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: Philosophitizing
This was my Thoreau/Emerson paper, written in the February of 2004 for my American Literature class...things have changed a little since then, some of you may know specifically what sections, but a lot of it still holds true, or became truer. If you have the time and the patience to get through this...Enjoy.
2/14/04
Philosophizing
(And While This Will Never be Completely Finished...it's a Start)
Pseudo-"experiments": Putting my philosophies into words, analysis of how my environment and neighborhood may have helped shape them, comparison of my
philosophies to those of Emerson and Thoreau.
I'll begin with the specific - who I am, or at least, who I perceive myself to be. I
am reluctant to say that I am any one person, but rather think of myself as a combination
of many different "people" who are represented to the rest of the world by a spokesperson
of sorts. Each facet of "me" is like a member of a very large presidential cabinet - each
member a different personality with different motives, areas of specialty, and reactions to
various stimuli. The "president" is the part of me that listens to the clamoring of the
cabinet and selects the reactions, emotions, and opinions that will be represented and
shown to the rest of the world, more of a judge than of an actual leader - she considers the
situation I am in, and chooses from the mixed emotions those that she would consider
most appropriate. This spokesperson is the most responsible for who I am - nay, I should
say rather that she is the most like the person whom I think others perceive me to be. Yet
the other facets of me can gain or lose power inside the cabinet, holding greater or lesser
sway over the decisions of the spokesperson depending on the situation. Even if the
spokesperson neglects a facet in her compromising and decision-making, however, every
facet has a voice, and every voice is heard - be it simply in my mind, or voiced out loud.
The most dominant facets of me seem to have taken residence in the majority of
my thoughts, but each are separate - their voices can be distinguished from each other.
There is a part of me that is perpetually calm and views everything in a rather detached
manner, finding amusement in most everything that happens. Hers is the voice of cool,
rational thought, taking mental note of everything I do and keeping me perpetually aware
of myself even as the other emotions and facets of me find themselves in positions of
greater power in the cabinet - this facet is always there, whether or not she chooses to
show herself. In sharp contrast is the facet of me that is very much my age - who thinks
like a "teenager", acts like a "teenager", and consequentially, I find rather annoying at
times. I call her "Hormones"; she's a relatively new member of the cabinet, but her voice
is shrill and cannot be ignored, can only be tempered by compromising with the other
voices (especially rational thought) and through the careful judgment of the
spokesperson. Then there's pure emotion - she's a fickle one, and oftentimes can slip by
the spokesperson in the form of some chemical imbalance. Sometimes she can be
beneficial and brings me great joy - other times, rational thought is smiling wryly as she
watches emotion cause surges of negative and unproductive feeling wash over me as a
whole. The spokesperson is always there, and has her own characteristics - she is the
most like a complete person, a facet of me that is built upon compromise and careful
judgment. Like her, or because of her, I would say that the character that shows to most
of the rest of the world is one of contemplative thought, seeking the meaning behind
words and images and carefully choosing the actions and words that would be most
appropriate according to the situation. At times, I let out my hyper and semi-
reckless self - but she's almost always tempered by rational thought's presence. This is not
necessarily a good thing - I fear it has made me appear woefully indifferent at times, and wary of things that may in truth be perfectly innocent - but it's not bad, either. So far, I would say that my spokesperson has served me well - compromise between all my inner selves has thus far kept me at a level of contentment that one could call happiness, but I define happiness as something else.
I describe myself as an optimistic humanistic Christian realist - despite the paradoxical nature of that phrase. While I am content with the way I am, and try to take an honest joy in life, I know that there are many things about myself and about life that are far from perfect and that I require much tweaking in the power structure that has begun to settle in my character as a whole. I like to see the bright side of things, for this allows me to be happy - yet there has developed an underlying sense of what you could call cynicism, which I prefer to think of as a rock that prevents the balloon from flying into the sun. I try to keep the rock as small as possible, though - be aware that all is not bright and dandy, but appreciate everything for what it is anyway. Again, this is the result of compromise between my various sides - the happy-go-lucky me who knows that all will turn out right in the end and that nothing is so bad that total despair is necessary, and the cynical and rational sides of me who lack this idealism. I am a humanist in that I concern myself with the affairs and welfare of other human beings, despite what they may have done; I value the "cost" of human life and the dignity of the human soul. While I have not embraced Christianity with open arms, I have found significance in a great deal of its teachings. It is the easiest religion in which to think for yourself and question doctrines, for that is where Protestantism derived its beginning - by now, there are so many different denominations that the definition of Christianity in of itself must be boiled down to its basic components in order to encompass them all. I believe in a supreme being who set things in motion - at the very least, this concept exists to keep me humble.
Yet at the same time, I've begun to notice a streak of arrogance in me that I feel is necessary to quell. This arrogance - perhaps it is simply a mixture of disinterest and cool amusement - prevents me from being happy, if only because it creates a sense of cynical dissatisfaction and upsets the balance of humility and a healthy dose of high self-esteem. It also has recently led to the unwanted development of a great deal of frustration newly manifested in my somewhat jaded reactions to outside stimuli, a.k.a. "attitude." My balance has been upset in other ways as well - the tentative balance that I thought I had achieved earlier in life has been knocked out of whack again by brand-new and oh-so-annoying situations and extremities. Thoreau said that change is good, that it prevents us from becoming mired in old habits and stagnating; change is always possible, and new thoughts will always arise, ready to supplant the old and "useless" views of our forefathers. His point was that we should shirk the old prejudices and customs that humanity has found itself bound to, thanks to generations of unquestioning acceptance and the fetters of societal tradition. Yet there's a balance to how much change a person can take; a little change is nice every now and then, but change too many things too often and you get traumatized. Barring that, you become so used to change that you don't know how to react to a stable environment, and the impact of change lessens to the point where it becomes insignificant. Ripples on the mirror-glass surface of a quiet pond travel far, break the stillness - but ripples on the crashing waves of the sea are hardly noticed, swallowed in the multitude. In a stagnant society, who would we take more seriously: the law-abiding citizen who suddenly becomes outspoken in a controversial issue, or the perpetual rabble-rouser?
Society is thus not something to cast off completely. It is a tool with which to invoke greater change, to reach a greater population; it is the creation of the masses, a melting pot in which we can occasionally find a chunk of meat or a bit of carrot to ruminate on and absorb in our development of character. True, as many have noted, society has the tendency to oppress the individual in favor of the majority, whether that majority be worth following or not. It is this effect that should be combated, but there are comparatively few who can; the arms of "society" stretch so far that the definition of "individual" is in itself ambiguous. Is seeming irreverence for society's norms really non-conformism, or is it the accepted manner in which we try to claim a sort of empty individualism, the beaten path to being "unique"? To dress in a certain manner, embrace a certain school of thought - what is it but just joining another branch of society? It is that much greater a feat to respect that which society sets before us when we feel there is good reason for it, but not because it is the "acceptable" thing to do; abide by the law when the law is just, not because it is the law. We do not need to challenge society on a daily basis; perpetual conflict will get us nowhere. Better to save our strength for the greater battles to come than lose energy in minor skirmishes over things that, in the end, don't really matter; better to grow strong and arm yourself with what you've learned than to head into the fray unprotected and weak.
