Tag Archives: Ralph Waldo Emerson

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“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.” —Fyodor Dostoyevsky

“Human beings are so destructive. I sometimes think we’re a kind of plague, that will scrub the earth clean. We destroy things so well that I sometimes think, maybe that’s our function. Maybe every few eons, some animal comes along that kills off the rest of the world, clears the decks, and lets evolution proceed to its next phase.” —Michael Crichton

To say we tend to be in general disagreement about the purpose and meaning of life and the overarching point of human existence is a wild, laughable understatement. From the moment Homo sapiens had the cognizant ability to register self-awareness, we questioned the very foundation of our biological creation…and why we sprouted from the evolutionary centrifuge like a random Yahtzee toss to haphazardly land on this giant spinning blue ball in space.

Religious scholars looked to celestial evidence that blatantly contradicted the work of their existentialist philosophical counterparts, and the biologists posited theories born from the base building blocks of our DNA—which sent some anthropologists reeling. 

Our purpose, our motivation, and our utility have been debated for thousands of years. But we never seem to arrive at definitive resolutions or settle on any hypotheses that help quell the incessant, nervous race against the clock to make our mark before our bones turn to dust and history forgets we ever occupied a short-term rental on this rocket ride to nowhere.

So, do we suppress our thoughts and simply make peace with the undivulged mysteries of the world? Do we try to peel off the blindfolds and seek answers in the vast, unknown expanse of space? Should we look to the ancient past to find answers in the present?

Or do we continue to spin like tops, unaware of any grand design or decipherable blueprint that might provide a road map pointing to some attainable objective for this seemingly meaningless, ceaselessly repetitive dance into interminable monotony?

Adolescence Interrupted

Death in place of pain

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“Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis.” ―Ralph Waldo Emerson

Thrust into a modified global reality where the skyrocketing daily death rate has become a TV screen graphic as commonplace and mundane as lotto numbers, it’s hard not to pull that handheld mirror in for a closer look.

As a general rule, I have spent much of my adult life sprinting from pain, but standing steady for death.

With a bevy of nutritional supplements, a crippling need for exercise, and a diet that has become so limited it’s nearly impossible for any average human to follow, a meticulously constructed system has been designed to maximize health and eradicate weakness or deficiency. 

I’m smart enough to realize it’s most likely the result of pure insanity, but convincing myself of its necessity reinforces its strict adherence…and the loop spins round and round.

For some wholly inexplicable reason, colds, viruses, sore muscles, mental fatigue, any decline of joint function/mobility, headaches, reduced energy levels, etc. are avoided like the plague. But the threat of death is embraced with almost zero care or concern.

There is definitely some mixed brain wiring to blame for a deleteriously inverted fight-or-flight response, but this black-and-white laissez-faire perspective with regard to mortality has probably been rattling around in this head for longer than I’d like to acknowledge.   

To confess that a torn ACL ranks higher on a list of fears than a fatal plane crash is pretty vulnerable stuff. But this blog has repeatedly been a platform for naked testimony, and there’s no point in trying to pull up the covers now.

As always, there’s a focus here on sharing, not solutions. Catharsis takes many forms, and if an online diary is simply a means to wipe away some mud from the surface of the madness, so be it.

Introspection can be a nauseating teacup spin into the most baffling recesses of the psyche, but the fun is following the breadcrumbs back to the beginning…unless some hungry crows have already had their way with your exit strategy. 

Adolescence Interrupted

Emerson Was Wise

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road4

“Life is a journey, not a destination.”

A life in limbo isn’t a productivity death sentence…as long as that limbo stick keeps moving.

Having multiple irons in the fire is a good way to generate heat. But, when momentum is only the promise of future rewards, the waiting game can become water torture.

Lately, I’ve been in the odd position where a number of factors and individuals have universally conspired to make me wait. I suppose it’s a good test of my patience but, because I love to routinely take inventory of my neatly arranged ducks, allowing the ball to rest in any court other than my own is an experiment I have been less than thrilled to undergo.

Writing prospects, job opportunities, investments, publishing possibilities, acting upswings, and the self-starting loop of my freelance existence have made living in Skytown an interesting—and often frustrating—experience. To know there is gold at the end of the rainbow, without the ability to personally capture the coins, has painted my landscape a color I’ve rarely had the opportunity to see.

I’ve spent a lifetime focused on finish lines, so stopping to smell the roses has never factored into my schedule. However, it has taken this metaphorical traffic jam to shift my attention away from the results and back to the process.

We have so little control over the future, and this includes the various pitfalls that may or may not sneak beneath our feet. The best we can do is stay centered in the present moment and allow the plan to organically take shape. As long as we direct our efforts toward a general goal or intention, the stubborn details have a way of falling in line.

Regardless of my typical grind against the grain, I’m grateful for the opportunity to take stock of my environment. I have had patience forced upon me but, if those efforts result in a more lucid outlook, then this temporary interlude will have been more than justified.

Until then, it’s back to watching sunsets and waiting for checkered flags.