Pages

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Ambition

When you ask a child what he wants to do when he grows up, he will likely respond with great ambition. He might want to be president. Maybe he wants to be a football player in the superbowl. A firefighter. A superhero. Maybe he wants to walk on the moon.

Society robs children. It robs them of ideas, of belief, of truth. Worst of all, it robs them of ambition. Institutionalized education, parental explanation, focus on reasonable future occupations--they dull the sharp edges of childhood dreams. Grinding and grinding, until the knife of aspiration is nothing more than a blunt stick. They learn practical knowledge, but also adopt practical dreams and practical desires. Who are we to define practicality?

The ones who cling tightly to that ambition, that innocent fascination with lofty goals...the ones who contain the fierce desires to achieve, to become, to fly; those are the survivors. They are survivors of relentless although unintentional antagonization, of being told what is "reasonable" and what is out of reach.

When you ask an adult what he wants to do when he grows up, he will likely respond with confusion. Unless of course he is one of those few. Then he may say he would like to be president. A superhero. Maybe he would like to walk on the moon.



Current Mood: Placid
Listening To: "Impend" by Matin O'Donnell

Spirit

As far as the physical universe is concerned, nothing ever disappears--it simply changes form. Ice and snow melt to water, wood and paper burn to ash. This is not difficult to understand. The centuries of human wonder and natural study have produced the comprehension that is contemporarily called "scientific law." This clearly explains the chemical and physical changes and reactions such as melting and burning. It explains the "how." But as solid as this understanding may be, it has a very clear limit. Like an egg hitting the ground, the laws of science are shattered upon reaching this barrier. Beyond the barrier is the spirit, the meaning, the "why."

Death is so instant. Sometimes of course it comes as a process, as a slowly-advancing disease. Sometimes it comes as an oncoming train. But regardless of form, there is that instant transition between existence and nonexistence. It is not tangible. It is not comprehensible. It is not like paper burning into ash. It is not like rain freezing into sleet. There is no change of form. Life simply vanishes. Gone.

Of course death cannot be understood if life is not. It is hierarchical. So what is life? What are feelings? What is emotion? What are memories? The biopsychologist would argue that these have also been explained by scientific law; that all are the result of electric and chemical reactions within the human body. Life could be explained this way, and that death is simply a cessation of those reactions and electrical activity.

Religion obviously fails to explain any of this. With that maimed beast of attempted understanding out of the way, there are only two possibilities left. One, that science and atheism are correct, and that death is final, that once our eyes close for the last time in this world, we disappear, permanently. The second is more complicated, and it involves the concept of the spirit, a nonphysical existence. It is possible that the spirit is something that exists in this world and is tied to the physical body of any living person, perhaps any living thing. It is also possible that the physical and spiritual beings are two separate entities, in two separate places--that the connection is remote, that one may continue although the other may not.

The sole reason I refuse to submit to the religion of atheism is rather ironic. It is not scientific enough. Death has not been empirically tested. It can't be. Because of this, atheism assumes death to be final, which violates the core principals of atheism that scoff at making assumptions. And therein lies the small flaw, the fatal flaw of every other religion created by man: hypocriticism. In the clearest, brightest, most empirical glass tower of religion on Earth, that one, poorly welded seam at its base will crack. It, like all other human creations, both physical and "spiritual," comes crashing to the ground, overtaken by the omniscience of nature.

That, then, leaves the second option. The complexity of this is staggering. What, for example, has a spirit, and what doesn't? Persons? Nonpersons? What about people with alzheimers' and other mental disorders? Are their spirits damaged? Do plants have spirits? Is life in general a collective spirit? The number of questions branching from such a suggestion almost render it too ridiculous to even consider.

It is possible that life just ends. In all likelihood there is a third option, that lies not only beyond scientific law but also beyond the capabilities of the human mind to comprehend. The fact that life is precious, that there is an unknown that is alien and terrifying--has meaning. As far as we can tell, nature is perfect. It is organized, it is methodical...the existence of anything and everything is proof of this. Matter cannot be created nor destroyed. If life and is within this realm of perfection, it cannot be created nor destroyed either. There is something we have yet to find.



Current Mood: Placid
Listening To: "High Charity" by Martin O'Donnell