Thoreau had the benefit of being an adult, whom society had loosened its grip on; he had already gone through the learning and growing phases of childhood and adolescence, had established his own ideas and was no longer someone else's responsibility. His words were written more for his fellow grown men than anyone else. It is thus unfair to ask a common child or teenager to follow such a life as he dictates, to shirk the cares of society; I fear that children and teenagers feel pressure of society much more acutely, especially now, than Thoreau could fathom. The environment in which a person grows up in shapes that person's character, whether recognizably or not. The situations that we find ourselves in and - more importantly - the manner in which we handle them gradually begin to define who we are and how we approach life. We are the target of marketing moguls. We are compelled to go to school, and begin to rate ourselves according to how we perform. We set out to prove to ourselves that we can do it, that we are strong enough, resilient enough, smart enough to handle whatever society throws at us, and invariably, there are casualties. We try to develop our sense of individuality; we try to "simplify life" but often succeed only in making it more complicated because we either don't understand what we're doing or because however good their intentions may be, those members of society whom we are still yet the responsibility of are trying to shape us according to their perception of societal norms. This is especially frustrating, but necessary - our first interactions with the world are through these people, and they are the ones who teach us (proactive) or cause us to develop (reactive) the mannerisms that we eventually use to deal with life.
I achieve a sort of peace with life by seeking compromise, a happy medium, a middle ground. Here, I reflect what numerous other philosophies and people have said for ages - one must find balance. Life flows ever onward, like a stream or river; every now and then you'll find a patch of rocks, rapids, a waterfall or two, but once you get over the rough parts, you'll find that life has a charming, soothing quality about it, a beauty of its own that you cannot help but love. Flow with the river, and you will spare yourself much angst and despair. Sometimes you find yourself at a fork in the river - then it is necessary to choose a side. Sometimes you can sense an avoidable patch of rocks - then you must swim and avoid them. Swimming against the current on occasion can keep you strong and healthy, but swimming too much against it will tire you out and you may find yourself sinking, unable to fight it any more. Swimming with the current is easy, but can also mean that you are rushing headlong towards a waterfall or rapids that you could have avoided if you took things slow. It is often best to float on the water and let life run at its own pace rather than try to impose your own pace on life, for in the end, the river is stronger than the lone swimmer. Thus, the happy medium - let life run its course, but every now and then take a few strokes to keep yourself strong and going in the right direction. By nature, I like to avoid conflict - those little jagged rocks cropping up in the stream of life. Yet I know that to achieve happiness, it is necessary to also stand up for your own beliefs and not allow others to take advantage of you; thus, compromise is necessary. Too much of anything isn't good; too little, ditto. It is achieving this balance that is most difficult, however, for while this ideal is easy to speak of, to practice it oftentimes seems a daunting and nigh-impossible task. When is it "right" to stand up, and when is it right to avoid confrontation? Where does the balance lie?
In seeking the balance, I am generally timid, and I cannot refute Emerson's declaration of man as such - though his definition of "timid" had more to do with our tendency to put so little faith in our own strength, our own divinity, while placing more faith in the words and thoughts of others. Often I consider it better to err on the side of too little than on too much, for one is more extreme than the other and is less easily repaired - a matter of how close you can get to the edge without falling off. When I err in the extreme, I find myself undergoing a sort of pendulum effect; to right the imbalance, I swing in the opposite extreme, and to right that extreme, I swing back again; it takes a great deal of time before the balance is achieved.
Having said all that, I am not a champion for mediocrity. I, like Emerson, feel some frustration with those who would debase themselves before others, who deny themselves what is inherently theirs in order to better praise those whom they deem to be greater than they. Every human being has their strengths and weaknesses; everyone is deserving of respect. If we were all to be measured on some grand celestial scale, every vice and every virtue pitted against each other, we would find the scale to be in perfect balance. Compromise is the result when two equals negotiate an agreement - it is not bowing one's head in obeisance, nor is it exalting oneself over others. It is when people refuse to budge from their ultimatums that conflict arises, especially when it comes down to a matter of who is "right" and who is "wrong;" human beings love to justify themselves based upon these vague notions and matters of opinion, science, religion, fact, philosophy - I'm doing just that in this paper. Oftentimes people do not ask what the word "right" means, but rather, choose to leap right along into what they think it should mean - i.e., whatever they think. Science and fact, religion and opinion - these are all tools that people use to justify their actions. Religion, for example, does not have clout because any specific religion is right in its beliefs; it has power because there is a following, a granfalloon as Kurt Vonnegut would say. People take strength in numbers, however inconsequential it may be in the end - not just physical strength, but strength in the belief that they are that much more right because there are others who believe in the same thing. When a nation is insulted in some way, that kind of mob mentality sweeps through the majority of the population, and in their desire to be "right", they brand the offenders as those in the "wrong" - whether or not that is the case. This does not make those who claim a religion or nationality any more right or wrong than anyone else.
It is perhaps the most difficult task that lies ahead of humanity - determining what right really means. Both Thoreau and Emerson laud the man who could completely shirk the so-called "morality" of society and the masses in favor what his own conscience declares to be right, yet both acknowledge the difficulty of anyone achieving this goal. Psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg defined "right" based on the various stages of moral development he perceived in the human condition, agreeing with Emerson and Thoreau in his perception of the highest stage as the stage at which "individual and moral judgment is motivated by one's own conscience." Yet what may seem to be your conscience oftentimes proves to be your prejudice instead; two voices sound when you call upon your intuition, and only one of them is your conscience. If something is truly right, it should be able to withstand the test of time, not be subject to the whims of a changing society or a change in point of view. When we claim something is "right," too often we bother ourselves with trivialities; as the saying goes, we can't see the forest for the trees. Again, religion is a prime example: the overarching message of every true religion is that there is a supreme being more powerful than we are; we are all his/her/its/their creation, and that being cares about us and wants us to maintain some concept of morality. It truly does not matter what religion you belong to, for the rest is trivial, the result of people's desire to declare themselves better than others. Those who refuse to affiliate themselves with any specific religion oftentimes do so because of the negative human history associated with it, not necessarily because of any specific prejudice against the concept of religion; those who do not believe in a divine being are reflective of an increasingly skeptical environment, who have observed human society and prefer to remain securely grounded in what their own minds and bodies tells them to be fact. Even here there is a balance, for as Emerson and Thoreau claim, the divine work through us; we are unto ourselves as gods, as parents and mentors and friends who wish to guide our charges down a moral path, who help create the individuals that our charges become. The Bible claims that God created man in his own image; Rousseau quipped that "man, being a gentleman, returned the favor." Transcendentalist belief in the divinity of man is the compromise between the two - for both can be right despite their seemingly conflicting tenets. Who is to say that one belief is ultimately better than the other? Beliefs are only as good as the people who believe them; rational justification of one is just as valid as the theoretical justification of the other. What ultimately matters is what kind of people their followers are, and for what purpose they have come to embrace their beliefs. It is usually not the truly pious who commit atrocities in the name of their religion, but those who lust after power and wish to use religion as the justification for their means; extremism comes into play and compromise is thrown out the window to better distinguish the "enemy." Thus, humanity ends up with conflict, war, and bad reputations.
