Lost perspective

Of the 6,597 photos I have on my hard drive right now, there are no more than twenty shots of me. Given my face, which is best suited for radio, this is probably a good thing. Sometimes I worry however, that having spent so much time watching life through a viewfinder, I'm no longer living it and simply a bystander documenting proceedings.

Certain kinds of blogging (or any descriptive pursuit I suppose) pose similar hazards to me - in that they seem to separate me - the observer from everyone else - the observed. And really, the thing is, I'm only moderately good at writing and photography anyway. It's not as if I'm some kind artistic genius.

So I've took a break from blogging 'to get over myself (for fuck sake)' and live life with a bit more immediacy.

Having done so for a month, I think I'm ready to start posting again.

It's nice to be back.

You only get wet once

A sprint back to the office yesterday before the sky opened up. Drenched, I was.

I'll be back blogging soon.

An escape from the double bind

There are times when it's impossible to do 'The Right Thing', when no such thing exists. To meet the needs of all parties when they conflict, or to conform to the needs of your employer when the evidence suggests that you shouldn't is a rather shitty position to be in.

The finer details I cannot share with you, for obvious reasons. Let it be said however, that my loyalties are being sorely tested right now. Do I protect the needs of the organisation, so that it's strengthened to do its good work, or do I lead it down a path of culpability so that a moral wrong could be made right?

Perhaps I'm an apt container for this ambivalence. I can hold it on the behalf of others, so that they might feel certain and safe that they know the right answer. Or perhaps I'm just the fall guy who's here to take the flack. Either way, there's no way for it to be won.

So tonight I gardened - removing weeds from my borders - certain that any green that was there but not of my making, would be removed and composted to feed what was.

It made me happy.

Back from the cottage on the top of the hill...

Daisy chain for mother

I'm a Martian

Now - to the stuff of substance - shampoo and marital disagreement. The meaning of life can wait for another day.

Miche it must be said, has nice hair. She's naturally brunette and has quite a sheen to her mop. I do like it. However to achieve this follicular perfection not one, two or three shampoo brands are required. No my friends, we need at least seven different brands of shampoo on the go at any one time - to prevent 'build up', apparently.

I have an interest to declare - I have so little hair that it's hardly worth tending to what remains. A bottle could easily serve me a year. So I'll admit to sour grapes.

That said, our current stash of ten active bottles seems a little excessive to me. This explains the rather narky argument we got into at the supermarket today.

"Miche, for goodness sake - we can't possibly need any more shampoo can we?"

In the way that only marital disagreements can get, proportion and rationality were left somewhere in the veg aisle. I grumbled and stomped round the store, pushing an overfilled trolley.

So would I ask you, dear reader, to take part in the poll to your right. You may very well settle a rumbling, festering argument.

Not that I want to influence you to "MAKE THE SHAMPOO GO AWAY" you understand...

and the award for the best Internet beard goes to...

Perhaps I wasn't the only one to get an email from Gerry Rzeppa inviting me to check out the children's book he'd written in response to Prof Dawkins' "militant atheism".

To be fair, it's not a bad read, despite it being a typical theistic confusion of ideas. He writes well so I thought he deserved a polite reply.

As a result we've had a rather pleasent debate that I think may be worth sharing with you. Not that we discussed anything remotely new you understand;



ME: Hi Gerry,

Thanks for the link to your rather interesting book / poem. Despite it jarring with my personal world view, I enjoyed the read as you write well. It does bother me however, how you've typcast those without belief as bitter nihlists who simply dismiss everything as "dust".

I can see how this conclusion may be reached, however it comes from a brittle undestanding of love, meaning and beauty in my view. There needn't be a source or absolute quality to these things for them to be appreciated fully.

I put it to you that people seek God's protection from existential nothingness simply because it is easier than facing the dichotomy face on - that is - knowing the universe to be pointless yet finding ourselves full of point. God may provide easy answers and emotional comfort to the needy, however it isn't the only way to appreciate life, morality and love.

Anyway, it's not my place to debate with you - you're seeking a much greater quarry than I in Mr Dawkins.

Unfortunately, I won't be publicising your book for the above reasons.

Best Regards, Jamon

GERRY: Hello, .

