Our Life in Between

The theme of this blog is the life we live in between. We have our main life, usually one of work and home and family. And we have our other life. The one we use to offset the primary life. Vacation. Hobbies. Community service. If we lived only in the first life we might function responsibly but we might also arrive at that dreaded sense of stagnancy. Endless cycles in the mundane. Featureless existence on a long slog towards our demise.

Life proceeds without our prompting. But our sense of being alive depends crucially on our ability to inject our energy into it. And this ability must be expressed in two ways; our responsible existence, and our crazy life. In the time we are allowed we are provided the opportunity to create this crazy space that helps us to regain something. I know that life wants a discussion about what is possible. But practical Dave says this can’t happen. Or that is just plain crazy. We can’t afford it. It can’t be done. Dreamer Dave says “Why not?” So we move into little spots where our dreams can meet up with reality. We buy a boat. We start a project that benefits the community. We open our minds to a way of thinking that isn’t part of our habit.

I find that this creates a space in between. I call it “Life in the Hyphen” because it exists as real as both sides of life. It is where we find wholeness and peace. If we are courageous enough to create both we can then find a point of balance in that “between”.

 

 

The Big Question

“What do you know for sure?” I’ve always liked this greeting because it gets beyond the niceties of “How are you?” (which is seldom asked as a serious question)  and goes straight to an inquiry about ideas. Taken as a serious question, the modern skeptic would answer “Nothing, absolutely” because every statement contains a contingency which becomes the seed of its own rebuttal. But there’s a difference between giving incontrovertible evidence of the truth and asserting from the heart what is true. Only the cynic would deny me this.

So…. what do I know for sure? Well, that beauty trumps science. Because without a sense of meaning and value the other operations of humanity are pointless (see Trofimovich’s speech in Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov.) Another thing I know for sure is that all is one. Best said in the original Sanskrit (…and after all, what isn’t?): “Ekam sadavipra bahuda vadanti”, “That which exists is one, sages call it by different names.” The last thing I know for sure is that everything is going to be just fine. Don’t ask me how I know, I just know.

But what about more contentious issues, like… does God exist? Blaise Pascal said belief in God was the safe bet but I’m not sure. I think landing on either theism or atheism lets me off too easily. Everyone seems to think that answering this question needs to come prior to getting on with the rest of our lives. Actually, I prefer leaving this as an open question, one that my life periodically bumps up against. An odd thing happened one day when I realized that my belief in God actually relies on periodically returning to the question…” does God exist?” So for me, the answering of this question short-circuits the investigation. It should never come first. As my wife says, “Let’s not get previous here!” We rush to answer it when we should make examination of ourselves and our place in this world the priority. To say that “God exists” is not the result of establishing a first principle. It is a hard-earned realization.

Having said that,  I must confess to a distinct penchant for magical thinking. Sometimes, all that my “sensory antennae” pick up is background static but sometimes… its a kind of music. On certain days the world, its plants, its people, its buildings all sort of glow with an unearthly light. It happens on days when I’m not pushing my agenda. Not analyzing, not deciding, and definitely not in charge. Sounds like mysticism, right? Might well be something along those lines. In these moments the “God question” itself doesn’t exist. Why even ask? Who’s doing the asking? Exist? What, are you kidding me? The question itself seems to be a silly, petulant demand from someone willfully oblivious.

What I don’t get is why I find it so important to defend the thing that is absolutely indefensible in any objective sense? The existence of God. Who is my dog in this fight? Why not let everyone come to their own decision about it and let that be the end of it. Fine and good. There’s powerful truth in that. But if I just leave it at that, life starts to flatten out. What happens to the interesting story we can tell each other about it? Where’s the color and contrast? Where’s the challenge and the sense of open-ended possibility? My rule number one in deciding on a path of action: Go to the one that promises the more interesting terrain.

