No, this isn't a Huey Lewis and the News Song.
Again, I think because I've been going on dates, and also because it's something more serious about things I'm reading lately, I'm starting to think about what it means to love other people, and how I love other people.
Today's quote from Plato on love: "Love is a serious mental disease."
And, in a way, Plato was right. (But when isn't Plato right?) Love is like a (sometimes) happy infection, spreading through our mind, and at times our bodies, awakening feelings in us that didn't exist before, or making us feel in ways we don't always normally feel. Love is not easy, and love is messy at times. But more than anything loves moves us to do things, to say things, and act in certain ways that we never imagined we would, could, or perhaps should.
Love is something that moves us, and St. Thomas Aquinas talks a lot about this when he talks about the way the First Mover (or God) loves the world. God was moved by love to create. He was in a relationship with the world that was to come to be, and he just sort of moved towards it, and created all things living and things in the universe. It's an interesting idea.
And from these ideas is where I have been putting a lot of my thought lately. Love is something that interrupts us, that moves us in an unexpected, but often good direction. Love is not something easy (for movement, as any good physicist would tell you, is not something easy or even 'normal' by physical standards) because love often interrupts our routines, our needs, and our wants. But that's a good thing--because love takes us to places we don't want to be--it takes us outside of ourselves, outside of our little backyard of our minds, and into the wider world, where people need us. And love answers our own needs by serving others, and by being present to the love that's needed in the world.
It's a powerful thing when you think about it.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
TOW: Singularity of Purpose
I have been thinking a lot about one or two things lately, and I have most recently picked up from the library The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari. So far it's proving an interesting read, and it reminds me of, and is having a similar effect on me as the book The Alchemist did. Both The Alchemist and The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari are based on the premise that society, especially Western society, has a sickness that needs curing, and can be cured by looking inwards, person by person. And that cure comes in the form of a singularity and productivity of purpose.
If you were to read them in the order I have, it's almost like The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari is a sequel to The Alchemist. The Alchemist tries to deliver the message to a young boy that the universe wants you succeed in life, but not without trying. And the monk learned the same thing when he gave up all his possessions. Goodness, and true life greatness, comes with a a heavy price. Unless we are willing to give up certain things, we cannot achieve new things, have new patterns, and lead a new life. As the monk says, "How can I fill your cup with fresh tea when your cup is already full?"
Not only can we only focus on one task, but we can only ever really focus on one attitude in life. We can either be inherently negative, or we can be inherently positive. I think we all know people that seem to never stop being gloomy, never stop being petty, and never stop grandstanding. These people live most of their lives in a way that makes themselves and others unhappy. They have made their singular purpose about being unhappy and about judging other. Often, it's a sign of something missing in people's live is why this happens. They haven't found, or want to ignore, things in their own lives that need changing, and focus on other people's problems.
The only way we can fix our own problems, according to these two books, is to learn what it is in our lives that is a truly good and productive for us, and to pursue those things. And our dreams don't have to be big. One of the characters was janitor who swept up the temple every day, but he was content in his life, and he liked his life. The point was that he was productive and he gave his own life meaning and that meaning gave him happiness and made him content and at peace.
True productivity comes from enjoying the moments we are in, and focusing on goals we have for the future. We don't need to be productive in the sense that we produce more than other people, that we do more than other people. We need to know that every task we do, and do right, deserves our full attention, and we have a duty to ourselves and to others to give our attention to the present moment, every day, as much as we can. Because it's a sad life to live that focuses on dreams that could never exist, instead of focusing on dreams that should exist in our lives, and trying to bring them to fulfillment.
The point being, we are all called to some kind of higher purpose.
If you were to read them in the order I have, it's almost like The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari is a sequel to The Alchemist. The Alchemist tries to deliver the message to a young boy that the universe wants you succeed in life, but not without trying. And the monk learned the same thing when he gave up all his possessions. Goodness, and true life greatness, comes with a a heavy price. Unless we are willing to give up certain things, we cannot achieve new things, have new patterns, and lead a new life. As the monk says, "How can I fill your cup with fresh tea when your cup is already full?"
