We know that most people—strangers, anywhere—will knock themselves out to help us if we explain what we need. We know to say “Yes†to nearly everything because there is probably a way to do it. We know there is happiness available every day, most of it requiring more effort than money.
(via kottke.org)
]]>Valkenburg and Peter have an idea about this. They believe that the 21st century Internet encourages honest talking about very personal issues—feelings, worries, vulnerabilities—that are difficult for many self-conscious teens to talk about. When they communicate through the Internet, they have fewer sounds and sights and social cues to distract them, so they become less concerned with how others perceive them. This in turn reduces inhibition, leading to unusually intimate talk. This emotionally liberating frankness is healthy and tonic. (Coming of Age on the Internet)
I resemble that remark!
Compare and contrast with Snark Undermines Public Discourse.
]]>On the other hand, I sometimes fall into nostalgia. “Life was so much better back when .”
Both of ways of thinking mean that I’m not happy right now.
Life isn’t a path leading to happily ever after or leading out from the Garden of Eden.
]]>(via kottke.org)
]]>I look at a coworker’s shirt, and the deep shades of blue conjure this emotion. I feel tempted to daydream in shades of blue and lose myself in the womb of my mind.
I lie sleeplessly in my bed next to my wife. I feel my stomach rising and falling in the slow rhythm of my breathing, the air flowing in and out of my lungs. I feel a knowing connection with my childhood self. I remember dreams and fantasies that occupied my mind when I was young.
I am ailing with a persistent cough and congestion, but I am content. A subtle, soft joy fills my lungs as I breathe.
My heart melts at the slightest provocation: the dimples in my daughter’s cheeks, my wife’s skin under my hand, a child’s song, the taste of my morning tea, the sun on my face.
The halls of my mind feel cleansed of the cobwebs and cruft of years of willful neglect. I feel pleasantly empty, like the scent of a kitchen floor that has just been mopped after months of procrastination or the clear view of newly washed windows. It feels like the lack of something that obscured my view.
I feel poised on the verge of… some unnameable, visionary place full of imagination, love, and joy. I feel like I am rediscovering something I forgot when I left childhood and got lost in my fears and my own notions of reality.
]]>“Where do you think you’re going?” demanded the one directly in my path.
The unexpectedness of this ambush caused me to do something that would shock anyone who knew me then. I was what you might call a nice, meek guy apparently destined to inherit the Earth.
I looked him dead in the eyes. “Kiss my ass.”
The effect of my verbal sucker punch surprised me. The would-be bullies stumbled over themselves to get out of our way. My nephew and I walked on without giving them another glance.
My nephew looked at me with what I imagined was a mixture of shock and admiration. Frankly, I didn’t know that I could do that. My unaccustomed power impressed me.
Flashforward to today. Here I am, the brunt of a cosmic joke. I will live a short life and die. Everything I care about will suffer a similar fate. The absurdity of human life threatens to overwhelm me. What is the point? Why do I even try? Where do I think I’m going? The only rational response to the absurdity of my own meaningless life is to give up and die.
I stare nihilism down. “Fuck off.”
My life is ultimately absurd. But I don’t care. I’m the brunt of a cosmic joke, I refuse to be backed down from continuing on. I will live and love. I will revel in the fragile vulnerability of human life. I will be irrationally optimistic. I will embrace the absurdity.
Maybe fate will have its ultimate punchline and mock my hopes, but I’ll laugh along too, as long as the day lasts.
]]>Everyone is free to believe what they will, but this comparison sounds more than a little patronizing. That’s probably not how it was intended, but that’s how it sounds. It’s not difficult to imagine the person thinking “I’m happy for those poor believers. They’re so cute when they think God answers their prayers. As long as it makes them happy.”
Personally, I can’t bring myself to be happy for someone else’s mistaken belief. I try to help correct that mistake if I can, without being a jerk. I hope they would return the favor.
My reluctance to play along probably stems from my stance on that old question about which is better: happiness or truth? I would generally rather have the truth than be happy. But that’s a personal preference. Other people would choose happiness instead, and I find it hard to fault them for it. It would be nice to ignore the truth in favor of happiness sometimes.
However, I would never put myself in the paternal position of thinking someone is better off blissfully ignorant in their mistaken beliefs. I respect other people too much. This condescending attitude is one of the things that I most resent about current LDS church practice. The LDS church teaches whitewashed history, presumably because they don’t want to damage the fragile faith and happiness of the body of the church with inconvenient truths.
I will try to be civil and polite with believers, picking appropriate times and places, but I don’t intend to ultimately play along with the charade that Santa Claus lives. I think they deserve better than a well intentioned lie or strategic silence.
]]>Throughout the day, I pondered on what my most important things are. I finally came up with this list:
I value these things. I can’t justify why, but I don’t feel any need do so. I just want them. Perhaps I value those things just because I’m human.
On to the next steps: evaluate my commitments and my time. Everything I do should support those goals.
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