Introduction

One of my favorite writers is Albert Camus (1913-1960). Although I do not totally embrace his philosophy of the absurd (Absurdism), I’ve always admired how Camus addresses those events and experiences in living that we encounter that evades our making sense of them so that we can easily place them in our logic-box. Logic is a good tool, but, from my perspective, we stretch the tool beyond its limits when we believe it can sum up everything there is about life, providing us with certainty about all things. Whether it be The Myth of Sisyphus, The Rebel, The Plague, or The Stranger, Camus, through his philosophical and fictional writings, introduced readers to the kinds of experiences that we face in living, or at least those experiences we watch others go through, that challenge the notion that we fully, or even mostly, comprehend life. Born in French Algeria, in his early life, Camus fought in the French Underground during Nazi occupation, writing for the underground publication, Combat. In his activism as a writer, he sought to fight inequalities between Europeans and natives in Algeria. As an Algerian, he hoped for peaceful coexistence between France and Algerians, speaking out against atrocities on both sides. Having been a member of the French Communist Party, the party expelled him when he joined the Algerian People’s Party, embracing anarchism. (Anarchism is a term totally misused and misunderstood, which is an entire different discussion altogether. Suffice it to say here, anarchism does not mean lawlessness and despoil.) Indeed, it’s Camus’ anarchism that draws me to his writings and much of his philosophical thought. In regards to his supposed Absurdism, Camus stated later in life that he did not care to be associated with the philosophy of absurdism. As an anarchist, he instead was interested in how human beings face life events and experiences, which they cannot comprehend. He was more interested in the will of human beings to make sense and meaning of such experiences.

Writing more in-depth about Camus on this blog is something I hold open for the future. Anyone who has read Camus knows that his writings are packed full of statements that can be used aphoristically. While I enjoy reading aphoristic writings, we have to take care not to lift quotes from writers where they scream bloody-murder for being ripped and shredded out of their contexts. Having said that, what I want to do in this blog article is respond to three quotes by Camus that are some of my favorite. I don’t pretend to totally understand them, or have the right take on them. If I must give advice, the best I can do is encourage people to read this prolific author, who is anything but simple so as to place in a box of some literary criticism.

Summer and Winter

In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was, within me, and invincible summer.

There are a lot of takes on this quote from general anthropological ones to various types of spiritual interpretations. Some attribute the quote to Camus’ supposed optimism. Others believe that Camus is saying that human beings have more power in them than they realize, and that they should find ways to ignite that power. Still others interpret Camus to be saying that human beings do not realize their true potential until they face difficult times.

Excuse me, if you will, but it’s somewhat difficult for me to view Camus as an optimist, encouraging people that if they simply think positively, then things will turn out okay. Personally, I cannot glean such an idea from his writings. Likewise, I don’t see Camus as seeking to make a general anthropological statement to the extent that he believes all people have an inner-light that they must turn on. Specifically, the quote says, .  .  . within me .  .  .  His discovery was personal. The notion that people do not realize what they’re made of until they face difficult times, comes close to what Camus may be getting at. The invincible summer, however, may not be what everyone finds. Moreover, the invincible summer does not appear to mean that, even for the one who finds it within himself, that all things turn out okay. Whether it was the French underground, the Algerian conflict, or his personal battle with tuberculosis, Camus dealt daily with the unknown. Could it possibly be that the invincible summer is Camus’ bearing what life brings his way, whether things turn out okay or not?

Knowing and Doing

There is no happiness if the things we believe in are different than the things we do.