Thanks for the cordial reply. I greatly appreciate that. As I'm sure you know, there's a wide range of emotional responses to these issues!


I agree with you that it is not only possible but very common for individuals to appreciate various aspects of life without the notion of God intruding. I'm not sure, however, that one can fully appreciate such things. As the master atheist Bertram Russell admitted, near the end of his days, full appreciation of anything includes a feeling of gratitude which is left unsatisfied without a proper object. In short, it seems we find ourselves needing -- or at least wanting -- Someone to thank. Without that, our cup may not be empty -- but it doesn't overflow, either.


Secondly, I think many people are not in a position to face life -- much less enjoy it -- with nothing but the courage that a stark "realism" requires. I've known several quadriplegics over the years, for example, and while at least one of them was able to cope as an agnostic, it would have been impossible for the others to persevere without a deeper -- or should I say, higher -- philosophy. It's hard to live without hope. Especially when you can't scratch your own nose.


That's one of the things my little poem is about. Almost any outlook will do when you're in good health on a sunny day. But how do the competing philosophies of life stack up when they're tested under stress? The father in my story behaves as he does because he's working very hard to be rationally consistent. "No sense crying over spilled molecules," logic says. But his emotions, of course, say something entirely different. And since he can't accept the alternative presented him, he ends up lashing out at the preacher -- whom he doesn't even know -- and his "cognitive dissonance," his pain, is revealed. At heart, he may be, as you suggest, bitter. But I hardly think he's as much of an accomplished nihilist as you think. No, he's much more human than that. And I left his ultimate fate, at the end of the story, up in the air for this very reason. There's hope for the guy. Perhaps there's hope still for you.

Gerry

PS. It may (or may not) interest you to know that I was very philosophical, even as a youth, and did some serious exploration in the austere deserts of atheism 'way back then. Curiously enough, I was turned to seek greener pastures by an unexpected week-long bout with a severe case of diarrhea, during which I quickly discovered that I needed either more fortitude or a different philosophy. I guess I took the easy way out! Perhaps God will bless you with a little adversity.


PPS. Are you quite sure thoughts like these wouldn't be of interest -- and perhaps even helpful -- to the readers of your blog?


ME: Gerry,

To address some of your points;

>Thanks for the cordial reply. I greatly appreciate that.

My pleasure.

>[a] full appreciation of anything includes a feeling of gratitude which is left unsatisfied without a proper object. In short, it seems we find ourselves needing -- or at least wanting -- Someone to thank. Without that, our cup may not be empty -- but it doesn't overflow, either.

You're right of course. Many find themselves yearning for something absolute to be thankful to. It's almost as if this need invokes the notion of god though, don't you think? Just because we have this need doesn't mean there's something there to meet it. Strikes me as rather naive to think that there is.

> Secondly, I think many people are not in a position to face life -- much less enjoy it -- with nothing but the courage that a stark "realism" requires.

Again I find myself agreeing with you, though it depends on what you mean by "stark realism".

I have a friend who describes himself as an "atheist, nihlist & misanthrope". He reads Satre, Schopenhauer and Camus all the time. Unsuprisingly I'm sure he suffers from depression. Personally I think he's looking at things from the wrong angle. Whilst I agree with him that everything is pointless (if you choose to reduce life to the lowest common denominator), I don't suffer from the same bleakness. You see for me, if existence is ultimately pointless, then it's pretty pointless to worry and get down about it. There's so much to appreciate and make sense of in the mean time!

I've spent many years now working with people in late stage dementia - people for whom it could be argued, are in desperate need of spiritual comfort. Yet in my experience, the most effective comfort to be given isn't "higher philosophy" or even worship - it is proximity to other human beings - physical and emotional comfort communicated through smiles, embraces and laughter.

Satre said that "hell is other people". I couldn't disagree more - "heaven" can be found in the other - a very real and immediate 'bliss'. We underestimate ourselves when we argue that these feelings of 'love' have to be something anchored in divinity. Our subjective experience of it (or yearning for it) may overwhelm us, but its basis is biological, even if our self-centred perspectives make it into a gestalt - larger than the sum of its parts.

> guess I took the easy way out! Perhaps God will bless you with a little adversity.

Believe me - I'm no stranger to adversity ;)

>Are you quite sure thoughts like these wouldn't be of interest -- and perhaps even helpful -- to the readers of your blog?