The idea of compromise as a way of life seems to have been lost in the wave of popular culture and general extremism that dictates our "all-American" society. On one level, it is necessary for this extremism to exist in order for people to appreciate moderation - yet extremism in of itself is an obstacle in the path to lifelong contentment, whether it is personal extremism or the extremism of others. What we hear about on the news is usually in regards to too much or too little of something - too much fighting, too little jobs, too many people sick, too little being done about it, too many people eating too much, too many people not eating enough, too many people dying...We hear about the stars, the rich and famous, the people on one end of the extreme - then we hear about the destitute, the poor and unhappy, the rebellious mob demanding work and sanitary living conditions. Moderation does not make for good ratings.
Moderate living does, however, allow balance and provides a sense of security - as Goldilocks would say, it's "just right". My philosophy: If you're hungry, eat - when your hunger has been satiated, stop eating. Try to live comfortably, but not to excess; work hard, but don't overwork. (All work and no play make Johnny a very dull boy...Emerson can tout the values of working harder all he wants, I know from experience that letting work consume your life leads to an overall feeling of depression. Maxis got it right when they made The Sims). Again, compromise, use moderation, and listen to what your entire being tells you, for your body often possesses within itself an intuition concerning what it should and should not do, and more often than not, it's right. Rational thought kicks in during those times when your body would normally reject what you know it needs or craves that which you know is bad for you, establishing a balanced relationship between thought and the instinctual, intuitive nature of your flesh and blood. This balance is especially necessary to achieve happiness. (Please pardon the excessive preachiness of this paragraph.)
Happiness, to me, is dependent on the level of balance I've reached within myself, and on interaction with the outside. Contentment comes from within, based upon the equilibrium established between the mind, body, and soul; without contentment one cannot rise to the level of true joy. But once contentment has been established and I am at peace with who I am, it is up to me to then pursue those things that make me happy, and to deal sensibly with those things in life that don't. Crucial to my pursuit is the ability to accept things as they are and see the good in everything - or, if this is not possible, then to change or help change those things that I deem absolutely necessary, and at least find a reason for it. Happiness may come unbidden, a surge of joy sparked by a random event - oftentimes, happiness is the embodiment of the facet I call Innocence, a pure emotion that stems not from careful thought and manipulation, but from the essence of something, and the essence of life itself. Surrounding oneself with friends - not in the shallow sense, but friends who you've known for what seems a lifetime, who know and accept you, who you can appreciate for simply being there - can bring prolonged instances of this happiness. But happiness must also often be a goal that one works towards - this kind of happiness stems from a feeling of self-satisfaction. The pursuit of this goal is often more important than the goal itself, for the goal is the motivation, the end of the journey; the pursuit is the winding road, lined with trials, but all the more enjoyable because each trial can be overcome and makes you stronger for it. If a situation looks dire, there is always something amusing about it - even if it is the cynical kind of amusement one takes in hypocrisy and the mutability of the human spirit. I find myself in agreement with Emerson in his assertion that nature, in all her beauty, is the greatest source of pure delight; for it is only in nature that I can feel truly at peace, surrounded by those things which the eye finds pleasing, which the senses are attracted to, which the mind is stimulated by, and which the soul finds inspiration all at once. Thoreau would call it the muse of the poet; Joyce Kilmer would argue that poetry pales in comparison, that this example of God's creation proves just how insignificant we are when we try to imitate in inimitable; Robert Frost would go for a walk in the woods, absorb it all, then muse about it in verse. (I'm not exactly sure where that sentence came from.) Artists attempt to capture nature on canvas, photographers try to save what images they can, mathematicians delight in its fractal properties, and scientists marvel at its myriad complexities - nature provides inspiration for all of humanity with its multi-faceted character. It is life in its simplest form, and yet is more complex than the mind can fathom - balanced and shaped around balance, maintaining a delicate equilibrium at all times.
There is something to appreciate in everything, even in the midst of turmoil. Why is it that so often, even if they are able to apply this idea to their daily lives, people fail to see that in their peers?
It is my policy - nay, the policy of my cool rational side, I should say, in combination with the nature of my spokesperson who greatly favors the idea of compromise - to try to get along with people. True, this mentality has probably developed as a result of my dislike for conflict and tension, but I have done my best to remain faithful to it because it has served me well thus far. If I don't particularly like someone, I will nevertheless try to remain respectful, or at least discreetly avoid their presence. I try not to judge, for I do not like to be judged, and have tried to train myself to see that everyone has a purpose and a right to live, to be who they are - there's a reason for everything, whether it be cool, scientific reason, or reason that has been developed by faith and religion. I have tried to remove the word "hate" from my vocabulary, because there is really nothing in this world worth hating - dislike, yes, but hate? The connotations of that word are all negative and destructive; it implies a feeling of such passion that there can be nothing positive about it. Emerson claimed that there is nothing so ugly that light cannot make it beautiful; this holds true not merely for physical objects and material beauty, but for life and humanity as well. There is light in all things, it's just a matter of finding it. Taoists consider this the concept of Yin and Yang, light and dark, forever in balance, found in all things.
There is no such thing as a true idiot, for there is a kind of genius in everyone - even those whom we may consider simpletons have some innate virtue that is found to be lacking in others, or a strength of spirit that dwarfs their limited ability in other areas. No-one is entirely lacking in intelligence, wisdom, and smarts. Everyone has something to teach - even our elders, despite Thoreau's insistence on the contrary. We are all human, and we learn to accept that - but it is much easier to seek forgiveness for one's own fallacies than it is to forgive the mistakes of others. It is so easy to harp on the imperfections that we find in our peers; we judge too easily based on these negative aspects.
We are all able to make opinions and condemn those we deem to be a certain way, but there is no real need to voice those opinions unless they would actually accomplish something - and many a time they would produce nothing constructive at all. We may come to regret our hasty words and judgments in time, alienating ourselves from our fellow man. I am inherently cautious when it comes to such matters; I do not always speak my mind, and it allows me to exist in relative peace with others. Emerson, however, would claim that I am not being true to myself. I say that that depends on what part of "myself" he's talking about.
There is something to be said about the need for space, whether one is a creature of society or not. In Solitude, Thoreau stated man's need for personal space; he called for one square mile per person. While I would say that that is quite a bit on the extreme side, he makes a point - we all need some time to ourselves in which we know no-one is watching, where we are not compelled to interact (whether willingly or unwillingly) with other human beings. In order to fully appreciate something, be it human or not, one must spend some time away from it. Constant exposure to something is the surest way to make someone take it for granted or grow tired of it; in my case, annoyance ensues and the urge to get away from it all bubbles up in the deepest recesses of my being. Yet too much time away from contact with others is likewise a miserable experience; some require less time with members of their own species than others, but ultimately we are all social creatures. Thoreau himself did not undergo complete solitude while at Walden; he maintained human contact with those who came to visit him, and his self-induced hermitage was only a temporary one at any rate. He always knew that he would be returning to society's social embrace; he admits to having felt loneliness during the first few months of his solitude, and I dare say that this loneliness never really passed until he "returned," but was rather made bearable because he got used to it.
