Monday, November 29, 2010

My Cheesy Title Explained!

So, my old blog title Live. Learn. Hope. Repeat was easily the corniest thing I've ever come up with in my life, but I had good intentions! I swear. I got it from a quote from Mr. Albert Einstein that I particularly enjoy:

"Learn from yesterday. Live for today. And hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning."

Like any short quote, it probably means as many different things as there are people who have read it, but here's what it means to me.

Learn from yesterday. Looking back on my life, I know I've done some silly, stupid, and - occasionally - psychotic things, including but not limited to regrettable middle school jokes, horribly handled breakups, and eating street food in Central America. Am I supposed to look back on my mistakes in shame, block them from my memory, and try to prolong this illusion that I'm not a flawed human being like everyone else? Fuck no. To me, making a mistake is 1) human and 2) a damn good way to learn. Wishing things turned out differently is futile and can only lead you down a path of denial, delusion and depression. The past can't be changed, but the future holds infinite potential. Our past failures are there so we know what not to do in the future. The most regrettable decision we could make is to look at these mistakes as anything but learning experiences.

Live for today. Life gives us no guarantees and it is impartial to and unconcerned with your plans for the future. Any moment can be your last, so why not make the most of each that you can. Every waking moment can be used to improve yourself and the lives of those around you. Bored? Learn to juggle. Or shuffle cards. Feeling more ambitious? Learn an instrument. Or how to dance. Look up a place where you can volunteer and tutor kids. Or better yet, go help your little sister with her homework. Do something to make today worthwhile, and if you're lucky enough to wake up tomorrow, do it again.

Hope for tomorrow. Some people might look at what I'm saying and say, "What's the point if you're just going to die in the end?" That's obviously not how I see things. We are flawed creatures that will always be incomplete, yet the thought of us being complete puts a sour taste in my mouth. Without the chance of ever being "finished," we have infinite room for growth. Tomorrow we can be better than we were today. And, as long as we're alive, we always have that choice. Our futures won't be perfect, but they can be pretty. They'll have mistakes, but ones that we can learn from. Life is a state of mind. Whether is hope-filled or hopeless is your call.

Never stop questioning. Never stop questioning. Einstein believed the universe will always be an infinite mystery, but one that we - with our finite and puny intellects - can understand and appreciate. I would extend that mystery to include ourselves as well. There is always, always, ALWAYS more that we can learn about ourselves, about each other, about our society, about the world, a tree, a squirrel... about everything. The second we think, "Ah-ha! There... I have the answer!" is the second that we are doomed ultimately to be wrong. Our picture about everything and everyone will always be incomplete. All we can do is fill ourselves with a good healthy dose of humility to fight the urge to prove ourselves "right" and instead find the courage to ask, "Hm. What more can I know?"

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Happiness: A Choice?

Coming out of college, my biggest goal in life was to be happy. I don't mean happy in the "let's go prancing through the prairie" sense or a constant, never-ending state of elation. I mean I wanted to be satisfied with myself and whatever I was doing, regardless of my situation. If I wanted to extend it a bit, I could say that I wanted to always be bettering myself while helping others better themselves. The rest - a job, a family, friends - would take care of themselves so long as I kept this perspective. Sounds simple enough, no?

Coming out of college, it started off smoothly enough. I got a sweet teaching gig in the summer that made me realize how much I enjoyed teaching and then I headed off to Central America which was obviously an important experience to me.

The months since returning home, however, have been a different story. Suddenly my optimistic outlook was up against the nitty gritty details of everyday life. I wanted to better myself, but most people seemed to be ok with staying stagnant. I wanted to appreciate the little things in life, but others seemed content with complaining about them instead. The job search went to shit and I settled. My mood changed seemingly beyond my control. One day I could feel happy and satisfied and the next I could find myself questioning and doubting the most fundamental parts of who I was (I call these swings my "man-period"). Suddenly, happiness felt less like a choice and more like a fickle emotion that dropped in whenever it pleased. I felt subject to my surroundings and my emotions. Was my "happiness is a persective" idea just a bunch of bullshit?

