The Robert Neville Approach

“I can fix this.” - I Am Legend. Some of us that feel we are enlightened, intelligent, and all around reasonable may first try to make various concessions in dealing with the people that commit these errors (regardless of level) or the offenses themselves.

Depending on our own level of success in repairing whatever damage may have been wrought, we may continue down this path of the “fixer” or we may abandon helping efforts altogether.

                The Doctor Manhattan Approach 

“I’m tired of this planet, these people…tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.”- Watchmen If we move on from our roles as fixers, we may arrive to that of the uninvolved observer. The stance of “not my problem” and/or “doesn’t directly affect me” may force our inaction.

The Punisher Approach

                “To pursue... natural justice. This is not vengeance. Revenge is not a valid motive, it's an emotional response. No, not vengeance. Punishment." - Punisher. This path is fairly simple, do onto others. If someone commits a minor transgression against you, the chosen course of action is to even the score, harm then, or do what has been done back to them.

Why do we do it? (Acting Human)

            No formal thought

            Though it may seem like a cop out, the truth is that most of these abrasive situations arise because people aren’t actively thinking about consequences.  Humans love to auto pilot through the day, this often leads to the inability to see the reactions of our actions, if you will.

           

            Self Interest

            They are actively thinking about themselves. The guy that cut you off in traffic, the lady that cut you in line, the politician that cut your health coverage.  All of them were acting out of their own best interest, not yours.

                They didn’t say, “I’m going to do ____ to Joe today.” But they did do ____ to Joe today. The end result is the same.

                Quasi-evil intent

            While this may sound a bit over the top, some people do enjoy the slight spark of torment that goes along with causing you inconvenience or minor harm. These people are perhaps the easiest to deal with, but the hardest to figure out. Assuming, that is, you want to figure them out at all. Personally, I’d like to see what makes them tick slightly out of time.

What do we do?
            Conclusion 
       Just deal with it man, that’s life after all.

                If you’ve read this far you were probably hoping for a better solution, I’m sure.

                However, honestly encounters like these and the more awkward, difficult situations in life builds both character, improvisational thinking and resiliency.

                “Life is a series of experiences, each one of which makes us bigger, even though sometimes it is hard to realize this. For the world was built to develop character, and we must learn that the setbacks and grieves which we endure help us in our marching onward.”

-  Henry Ford

To George

          By the time this post is actually published a little over a week will have passed since Mr. Romero has left this mortal coil. I imagine that in that time, the internet and its fickle nature will have moved on with their lives.

          However, I still feel it necessary to pen something about just how deeply, and in how many ways George Romero’s work has impacted my memories and the way I have chosen to entertain myself over the years.

          As such, I guess it makes the most sense to start at the beginning. I watched the original black and white version of Night of the Living Dead with my father when I was about twelve years old. It was strange to me, not because he was letting me watch a fairly violent, gory movie at such a young age, but because it was a horror movie. And let’s just say my dad was more a Clint Eastwood than Clive Barker fan. I remember asking, “Is it in color?” in the way a whiny preteen might pose the question.

          I recall sitting in our living room in the house I grew up. Quickly, I was transported to a graveyard in Pennsylvania and within seconds I had forgotten that I might’ve had an issue with black and white films. Immersion was cemented when I heard those words, “They’re coming to get you Barbara…”

          Much like zombie-based pop culture, that was not the last I had heard of George Romero, nor was it the last time he would have an influence on what I was doing with my free time, or my then burgeoning interest in the living dead.

          If I fast forward through time, I can recall countless examples of his influence in media. Everything from video games (Resident Evil) to more movies, Shaun of the Dead, not to mention the countless comics, and books I consumed during my late teens and early twenties. And course, World War Z and The Walking Dead would've never come to pass without Romero! The man even starred in his own game, Call of the Dead as part of the Black Ops zombie franchise!

 

          Honestly, some of what Romero fathered was truly groundbreaking, adding their own mark to zombie lore, others were not much more than a gore fest. But they all had one thing in common; Romero had inspired them all.

         As I grew older, I began to realize that not only did the man invent an entire subgenre based on his work, he also had quite a bit of meaty commentary behind his work, to back up the flesh-eating ghouls that we were seeing on screen. As evidenced by this and other quotable items he's uttered in regard to his filmmaking over the years; "My zombies will never take over the world, because I need the humans. The humans are the ones I dislike the most, and they're where the trouble really lies."