As for love...I am comparatively inexperienced in it and thus really can only apply my philosophies to this. In the past, I have often held onto my concept of love with a fierce idealistic passion. I am usually suspicious of my own motives behind crushes, and before doing anything about the crush, analyze it as thoroughly as I can - considering the circumstances. At this age, in a high school setting, I do not feel as though I have the right outlook on relationships to say whether or not something is love or just hormones acting up again. I am still wavering in between the extremes and trying to find the balance between the side of me that has succumbed to the manipulations of adolescence and hormones and the side that remains cool, impassive, and wary for the sake of saving myself - and others involved - from any possible hurt. I detest causing psychological pain. I try to avoid it as much as possible. It is the worst possible form of pain, because it scars and infects the wounds it inflicts; at least physical wounds can heal cleanly. Too, on a more self-centered level, causing psychological pain is a double-edged sword in my case. I cannot cause it without feeling some repercussions; it causes me more pain than when others try to purposely inflict psychological pain on me. I tend to shut down emotionally when I sense that someone is trying to guilt trip me to do something; it is my defense mechanism against being manipulated against my will, and it allows me to make a calm decision based upon rational thought.
Nowadays, we have begun to put considerable emphasis on the concept of mental health in addition to the condition of the body. It is interesting how the word "health" was once associated primarily with physical well-being; it's almost a commentary on our society in of itself. While America seems to grow fatter each day, rolling in surplus and mechanical convenience, we put less emphasis on physical condition. Is this the cause or effect of our “development”? It is reassuring to note, however, that we are also moving towards a society that embraces both concepts of health as equally important, though not necessarily in the manner that Emerson and Thoreau would have it; while we seem to be complicating life by adding restrictions to the manner in which we allow ourselves to live, they would rather that we lead Spartan lives, focusing only on what we need. However, it was the Athenians, not the Spartans, who were remembered for their great achievements in the arts and sciences.
Life is complicated enough as it is, and yet, it is these complications that make it interesting. Life does not require any further complicating; nevertheless, always at the back of one's mind is this concept of achieving happiness which causes you to complicate your life anyway. Personally, I look upon those who are able to live with the utmost simplicity in admiration; there was a time when I am convinced I would have been able to do so, and perhaps such a time lies upon my horizon, but in my current environment it is not possible for me to pursue such a manner of living and enjoy it. Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, found a balanced state of being between the life of a prince and the life of an ascetic. I wish to find my own balance.
When we are born, we begin with life in its simplest form. As long as we are provided with the "bare necessities", we do not fuss or complain. Yet when a child sees something that interests him or her, they will cry when the object of their interest is removed from their line or site or simply taken away. At such a young age, we "learn" to covet more than what we need. As we grow, this urge grows within us - indeed, it is considered normal behavior. If such impulses develop at such an early age, is it then "natural" for us to have them? If it is, then wouldn't it be defeating the point of transcendentalist thought to go against them? Or are these impulses the result of our inherent curiosity, which causes us to ask questions and find no satisfaction until we receive a pleasing answer? And by asking these questions, aren't I complicating life?
To use the mind is to complicate life; the easiest way to keep things simple is to be simple. Barring that, the next easiest way is to be kept in ignorance, for they say that ignorance is bliss; if we do not know something exists, we rarely desire it. Is there a way to simplify life without being simple or ignorant? Thoreau insists on simplifying everything, on determining whether something is worth the time, worry, resources, and energy that it costs. There are so many extraneous, unnecessary facets of life that we add: seeking the newest fashions in clothing, placing the highest importance on physical appearance, plunking ourselves down in from of the TV. Yet to a point, they serve as welcome distractions, reflections of our character; it's a matter of choosing your poison. I have never found a real need to pursue high fashion, and I have no particular interest in bettering my physical appearance beyond looking decent and being fit; Thoreau would consider such things as wastes of time, as do I. I take an interest in the rest of the world, however; television and other modes of communication help me "keep in touch," are tools with which to get a better view of society. Thoreau would rather that we be at peace with ourselves, sequestered in our own little miniature worlds and not bothered by the demands of the collective whole - this would be the simplest path. But I would rather be bothered with the complexities that the world throws at me than be ignorant of it.
Human nature is such that when we declare war, we believe that we have a justifiable cause; when the war drags on for too long, or is not going the way we planned it, we yearn for peace; when violence occurs, we condemn it, but when we are the ones committing the violent act, at the time we are doing it, we are tapping into our primal, more basic selves, which requires no justification to act.
Thus, my take on it all: Wanton, rampant violence is most definitely a bad thing. When it causes lasting pain to another, when it ends a life or leaves a scar, either mentally or physically, violence is bad. But violence is also inherent in humanity. It is a matter of supreme willpower to repress it; yet I do not believe that repressing it totally is constructive or healthy, if only because it sometimes feels right to unleash energy in this rawest of forms. Lashing out, however, is not the way to go - rather, I tend to try channeling violent energy into controlled motion. Yet there is something about a sudden, powerful motion, something about the concept of violence, which is almost cathartic - physicality releases pent-up emotion, emotion that might otherwise fester within the heart and soul. This release restores balance in the emotions of a human being. When the target is another human being for the sake of hurting, however, a different sort of balance is upset.
It is my philosophy that one should do that which one can for oneself. Not only does this help you figure out who you are, but it forces you to come to terms with what you can and can't do - shows you your own strengths and weaknesses, makes you practice doing those things which you really should be able to do already. There is something about self reliance that makes you feel proud, that gives you a sense of accomplishment, a kind of smug self-satisfaction in knowing that you didn't have to bother anyone else to achieve your goal. Yet self reliance - in the literal sense - can only take you so far; eventually, you get to the point where you must depend on someone or something else for help, lest you fail completely. To believe that you can do anything and everything by yourself is to be delusional; you may be able to eke out an existence, but you can't get much farther than that. Emerson's definition of self-reliance deals with depending on one's self and one's own opinions and ideas instead of those preconceived by our media and society. I do my best to follow this definition without infringing on the rights of others to follow their own paths of life, for ultimately we are our own worst critics - and ours is the only opinion that truly has any direct effect on our lives.
The idea of the "divine man," of the wisdom found within human intuition and the divinity of the natural world, is one that coincides with my own personal philosophies - to a point. Emerson clamored for his readers to embrace the concept of self-reliance; he warned that one must "insist on yourself; never imitate." Yet imitation is the way in which we learn; if we "insisted" on ourselves all the time, we wouldn't get anywhere. To form an idea as to how basic society functions, it is necessary to study it both as a part of it and as an observer. Afterwards, we may be afforded the luxury of free thought, may be strong enough to be our own disciplinarians based upon the universal laws that our consciousness dictates.
