Archive for the ‘The Means to Meaning’ Category
On The Nature Of Happiness…
Last night I had a dream. I do not know if it was induced by the general malaise in which I live my everyday life or by the source of extreme comfort and care that slept beside me, but it was powerful.
I woke up and all I could see was light…an intense yet dull glow which filled the sky. Pulling myself up a beautiful ocean came into view directly in front of me. I was on a beach. The sand penetrated my skin, but for some reason felt soft and warm. I panned the entire area and found nothing…just an endless sandy shoreline and the methodical ebb and flow of the dark waters, depositing their foamy salt with every thrust upon the land.
To my back the white sands met the light which first brought me into this dream world at a horizon of nothingness. I walked along the coast, letting the water gently crash against my feet and recede just as quickly. I walked and walked forever…finding nary a person, place, or the most scant sign of life.
I sat back down and dragged my fingers through the landscape. Picking the individual grains of coarse white dirt from my finger tips, I realized that the entire place was monochromatic: a black and white world shaded only by the grays of my own humanity. And I was alone. I was completely alone.
And yet, quickly I grew calm and at peace. I was alone, in a world of sheer simplicity…lacking meaning, purpose, and anticipation. I sat upon a beach of nothingness, a void in the cosmic realm. The only man to leave his print, the only one to disturb this serene gray world.
Moments were eternities. The concept of time meant absolutely nothing to me. I was never bored or excited, but tranquil and happy. Alone. Forever. I had found heaven, or more correctly it had found me. I wondered for many eternities if I had died, and this was my purgatory. But I felt so wondrous in the pale white glow that shone above me. Its relative warmth against my face with the cool water rushing my feet…this could not be punishment or exile. This was the afterlife. I had finally died.
And I was happy.
I laughed, so loud that I’m sure the cacophony of pleasure that erupted from me shook the foundations of my small slice of the universe. I stood and stuck my arms out, bathing in the nothingness which surrounded me with a glee I could never possibly describe. Opening my eyes, I discovered a large stone that had previously not been there. I walked to it slowly, for here there was no need to run. It possessed within its timeless surface an inscription which looked as if a small child had chiseled it many years ago. Its imperfections were plenty, but its message was clear. It read: For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
I ran my fingers over the shallow inscription and felt the power of God resonating through them. I knew without a doubt that I had died and this was my eternal resting place–a beach, white and black, grayed only by my own humanity, and completely devoid of anything else.
And I was certainly happy.
I awoke from this dream and had to rush to get to my job. The source of my discontent. My mind is rotting, whithering away at a job that is so completely incapable of fulfilling me. I sat in my cube, awaiting the dreaded ring of the next customer, and I thought of my dream. I could feel the warmth of the pale light upon me. I could feel the soft sand between my finger. I could hear only the sweet melody of the water.
And then the phone rang.
I kept finding myself thinking of that beach of nothingness. Alone. Without care or purpose, without anticipation or expectation. I wanted so desperately to be there…to feel the smooth stone of my God’s message, proclaiming loudly that I had been delivered, saved from myself and the miserable world of his whimsical creation.
I know no such beach exists, at least not here and now–in this life. But I need to make a change. I need to be happy. I need to stop rotting away. My mind cannot be contained any longer…these thoughts must be espoused, these feelings must be proliferated.
I am going to complete my certification process and return to education. Its going to take a long while, but I refuse to do nothing any longer.
Nothing…
Nothingness…
The beach of nothingness…
God…I cannot wait. One day, one eternity, we will be together and I will leave this world behind. But until then, I have to make myself happy here. And god damn it…I’m going to start now.
On the Nature of Love…
Love…what an unimaginative word. As a child the mere thought of love would melt me…I wanted to love so badly. I would write in journals, scribbling out the angst and loneliness to an audience of no one. Poems and prose dedicated to that imaginary someone who would command my heart and share in my world their deepest and most personal fears and pleasures. I wanted it so badly. I still want it so badly…
But love means nothing. The word itself has been reduced to little more than a hallmark expression. Our popular culture has reduced it to nothing more than game shows and diamonds–materialism and property. Children grow up on The Bachelor and I Love New York, truly believing that a random assortment of twenty-something people could possibly contain your soul mate. Our magazines have transformed sensuality into sexuality; our news broadcasting celebrity hookups and flings as meaningful while people starve and die for high ideas and lesser evils.