        In conclusion, I think it'd be really easy to say something droll about Mr. Romero such as; "He will rise from the grave and live in infamy." However, I believe the man deserves better than that, and as such, I will simply say: Thanks for the memories. Your legacy has had, and will continue to have, an everlasting reach.

 

The Less Ordinary Life of Harold: Make America Poop Again

The oval office is crowded- filled to the brim with white men in suits, most of whom are glancing at Harold with drawn, dire expressions. They seem to regard him as an anomaly, a political stunt, or even a distraction like so many tweets meant to divert a nation’s attention from reality.

In a few minutes of adult-time, but a lifetime in kid-time, the President, and Harold’s new boss, enters the room. Harold watches from his own huge leather chair as all the other men stand to greet him. Some step forward and shake hands or pat him on the back.

Harold notices that through each interaction, none of the other men mentioned the negative things they’d been conversing about regarding the President before he entered the room.

President Trump takes his seat at the head of the table. Harold sees that unquestionably he is in charge as he has a huge chair, the biggest chair in the room, bigger than anyone’s.

“Thank you all for coming here,” the President begins in a serious tone. “As you all know the biased media, with their fake news about this administration’s collusion with Russia- I mean alleged and totally false and sad - did I mention sad? - collusion with Russia have caused my approval rating to plummet.”

The men around the room nod heartily.

“So it’s with that concern in mind that I have sought out a new image consultant. He comes highly recommended, he is truly the best, and believe me I know all the best image consultants. With his youth, intellect and unique skill set, he is going to help us truly make America great again. Everyone, please welcome Harold. ”   

Harold sees them, the way they stare at him as he stands to speak, with their darting, snake-like eyes. He can tell they consider him to be different and thus not worthy of their respect or even idle consideration. Harold began to think, to slowly realize, he was everything they were not: young, poor, respectful of others, and unafraid. Although he could see they were most certainly afraid, Harold wasn’t quite sure what men of their stature would fear.

“Thank you President Trump. Thank you all, let me get started by throwing out some numbers; 4.7 million, 28%, ½.”

The old men before him stared back with raised eyebrows and looks that told even the casual observer they were lost.

“Mr. Trump, if I could speak freely sir?”

The President nodded to Harold.

“With all due respect sir- Mr. President, I’m a kid and even I can see that politicians-along with most people- are full of shit.”

Gasps rang out from all over the room.

Harold flushed a bit, but continued his speech, “America’s full of it sir.”

Now groans came from the crowd, though President Trump still listened at full attention.  “It’s full of greatness already. The problem isn’t that we lack greatness, it’s the fact that we are constipated with greatness sir, we don’t know how to get it out.”

Some of the men around the room began whispering to those next to them.

“So you see sir, as your new image consultant, my recommendation isn’t to rework your image from the ground up. We only need to change one word.”

Harold holds up a finger as he removes a small remote from his pocket. Pressing the button a large banner unfurls from behind the President’s seat.

Harold keys in on the President to see his reaction.

A true moment passes, then a single, shimmering tear rolls down his cheek, and Mr. Trump stands and begins clapping with fervor.

The Less Ordinary Life of Harold: Super-Zero

An oblivious young man with his nose glued to a cell phone absently strolls through the park. Passerbys are forced to navigate out of his way. Joggers, senior citizens on walks, and mothers with strollers all side step him at the last minute, clinging to the belief that he couldn’t really be that enthralled by whatever’s on the screen.

This is Harold. Harold, by most accounts has had a shit day.

Sitting down, not because it's the courteous thing to do, but because he wants to, the preteen plops onto a nearby bench. Harold is husky and he seems all-too conscious of this, so as he gets seated comfortably he tugs down his shirt, to make sure no one can see anything they shouldn’t through the green slats that serve as the bench’s backrest.

A few minutes pass and another child sidles up, sitting beside him.
For more than a while, no words are exchanged between the two.

Eventually, the new boy, thin but equally meek-looking breaks the silence, “Sorry-”

“Let me save my game!” Harold holds up a finger. “I am playing versus on Battleblood, and am ranked in the top five for this skirmish.”

The thin child adjusts his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, realizing even he had little idea what most of that meant.