This was my Thoreau/Emerson paper, written in the February of 2004 for my American Literature class...things have changed a little since then, some of you may know specifically what sections, but a lot of it still holds true, or became truer. If you have the time and the patience to get through this...Enjoy.
2/14/04
Philosophizing
(And While This Will Never be Completely Finished...it's a Start)
Pseudo-"experiments": Putting my philosophies into words, analysis of how my environment and neighborhood may have helped shape them, comparison of my
philosophies to those of Emerson and Thoreau.
I'll begin with the specific - who I am, or at least, who I perceive myself to be. I
am reluctant to say that I am any one person, but rather think of myself as a combination
of many different "people" who are represented to the rest of the world by a spokesperson
of sorts. Each facet of "me" is like a member of a very large presidential cabinet - each
member a different personality with different motives, areas of specialty, and reactions to
various stimuli. The "president" is the part of me that listens to the clamoring of the
cabinet and selects the reactions, emotions, and opinions that will be represented and
shown to the rest of the world, more of a judge than of an actual leader - she considers the
situation I am in, and chooses from the mixed emotions those that she would consider
most appropriate. This spokesperson is the most responsible for who I am - nay, I should
say rather that she is the most like the person whom I think others perceive me to be. Yet
the other facets of me can gain or lose power inside the cabinet, holding greater or lesser
sway over the decisions of the spokesperson depending on the situation. Even if the
spokesperson neglects a facet in her compromising and decision-making, however, every
facet has a voice, and every voice is heard - be it simply in my mind, or voiced out loud.
The most dominant facets of me seem to have taken residence in the majority of
my thoughts, but each are separate - their voices can be distinguished from each other.
There is a part of me that is perpetually calm and views everything in a rather detached
manner, finding amusement in most everything that happens. Hers is the voice of cool,
rational thought, taking mental note of everything I do and keeping me perpetually aware
of myself even as the other emotions and facets of me find themselves in positions of
greater power in the cabinet - this facet is always there, whether or not she chooses to
show herself. In sharp contrast is the facet of me that is very much my age - who thinks
like a "teenager", acts like a "teenager", and consequentially, I find rather annoying at
times. I call her "Hormones"; she's a relatively new member of the cabinet, but her voice
is shrill and cannot be ignored, can only be tempered by compromising with the other
voices (especially rational thought) and through the careful judgment of the
spokesperson. Then there's pure emotion - she's a fickle one, and oftentimes can slip by
the spokesperson in the form of some chemical imbalance. Sometimes she can be
beneficial and brings me great joy - other times, rational thought is smiling wryly as she
watches emotion cause surges of negative and unproductive feeling wash over me as a
whole. The spokesperson is always there, and has her own characteristics - she is the
most like a complete person, a facet of me that is built upon compromise and careful
judgment. Like her, or because of her, I would say that the character that shows to most
of the rest of the world is one of contemplative thought, seeking the meaning behind
words and images and carefully choosing the actions and words that would be most
appropriate according to the situation. At times, I let out my hyper and semi-
reckless self - but she's almost always tempered by rational thought's presence. This is not
necessarily a good thing - I fear it has made me appear woefully indifferent at times, and wary of things that may in truth be perfectly innocent - but it's not bad, either. So far, I would say that my spokesperson has served me well - compromise between all my inner selves has thus far kept me at a level of contentment that one could call happiness, but I define happiness as something else.
I describe myself as an optimistic humanistic Christian realist - despite the paradoxical nature of that phrase. While I am content with the way I am, and try to take an honest joy in life, I know that there are many things about myself and about life that are far from perfect and that I require much tweaking in the power structure that has begun to settle in my character as a whole. I like to see the bright side of things, for this allows me to be happy - yet there has developed an underlying sense of what you could call cynicism, which I prefer to think of as a rock that prevents the balloon from flying into the sun. I try to keep the rock as small as possible, though - be aware that all is not bright and dandy, but appreciate everything for what it is anyway. Again, this is the result of compromise between my various sides - the happy-go-lucky me who knows that all will turn out right in the end and that nothing is so bad that total despair is necessary, and the cynical and rational sides of me who lack this idealism. I am a humanist in that I concern myself with the affairs and welfare of other human beings, despite what they may have done; I value the "cost" of human life and the dignity of the human soul. While I have not embraced Christianity with open arms, I have found significance in a great deal of its teachings. It is the easiest religion in which to think for yourself and question doctrines, for that is where Protestantism derived its beginning - by now, there are so many different denominations that the definition of Christianity in of itself must be boiled down to its basic components in order to encompass them all. I believe in a supreme being who set things in motion - at the very least, this concept exists to keep me humble.
Yet at the same time, I've begun to notice a streak of arrogance in me that I feel is necessary to quell. This arrogance - perhaps it is simply a mixture of disinterest and cool amusement - prevents me from being happy, if only because it creates a sense of cynical dissatisfaction and upsets the balance of humility and a healthy dose of high self-esteem. It also has recently led to the unwanted development of a great deal of frustration newly manifested in my somewhat jaded reactions to outside stimuli, a.k.a. "attitude." My balance has been upset in other ways as well - the tentative balance that I thought I had achieved earlier in life has been knocked out of whack again by brand-new and oh-so-annoying situations and extremities. Thoreau said that change is good, that it prevents us from becoming mired in old habits and stagnating; change is always possible, and new thoughts will always arise, ready to supplant the old and "useless" views of our forefathers. His point was that we should shirk the old prejudices and customs that humanity has found itself bound to, thanks to generations of unquestioning acceptance and the fetters of societal tradition. Yet there's a balance to how much change a person can take; a little change is nice every now and then, but change too many things too often and you get traumatized. Barring that, you become so used to change that you don't know how to react to a stable environment, and the impact of change lessens to the point where it becomes insignificant. Ripples on the mirror-glass surface of a quiet pond travel far, break the stillness - but ripples on the crashing waves of the sea are hardly noticed, swallowed in the multitude. In a stagnant society, who would we take more seriously: the law-abiding citizen who suddenly becomes outspoken in a controversial issue, or the perpetual rabble-rouser?
Society is thus not something to cast off completely. It is a tool with which to invoke greater change, to reach a greater population; it is the creation of the masses, a melting pot in which we can occasionally find a chunk of meat or a bit of carrot to ruminate on and absorb in our development of character. True, as many have noted, society has the tendency to oppress the individual in favor of the majority, whether that majority be worth following or not. It is this effect that should be combated, but there are comparatively few who can; the arms of "society" stretch so far that the definition of "individual" is in itself ambiguous. Is seeming irreverence for society's norms really non-conformism, or is it the accepted manner in which we try to claim a sort of empty individualism, the beaten path to being "unique"? To dress in a certain manner, embrace a certain school of thought - what is it but just joining another branch of society? It is that much greater a feat to respect that which society sets before us when we feel there is good reason for it, but not because it is the "acceptable" thing to do; abide by the law when the law is just, not because it is the law. We do not need to challenge society on a daily basis; perpetual conflict will get us nowhere. Better to save our strength for the greater battles to come than lose energy in minor skirmishes over things that, in the end, don't really matter; better to grow strong and arm yourself with what you've learned than to head into the fray unprotected and weak.