It's easy to argue that yes, my idea is bullshit. There is so much beyond our control: where we were born and who we were born to, what genes we inherited and how our brains are wired. I look at someone like my grandma, someone who has been crazy for as long as I have known her. When I was a kid, it used to seem funny to me. I used to ask her if she was pregnant because I knew she was insecure about her weight. It seemed so obvious to me that she wasn't fat that I thought it was harmless. I used to think she was being thoughtful when she would extravagantly wrap our Christmas gifts in such well-decorated packages that you felt guilty tearing apart her creation. Being somewhat grown up now, I'm beginning to see how much a need for attention and the shallow desire to always be young and pretty has influenced her life and taken her down paths that no remotely rational human being would go down. She doesn't have a job, but she goes on 36 hour shopping binges. She asks me to help her with a yard sale on a late November weekend that she doesn't try to organize until 3pm on Sunday afternoon, roughly an hour before sunset. Worst of all, she is able to manipulate the deep desire we have to help her. She'll twist the guilt knobs and make you feel like the most ungrateful person in the world until you cave and do her bidding.

Mostly, I look at her and I wonder, Did she ever have a choice? Could she have avoided this road?

I know, despite my deepest wishes, I'll never have an answer to those questions and I fear that it is possible to reach a point beyond saving.

I don't know if happiness is a choice that we'll always be able to make, and it seems that it is naturally easier for some than others to find. For the sake of ourselves and the sake of those we care about, I believe that if the choice is ours to make, we have the obligation to do so. It is not an easy path to follow. It involves a painful honesty - one that breaks down the consoling lies we tell ourselves and recognizing ourselves for who we really are - and a lifelong commitment to questioning . After all, we'll never fully conquer ourselves. Only once we understand who we are - our biases, our emotional flaws and what we find genuinely fulfilling - can we start living in a way that is truly satisfying. The choice is ours to make, and it may not always be there.

Science and Religion

So I've been meaning to write something on religion and science for a while. My few attempts have been, well, pretty pathetic. In place of my writing, I'm going to quote an essay by Einstein here which I think is the most reasonable approach to the debate I've ever read.

Religion and Science: Irreconcilable?

Does there truly exist an insuperable contradiction between religion and science? Can religion be superseded by science? The answers to these questions have, for centuries, given rise to considerable dispute and, indeed, bitter fighting. Yet, in my own mind there can be no doubt that in both cases a dispassionate consideration can only lead to a negative answer. What complicates the solution, however, is the fact that while most people readily agree on what is meant by "science," they are likely to differ on the meaning of "religion."

As to science, we may well define it for our purpose as "methodical thinking directed toward finding regulative connections between our sensual experiences." Science, in the immediate, produces knowledge and, indirectly, means of action. It leads to methodical action if definite goals are set up in advance. For the function of setting up goals and passing statements of value transcends its domain. While it is true that science, to the extent of its grasp of causative connections, may reach important conclusions as to the compatibility and incompatibility of goals and evaluations, the independent and fundamental definitions regarding goals and values remain beyond science's reach.

As regards religion, on the other hand, one is generally agreed that it deals with goals andevaluations and, in general, with the emotional foundation of human thinking and acting, as far as these are not predetermined by the inalterable hereditary disposition of the human species. Religion is concerned with man's attitude toward nature at large, with the establishing of ideals for the individual and communal life, and with mutual human relationship. These ideals religion attempts to attain by exerting an educational influence on tradition and through the development and promulgation of certain easily accessible thoughts and narratives (epics and myths) which are apt to influence evaluation and action along the lines of the accepted ideals.

It is this mythical, or rather this symbolic, content of the religious traditions which is likely to come into conflict with science. This occurs whenever this religious stock of ideas contains dogmatically fixed statements on subjects which belong in the domain of science. Thus, it is of vital importance for the preservation of true religion that such conflicts be avoided when they arise from subjects which, in fact, are not really essential for the pursuance of the religious aims.

