In searching for Truth, I often look toward the heavens or for perfectly formed concepts in order to adequately grasp that which always seems to rest just outside the edges of comprehension. The elusive Truth becomes more removed from the human condition the further I look out into the vastness of oblivion. Even if I could grasp an objective purpose to all life, it seems likely that I would not personally find it to be meaningful since it would be so far removed from everything weve come to know as human experience. Yet I keep searching regardless. It must be in my nature to seek clarity, unity, final purpose, absolute meaning, eternal value, and cosmic significance and it must be in the nature of reality to be apparently incomprehensible, immeasurable, arbitrary, ambiguous, and neutral with humanity being relatively insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
It is this natural paradox that I must constantly confront and apprehend. I dont know whether I can reach equilibrium within the contradiction, but I keep seeking. Repeatedly failing to grasp the Absolute, Im forced to find solace within the relative human condition and experience. I know nothing of the sacred or the profane. My immediate experience is defined by the more subtle distinctions between the original and the ordinary. It is in direct living that I must pursue my endless quest.
My daily life is hallmarked by the repetitive tasks Im required to labor away at and in which I may never know the end of. My favorite example is mowing the lawn. Why do we do it? I cut it down to a desirable length so that I might be temporarily satisfied. In a week or so, the grass becomes unruly once more and Im compelled to control its length again. This cyclical behavior repeats itself until the autumn comes and the leaves fall. Too many rotting leaves may smother the dormant grass and prevent the unruly growing in the summer, but I cant have that either. No, I still want a little bit of grass and so I mow over the leaves. My absurd task has simply changed seasons.
Much of life plays out in this manner. Washing dishes, doing laundry, vacuuming, cooking, cleaning, eating, sleeping, working are all examples of never-endingly recurring actions. I know wed like to think our jobs have a definitive direction, and there may be gradual progress towards a relative destination, but the majority of labor is ultimately futile at the end of the day. Why do we do it?
I suppose there is order within repetition because of its familiarity. It is a way to structure our activities efficiently as well as dividing labor up into specializations for different people to focus on. Although the psychological state of flow usually occurs during activities that we excel at and enjoy, it may be possible to enter a state of flow doing tasks considered dull in daily life. I know I feel like I almost washed the perfect plate before. Through historical repetition, we develop traditions in which to ground the present. Because of these reasons perhaps it isnt appropriate to shirk these tasks or despair at their ultimate futility. It seems that they are worthy of my attention if I have any desire to grasp clarity within the context of my life. Also, by paying attention I may further discern the relationship between the ordinary and the original.
It seems like I live my life for original events and novel experiences. Sometimes they are intentionally pursued, such as on a vacation to a place Ive never been before. Other times they arise spontaneously in the course of daily life, such as running into an old friend I havent seen in years. The most unique experiences seem to occur few and far between, but perhaps therein rest their value. They form their definition in contrast to the more mundane acts. It makes sense to appreciate the common since it enables awareness of the novel. There needs to be a repetition to have a deviation from it. Both kinds of experience are dependent upon one another.
Upon further reflection, it seems that they also contain an element of their opposite. The order of dishes to be washed is never exactly the same and neither is the manner and method in which I wash them. Even the most mundane tasks contain within them an aspect of the novel. There is variation even in that which we might believe to be entirely the same. There is also similarity in the new, such as the same sensations and feelings associated with novel experiences.
So where does this rambling lead me? Can I hope to gain an understanding of the macrocosm by more closely examining the microcosm that is my life? Im certainly no closer to apprehending an Absolute Truth that would be humanly meaningful, but there does seem to be somewhat of a correlation in the patterns of the ordinary and the original.
There is consistency in the way the Laws of Nature play themselves out. We see this in the swirling galaxies and solar systems that circle around one another over and over again. There is structure within atoms and molecules. Theres regularity to the cosmic flow of things that certainly gives the appearance of order. This can be contrasted with the original events that tend to deviate from the normal cycles at work. Out of giant gas clouds, the stars form. Within stars, we have nuclear fusion creating heavier elements. Every once and a while, an earth-like planet shapes with the potential for that most unique phenomenon of life to form. Most life is mindless and then we eventually see the rise of self-aware social organisms. Even on the macro-scale, the ordinary and the original are codependent. Without the original event dubbed the Big Bang, there would be no subsequent patterns to be formed. Without those patterns, there could be no potential for variations and novel rearrangements.