Love…what a pathetically inept word. Anyone can love; everyone does love. Or so we willfully believe. We are so convinced and confused as a populace on the true nature of the word, and more directly the feeling behind the word, that we throw the word around as casually as we possibly can. We blind ourselves to what it means to truly sacrifice for someone and have blurred the line between temporal euphoria and everlasting kinship.
God loves you. Your mom loves you. Your friends love you. Who doesn’t love you? I know the sinister answer: everybody. Because few people truly know what it means to love you. See how many times I’ve used the word in this paragraph alone…worthless. Utterly worthless.
Do we honestly sit around and wonder why this nation suffers from a staggering divorce rate? How can you question something so painfully obvious: our culture has redefined “love” to whatever feels good at the moment. Replacing the young poet’s angst with physicality and ignorance. Love is more than good times and hot sex. Love is more than game shows. It is about loving someone so purely that the mere thought of them suffering brings you to tears; it is about tolerance and acceptance, steady hands and softer tongues.
I love one person. I truly love one single person. I could not imagine her suffering. I cannot breathe. I am vapid. I grow still, a lump so large forms in my throat that I cannot swallow the words that I wish to scream. I would give anything for her. I would die for her. Do you know how easy it is to say that: I. would. die. for. her. Without any question or hesitation.
And isn’t that the test? Does your life and your possessions mean more to you than that person? And more importantly than my own willingness to submit for her, I do not know if she would do the same. I truly do not. And I am completely comfortable with that. I want her to feel my sacrifice…see my blood, pouring out bright red–life escaping in an intoxicating glee, having died for her.
Love is abused. The word is completely inept. Such a proud and magnificent word–reduced to playground crushes and physical desires. I cringe every time I hear some moronic girl talk about how much she “loves” her friends, while she sleeps alone at night–unless she surrenders herself and her body to the man of the night. Call me sexist–women know so much less of love than they think. They abuse the word so willfully. So quickly. So insanely. These girls love everyone, but no one in particular. Men are no better. Mistaking the physical for affection–the warmth of flesh for the radiance of passion. Pathetic. Trite.
I want you to love someone like I love someone. I want you to quit misusing one of the greatest words we have.
I went on a date with a girl recently who told me that she had never loved anyone in her life. I was instantly taken aback, but I respected her so much more. Is she incapable of love? Hardly. But I believe she completely understands it. I am so lucky to truly love even one person. The child who scribbled in notebooks would envy the man I have become–because I have her, even if I truly do not.
You know that you truly love someone when the thought of even using the word to describe your feelings bothers you. When the word isn’t enough; when the emotion is greater than the symbols you possess to express it. True love is heavy…it weighs on you. True love makes an Atlas out of the common man–destined to never fail, determined to never shrug. Shouldering the weight of an entirely independent universe on your back–accepting it for everything that it is, and everything that it fails to achieve. And when that load is not heavy, yet easy to bear, then you have found it–the word beyond the word. The love beyond “love.”
If you take anything from this entry take this: reevaluate the way you use this single word, and what it means to you. If you invest yourself in one other person, without care for reward or redemption, then you understand what I feel.
As for me and my love…
Well…
I do not believe I can ever fully give myself to anyone, until I attempt to give myself to her.
The clock is ticking. I only pray I do not die before I have the chance to tell her everything I never have…
On the Nature of Freedom…
Words mean different things to different people. I had always understood this maxim, but it was not until one of my history professors spoke to our class on the true nature of words that I fully grasped the concept. We, of all things, were discussing a rough draft of my paper for our senior project, and my peers had a myriad of things to say. Some thought I spoke too strongly, some simply did not understand, and others were disgusted or inspired.