Thoreau had the benefit of being an adult, whom society had loosened its grip on; he had already gone through the learning and growing phases of childhood and adolescence, had established his own ideas and was no longer someone else's responsibility. His words were written more for his fellow grown men than anyone else. It is thus unfair to ask a common child or teenager to follow such a life as he dictates, to shirk the cares of society; I fear that children and teenagers feel pressure of society much more acutely, especially now, than Thoreau could fathom. The environment in which a person grows up in shapes that person's character, whether recognizably or not. The situations that we find ourselves in and - more importantly - the manner in which we handle them gradually begin to define who we are and how we approach life. We are the target of marketing moguls. We are compelled to go to school, and begin to rate ourselves according to how we perform. We set out to prove to ourselves that we can do it, that we are strong enough, resilient enough, smart enough to handle whatever society throws at us, and invariably, there are casualties. We try to develop our sense of individuality; we try to "simplify life" but often succeed only in making it more complicated because we either don't understand what we're doing or because however good their intentions may be, those members of society whom we are still yet the responsibility of are trying to shape us according to their perception of societal norms. This is especially frustrating, but necessary - our first interactions with the world are through these people, and they are the ones who teach us (proactive) or cause us to develop (reactive) the mannerisms that we eventually use to deal with life.
I achieve a sort of peace with life by seeking compromise, a happy medium, a middle ground. Here, I reflect what numerous other philosophies and people have said for ages - one must find balance. Life flows ever onward, like a stream or river; every now and then you'll find a patch of rocks, rapids, a waterfall or two, but once you get over the rough parts, you'll find that life has a charming, soothing quality about it, a beauty of its own that you cannot help but love. Flow with the river, and you will spare yourself much angst and despair. Sometimes you find yourself at a fork in the river - then it is necessary to choose a side. Sometimes you can sense an avoidable patch of rocks - then you must swim and avoid them. Swimming against the current on occasion can keep you strong and healthy, but swimming too much against it will tire you out and you may find yourself sinking, unable to fight it any more. Swimming with the current is easy, but can also mean that you are rushing headlong towards a waterfall or rapids that you could have avoided if you took things slow. It is often best to float on the water and let life run at its own pace rather than try to impose your own pace on life, for in the end, the river is stronger than the lone swimmer. Thus, the happy medium - let life run its course, but every now and then take a few strokes to keep yourself strong and going in the right direction. By nature, I like to avoid conflict - those little jagged rocks cropping up in the stream of life. Yet I know that to achieve happiness, it is necessary to also stand up for your own beliefs and not allow others to take advantage of you; thus, compromise is necessary. Too much of anything isn't good; too little, ditto. It is achieving this balance that is most difficult, however, for while this ideal is easy to speak of, to practice it oftentimes seems a daunting and nigh-impossible task. When is it "right" to stand up, and when is it right to avoid confrontation? Where does the balance lie?
In seeking the balance, I am generally timid, and I cannot refute Emerson's declaration of man as such - though his definition of "timid" had more to do with our tendency to put so little faith in our own strength, our own divinity, while placing more faith in the words and thoughts of others. Often I consider it better to err on the side of too little than on too much, for one is more extreme than the other and is less easily repaired - a matter of how close you can get to the edge without falling off. When I err in the extreme, I find myself undergoing a sort of pendulum effect; to right the imbalance, I swing in the opposite extreme, and to right that extreme, I swing back again; it takes a great deal of time before the balance is achieved.
Having said all that, I am not a champion for mediocrity. I, like Emerson, feel some frustration with those who would debase themselves before others, who deny themselves what is inherently theirs in order to better praise those whom they deem to be greater than they. Every human being has their strengths and weaknesses; everyone is deserving of respect. If we were all to be measured on some grand celestial scale, every vice and every virtue pitted against each other, we would find the scale to be in perfect balance. Compromise is the result when two equals negotiate an agreement - it is not bowing one's head in obeisance, nor is it exalting oneself over others. It is when people refuse to budge from their ultimatums that conflict arises, especially when it comes down to a matter of who is "right" and who is "wrong;" human beings love to justify themselves based upon these vague notions and matters of opinion, science, religion, fact, philosophy - I'm doing just that in this paper. Oftentimes people do not ask what the word "right" means, but rather, choose to leap right along into what they think it should mean - i.e., whatever they think. Science and fact, religion and opinion - these are all tools that people use to justify their actions. Religion, for example, does not have clout because any specific religion is right in its beliefs; it has power because there is a following, a granfalloon as Kurt Vonnegut would say. People take strength in numbers, however inconsequential it may be in the end - not just physical strength, but strength in the belief that they are that much more right because there are others who believe in the same thing. When a nation is insulted in some way, that kind of mob mentality sweeps through the majority of the population, and in their desire to be "right", they brand the offenders as those in the "wrong" - whether or not that is the case. This does not make those who claim a religion or nationality any more right or wrong than anyone else.
It is perhaps the most difficult task that lies ahead of humanity - determining what right really means. Both Thoreau and Emerson laud the man who could completely shirk the so-called "morality" of society and the masses in favor what his own conscience declares to be right, yet both acknowledge the difficulty of anyone achieving this goal. Psychologist Lawrence Kohlberg defined "right" based on the various stages of moral development he perceived in the human condition, agreeing with Emerson and Thoreau in his perception of the highest stage as the stage at which "individual and moral judgment is motivated by one's own conscience." Yet what may seem to be your conscience oftentimes proves to be your prejudice instead; two voices sound when you call upon your intuition, and only one of them is your conscience. If something is truly right, it should be able to withstand the test of time, not be subject to the whims of a changing society or a change in point of view. When we claim something is "right," too often we bother ourselves with trivialities; as the saying goes, we can't see the forest for the trees. Again, religion is a prime example: the overarching message of every true religion is that there is a supreme being more powerful than we are; we are all his/her/its/their creation, and that being cares about us and wants us to maintain some concept of morality. It truly does not matter what religion you belong to, for the rest is trivial, the result of people's desire to declare themselves better than others. Those who refuse to affiliate themselves with any specific religion oftentimes do so because of the negative human history associated with it, not necessarily because of any specific prejudice against the concept of religion; those who do not believe in a divine being are reflective of an increasingly skeptical environment, who have observed human society and prefer to remain securely grounded in what their own minds and bodies tells them to be fact. Even here there is a balance, for as Emerson and Thoreau claim, the divine work through us; we are unto ourselves as gods, as parents and mentors and friends who wish to guide our charges down a moral path, who help create the individuals that our charges become. The Bible claims that God created man in his own image; Rousseau quipped that "man, being a gentleman, returned the favor." Transcendentalist belief in the divinity of man is the compromise between the two - for both can be right despite their seemingly conflicting tenets. Who is to say that one belief is ultimately better than the other? Beliefs are only as good as the people who believe them; rational justification of one is just as valid as the theoretical justification of the other. What ultimately matters is what kind of people their followers are, and for what purpose they have come to embrace their beliefs. It is usually not the truly pious who commit atrocities in the name of their religion, but those who lust after power and wish to use religion as the justification for their means; extremism comes into play and compromise is thrown out the window to better distinguish the "enemy." Thus, humanity ends up with conflict, war, and bad reputations.