When we consider the various existing religions as to their essential substance, that is, divested of their myths, they do not seem to me to differ as basically from each other as the proponents of the "relativistic" or conventional theory wish us to believe. And this is by no means surprising. For the moral attitudes of a people that is supported by religion need always aim at preserving and promoting the sanity and vitality of the community and its individuals, since otherwise this community is bound to perish. A people that were to honor falsehood, defamation, fraud, and murder would be unable, indeed, to subsist for very long.

When confronted with a specific case, however, it is no easy task to determine clearly what is desirable and what should be eschewed, just as we find it difficult to decide what exactly it is that makes good painting or good music. It is something that may be felt intuitively more easily than rationally comprehended. Likewise, the great moral teachers of humanity were, in a way, artistic geniuses in the art of living. In addition to the most elementary precepts directly motivated by the preservation of life and the sparing of unnecessary suffering, there are others to which, although they are apparently not quite commensurable to the basic precepts, we nevertheless attach considerable importance. Should truth, for instance, be sought unconditionally even where its attainment and its accessibility to all would entail heavy sacrifices in toil and happiness? There are many such questions which, from a rational vantage point, cannot easily be answered or cannot be answered at all. Yet, I do not think that the so-called "relativistic" viewpoint is correct, not even when dealing with the more subtle moral decisions.

When considering the actual living conditions of presentday civilized humanity from the standpoint of even the most elementary religious commands, one is bound to experience a feeling of deep and painful disappointment at what one sees. For while religion prescribes brotherly love in the relations among the individuals and groups, the actual spectacle more resembles a battlefield than an orchestra. Everywhere, in economic as well as in political life, the guiding principle is one of ruthless striving for success at the expense of one's fellow. men. This competitive spirit prevails even in school and, destroying all feelings of human fraternity and cooperation, conceives of achievement not as derived from the love for productive and thoughtful work, but as springing from personal ambition and fear of rejection.

There are pessimists who hold that such a state of affairs is necessarily inherent in human nature; it is those who propound such views that are the enemies of true religion, for they imply thereby that religious teachings are utopian ideals and unsuited to afford guidance in human affairs. The study of the social patterns in certain so-called primitive cultures, however, seems to have made it sufficiently evident that such a defeatist view is wholly unwarranted. Whoever is concerned with this problem, a crucial one in the study of religion as such, is advised to read the description of the Pueblo Indians in Ruth Benedict's book, Patterns of Culture. Under the hardest living conditions, this tribe has apparently accomplished the difficult task of delivering its people from the scourge of competitive spirit and of fostering in it a temperate, cooperative conduct of life, free of external pressure and without any curtailment of happiness.

The interpretation of religion, as here advanced, implies a dependence of science on the religious attitude, a relation which, in our predominantly materialistic age, is only too easily overlooked. While it is true that scientific results are entirely independent from religious or moral considerations, those individuals to whom we owe the great creative achievements of science were all of them imbuedwith the truly religious conviction that this universe of ours is something perfect and susceptible to the rational striving for knowledge. If this conviction had not been a strongly emotional one and if those searching for knowledge had not been inspired by Spinoza's Amor Dei Intellectualis, they wouid hardly have been capable of that untiring devotion which alone enables man to attain his greatest achievements.

Source: http://einsteinandreligion.com/irrec.html

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

The Many Faces of Me

A couple weeks ago in DC, I met up with my friend AJ - former McGuire Campus Ministry Intern, fellow thinker, and Mario Kart Jedi - for some brunch with a side of catching up. We talked about life, dreams (including his pitch for an Inception-based TV series), lady friends, the Rally to Restore Sanity, our thoughts on said Rally, being abroad. It was the kind of conversation that would happen multiple times a week at Villanova but never seems to happen back in Jersey. I felt refreshed after wrapping up our personal and intelligent (at least by my standards) talk and I rejoined my friends.

As I approached my group of friends, I could hear their conversation from several feet away, as I'm sure the marathon runners and spectators within a block radius could too. The topic: everyone's shits that morning. Size, density, texture - no details were spared. The morning before I probably would not have thought twice about such a convo, but after talking to AJ it seemed odd to me. But why?