The notion of living out what we believe is one in which I have become personally interested during the last several years or longer. I particularly am interested in the idea of what we know, we do, as well as the consequences from when we do and when we don’t do what we know. Expediency tends to trump principle these days. It is a temptation for all of us, I believe. I will even strongly personalize that statement – it is and has always been a temptation for me. I believe things strongly, and for the most part, I also think I’ve lived out in my life what I believe. Nonetheless, there are those times when the road seems easier to forsake principle and take the easy way out. Moreover, clarifying what one believes and values appears to be an ongoing process. At 69 years old, I’m not the same person I was at 29. (Thank the heavens.) Clarifying values from day-to-day is a most difficult task. I do believe strongly that it is important to know, not only what we believe, but why we believe it. Again, Camus’ work in the French Underground, his activism pertaining to the conflicts between Europeans and Algerians, and his fall out with Sartre’s embracing of Stalinism, all addressed stands that Camus took publicly. Camus, however strongly he argued a position, because that is what he thought he should do, he didn’t seem to ask for obeisance as much as he wanted his own life to be an example so as to challenge people to come to their own conclusions. Another pithy statement he made speaks to this understanding: We are all special cases. People have to clarify their own values and reach their own conclusions within their personal contexts. For Camus, such clarification comes through stepping into and experiencing life. Another aphorism he offers: You can’t create experience. You must undergo it. I strongly believe that the integrity to live out what we believe and value is worth our pursuit. There is a caveat. We appear always to be undergoing change, so what we believe and value, and particularly how we apply what we believe and value to living, evolves through our contact with the experience of living.

The Rebel

The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.

I find it rather comical these days when I hear social critics claim again and again that America is an individualistic society. Would be that such a claim were true! Personally, I believe the sickness of the day is conformity. Whether it’s the search for gurus, political leaders, or motivational speakers, people appear to be looking for someone to tell them how to live. We are surrounded by speech codes, political correctness, patriot acts, celebrity-ism, and dichotomous debates that reduce to the line, if you don’t agree with me, then you are .  .  . fill in the blank. Again, Camus states: Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal. I would add that a large sum of people expend a lot of energy to make everyone normal, as they, of course, define normal. Camus’ anarchism and personal rebellion against an existence that parasites and sucks the life-blood from an individual is one of the things about him I admire most. We seem to be constantly confronted by a social matrix filled with messages and narratives that want to claim our personhood to be either this or that. We have a war on sex, a war on drugs, a war on speech, and and war on thought – a war for one’s mind. Pithy though it may be, I like Camus’ simple definition: What is a rebel? A man who says No. Addressing the notion of living out what one believes, the quote that opens this section is one I hope to live out. There are countless times through the years that I have failed at doing so. Moreover, I’m not – and most likely cannot ever be – clear on how to live out such a claim. And it’s an existence that each person must search out for him or herself. It’s a rebellion against existence itself. There is a parasite sucking one’s brain among all the commercials, that which passes as art, that which passes as science, and politically-correct ideologies that seek to tell you what you should believe, how you should act, and even what words you should use. Maybe it’s time for people to say No. Saying no will be each person’s path; it’s not about everyone agreeing on everything. Indeed, disagreement appears to be something we can’t handle these days. To live as though one’s existence is an act of rebellion is a tough call. I’m not sure I can pull it off. But I hope to.

Conclusion

Camus’ writings are complex, difficult to digest, and impossible, most likely purposely so, to catalog. He neither liked being associated with the philosophy of the absurd, nor being labeled an existentialist. Although he joined certain political movements, he tended to fall out with them the second they sought to categorized his thought and existence. He despised anything that smacked of collectivist authoritarianism. His fallout with Sartre over Stalin’s atrocities proved to be life-long. It would have been more than merely interesting to watch Camus’ thought evolve had his life not been cut so tragically short. His life was one as a writer of fiction, an essayist, a playwright, and a committed philosophical rebel. He took his stand on freedom, which he described with another pithy saying: Freedom is nothing but a chance to be better. Each of us must define and describe that for ourselves, and decide on what ground or foundation, if any, we think our beliefs and values stand. Camus’ rebellion was anything but an unthinking one. What do I believe and why do I believe it? Each person, not only must decide his or her answer to those questions, but also must decide whether or not the question is worth asking for the pursuit.