Perhaps.

Cheers, Jamon

GERRY: Jamon,

It seems, then, there's some common ground between us. That's a good thing.

I agree that those in late stage dementia -- and those in lesser troubles, as well -- are more in need of "proximity to other human beings" than abstract philosophical and theological maxims. Though God sometimes comforts me with a mere thought, it works better -- and He knows it -- if the requisite thought is delivered with the butter and honey of human compassion. This is, of course, nothing new. "Pure religion," says James, "is this: to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction." Or as songwriter Don Francisco admonishes his fellow Christians, "After you stop the bleeding, you can show them the promised land." But I think it's a mistake to believe that compassion alone will do the trick. Your "patients" will again be left with an ultimately unsatisfying cup, not-quite-full.



And I fully agree that Satre is wrong -- hell is definitely not other people. Rather, hell is utter separation from others -- including God. To be left with nothing but one's conscious self is the most terrifying of fates. Words can't do justice to the thought. Even Jesus' authoritative metaphor, "where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched," leaves many unenlightened.



I suspected you were "no stranger to adversity" or you wouldn't be strugging with these issues still. And you certainly wouldn't be writing so politely to someone like me about them! Solomon was right about where most men find wisdom (if they find it at all): "It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart." Or, as C. S. Lewis put it, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." I'm afraid that if we won't listen to the former, the latter will come upon us, individually and collectively. History reveals such a pattern, y'know...



ME: Hi Gerry,

If there's a common ground between us, then it's in knowing that some people yearn for something more in their lives - your 'full cup' metaphor for God I suppose. I often wonder what it is about life that people find so unfulfilling? Frankly, there is ample to fill my cup in the real world. Perhaps not to the brim, but the last time I overfilled a cup was helping my four year old fill a glass of milk. There's something about maturing into adulthood that allows one to appreciate ambivalence and that little in life is absolutely perfect. There is a beauty in this I think, and one that would be diluted in a nirvana such as heaven.

In short, life is good enough for me thankyouverymuch! I have no need or want for God to make it perfect!

>I suspected you were "no stranger to adversity" or you wouldn't be strugging with these issues still.

I wouldn't say I'm struggling with these issues firsthand Gerry, as I'd come to terms with my own existentialism some time back. This Sans God project, isn't to explore my own lack of faith per-se, it is to explore why other people 'fail' to come to the logical conclusion of strong agnosticism. This issue I'll admit to struggling with, as I find the god argument utterly non-sequitor and don't comprehend why people would choose 'delude' themselves as Dawkins would say.

You said it yourself - "To be left with nothing but one's conscious self is the most terrifying of fates. Words can't do justice to the thought." - this is the very point I made in my previous e-mail. For some, this existential notion is so unbearable (be it conscious or otherwise) that God is invoked as a balm to the spirit.

Drowning is the most terrifying of fates for me. Words can't do justice to the thought. That doesn't mean I can breathe under water does it?

>I can confidently say that whenever I've been possessed by a persistent, undeniable, and legitimate craving, there has been something in the world apparently designed to satisfy it.

Now, I'm assuming you agree with the basis of Darwinian evolution, yes? Then you will appreciate that it's no coincidence that organisms that have evolved on Earth have adapted to its resources?

>I have found, for example, readily available satisfactions for such diverse cravings as thirst, hunger, clothing, shelter, warmth, light, cleanliness, work, play, sleep, sexual desires;

Let's say we live on the deep sea bed and had evolved to metabolise the sulphur that volcanic plumes excrete. It would come as no surprise to find our home was abundant with the resources we require. It might even seem to us that someone had put them there deliberately...

In short, I think your cart is before your horse.

Anyway, on matters of faith (or lack of), language seems so inadequate to me. I suspect we could debate this tit for tat ad-infinitum! Nonetheless, I've found it interesting.

Many Thanks, Jamon

You'd think it was winter

A close shave

A friend of ours who's recently got a new job as a flight attendant on a major long haul airline (which shall remain nameless) told us this story from her maiden flight tonight.

Apparently there's two intercoms on big airplanes - one for us passengers and one private tanoy for staff. This private line broadcasts into the cockpit, 'backstage' and into the staff rest / sleep area.