I've realized more and more, that my context - who I'm with and where I am - has a much larger influence on my behavior than I am comfortable with. For example, since coming home earlier this year I've noticed myself becoming a vulgar smartass who can only display his affections through a neverending series of insults. Fuck, shit, and dick have made their way into my everyday vocabulary. I've talked more about boobs - not anyone's in particular but just about the general idea of boobs - more in the past month than I have about values.

This past weekend I headed out to Penn State with my old roomie Scott and our buddy's girlfriend. In the car, I said "fuck" a couple of times and felt like a horrible person and apologized each time. What the fuck is that about? Was it their reactions? Was it some subconscious part of me that just "knew" better than to use such base language around such sophisticated and well-mannered company?

It goes deeper than language, however. In that same car ride, we had some great conversations about Germany, my experiences in Latin America, Scott's experiences living around the country with Americorps. We talked about politics and the media. We spoke about ideas and "deep" topics. It all just happened naturally. Not once were boobs mentioned. Nor were farts.

Clearly, the person I was at 'Nova is different than the person I was at home growing up and in between school years. Or was I? In Germany, anyone who knew me before and after can tell you that I seemed different when I came home, but I'm obviously not the same person I was in Germany (unless I'm with my friends from Germany and then I revert). The same could be said for my time in Central America.

It seems that I am a different person in different places and when surrounded by different people. So my question is, "Who am I?" Am I inconsistent or adaptable? Does it even matter? Maybe I just have different ways of sharing myself with others depending on who they are and the context we find ourselves in. Is there anything wrong with that?

Regardless of the answer to these questions, I know one thing for certain. There is a "me" I want to be. As long as I focus on keeping that person in sight, I will learn more and more how to be the ideal me in whatever situation I find myself.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Wants and Needs

I ran to my car this morning in the cold rain, happy that at least I didn't have to deal with the frost this morning. I pulled out my iPod from the center console so I could practice my German lessons as I drove down the Turnpike. The iPod felt frigid in my hand and, after switching the hold button back and forth several times, I realized it was beyond resuscitation. "Damn it!" I cursed to myself, "Now I'm going to need a new iPod." The second statement sounded ridiculous to some part of me, and that more reasonable side responded, "Really, Tom? You need a new iPod?"

Instead of awkwardly talking to myself in German as I drove down the Turnpike,
this event sparked an interesting pseudo-Socratic dialogue in my head. "You don't really need a new iPod, Tom. You want one. Sure, it let you listen to music and German lessons whenever you wanted, it made your life slightly more convenient, but you never really needed it. In fact, you lived most of your life without an iPod and you hardly even used the one you broke."

And, of course, I was right. I didn't need it. But it led me on an interesting inward search. What else did I want but not truly need. It kind of went as follows:

Tom 1: My car. Without a doubt, I need my car, right?

Tom 2: Do you?

Tom 1: Of course. How else would I get to work?

Tom 2: Well, there's a train not far from your house that goes to New Brunswick and you have a bike.

Tom 1: Yeah, but that's just silly.

Tom 2: But it's a possibility, no?

Tom 1: I guess.

Tom 2: So, then your car isn't a necessity. It's a convenience. It facilitates your commute and gives you that much extra free time and money. Those are all good things, but you don't need them. You want them.

Tom 1: Hm... I guess you're right Tom 2. But what about something even more basic, like shelter, food and water? I wouldn't be able to live without those.

Tom 2: Well, why do you need those?

Tom 1: Because without them I would die!

Tom 2: So, you want to live?

Tom 1: Yes! Duh.

Tom 2: But do you need to live? I'll give you the answer: it's no. You want to live because living is enjoyable. When you live, you get to do things like make friends, accomplish goals, enjoy good food, have sex, cuddle afterwards, and so on. When you're dead, you most likely can't do any of these. You want to live because living can be very enjoyable and is probably more enjoyable than the alternative. You want to have shelter, to eat, and to drink so you can live.