John V. Jones, Jr. Ph.D, LPC-S/November 14, 2016

GENERAL ESSAY

Introduction

I understand that it’s an old adage that to live life fully, to carve out a quality-filled life, entails risks. I also know that as human beings, we are risk-avoidant for the most part. And why not? Risks are what they are – risky. We would prefer to know what lies on the other side of the unknown before we step into it. We look for the safest ways to navigate risks, we search out ways that reduce the risks involved in major decisions, and, to our chagrin, we look for guarantees from others we trust that our endeavors will play out the way we hope. No one – our loved ones, our dearest friends, those to whom we are most close, those we consider most wise, or gurus or priests – can promise us that life will turn out the way we want it to turn out. A life lived with the deepest of meaning where each of us can say, I have truly lived, cannot be achieved without risks of stepping into the unknown. The mystery of the unknown makes life interesting and worthwhile. If we want a life well-lived, we must engage the risks involved in the pursuit of such a life. We must face the failures as well as the successes in our lives. We must take responsibility for our own lives. And we must live from the foundation of our values and principles. Not to do so is truly not to live.

Looking to Others: There Are No Guarantees

There is nothing wrong with looking to others for hope, encouragement, and wise feedback. But when we turn seeking wisdom into the search for a guarantee, we will reap at least a couple of things from what we have sown. First, we lay the responsibility for our lives onto other people, which is highly unfair to them, not to mention that it’s cowardice on our part when we do so. Think of it from the opposite perspective. Would you promise someone that their choices will turn out exactly they way they hope? We inherently know that when we make such a promise to people, we may be trying to encourage them, but we’re making a claim that we cannot possibly know to be true. Moreover, if we think clearly about the situation, we do not want the responsibility for other adults’ lives. (I have a difficult enough of a struggle being responsible for my own.) We inherently know as well, on some level, that when we ask for such a guarantee for our lives from others, we’re asking them for something they can’t offer.

Looking to others, however, can prove fruitful if we keep some things in mind. First, reiterating, we should not look to others for a guarantee they can’t possibly offer. We know people in our lives, family members, friends, and other people, whom we consider mature, accomplished, and wise. Seeking input and feedback about decisions we have to make from such people is a wise act itself. Taking a risk should not necessarily mean throwing all caution to the wind, as the saying goes. Obtaining information, feedback, and suggestions from people we understand to be trustworthy can provide ways of clarifying what’s involved in risky endeavors. There are people in our lives who have traveled similar roads we are looking to travel. We do not have to be alone on our journey. Other people can be wonderful sources of information and encouragement. What they cannot be is a guarantee that our risks will pan out as planned. Such a promise they can neither make nor provide for themselves, let alone others. When we relinquish personal responsibility for our own lives, we actually have chosen not to live at all.

Blind Risks versus Informed Risk

Rarely is there any action we can take, any information we can accrue, or any clairvoyant we hope that exists, that take the risks out of risking. But I have known people who approach risks at times without any planning whatsoever. Although they fear the road they are traveling and their anxiety soars beyond the clouds, they do nothing to help settle some of their fears. There is a difference between foolishly and wisely risking. Like dichotomies can be many times, there most definitely are false ones. Risks is not a matter of stepping blindly and foolishly into life. Taking risks does not mean that we not seek what information we can before making a major decision in our lives. Likewise, because we cannot alleviate all the risks involved in making a decision does not mean we should never make a decision. Such thinking leaves people stuck in the quicksand of their own doubts and fear. Hence, they never move. From my perspective, informed risk-taking is true risk-taking. Blind risk-taking is mere foolishness. Trying to stay safe because we don’t have all contingencies in place yields a life not fully lived. What feels safe may, indeed, become a vapid way of existing.