The chief trolley pusher, frustrated by her staff skiving off, shouted down the private line - "Right you lazy cunts, get up - the pigs need feeding!"

Problem was, she'd lambasted them over the public line. The entire 747 had heard her!

Now, this is the very definition of quick thinking - she put on her most poshest voice and announced to the piglets:

"Could all passengers please note, the tanoy is for staff use only..."

Fantastic.

Two & Two

Apparently he has my mouth.

I like mornings best

Oh you pretty atheists

You may enjoy listening to this while reading;



Vivaldi's Concerto Grosso in G Minor is one of my favourite pieces of Baroque music. I find it harmonically beautiful and structurally perfect. As with most music from this period, I'm satisfied when the music repeatedly resolves to its root key. It just feels 'right' to me. Safe, even.

Wholesome.

Just like the film where the boy gets the girl, good triumphs over evil and the mystery is solved - its all tied off nice and safe. It meets that very human need we have for meaning, structure and resolution. We are after all, just pattern recognition machines.

Classical music may not be up your street and to be fair, I'm hardly the buff myself (I'm an indy boy at heart), but the beauty of this piece is undeniable. It's as if it has an inherent, tangible beauty - something you might grasp in the palm of your hand.

Kittens are nice too. You can hold them in the palm of your hand if you want. Sunsets, grand vistas and stars are equally beautiful, if rather difficult to get a grip of. Yet still they feel 'right' somehow.

Love and morality have aesthetic similarities too I think, as it's tempting to see them as tangible entities - things that exist in and of themselves and outwith our own bodies.

I've had many a conversation with the faithful about this very phenomenon. They go something like this;

"Just look around you - look at how beautiful the world is. How could something so perfect be random?"

"Erm, we've evolved to see beauty in this 'apparent' order perhaps?"

"Yes, but it would have to be beautiful in the first place, surely?"

or,

"What is love?"

"Fucked if I know mate, but it feels nice..."

and so on...

I find that on these points of aesthetics, I have some commonality with believers. I've never struggled with the notion of gods per-se, but the nature of beauty, love and morality have had me tied up in knots for years. Like the Christian, who believes that God is the absolute root of beauty, I've struggled to get to grips with them as human, relativist constructions.

Until I decided to stop trying to get to the bottom of it and just get on with appreciating them for what they are.

John Cage, the avant-garde composer (and polar opposite to Vivaldi) once said;

"If you develop an ear for sounds that are musical it is like developing an ego. You begin to refuse sounds that are not musical and that way cut yourself off from a good deal of experience."

Well said, I say.

Brain Implant Next...

An LG Viewty and an unlimited data plan means there's now no limit to the banality I can contribute to the Internet...

Beach Run

Was a bit nippy.

Soft Play

If there's one thing I'm certain of, then it's that people who are certain about things unnerve me. Those that would purport to grasp the absolutes of good / evil, beauty / dissonance or right / wrong are, in my view, quite tiresome and in some cases profoundly dangerous.

To put it more simply - they get on my tits.

Which begs the question - why do I describe myself as Atheist - that absolute position of godlessness, rather than agnostic?

Well, I'm agnostic of gods in the same way I'm agnostic of triangles with four angles. I'm also agnostic that the sun may not rise tomorrow morning. Considering the evidence however, I don't think they're eventualities worth preparing our children for.

God may very well come down to earth in his fiery chariot, beard all tangled by the wind and smite the faithless with his thunderbolts.

If he does, I plan on saying "Well, bugger me" just before getting zapped.

So technically you could call me Agnostic. But for all intents and purposes, my position is indistinguishable from Atheism.

Also if I'm honest, I don't like the term Agnostic. It's a soft bellied, limp excuse for a word and one that I'd rather not be labelled with.

Agnosticism is a continuum, not a position, as it can imply someone ready to take Pascal's Wager and believe in God, through to someone like me - pretty much the Atheist. This is why religious people find the word 'Agnostic' so much more palatable I think, as 'Atheist' has so many angles that it's difficult to swallow. Whereas Agnostic slips down just nice.

So, amongst friends I may call myself agnostic, but in public I'll remain atheist. I'd rather people understood my position than be cushioned from it by a soft, cuddly word.