But maybe we aren’t seeking proof of God. Aren’t we looking for meaning? Then let’s look at basic beliefs. Basic beliefs are those that need no proof, and often cannot be proven. These are the “What I know for sure” statements that provide the foundation for what we finally decide and discuss. Things like; the belief in our individuality, the belief that our senses tell us all we need to know about the world, the belief that time in linear with a beginning, middle and end.

There are many others basic beliefs that start with questions. Are there other minds besides ours? Does the past exist? These questions can never be proved “objectively”, yet they prevail as common sense perceptions. And we make extensive use of them every day. So… is my argument for God only based on what my “sensory antennae” tell me? Well it does start with that.

My steadfast and trustworthy rational intellect quickly counters with: I have no evidence for the existence of God therefore God does not exist. What am I talking about with all this touchy-feely sense of the divine stuff? My rational mind tells me I’m an atheist, right? I mean, do you really see God out there anywhere? Fair enough. And there lies the challenge to the believer. But its the corollary “The evidence as I see it eliminates the need for God” that oversteps into intellectual arrogance. First, I would argue that the “god” you are eliminating is a caricature, a straw man that only exists in the minds of very unsubtle true believers (as something to affirm) and materialists (as something to deny). And second, I would hesitate before prescribing the benefits of existentialism to us all. We aren’t all born to be self-justifiers.

I understand the dangers of the religious subjective with its desire to persuade instead of demonstrate. The philosopher warns us to “Beware of exuberance…” (John Locke). On the other hand, I’m not sure that the rational mind can answer all questions. Or that on its own it can lead us to a proper life.

An interesting insight along these lines comes again from Dostoevsky and has been called his “Golden Dream”. Rowan Williams describes it as “…(envisioning) a world from which belief has disappeared and in which the muted sense of bereavement caused by this (drives) people closer to each other, loving each other.” In other words, the demise of simplistic and servile belief might just be a healthy entree into true compassion.

John Milton examined a very important pitfall in our ethical life when he told us that we have a tendency towards “slave mentality”. He shows this to be a common danger, either if we see ourselves as religious fundamentalists or rational materialists. Both groups are given over to the view that there is a literal understanding of reality. We see the world as formulaic, understandable by creed and conclusion. We become enamored of the icon, focusing on what it can do for us instead of the meaning it can impart to our lives. We limit ourselves to appearances instead of complexities.

Independent of the argument denying God any objective reality, God is a story we tell ourselves. To say that we invented God is not a reduction. As Louis Borges says so well “metaphysics is a branch of the fantastical literature”. Religion is our most wondrous creation. We invent what we need and our sense of the divine leads us to tell the story. I’m not limiting God to our story about God because it is part of my belief that there is an independent reality involved. But even if you don’t subscribe (and my own doubt is basic to my understanding), it is still possible to see that our religious “fabrications” are an essential component of defining ourselves as human.

One of the most ironic developments in the scientific critique of religion is the blindness to the history of science itself. Without the establishment of our basic integrity as human individuals operating in history and without our sense that the universe itself is sensible and understandable, we would never have the necessary tools to investigate nature properly. The gift of independent rational thought (in the west) was presented by a religion of grace combined with its humanistic offshoots. An eternally revolving universe of endless cycles populated by tribes does not suggest intelligibility in the same way as a world of precious individual souls operating in linear time. Our culturally ingrained interpretation of time as linear may or may not be absolutely factual (and who can tell) but it profoundly affected how we operate in it.

I guess my main objection to scientifically based anti-theism is that it presents a substitute hierarchy of knowledge. Instead of the old Catholic church model (pre-Vatican Two) of the priestly class saying “there, there” to the laity, we have a new Illuminati (Dawkins, Hitchens) preaching a rational clarity that can eliminate God from our lives. I’m a proponent of a more level playing field, an egalitarian exploration into matters both rational and intuitive. I find the possibility of God to be a leading edge motivator that is basic to my imaginative capabilities. If I decide that the theoretical physicists have answered all the basic existential questions (including the “Why?”) then I give over power to the new priestly class and diminish or de-legitimize my own capabilities for personal exploration. And it is important to keep in mind that any knowledge, be it derived or experiential, carries with it the responsibility of skepticism.