This is not to say that there may be some risks that inherently carry more unknowns than other forms of risks. And some people really get a rush out of such risks. If you have the stomach, fortitude, and nerve endings for such risks, then by all means, knock yourself out. Many people do have such fortitude, and many do not. For those who do not, however, a simple fact to embrace is that nothing worthwhile in life lacks risks. The level of risks for yourself and what you hope to obtain entail a pathway you have to determine for yourself. There is a quote, I believe from Thoreau, – Most people live quiet, desperate lives. People can settle for a comfortable path that is a default from living the way they would otherwise choose to live. Then they dream about what it would have been like to have pursued those things in life they yearned for but never took a step toward them. In later life, such dreams can become nightmares. For most of us, whatever level of risks we’re willing to undergo, if we choose to go after what we truly hope for and want to obtain in life, choosing that road will take us to the limits of our existence. I truly believe that what we desire most will entail our stepping out in ways that leaves us hanging over an abyss that only we can navigate.

Successes and Failures

One the biggest mistakes that people make in pursuing a meaningful life is that when they make mistakes and encounter failures, they immediately think they were wrong and shouldn’t have taken the path they chose. I know it’s a cliche and can be thrown around as a simple platitude; however, mistakes and failures can be some of the best lessons in life. They’re not fun, they’re not experiences we should hope for (that’s masochism), and they are not results we should necessarily relish and wear like a crown. More importantly, they are not signs that we should give up on what we want in life. I’ve heard it told that the great oil explorer, H. L. Hunt, drilled several oil wells and was heavily in debt before he ever struck oil. His history that followed speaks for itself. Many narratives abound about successful businessmen, artists, and scientists who encountered multiple failures before they ever succeeded. Their narratives are good lessons, yet engaging a failure is not easy for anyone; nonetheless it provides a crossroad. One major decision leads to others. Do I go on, or do I give up? Seeking to move beyond any failure, especially major ones, is one of the most difficult tasks one can undertake.

Values and Principles versus Expediency

I find myself wondering if we’re living in a time where expediency trumps principle. I would go so far as to say that expediency appears to be a way of approaching all life’s endeavors these days. Facing a failure on the basis of expediency can lead rather quickly to  giving up on one’s hopes and dreams. I don’t believe that a quality-filled life can be achieved without a foundation comprising one’s personal values and principles. Failures and hard times lead us back to our foundation, the values and principles we hold. Only on the basis of those values and principles can we pick ourselves off the ground when we do fail and proceed on. There may be a time to fold, but on the basis of expediency alone, it would seem that a time to fold is whenever we encounter any difficulties on the road to life. Courage entails facing failures, learning from them, gleaning from them, and then deciding what’s next. Mistakes and failures can point to different avenues to achieve what we want for our lives. But to do so, we must experience them, look them in the eye, and listen to and learn from what they have to tell us. Although the responsibility for traveling our path is ours alone, we are not alone on our path. There are those who can help us when we’re down, can encourage us when encouragement is needed, and can provide insight and wisdom that can help us move forward. I firmly believe, however, that we have to be surrounded by people who live by their values and principles rather than expediency. The risks of life are placed on our road as obstacles to overcome. It is up to us as individuals as to whether or not we take on the charge to make something meaningful of our lives. Or we can choose otherwise to live quiet, desperate lives. That crossroad exists for each one of us.  The nagging question that haunts us is whether or not a quiet, desperate life is truly a life at all.

Conclusion

Obtain what you can from others in terms of information, feedback, suggestions, and wise input. Accrue all the information you can in seeking to make a major decision for your life. Not to do so is unwise. But there comes a point of diminishing returns for garnering information. We can fall into the trap of wanting more and more information, believing we can take the risk out of risking. If we’re going to face life and live it fully, we must come to that point where it’s time to step out over an abyss, no matter what its size. If we avoid that moment, then we are avoiding living our lives fully.