A few presses and swipes, “Ok, what?” Harold still doesn’t look up from his phone, not entirely, it makes the fat underneath his neck stand out even more.

“I’m sorry for what happened today.”

“Ya, you been hangin’ out with those kids?”

The thin boy nodded, blushing almost imperceptibly.

“They suck Tyler. And...and they are stupid.”

Acknowledging the statement, the Tyler nodded again. He not only agreed, but there was no hesitation in him doing so.

“Asshats,” Harold, “that’s what they are.”

Tyler, confused, “What does that even mean anyway?”

“I dunno,” Harold admits, “I picked it up somewhere, but its bad, real bad.”

“Hey, they aren’t that bad. I, we could always use more friends right?”

“Not those guys.” Harold seemed resolute.

“Maybe I could talk to ‘em, put in a good word for ya?”

Harold looked up from his phone completely.

Tyler leaned in closer, “Tell ‘em your a cool guy, tell ‘em how you have all the newest video games.”

Harold’s brief interest already faded, changed to a spark of anger. “You mean bribe them to not pick on me? Thanks Tyler, but no thanks.”

“C’mon, Harold, I still want to be friends with you...and them.”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

Tyler looked at Harold, in a way that many adults would think a child was not capable of doing. He saw a fat kid, with a red ball-cap, but redder cheeks, dressed in clothes assembled from discount retail stores. He contrasted this against the group of guys he and Harold were conversing about. “Ya, I guess you’re right. Fuck.”

Harold had never heard a kid his age say the “F” word. He had never heard Tyler swear at all. Both boys shook their heads.

“What do we do?” Tyler asked.

“Doesn’t matter- whatever you want.” Harold said, “I got things to take care of anyway.”

“Like what?” the surprise in Tyler’s question was heavy.

“Hero stuff.”

“Psshh, what are you talkin’ about?”

“I’m a superhero. I didn’t want to tell you, because I thought it might be the only reason you were my friend.”

Tyler paused for a moment, trying to gauge if Harold was trying on being crazy, or trying on being funny. When he couldn’t decide, Tyler broke out in heavy laughter. “More like Super-zero!”

Harold took the laughter and the insult from a kid who he had thought of as his best friend for 3 summers and four grades. He took it like Superman takes bullets.

Tyler looked at Harold and couldn’t believe his eyes. Suddenly, before him, the chubby kid that lived 5 houses down the street was gone.

There in front of him was an image; misty, blurry in the way that the blacktop gets from a distance on a summer day. Harold was now a wavering image of strength. His head held back high, his clothes became the bold uniform of a dealer of justice. His red hat was now a crimson mask. His untucked shirttail transformed into a cape. The discount athletic shoes had become leather boots, complemented with tiny H’s embroidered on their sides Harold’s eyes had changed the most, they seemed to dig into him, they were piercing, full of confidence and know-how.

Tyler could’ve sworn he saw a telling I-told-you-so kind of wink, but he wasn’t sure of that at all. In fact, he was no longer sure of anything.

Then right there before Tyler’s eyes, Harold took off with a bang into the air, it was like lightning combined with thunder. In an instant he was gone.

Off to do hero stuff.

The Less Ordinary Life of Harold - Introduction

Intro

Are you as bummed as I am that you can’t fly? That aliens don’t exist but Trump does? That you don’t have millions of dollars in your bank account? That zombies only really show up on AMC and SyFy?

Well then you’ll be happy to meet Harold. Every once and again we will pop in to check on good ole’ Harry and see just what he’s got going on in his less oridinary- maybe even extraordinary- life.

Harold may be lucky to live in a world where superpowers exist, or where he’s suddenly asked to command a rescue mission into the jungle. Or its quite possible that Harold may merely have an impeccable imagination.

You won’t know unless you drop by and see what Harold is up to!

*

Hi all! I have been toying with the idea of doing a semi-weekly-if-and-when-I-feel-like-it series about a guy that can sort of out-think the parameters of *ugh* reality.

Harold’s adventures are going to be loosely based on the concept of the fantastic meeting the realistic and how those two things might coexist within a certain context.

So here’s hoping you tune in as I get this new idea rolling. I hope you stick with me as Harold and his stories are fleshed out into something more substaintial.

As always, thank you for reading, sharing and enjoying my work. I appreciate everyone stopping by to read the crazy ideas that nest in my brain, and end up on the page.

Thank you!

- David