So I'll stop my silly little dialogue there. My point is this. In our heads, we may tell ourselves we "need" this or that, but really it boils down to us "wanting" this or that. When we say the word "need," it's as if we are chained to that need and cannot possibly escape it. It's a lie, and if left unchecked, it can leave us feeling like prisoner's of circumstance.

My iPod broke and that sucks. I don't need a new one, and I'm not even really sure if I want one either. I know that what I want is to make the most of my life, regardless of the situation. I will do what it takes to do that, with or without an iPod.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Risk, Security and Life Decisions

After a day filled with hangovers, the sanest rally ever, hours of intense ping pong, and Chipotle burritos to prepare our bellies for the night, my friends and I cracked open a couple beers in my buddy's apartment in Arlington. A few deep, I said that a big part of me wants to leave my job, move out into/near NYC or DC, and use what little money I've saved to support myself while I find actual work.

As usual, Joe had a very strong opinion and told me that was about as foolish a thing as I could do. "You can't leave your job if you don't have another job lined up, especially not after working there only a few months." It wasn't a very controversial stance. I'm sure at least 85% of people would agree with him, as Mark did.

"But why?" I responded, trying to challenge the conventional wisdom.

They followed up with the usual reasons: it looks bad to switch jobs so frequently, what if things go wrong and I don't have health insurance or if I get into a car accident and I end up in the hole for $14,000.

"I don't think that way," I retorted.

"But you have to," both agreed. "You can't just be optimistic and expect that to get you by."

And so the conversation continued this way. It was one of the few passionate discussions about life I've ever shared with this group of friends. But - obviously since I am writing a post about it - it has stuck with me.

I would not disagree that you have to be aware of the worst that can happen to you, but to live your life trying to avoid any bad thing that can happen to you is futile and possibly harmful to you for several reasons.

1) Bad things are going to happen to you regardless your situation. My friend used his car accident as an example, but the irony of his comment is that the crash happened while he was living his "safe/smart" plan (the ""s aren't meant to be insulting; we just disagreed about the word "safe" and "smart"). You can't control what life throws at you; you can only control how you react, which brings me to point 2.

2) Life is a state of mind, and you will see what you want to. If you want to see each day as an opportunity to learn, grow, and help others do the same, life will be just that. If you choose to see each day as filled with potential perils, life will seem pretty dangerous. Living in a way that avoids pain, confrontation, accidents, and failure can trick your brain into convincing you that, should any of these things happen, there is no way you could deal with it.

3) Adaptability is a skill. Like any skill, some people are naturally better at it than others, but anyone can improve themselves tremendously with diligence, patience and determination. I have found that in situations of pain and discomfort I learn and grow the most. They force me to challenge what I thought up to that moment. They give me the choice to crumble or learn resilience and find a way to not only live through it, but to improve myself through it. In deaths, breakups, and my own failures I have learned much about myself. In putting myself in situations where I am uncomfortable - ranging from traveling Central America alone to stepping up to a Ping Pong table against someone who is much better than me - I learn how to adapt and how to deal with discomfort. In doing so, I gain a better understanding of myself and how I react to things. This allows me to put myself in new situations and not be afraid.

In the end, however, neither the risky side or the safer side is the right choice. Rather, as Aristotle says with his Golden Mean, we have to find a balance between the two and develop the ability to discern when it is proper to lean more one way or the other. Moving out so soon may turn out to be a move too impulsive even for me, and I definitely have to do some more reflecting on it before I decide what I'm going to do and when I'm going to do it. But if I do it, what's the worst that could happen? I think I could 1) die or 2) break my neck, both of which could happen at any time in my life. Less severe, I could get injured without being insured and leave myself in debt that would be with me for potentially most of my life. I could deal with that one, as big of a bitch as it might be. Even more benign, I could waste my money, not find a job, and have to move back home. Though it would be a shot to the ego for sure, it's hardly something I would call life shattering. And though it would be easy to point a finger in my face and say "We told you so," the lessons I'd learn would be invaluable. Plus, I'd rather risk and lose then never take a chance in the first place.