It seems to me these days, and I may be wrong, that more than any other time of which I’m aware, we have a society and culture of entitlement. People are willing to disown their lives, placing their lives into the hands of others with the false promise that those in whom people place their trust can somehow provide them with a full life. But such a life is one that individuals must seize and take for themselves. The guarantee that someone can provide you with a  life is a false promise. And to buy into it is a waste of a life. The abandonment of personal responsibility is the abandonment of the freedom to live one’s life. I’ve talked to too many people who have looked back on their lives in their sixties and seventies, and feel nothing but regret for not having carved out the kind of life they wanted for themselves. It appears that there can be ways of living that are not truly living at all. Nonetheless, the years roll by and we’re left with the consequences of our choices. The desire to turn back time and do things differently is an empty daydream, if not a pipe dream. Living risky does not have to mean blind risk-taking. But it does mean, one way or the other, that risks are involved in the pursuit of a meaningful life. And if one desires such a meaningful life, then one has to truly live. One of my favorite quotes is from the libertarian anarchist, Frank Chodorov:

For when the theorizing is done, the books are all written, the debates have been resolved into a formula for action, there remains always this immovable obstacle: One must live.

So live.

John V. Jones, Jr., Ph.D., LPC-S/October 14th, 2016

GENERAL ESSAY

Introduction

I’m not sure that there are any other words that elicit such passionate debate and emotional reactions as that brought about by the two words objectivity and subjectivity. Philosophers have developed systems of thought revolving around these two words in order to do battle; and battle is exactly what they have done over a period of centuries, if not millennia. Idealism, Romanticism, existentialism, and postmodernism have established a beachhead on one side of the battle line, while materialism, reductionism, empiricism, and positivism have erected a fortress on the other side. Those who consider themselves artists are more likely to fall on one side of the line while those who call themselves scientists line up on the opposite side. C. P. Snow, in his work The Two Cultures, excruciatingly marked this division, seemingly creating an abyss between the two camps that could never be breached.

Battle lines, fortresses, and wars are apt metaphors, but I would like to return to a metaphor I used in last month’s blog, that of a river. Except in this present blog, I’m going to accentuate things a bit, utilizing the metaphor of rapids. I think the notion of rapids envisions such experiences as adventure, angst, excitement, and danger. Rapids can take us over the edge of a cataract, plunging us into deep waters that can drowned us. I’m going to offer a suggestion in this blog, and a suggestion is all that it is. Still, another metaphor concerning these historical camps is captured by the notion of a great divide. After the exciting and adventurous riding of the rapids along this divide, I hope we can find moments of calmer streams that bring us to a place of rest, not necessarily with any final answers, but an acceptance of a tension we must hold regarding these two concepts of objectivity and subjectivity. To cast either one of these concepts to the shore of non-participation would indeed make our lives less adventurous, and in doing so would deprive us of the richness inherent in life.

Defining Our Terms

I don’t want to pull a logical positivist move here, claiming that we must define clearly and logically everything we discuss, but when exploring the two words, objectivity and subjectivity, we probably, to keep things from getting out of hand, need some clarification of what we’re talking about. The adjective subjective carries a variety of meanings, such as existing in the mind. Subjectivity speaks of that which belongs to a thinking subject rather than to the object of thought. From a philosophical perspective, subjectivity emphasizes the nature of an object as it is known in the mind as distinct from a thing itself. As if to add fuel to the fire, subjectivity also refers to an individual’s moods, attitudes, and opinions.

On the other hand, the adjective objectivity, refers an understanding of things not influenced by personal feelings, interpretations, or prejudices. Instead, the notion focuses on things external to the mind in contrast to thoughts and feelings about things. Objectivity emphasizes characteristics that belong to the object rather than to the perceiver of the object. These external things exist independent of thought, observer, and mind. To add fuel to the fire, once again, objectivity refers to what can be known about reality external to the individual. The position of objectivity holds that things exist independent of observers, inquirers, and knowers.

The above are simple definitions that one can access with any dictionary or thesaurus. I used dictionary.com. Yet these two simple descriptions of objectivity and subjectivity have established a division that has been the ground of many philosophical battles, heated, inimical, and truculent, to say the least.