Not only can we only focus on one task, but we can only ever really focus on one attitude in life. We can either be inherently negative, or we can be inherently positive. I think we all know people that seem to never stop being gloomy, never stop being petty, and never stop grandstanding. These people live most of their lives in a way that makes themselves and others unhappy. They have made their singular purpose about being unhappy and about judging other. Often, it's a sign of something missing in people's live is why this happens. They haven't found, or want to ignore, things in their own lives that need changing, and focus on other people's problems.
The only way we can fix our own problems, according to these two books, is to learn what it is in our lives that is a truly good and productive for us, and to pursue those things. And our dreams don't have to be big. One of the characters was janitor who swept up the temple every day, but he was content in his life, and he liked his life. The point was that he was productive and he gave his own life meaning and that meaning gave him happiness and made him content and at peace.
True productivity comes from enjoying the moments we are in, and focusing on goals we have for the future. We don't need to be productive in the sense that we produce more than other people, that we do more than other people. We need to know that every task we do, and do right, deserves our full attention, and we have a duty to ourselves and to others to give our attention to the present moment, every day, as much as we can. Because it's a sad life to live that focuses on dreams that could never exist, instead of focusing on dreams that should exist in our lives, and trying to bring them to fulfillment.
The point being, we are all called to some kind of higher purpose.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Monday, November 07, 2011
Well great
I just slept through a doctor's appointment (flu/fever/not sleeping) and I called in to ask if there would be any issue with them billing me, and the lady on the phone pretended she had no idea and hung up on me.
Really? ={
Really? ={
Sunday, November 06, 2011
TOW: Love
I've been thinking a lot about love, and relationships and such lately. I'm not sure why, I think it's because I keep having people who are not good matches/creepy people asking me out. I guess sometimes I think "What is love?" and this might have a lot to do with the fact that I read too many advice columns and most of what I see are people in misery and people falling in and out of love. I know I'm hopeless because I believe things like love is forever, and that you can love friends and family forever...although I think that says a lot more about me than anything else. But at the same time I think I'm somewhat realistic because when some people go through certain life phases, you can't go with them. That might mean you can't be their friend or be in contact with them, at least in the conventional sense. (But maybe that's another thought for another time.)
When I get nostalgic about love in general, Plato is someone I always think back to when I wonder what 'feeling' one should have to be in love. Plato, beyond being great at thinking about everything in general, wrote a great piece called the Symposium in which a bunch of very well-spoken intelligent leaders of Greek society get together and have a speech competition. called an enconium where each speech giver must give a speech in honour of the goddess Eros.
The speech I love the most is the one by the poet Aristophanes. Aristophanes was one of the most revered classical comedians, and was considered a genius of his time. Aristophanes begins by telling a story about how people used to be, in primal times, double-bodied beings that were attached in such a way that they were spherical creatures that rolled around. (This is, of course, meant to be funny and it really is when you think about it.)
They were powerful beings that challenged the gods, and Zeus, who had pity on them, decided to separate them into two halves instead of destroying them outright. He made their skin tight and stitched them up, and made them always feel that they were looking for their other half. When two people who have been separated find each other, they never want to be separated again. Aristophanes said that as long as we work with the goddess of Love, we can again find wholeness. The piece is meant to be comedic, but comes off with a strong sense of truth to it. I think a lot of us feeling like we spending our lives looking for something, or someone, to complete us.
And whenever I think about the feeling of love, I think about that. I think we always think we are half of something, and not a whole something. We're always searching for that one person, that one activity, and that one object that we can love with our whole hearts.
And sometimes I wonder, where do our feelings reside in this search for the one thing that will rule us all? When you have a crush on someone, is that part of love, or is that something else? When you feel turmoil, or you read poems of people that can't sleep, can't eat, have the jitters, is that feeling love, or is that something else? Or when you think romance, is that enough to call that love?