So I think the old theist-atheist debate might be missing the point. Each side tends to argue from entrenched positions which can only result in nothing gained, no information exchanged. I also think that each side represents the extremity of a functioning polarity that is closer to representing truth. I actually find it more useful to categorize people as being either “Possibilians” or “Limitarians”.  And these more basic dispositions can be found in both believers and non-believers and transcend those contentious categories.

Do I believe in God? Might be the wrong question. Does a sense of divine presence inspire me? Better.

Have we met?

I was trimming my hedges the other day when I came across this big fellow hurdling through the neighborhood.

At first I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing but then I realized that my beliefs were also “be-leaves” so I just raked them into a big pile of believes and burned them.

The giant man-shrub wasn’t too thrilled about that. Said he didn’t like the smell. He said he only came over because I had put down my hedge trimmer. I told him the only reason I still saw him was because my believes were burning. His top branches seemed to nod.

The Moon in the Trees

Tonight I watched the moon rise in the trees. I sat on the porch in comfort with the evening breeze and a full easy moon rising. In the beginning it was a group of yellow flickering lights in a dense branch as the wind twittered the leaves. I drifted into wonder as I could now see the moon moving slowly on to other openings. Brighter lights gained strength in the flickering. Then gradually a slight arc appeared on one side as it showed a dignified curve through a larger gap. Another minute and the curve slid back behind more dark leaves. Here the moon became a constellation. I tried to count the moon stars in slowly shifting numbers… ten, fifteen, then twenty stars flashing on and off, sparkles moving higher in the sky. It sparkled like quiet fireworks. The motion of the moon… mostly lost when it sits locked in the timeless night sky. But a moonrise is a slow unfolding drama in time. And a moon rising in the trees adds a dance of light to this. I watched and waited as the moon now made its move towards final escape. The sparkling slowed and then stopped. The arc of its leading edge was coming clear of the tree. The high leaves on the top branches were now small silhouettes on the proud round stage. And then the yellow moon slipped free. And I watched one last leaf drift into the wings as the moonlit night began.

Late Tomatoes

Ah… the garden tomato. Poets have sung their praises for eons. Kings have founded dynasties on the geography of their happiness. The gods bend low to share their glory with us when the ripe fruit kisses our tongues.

Well maybe not really. But it seems that way. And they should.

This summer was brutal for my tomato crop. We managed to grab a handful of those tasty red beauties in June before the blaze of summer put an end to it. I had decided to grow some different heirloom varieties, leaving my usual “Early Girl” out of the mix. Well THAT proved to be a costly mistake. In Western Kentucky you need to get that first crop out of the garden and into the BLT before the blast of high heat slams the door.

In July I checked almost daily for those little green pearls to appear in the blossoms. Only later did I learn from a fellow tomatista that the high temperature was putting the k-bosh to the whole process. “They just won’t set at all once it gets above 95,” he announced. A fruitless search indeed.

Maybe the bees get lethargic. July and August simmer down here somewhere just shy of the boiling point and everything… the river, the clouds, the air, yes even time itself melts into a haze that perfectly matches my mental acuity. Somewhere long about September the cool air draws me out of that languid dreamless sleep and I come alive again.

Its early October and I’ve been reasonably conscious for several weeks now. My memory is alive. The flavor returns of that one, single Black Krum heirloom tomato we harvested before both my tomato plants and I went off to the nether regions of heat related delirium. Stefanie and I once shared that tomato in all its transcendent deliciousness. The desire to relive that experience sharpens as I wait on the plump green fruit hanging from my re-energized tomato plants to show signs of transforming. I search for a blush in the green as I begin to reckon on the frost.

As the days shorten the heat I once cursed for abusing all that is vivacious becomes a precious resource for turning my fat green tomatoes red. Please! Allow me just ten more toasty days so that I may kiss the glory once more! For hark! I see the long winter parade of mediocre tomatoes emerging from Kroger on their resolute path towards me.