The Great Divide

There is neither time nor space (nor desire, quite frankly) in this blog to cover the entire history of ideas that have traveled through time along the rapids created by the concepts of objectivity and subjectivity. For those interested in such things, you can trace the ideas associated with these two concepts from Greek thought to the Middle Ages & Enlightenment, to the modernist age of philosophy brought about via Rene Descartes, Immanuel Kant, John Locke and David Hume. And the more modern and contemporary line includes the Romanticists & the existentialists, the postmodernists and logical positivists. Throughout the history of thought, philosophers, on some level, were trying to understand how these concepts shape our thought and experience. Indeed, the two adjectives are concepts as well as mere words.

Unfortunately, the fall out of these philosophical battles across time led to a schism, reflecting again on C. P. Snow’s, The Two Cultures. In modern and contemporary times, the philosophy of logical positivism equated objectivity with science and knowledge. Hence science became the ultimate form of knowledge, the only field of endeavor that attains knowledge. The endeavors of the arts, philosophy, and the social sciences do not quite measure up to the acme of understanding achieved by science. Although modern and postmodern critics have deemed such a position as scientism rather than science, the two streams of understanding are still at odds. The superciliousness of the positivist position has unfortunately led many practitioners in the social sciences to try and adapt the methods of the hard sciences and apply them so as to understand the human being from a psychological and sociological perspective. Others in these fields of endeavor have questioned not only the application of logical positivist methods to the human sciences, but have also questioned whether or not they adequately describe the growth of knowledge as depicted in the so-called hard sciences.

I believe that such debates are well-worth their efforts if indeed they can lead to some clarity about how we come to know and experience things. Unfortunately as stated above, many of the debates have become so entangled in diatribes, personal attacks, and calumnies, they resolve nothing at all. Moreover I believe that we stand on the possibility of falling over two deep cataracts if we embrace either strict objectivity or total subjectivity. The postmodern idea that we as human beings totally create our realities within the mind seems, to me, far-fetched. I’m not even sure of what the postmodernists are saying here. I’ll personally state my position that I believe in an external and objective reality. Yet the logical positivist notion that the only meaningful conversations human beings can have must be derived from statements that can only be observed and measured seems, to me again, a far-fetched and overstated notion. As Karl Popper demonstrated, the statement itself proffered by the logical positivists cannot be derived from observation, nor does it claim anything that can be measured. The claim, indeed, is metaphysical one. I’ll state my position, as well, here. Passion, beliefs, and values play a large part in any field of endeavor, including science. These two camps have divided fact from value, mind from body, science from life, and physics from metaphysics. A common ground is needed. Observation, empirical measurement, and rationality are necessary for our understanding of the universe. I would say to the total subjectivists that there is indeed a universe against which we bump, and in order to adapt, we have to have some form of objective understanding of how it’s put together. On the other hand, I would say to the logical positivists, that passion, valuation, and subjectivity have always driven the quest for knowledge, including science. The history of scientific thought does not bode well in supporting the positivist notion of how science has progressed over time. Works such as those by Thomas Kuhn and Michael Polanyi have provided good grist for the mill in discussing these matters. Another position I’ll state is this: I believe that the universe in inherently rational and ordered; yet it is full of mystery that we discover, not just a construct within our mind. Yet that mystery is something we passionately pursue, applying our values to our work, and even holding theories and hypotheses for some time, whether or not they immediately have empirical support. I’m sure no Einstein, as the adage goes, but the great physicist himself held that the universe contains order as well as mystery.

Conclusion

Two good books to read regarding the discussion on this blog are Thomas Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, and Michael Polanyi, Personal Knowledge. My preference is the latter one. Polanyi is a physical chemist and philosopher of science who seeks to emphasize what he designates as the personal participation of the scientist in his pursuit of knowledge. Polanyi holds that although skill is involved in the pursuit of knowledge, knowing is an art that entails the skill of the knower. The scientist is guided by personal commitment and a passionate sense of increasing contact with reality and discovering its hidden mysteries, rationality, and order.