I think in English we use love to mean many different things, but I always wonder if love isn't about the greatest goods in our lives. Love should be edifying. As in, love should make us feel whole, should make us feel more than ourselves, just alone. I feel that true love, the best kinds, are the kinds that make life worth living, and make life 'good' not necessarily always 'exciting' in the same way that a romantic partner is, but love is something stable and useful in human moral life.
But I still wonder, when do all the other little forms of love, of those overflowing feelings we have for romantic partners, for friends, for strangers, turn into that better thing? And what feelings are red herrings, that we think are good for us, but actually harm us in the long run? (Like those romantic feelings that cloud our judgment.)
I don't really have an answer this week to what I'm thinking about in that sense and I don't think I'm required, especially at this point of my life, to have an answer to a question like that. But I do think it's always good to love all people....and by love I mean to try and provide those moral goods in other people's lives, in hopes it enriches their happiness and sense of well-being. Because we all need to be loved, even if it's just a little, sometimes that's enough when your day has gone wrong and everything seems upside down, sometimes people just need to say that they care, or show that they care, to make sense of things.
When I get nostalgic about love in general, Plato is someone I always think back to when I wonder what 'feeling' one should have to be in love. Plato, beyond being great at thinking about everything in general, wrote a great piece called the Symposium in which a bunch of very well-spoken intelligent leaders of Greek society get together and have a speech competition. called an enconium where each speech giver must give a speech in honour of the goddess Eros.
The speech I love the most is the one by the poet Aristophanes. Aristophanes was one of the most revered classical comedians, and was considered a genius of his time. Aristophanes begins by telling a story about how people used to be, in primal times, double-bodied beings that were attached in such a way that they were spherical creatures that rolled around. (This is, of course, meant to be funny and it really is when you think about it.)
They were powerful beings that challenged the gods, and Zeus, who had pity on them, decided to separate them into two halves instead of destroying them outright. He made their skin tight and stitched them up, and made them always feel that they were looking for their other half. When two people who have been separated find each other, they never want to be separated again. Aristophanes said that as long as we work with the goddess of Love, we can again find wholeness. The piece is meant to be comedic, but comes off with a strong sense of truth to it. I think a lot of us feeling like we spending our lives looking for something, or someone, to complete us.
And whenever I think about the feeling of love, I think about that. I think we always think we are half of something, and not a whole something. We're always searching for that one person, that one activity, and that one object that we can love with our whole hearts.
And sometimes I wonder, where do our feelings reside in this search for the one thing that will rule us all? When you have a crush on someone, is that part of love, or is that something else? When you feel turmoil, or you read poems of people that can't sleep, can't eat, have the jitters, is that feeling love, or is that something else? Or when you think romance, is that enough to call that love?
I think in English we use love to mean many different things, but I always wonder if love isn't about the greatest goods in our lives. Love should be edifying. As in, love should make us feel whole, should make us feel more than ourselves, just alone. I feel that true love, the best kinds, are the kinds that make life worth living, and make life 'good' not necessarily always 'exciting' in the same way that a romantic partner is, but love is something stable and useful in human moral life.
But I still wonder, when do all the other little forms of love, of those overflowing feelings we have for romantic partners, for friends, for strangers, turn into that better thing? And what feelings are red herrings, that we think are good for us, but actually harm us in the long run? (Like those romantic feelings that cloud our judgment.)
I don't really have an answer this week to what I'm thinking about in that sense and I don't think I'm required, especially at this point of my life, to have an answer to a question like that. But I do think it's always good to love all people....and by love I mean to try and provide those moral goods in other people's lives, in hopes it enriches their happiness and sense of well-being. Because we all need to be loved, even if it's just a little, sometimes that's enough when your day has gone wrong and everything seems upside down, sometimes people just need to say that they care, or show that they care, to make sense of things.
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