Dr. Barringer (the greatest of mentors and educators) walked to the chalk board and drew a Latin Cross. He asked the class what that meant to us. Without hesitation we each announced how the image made us feel: christianity, Jesus Christ, salvation, sacrifice, and on and on… He then wrote the word Christianity next to his drawing and inquired again in the same fashion: Jesus Christ, salvation, grace, Heaven, and on and on…
He then went into a brief description of his antics. Dr. Barringer told us that there is no difference between the image of the Latin Cross and the word Christianity. Both are symbols which evoke feeling and emotion, carry weight and prejudice, are filtered through a plethora of biases and predetermined opinion. He explained that great history writers understand symbols and use them to create emotion and tone without expressing clear moral judgment. The exercise was the greatest gift I have ever received, and I am forever indebted to him for that, as well as his many other beautiful teaching moments.
We speak a language, with shared meanings and understood usages. However, the words themselves are our own. Everything we say is our unique expression of thoughts, with values assigned, and our audience hears not only these words, but the echoes of their own values within them.
Nothing I can say can change this. Yet, I want to discuss a word. A single beautiful word, and what it means to me. Because if you understand what this word means to me, then perhaps you can understand that much more about me, and hopefully discover something about yourself. That word–the greatest of words– is freedom. It is a word that possesses within it a rich history, mired in war and peace, in abuse and demagoguery. Yet, it may be the most important word we could ever utter.
I view the word freedom as a state of being. Imagine water. It can exist within a number of states: liquid, solid, and vapor. Yet, it is always water–always comprised of two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen. Freedom is ubiquitous. It is everywhere; the only universal truth of our existence. Unchangeable. We are each born into a complete state of freedom. With the taking of our first breath, we do not only inhale the elements of our universe, but the mists of an undeniable force that nurtures and empowers us. You are man, and you are free.
But after the glorious first taste of God’s greatest creation, we are shackled. It is so unfair. Our access to our own freedom is sadly a matter of geographical consequence. An innocent born in the sands of Iran, or the mountains of the United States do not share equally in their freedom. This introduces the concepts of liberty and tyranny–words, symbols which represent to what degree we enjoy the one magnificent truth. I imagine liberty and tyranny as two opposing points on a continuum, which spans the infinity of freedom. Wherever you live, whichever state and in whatever capacity, dictates how free you truly are.
In this construct, freedom is eternal and an absolute condition of the human existence. However, other humans contain and control you–cutting you in varying degrees from the only thing you are given.
As in all things, characters–symbols–aid in understanding. Take the character of Evey in the film V for Vendetta and this bit of dialog:
V: Listen to me, Evey. This may be the most important moment of your life. Commit to it. They took your parents from you. They took your brother from you. They put you in a cell and took everything they could take except your life. And you believed that was all there was, didn’t you? The only thing you had left was your life, but it wasn’t, was it? You found something else. In that cell you found something that mattered more to you than life. It was when they threatened to kill you unless you gave them what they wanted… you told them you’d rather die. You faced your death, Evey. You were calm. You were still.
For those who have not seen the movie, you should immediately. Although this line was taken out of context, you do not need to have seen the rest to understand how this relates to our discussion. Evey, a woman who had lost everything dear to her at the hands of a tyrannical government, was willing to die because she found something greater than her own life. What she found was the freedom of individuality and existence. They put her in a cell and tortured her; they attempted to solicit her submission and coerce her conformity–and she refused. That is why freedom is the only universal truth; the ubiquitous and undeniable force of our humanity. Because no matter what they did to her, they could not take away her mind and her will. Yes, they contained and controlled her, but within her mind she was always free. Tyranny is a condition. Freedom is a truth. Conditions can change. Truth does not.
In the movie V also states that “fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives.” Do not accept a degree of liberty or an expansion of tyranny as an uncontrollable force. Adjust your understanding; recreate your perspectives. You are free. You always have been. Let go of hate and attempt to love your fellow man. Because together you both breathed the same first wondrous breath, and together you were both enslaved.
Words are relative, but truth is not. Believe.