What Polanyi designates as personal knowledge, achieves several things. First, it emphasizes the passionate participation in the act of knowing and the growth of knowledge. By doing so, second, it can establish a bridge connecting the gap between subjectivity and objectivity, even if it is a tenuous one. Third, personal knowledge brings a personal coefficient in terms of an appraisal that shapes factual knowledge. And most importantly, fourth, personal knowledge implies that an individual can transcend subjectivity while striving passionately to fulfill universal standards. In other words, we need not get swept away over a large cataract by either pure subjectivity, or strict objectivity. I recommend this book along with others to explore this constant tension between objectivity and subjectivity. The false dichotomies between fact and value, passion and knowledge, and science and opinion have created a great divide, not only in our understanding of the growth of knowledge, but also as to what it is like to be human and to passionately pursue the growth of knowledge.

How many stories have you heard, and how many biographies have you read where scientists were spurred on by painful events in their lives to create, research, and discover knowledge that they hoped would end particular miseries that human beings experience? Even in the face of failed hypotheses, they nonetheless held to their beliefs until they succeeded on some level. The pursuit of knowledge, understanding, and wisdom is not impersonal. Passion and knowledge go hand-in-hand.

The debate, however, must rage on. We must hold this tension without trying to resolve it one way or the other. In the raging, however, one can hope we can become more civil, avoid the ad hominem, cease the name calling, and join together in the wonderful quest for knowledge, understanding, and wisdom.

John V. Jones, Jr, Ph.D., LPC-S/September 14th, 2016

GENERAL ESSAY

I keep following this sort of hidden river of my life .  .  . (William Stafford)

Introduction

Having reached the age of 68, I have experienced, more than a few times, the shock of looking back at photographs of myself in my 20’s, 30’s, and so on, noting the immeasurable differences. Who is that guy? I feel like the same person, yet physical changes are easily captured these days through the technology we utilize from day-to-day. There are likewise the personal, philosophical, and spiritual changes in beliefs, values, and worldview that punctuate our corridors of time. Still, I undergo these changes. How can we change, yet be the same? What is this this thing we recognize as change, while we also experience a constancy across time that we call the self?

The subjective experience of constancy and change brings up a question debated in many circles these days, particularly in philosophical and psychological circles. In the midst of all the changes we experience, do we have a core that defines who we are as a self, something that remains stable, that doesn’t change? We all know that we change. Most of us even experience what we call deep change, changes that strike at our core beliefs and values, overhauling our view of life and what it’s about – in a word, our worldview. Yet I reflect on and know these changes; it is my awareness of changes in me. Who is this I who continuously undergoes and is aware that he undergoes change?

Another question that emerges for me is that if there is a core to our identity, can we miss it? Can we misunderstand it? Can we live in such a way that we do not discover it, or leave it closed off, perhaps due to our conformity to all that surrounds us? Can we live in such a way so that we’re not in touch with the core – the heart – of who and what we are?

Well, as a typical blogger who likes to philosophize now and then, I ask these questions, but have only exploratory thoughts regarding them. I believe in many ways, human beings are a great mystery. We live our lives constantly seeking to come to grips with the mystery that is ourselves, a mystery like a great river that we recognize in segments, but cannot see totally from where it originates and where it ends up.

Poets and Questions

I approach this topic via a couple of my favorite poets, Matthew Arnold and William Stafford. Likewise, I engage this notion via a personal journal entry  from 2015 I happened to reread this past month. I had pinned the journal entry upon reading the American poet, William Stafford. I reflected upon several questions: Where in the core of my being am I going? It seems easy to get off track. And then later in the entry I asked, Can I reach back and find the seed that I smothered .  .  .? And then near the end of the entry I asked, Can I reach down deep and find the core, that layer buried, ready for discovery, that I seemed to have forsaken?