The idea of compromise as a way of life seems to have been lost in the wave of popular culture and general extremism that dictates our "all-American" society. On one level, it is necessary for this extremism to exist in order for people to appreciate moderation - yet extremism in of itself is an obstacle in the path to lifelong contentment, whether it is personal extremism or the extremism of others. What we hear about on the news is usually in regards to too much or too little of something - too much fighting, too little jobs, too many people sick, too little being done about it, too many people eating too much, too many people not eating enough, too many people dying...We hear about the stars, the rich and famous, the people on one end of the extreme - then we hear about the destitute, the poor and unhappy, the rebellious mob demanding work and sanitary living conditions. Moderation does not make for good ratings.
Moderate living does, however, allow balance and provides a sense of security - as Goldilocks would say, it's "just right". My philosophy: If you're hungry, eat - when your hunger has been satiated, stop eating. Try to live comfortably, but not to excess; work hard, but don't overwork. (All work and no play make Johnny a very dull boy...Emerson can tout the values of working harder all he wants, I know from experience that letting work consume your life leads to an overall feeling of depression. Maxis got it right when they made The Sims). Again, compromise, use moderation, and listen to what your entire being tells you, for your body often possesses within itself an intuition concerning what it should and should not do, and more often than not, it's right. Rational thought kicks in during those times when your body would normally reject what you know it needs or craves that which you know is bad for you, establishing a balanced relationship between thought and the instinctual, intuitive nature of your flesh and blood. This balance is especially necessary to achieve happiness. (Please pardon the excessive preachiness of this paragraph.)
Happiness, to me, is dependent on the level of balance I've reached within myself, and on interaction with the outside. Contentment comes from within, based upon the equilibrium established between the mind, body, and soul; without contentment one cannot rise to the level of true joy. But once contentment has been established and I am at peace with who I am, it is up to me to then pursue those things that make me happy, and to deal sensibly with those things in life that don't. Crucial to my pursuit is the ability to accept things as they are and see the good in everything - or, if this is not possible, then to change or help change those things that I deem absolutely necessary, and at least find a reason for it. Happiness may come unbidden, a surge of joy sparked by a random event - oftentimes, happiness is the embodiment of the facet I call Innocence, a pure emotion that stems not from careful thought and manipulation, but from the essence of something, and the essence of life itself. Surrounding oneself with friends - not in the shallow sense, but friends who you've known for what seems a lifetime, who know and accept you, who you can appreciate for simply being there - can bring prolonged instances of this happiness. But happiness must also often be a goal that one works towards - this kind of happiness stems from a feeling of self-satisfaction. The pursuit of this goal is often more important than the goal itself, for the goal is the motivation, the end of the journey; the pursuit is the winding road, lined with trials, but all the more enjoyable because each trial can be overcome and makes you stronger for it. If a situation looks dire, there is always something amusing about it - even if it is the cynical kind of amusement one takes in hypocrisy and the mutability of the human spirit. I find myself in agreement with Emerson in his assertion that nature, in all her beauty, is the greatest source of pure delight; for it is only in nature that I can feel truly at peace, surrounded by those things which the eye finds pleasing, which the senses are attracted to, which the mind is stimulated by, and which the soul finds inspiration all at once. Thoreau would call it the muse of the poet; Joyce Kilmer would argue that poetry pales in comparison, that this example of God's creation proves just how insignificant we are when we try to imitate in inimitable; Robert Frost would go for a walk in the woods, absorb it all, then muse about it in verse. (I'm not exactly sure where that sentence came from.) Artists attempt to capture nature on canvas, photographers try to save what images they can, mathematicians delight in its fractal properties, and scientists marvel at its myriad complexities - nature provides inspiration for all of humanity with its multi-faceted character. It is life in its simplest form, and yet is more complex than the mind can fathom - balanced and shaped around balance, maintaining a delicate equilibrium at all times.
There is something to appreciate in everything, even in the midst of turmoil. Why is it that so often, even if they are able to apply this idea to their daily lives, people fail to see that in their peers?
It is my policy - nay, the policy of my cool rational side, I should say, in combination with the nature of my spokesperson who greatly favors the idea of compromise - to try to get along with people. True, this mentality has probably developed as a result of my dislike for conflict and tension, but I have done my best to remain faithful to it because it has served me well thus far. If I don't particularly like someone, I will nevertheless try to remain respectful, or at least discreetly avoid their presence. I try not to judge, for I do not like to be judged, and have tried to train myself to see that everyone has a purpose and a right to live, to be who they are - there's a reason for everything, whether it be cool, scientific reason, or reason that has been developed by faith and religion. I have tried to remove the word "hate" from my vocabulary, because there is really nothing in this world worth hating - dislike, yes, but hate? The connotations of that word are all negative and destructive; it implies a feeling of such passion that there can be nothing positive about it. Emerson claimed that there is nothing so ugly that light cannot make it beautiful; this holds true not merely for physical objects and material beauty, but for life and humanity as well. There is light in all things, it's just a matter of finding it. Taoists consider this the concept of Yin and Yang, light and dark, forever in balance, found in all things.
There is no such thing as a true idiot, for there is a kind of genius in everyone - even those whom we may consider simpletons have some innate virtue that is found to be lacking in others, or a strength of spirit that dwarfs their limited ability in other areas. No-one is entirely lacking in intelligence, wisdom, and smarts. Everyone has something to teach - even our elders, despite Thoreau's insistence on the contrary. We are all human, and we learn to accept that - but it is much easier to seek forgiveness for one's own fallacies than it is to forgive the mistakes of others. It is so easy to harp on the imperfections that we find in our peers; we judge too easily based on these negative aspects.
We are all able to make opinions and condemn those we deem to be a certain way, but there is no real need to voice those opinions unless they would actually accomplish something - and many a time they would produce nothing constructive at all. We may come to regret our hasty words and judgments in time, alienating ourselves from our fellow man. I am inherently cautious when it comes to such matters; I do not always speak my mind, and it allows me to exist in relative peace with others. Emerson, however, would claim that I am not being true to myself. I say that that depends on what part of "myself" he's talking about.
There is something to be said about the need for space, whether one is a creature of society or not. In Solitude, Thoreau stated man's need for personal space; he called for one square mile per person. While I would say that that is quite a bit on the extreme side, he makes a point - we all need some time to ourselves in which we know no-one is watching, where we are not compelled to interact (whether willingly or unwillingly) with other human beings. In order to fully appreciate something, be it human or not, one must spend some time away from it. Constant exposure to something is the surest way to make someone take it for granted or grow tired of it; in my case, annoyance ensues and the urge to get away from it all bubbles up in the deepest recesses of my being. Yet too much time away from contact with others is likewise a miserable experience; some require less time with members of their own species than others, but ultimately we are all social creatures. Thoreau himself did not undergo complete solitude while at Walden; he maintained human contact with those who came to visit him, and his self-induced hermitage was only a temporary one at any rate. He always knew that he would be returning to society's social embrace; he admits to having felt loneliness during the first few months of his solitude, and I dare say that this loneliness never really passed until he "returned," but was rather made bearable because he got used to it.