There is order in disorder and disorder in order. Perhaps the folly is to desire the one and forsake the other. Perhaps Im not so alien after all. Im a continuation of patterns that came before me as well as representing a divergence and unique expression of existence in my own right. My life is both mundane and novel. Maybe it is possible to attain equilibrium within the disharmony caused by the human condition. Mystery upon mystery, I shall continue seeking as that may very well represent one of the most creative aspects of the human condition and the very source of meaning to begin with.
It is this natural paradox that I must constantly confront and apprehend. I dont know whether I can reach equilibrium within the contradiction, but I keep seeking. Repeatedly failing to grasp the Absolute, Im forced to find solace within the relative human condition and experience. I know nothing of the sacred or the profane. My immediate experience is defined by the more subtle distinctions between the original and the ordinary. It is in direct living that I must pursue my endless quest.
My daily life is hallmarked by the repetitive tasks Im required to labor away at and in which I may never know the end of. My favorite example is mowing the lawn. Why do we do it? I cut it down to a desirable length so that I might be temporarily satisfied. In a week or so, the grass becomes unruly once more and Im compelled to control its length again. This cyclical behavior repeats itself until the autumn comes and the leaves fall. Too many rotting leaves may smother the dormant grass and prevent the unruly growing in the summer, but I cant have that either. No, I still want a little bit of grass and so I mow over the leaves. My absurd task has simply changed seasons.
Much of life plays out in this manner. Washing dishes, doing laundry, vacuuming, cooking, cleaning, eating, sleeping, working are all examples of never-endingly recurring actions. I know wed like to think our jobs have a definitive direction, and there may be gradual progress towards a relative destination, but the majority of labor is ultimately futile at the end of the day. Why do we do it?
I suppose there is order within repetition because of its familiarity. It is a way to structure our activities efficiently as well as dividing labor up into specializations for different people to focus on. Although the psychological state of flow usually occurs during activities that we excel at and enjoy, it may be possible to enter a state of flow doing tasks considered dull in daily life. I know I feel like I almost washed the perfect plate before. Through historical repetition, we develop traditions in which to ground the present. Because of these reasons perhaps it isnt appropriate to shirk these tasks or despair at their ultimate futility. It seems that they are worthy of my attention if I have any desire to grasp clarity within the context of my life. Also, by paying attention I may further discern the relationship between the ordinary and the original.
It seems like I live my life for original events and novel experiences. Sometimes they are intentionally pursued, such as on a vacation to a place Ive never been before. Other times they arise spontaneously in the course of daily life, such as running into an old friend I havent seen in years. The most unique experiences seem to occur few and far between, but perhaps therein rest their value. They form their definition in contrast to the more mundane acts. It makes sense to appreciate the common since it enables awareness of the novel. There needs to be a repetition to have a deviation from it. Both kinds of experience are dependent upon one another.
Upon further reflection, it seems that they also contain an element of their opposite. The order of dishes to be washed is never exactly the same and neither is the manner and method in which I wash them. Even the most mundane tasks contain within them an aspect of the novel. There is variation even in that which we might believe to be entirely the same. There is also similarity in the new, such as the same sensations and feelings associated with novel experiences.
So where does this rambling lead me? Can I hope to gain an understanding of the macrocosm by more closely examining the microcosm that is my life? Im certainly no closer to apprehending an Absolute Truth that would be humanly meaningful, but there does seem to be somewhat of a correlation in the patterns of the ordinary and the original.
There is consistency in the way the Laws of Nature play themselves out. We see this in the swirling galaxies and solar systems that circle around one another over and over again. There is structure within atoms and molecules. Theres regularity to the cosmic flow of things that certainly gives the appearance of order. This can be contrasted with the original events that tend to deviate from the normal cycles at work. Out of giant gas clouds, the stars form. Within stars, we have nuclear fusion creating heavier elements. Every once and a while, an earth-like planet shapes with the potential for that most unique phenomenon of life to form. Most life is mindless and then we eventually see the rise of self-aware social organisms. Even on the macro-scale, the ordinary and the original are codependent. Without the original event dubbed the Big Bang, there would be no subsequent patterns to be formed. Without those patterns, there could be no potential for variations and novel rearrangements.
There is order in disorder and disorder in order. Perhaps the folly is to desire the one and forsake the other. Perhaps Im not so alien after all. Im a continuation of patterns that came before me as well as representing a divergence and unique expression of existence in my own right. My life is both mundane and novel. Maybe it is possible to attain equilibrium within the disharmony caused by the human condition. Mystery upon mystery, I shall continue seeking as that may very well represent one of the most creative aspects of the human condition and the very source of meaning to begin with.
