General Existence and The People Collective

I am.

It's the shortest sentence in the English language, and it's also the most true.  It cannot be disputed.  I am – who can say you are not?  A solipsist, perhaps, but even a solipsist recognizes his own existence. 

When it comes down to it, this world is a collection of "I am"s.  Living creatures are.  You are, I am, we are.  We exist in this day-to-day life.  The structure of this life, though, is almost entirely fabricated.

The phrase "I am" – the simple notion of existence – does not require a condition.  It does not concern itself with reasons for existence or the difference between good and evil.  It is a fact in and of itself. 

We search for structure in life because that is how we feel most comfortable operating.  The world is a fairly neutral place: people die, but people are born; natural disasters happen, but miracles occur; one person is struck with a tragedy while another is the luckiest man alive.  In that sense, it seems that the world is pretty balanced, and in the human understanding of "balance," we might call it "fairness."

But we don't call it fair, because we're not looking at the world from a species perspective.  We're looking at it from an individual perspective.

And why shouldn't we?  We don't necessarily experience the world as the collective human race.  We experience the world in small doses, as one person with connections to other individual persons.  And even with that, we might be able to train our brains to think as a human collective, where Darwinism calls the shots, except that we have incredibly strong emotional reactions.

One of the key things that differentiates humans from other mammals is this very concept of emotions.  We experience the world as animals, yes, reproducing and living this very neutral, natural life of birth and death cycles, but more than that animal instinct of caring for and protecting our young, more than the inclination to save ourselves and live to the fullest life expectancy possible, we are driven by these incredibly powerful energies called emotions.

There's all this talk about souls among humans (and other living creatures) – because we have this incredibly strong life force, this powerful energy that courses through our veins by way of these emotions, some of it must resonate.  There must be a spiritual world in which our life forces keep on living, because they're simply too strong to just…not exist anymore.  We, driven by the emotions that hit us hard when a person we've cared about is gone, cope with grief by insisting that there is another place to go.

This is how we get belief systems.  Essentially, these belief systems are a coping mechanism to be able to handle the energy that pushes through our systems when drastic things occur. 

But that isn't to say that they're incorrect.

We naturally want to avoid unpleasantries because they're uncomfortable and they interfere with our mental well-beings.  There's nothing wrong with this.  It's simply a natural inclination to relieve oneself from the difficulties of the human life experience.  Because we are, and we have all these complex thought patterns that prevent us from being okay with the concept of simply existing, and because nature can be unpleasant, we look for ways to make meaning out of this life, and above all, to feel like we're getting the most out of it.

For most people, "getting the most out of life" means happiness.  But happiness is split into so many directions.  Happiness for some can mean having confidence that their souls will live on beyond their physical lives, and therefore any suffering in this physical life is irrelevant.  For others, it can mean seeking out the physical pleasures of this life and not banking everything on the unknown.  Pleasure and happiness obtains so many different forms; the possibilities are so varied that it's almost impossible to have two people with the exact same routes to achieve pleasure and happiness.  This is why we have things like different love languages and different emotional reactions to things.  Everyone's experience of life – each person's existence – is varied from the next person's.  But we all (for the most part) want "happiness."

And because of this, because it's such a chaotic notion, we establish "rules."

Of course, these rules are different depending on whom you ask.  But for the most part, these seem to be the commonly-accepted rules:

1. You are free to seek happiness as an individual.

2. You must not infringe on others' paths to seek happiness.

But again, they can't be upheld.  People are driven, again, by alternate emotions – jealousy, selfishness, anger, hurt – because they have an individual experience of the world.  We assume that because our own journey makes the most sense to happiness – because we are so deeply rooted in that – that no other path to happiness makes sense: because we cannot comprehend it.

And then it all falls apart.  We no longer are, it's a battle of me and I against the other.  Because our values conflict, because we don't have the dependency or consistency of togetherness.  We are then driven by the animal instinct to care for our own.  It's defense mode.

What I'm proposing, both in this post and in this blog as a whole, is not a drastic change.  I am not asking that each person is to turn his or her life around and accept someone else's personal truth as his or her own.  I am merely proposing that we remember what it comes down to, and to have a bit more patience and understanding – and intent – to not infringe on others' paths to seek happiness.

If we can do this, on small levels – by communicating more effectively, or trying to get inside someone else's perspective, or simply by reducing the amount of random hate talk on YouTube – I think we can more effectively position ourselves to be looking out for humanity as a whole, returning to the neutrality of I am and therefore coming together as us.

Welcome to 'Community.'

This evening marks the first night of Hanukkah.  I have found, on this particular Saturday, that all is quiet because no one I know within an eight-hour drive is celebrating.  There is no one fighting over who gets to light the first candle.  No one pouring Manischewitz into a translucent blue SOLO cup, no one making last-minute dashes to Costco for a family-sized pack of Mott's.  

Instead, it's just my husband and me sharing some salmon miso soup -- a nice, quiet night at home, which we like, but surprisingly quiet from our usual early Decembers.

My Facebook feed will soon be filled with photos of homemade latkes and dreidel jokes, but all of those people are in California (or another state that is not Washington).  I have a lot of Jewish friends there.  Thanks to these friends, I have been to my fair share of Hanukkah celebrations, but this year I won't be going to any.  It's a little depressing, I have to admit.  I feel like I am cheating myself out of the chance to secretly dress my friend Fitz's cat in a menorah-laden outfit.

C'mon, Fitz.  Moxie would look ADORABLE in that yarmulke.

When considering how people convene for religious celebrations, it seems that people rely heavily on community.  We, as humans, seek out the company of other people to spend our time with.  Because there are so many people on this earth, we can afford to be picky about with whom we choose to spend this time, and therefore usually end up hanging out with like-minded people.  This is how cliques get formed: sororities, religious groups, support groups, families, activists, sports fans, dog lovers -- there is a common belief, a common thread, and in that single thread of thought, you are finally not alone. 

Religious communities get a lot of criticism because of the very fact that they are religious communities.  There's a lot of stigma surrounding them.  But when you think about it, religious groups are essentially just another bunch of people with a common thread that makes them feel less alone in this vast world. 

AmURica.

Although it is certainly not the sole reason for religion or communities in general, so much of this world is spurred by loneliness.  So much of that loneliness then turns quickly into judgment of how other humans deal with it.  Many people look to find a solution to that loneliness by looking for a larger purpose in life, some larger goal that alleviates the inevitable pains of the human experience.  For some, solace is found in religion.  My mission with this blog is to help people understand the very human things beneath this religious user interface.

This blog exists as a writing experiment of sorts.  I have spent the last eight years researching religion and have found a wealth of fascinating cultural information about various religions.  I want to look at religion through an anthropological and cultural lens, and in order to do this, I have a few basic concepts / rules / disclaimers:

1. I will not bash any religion in particular.

2. I will not deem any particular religion as "correct" or "incorrect."

3.  I aim to present each concept in a fair and balanced light that explains all aspects surrounding it.

4. I aim to keep my personal religious / political preferences separate from these studies.

I look forward to sharing my research with you in the coming posts -- but as for tonight, I'll be lighting a little menorah that I got from Target last year because of what it means to me: my participation in the larger human community, and the hope that one light can bring patience and tolerance to other lights out there.