As for love...I am comparatively inexperienced in it and thus really can only apply my philosophies to this. In the past, I have often held onto my concept of love with a fierce idealistic passion. I am usually suspicious of my own motives behind crushes, and before doing anything about the crush, analyze it as thoroughly as I can - considering the circumstances. At this age, in a high school setting, I do not feel as though I have the right outlook on relationships to say whether or not something is love or just hormones acting up again. I am still wavering in between the extremes and trying to find the balance between the side of me that has succumbed to the manipulations of adolescence and hormones and the side that remains cool, impassive, and wary for the sake of saving myself - and others involved - from any possible hurt. I detest causing psychological pain. I try to avoid it as much as possible. It is the worst possible form of pain, because it scars and infects the wounds it inflicts; at least physical wounds can heal cleanly. Too, on a more self-centered level, causing psychological pain is a double-edged sword in my case. I cannot cause it without feeling some repercussions; it causes me more pain than when others try to purposely inflict psychological pain on me. I tend to shut down emotionally when I sense that someone is trying to guilt trip me to do something; it is my defense mechanism against being manipulated against my will, and it allows me to make a calm decision based upon rational thought.
Nowadays, we have begun to put considerable emphasis on the concept of mental health in addition to the condition of the body. It is interesting how the word "health" was once associated primarily with physical well-being; it's almost a commentary on our society in of itself. While America seems to grow fatter each day, rolling in surplus and mechanical convenience, we put less emphasis on physical condition. Is this the cause or effect of our “development”? It is reassuring to note, however, that we are also moving towards a society that embraces both concepts of health as equally important, though not necessarily in the manner that Emerson and Thoreau would have it; while we seem to be complicating life by adding restrictions to the manner in which we allow ourselves to live, they would rather that we lead Spartan lives, focusing only on what we need. However, it was the Athenians, not the Spartans, who were remembered for their great achievements in the arts and sciences.
Life is complicated enough as it is, and yet, it is these complications that make it interesting. Life does not require any further complicating; nevertheless, always at the back of one's mind is this concept of achieving happiness which causes you to complicate your life anyway. Personally, I look upon those who are able to live with the utmost simplicity in admiration; there was a time when I am convinced I would have been able to do so, and perhaps such a time lies upon my horizon, but in my current environment it is not possible for me to pursue such a manner of living and enjoy it. Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, found a balanced state of being between the life of a prince and the life of an ascetic. I wish to find my own balance.
When we are born, we begin with life in its simplest form. As long as we are provided with the "bare necessities", we do not fuss or complain. Yet when a child sees something that interests him or her, they will cry when the object of their interest is removed from their line or site or simply taken away. At such a young age, we "learn" to covet more than what we need. As we grow, this urge grows within us - indeed, it is considered normal behavior. If such impulses develop at such an early age, is it then "natural" for us to have them? If it is, then wouldn't it be defeating the point of transcendentalist thought to go against them? Or are these impulses the result of our inherent curiosity, which causes us to ask questions and find no satisfaction until we receive a pleasing answer? And by asking these questions, aren't I complicating life?
To use the mind is to complicate life; the easiest way to keep things simple is to be simple. Barring that, the next easiest way is to be kept in ignorance, for they say that ignorance is bliss; if we do not know something exists, we rarely desire it. Is there a way to simplify life without being simple or ignorant? Thoreau insists on simplifying everything, on determining whether something is worth the time, worry, resources, and energy that it costs. There are so many extraneous, unnecessary facets of life that we add: seeking the newest fashions in clothing, placing the highest importance on physical appearance, plunking ourselves down in from of the TV. Yet to a point, they serve as welcome distractions, reflections of our character; it's a matter of choosing your poison. I have never found a real need to pursue high fashion, and I have no particular interest in bettering my physical appearance beyond looking decent and being fit; Thoreau would consider such things as wastes of time, as do I. I take an interest in the rest of the world, however; television and other modes of communication help me "keep in touch," are tools with which to get a better view of society. Thoreau would rather that we be at peace with ourselves, sequestered in our own little miniature worlds and not bothered by the demands of the collective whole - this would be the simplest path. But I would rather be bothered with the complexities that the world throws at me than be ignorant of it.
Human nature is such that when we declare war, we believe that we have a justifiable cause; when the war drags on for too long, or is not going the way we planned it, we yearn for peace; when violence occurs, we condemn it, but when we are the ones committing the violent act, at the time we are doing it, we are tapping into our primal, more basic selves, which requires no justification to act.
Thus, my take on it all: Wanton, rampant violence is most definitely a bad thing. When it causes lasting pain to another, when it ends a life or leaves a scar, either mentally or physically, violence is bad. But violence is also inherent in humanity. It is a matter of supreme willpower to repress it; yet I do not believe that repressing it totally is constructive or healthy, if only because it sometimes feels right to unleash energy in this rawest of forms. Lashing out, however, is not the way to go - rather, I tend to try channeling violent energy into controlled motion. Yet there is something about a sudden, powerful motion, something about the concept of violence, which is almost cathartic - physicality releases pent-up emotion, emotion that might otherwise fester within the heart and soul. This release restores balance in the emotions of a human being. When the target is another human being for the sake of hurting, however, a different sort of balance is upset.
It is my philosophy that one should do that which one can for oneself. Not only does this help you figure out who you are, but it forces you to come to terms with what you can and can't do - shows you your own strengths and weaknesses, makes you practice doing those things which you really should be able to do already. There is something about self reliance that makes you feel proud, that gives you a sense of accomplishment, a kind of smug self-satisfaction in knowing that you didn't have to bother anyone else to achieve your goal. Yet self reliance - in the literal sense - can only take you so far; eventually, you get to the point where you must depend on someone or something else for help, lest you fail completely. To believe that you can do anything and everything by yourself is to be delusional; you may be able to eke out an existence, but you can't get much farther than that. Emerson's definition of self-reliance deals with depending on one's self and one's own opinions and ideas instead of those preconceived by our media and society. I do my best to follow this definition without infringing on the rights of others to follow their own paths of life, for ultimately we are our own worst critics - and ours is the only opinion that truly has any direct effect on our lives.
The idea of the "divine man," of the wisdom found within human intuition and the divinity of the natural world, is one that coincides with my own personal philosophies - to a point. Emerson clamored for his readers to embrace the concept of self-reliance; he warned that one must "insist on yourself; never imitate." Yet imitation is the way in which we learn; if we "insisted" on ourselves all the time, we wouldn't get anywhere. To form an idea as to how basic society functions, it is necessary to study it both as a part of it and as an observer. Afterwards, we may be afforded the luxury of free thought, may be strong enough to be our own disciplinarians based upon the universal laws that our consciousness dictates.