Quite Frankly, My Dear

“Most human beings have an infinite capacity for taking things for granted.” ~ Aldous Huxley

The power of caring is understated. The power of love, underrated. I believe that Aldous Huxley got it right when he said that we humans have that infinite capacity, that neverending source of not giving a damn. We just don’t care. Some argue that we once did; I say that is as incorrect as saying that a circle is square. I don’t think that we ever did care, not really. We might have put on the appearance of caring, but no one ever seems to actually care. It seems as though humanity is diseased with apathy.

The entire idea of apathy makes me kind of sick. To just not care about anything or anyone for the sole benefit of ignorance is kind of arrogant. It is like saying that anyone or anything in this world is not more important than my own right to stay completely ignorant and apathetic. I know that there is more good in mankind than that. The difference between human and animal is the logic and reasoning. We are the only animal with any capacity to be entirely selfless. In nature, no creature does anything but what benefits it. In humanity, we can abandon our own desires to further another cause. We do it all the time, in the name of society. We can give a damn.

Will we? I do not know.

Kinetica

Thanks to anna, I finally got a little bit of inspiration. I quote:

…To enable people to realize the potential of life within them is a growing dream of mine.

The potential of humanity is something that has plagued my mind for some time. I think that the potential for humanity far exceeds the potential of their mass, but potential is nothing. Potential is saying that a boulder at 8,000 feet above sea level could make a perfectly gigantic splash. Kinetic means it actually happened. I want to live in a world of kinesis.

Kinetica is a word that, frankly, I made up. (Sure, there’s that pesky museum with the same name, but that’s nothing). I want to live in a world of kinesis, a world of action measuring up to the potential that the world has. That boulder hangs over the world and waits to be dropped and waits to make the predicted splash. What stops us from attaining that form of kinetica, that action that would give our potential meaning?

Potential is great; kinesis is greater.

The Quest For A Simple Noun

I’ve been rather uninspired lately, as I wrote in my last post. Things haven’t been coming to me like they normally do. I’ve been really busy, writing papers and joining clubs and losing focus on what I love to do. I’m going to take Ash’s advice, and write about the topic that seems to be at the forefront of my mind: Where did my inspiration go?

I’ve been thinking about inspiration. All of my old posts are written with the expressed purpose of expressing myself, not to inform or amuse. They did, apparently, inform and amuse, because people keep coming back. I’m just stuck now with trying to find my way to write something different and exciting. I don’t want to just report on what’s already been reported on five million times; I don’t want to be a nerd or worse, a commercial blogger. I just want something to say. I’ve got the power to say it, I just need the it.

A simple noun is so difficult to find, sometimes. A simple subject, something to talk about, is preferable to a non-existant subject. I don’t want to be heard, necessarily, just to speak.

Uninspired

Have you ever had one of those days where you wanted to write, but you were feeling thoroughly uninspired? I’ve been having one of those weeks. I’ve started at least seven different posts, and finished none of them. Nothing seems to be sparking my passion lately. I reread all my old posts, and I saw how much fun I had with them. Now, however, it seems like all I do is not enough to fill a simple post. I would give an arm for some inspiration, let me tell you.

But, I also know that it’s not fair to just not post if I’m feeling down, or uninspired, so here’s a little update:

• I’ve found myself a significant other. We spend quite a bit of time together, too, which is good for me.
• I’ve found a hobby – stargazing. I have a lot of fun doing that, too.

There you go. Hopefully, I’ll find some inspiration for you soon. 

Dear John

Dearest John,

I know that you love me. I know that you have always loved me. I know that you care deeply and truly about me. The feelings are shared. You’ve always been there for me, always wanted me to have the best this little world had to offer. You never left me behind, and never let me down. I know, from how you treated me, that you loved me. My dear, what I wouldn’t have given to stay with you forever.

I know that your tour is almost up. It’s been a long time, dear, longer than I can count. I counted the days that you were gone. I picked flowers every day, until every vase was full. I studied the stars, knowing that you could at least see one that I could. I followed the moon, wishing that I could but inscribe a message onto it in the hopes that you would get it. Every time Mars passed, I knew he was watching over you.

I only wished that you would have come home, come back, but you stayed. You fought harder, thinking that I would love you more if you took more life. You fought longer, thinking that your crusade made you my champion. Your buddies wrote to me, John. I heard every word, I saw every action. When you started taking the lives of the young for your fight, I cried for you. When they started to join up with you freely, I wept. Now, I just grow tired of you. I loved you, John, I really did, but you’ve left it all behind for a cause that no one, not even me, can believe in.

Come back, John. There is no other. I’m waiting for you. Leave the fight behind, come back to my love.

What Dreams May Come (or, Death Can’t Scare Me!)

As usual, I figured that a good start for the new month would be a good philosophical rambling on some issue that might spark a really good discussion. This month, I think I’ll start with a theme about death, and “what dreams may come,” or the afterlife.

My birthday is just around the corner. In less than twelve days, I’m going to be turning nineteen years old. The thought of the beginning of my life, however, evokes thoughts of the end of my life. I know it’s morbid, but deal with it for a second. Life isn’t permanent. What if my nineteenth attains a new level of significance by becoming my last birthday?

Fear is irrational. I’ve learned this time and time again by evaluating my responses to my fears and mistrusts, and they’re almost always irrational. Any amount of rational thought cannot give them any more meaning than our emotions ascribe to them. They are nothing but mere ideas of the truth, one version of many in a book not yet written. Therefore, I do not fear death.

Fear is irrational. I’ve learned a simple truth. By fearing death because of the consequences of dying, by fearing an afterlife, by fearing hell, I commit an irrational act because it, too, is one of many versions of an unwritten book. My life is empty; I have the ability to write what I want into it. Heaven and Hell are not theme parks, to have admission denied based on not having the right amount of cash. Heaven and Hell are arbitrary places we assign different people to make ourselves feel better. People like us are going to hell; people decidedly not like us are going to heaven. No in-betweens, no go-throughs.

Fear is irrational. People like Christ, Ghandi, Dr. King, and other great philosophers knew and understood that people are people, first and foremost; to them, God did not make us inequal. To me, if God did make us, he made us equal. Therefore, we all have a shot at heaven, regardless of our knowledge and our experiences. People who do not know Christ, and never will, may still make it to heaven, because of our equality. People who reject the idea of Christ that has been presented to us, and yet believe that a God exists somewhere who is kinder than what the church tells us, have that chance, because we are all equal.

Fear is irrational. What dreams may come are just that: dreams, ideas of a grand future that, realistically, none of us have a clue about. Perhaps for some, they will be nightmares, while others will have true dreams, and wonderful ones at that. At the current moment, however, the distinction between dreams and nightmares is arbitrary, defined by humans to make humans feel better. One day, we shall all know what dreams may come. May our sleep be deep and restful.

What dreams do you want to have?