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.


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