This journal entry and the questions it poses relate to some of my personal struggles. Yet I think they are ones that many people experience. At any rate, that seems to be the case based on my twenty-five years of being a professor, watching students develop their own lives, as well as being a counselor for the same number of years working with clients. The questions, however, set on a presumption. There is a core we call the self. To some degree we can come to know it. Yet whatever it is, changes. I’m not sure if it is possible to resolve the heart-felt experience of constancy and change. Like many tensions in life, perhaps the better approach is to radically accept them and let them be, while simultaneously exploring what they offer about life.

Interestingly, both Stafford, who is a modern American Poet, and Arnold, who is a Victorian poet, apply the metaphor of a river as representing the core or thread that runs through our understanding of our experiences involving both constancy and change. Matthew Arnold (1822 – 1888), in the Buried Life, speaks somewhat pessimistically about our truly wanting to know who we are and how we actually feel about things. The experience, he surmises, is too scary. Not only would we personally rather not know this buried life, but we don’t want others to know it either. According to Arnold, if  others know our core, we fear their cold, indifferent response to who we are. Hence, the seed of conformity emerges in our social relations, a seed whose fruit is our lostness. Nonetheless, Arnold paints an exquisite picture of the fulfilling, yet fleeting, moments when we make contact with our internal river. He says, The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,/And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know. This sounds like a beautiful description of the experience we undergo when we understand ourselves to be living in alignment with what we know and believe. I’m not sure how often we step into such an experience, but I do believe it to be a powerful one. Arnold believes it to be a rare one. Such an alignment seems to indicate that we possess a core that says, This is who I am, and what I’m all about.

William Stafford (1924 – 1993) discussed what he experienced as a hidden river in his own life. I tend to agree with what he says regarding the buried stream. It’s there; I know it’s there; but I come to know it more and more as I move through life. These are not Stafford’s words, but my interpretation of his discussions from his essays and interviews, in addition to poems he has authored. Perhaps constancy and change is a continuing flow of experience, like a river, that surges and slows, that is shallow at spots but then deepens, and that travels through sinuous paths, twisting, turning, and flowing back on itself, and then eventually continuing on to its destination – the same, yet changing river. An apt metaphor, particularly when we think of how a river hovers, staying within its banks, yet threatening to overflow its containment, fighting against the conformity that its context has set  for it. And then, at times it does just that, violently flooding over all that is around it, perhaps carving a new river bank altogether. When we align with our core, there may be a lot of rules we have to break, and many people whom we have to disappoint. We know it’s there, but we never know completely what it’s going to do, nor where it’s going to take us, and how it’s going to change us.

There are those today who question the notion of a core self. Perhaps they’re correct, but I don’t believe so. Perhaps they offer another social context for conformity. In following our own river, what pressures might we butt up against? To carve our own paths, what and whose rules might we have to break so as to become that person who says what he means, and means what he says?

Conclusion

I want to conclude this essay of reflection simply by offering Stafford’s poem, “The Way It Is”. Matthew Arnold referred to the buried life as a river. In an interview, Stafford spoke of a what he called the hidden river of his life. In his poem, Stafford uses the metaphor of a thread. He encourages us to grasp and follow it if we get a glimpse of what it is. Most importantly, we should never let it go lest we become lost. Here is Stafford’s short poem:

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among/things that change. But it doesn’t change./People wonder about what you are pursuing./You have to explain about the thread/But it is hard for others to see./While you hold it you can’t get lost./Tragedies happen; people get hurt/or die; and you suffer and get old./Nothing you can do can stop time’s unfolding./You don’t ever let go of the thread.

What is our river or our thread? How do we understand who we are amidst all the changes we undergo? How do we hold on to things we’re trying to understand in the face of so much pressure to conform by so many who might not understand? What is this self that chooses, embraces, and recognizes change? I change. In those two simple words, the existential tension is the great mystery.  It is a mystery like a secret thread flowing through us we’re trying to find and hold onto; like a hidden river we’re following to where we’re not sure.

John V. Jones, Jr., Ph.D., LPC-S/August 14th, 2016

GENERAL ESSAY

Introduction

This is the 36th monthly blog I will have published, so I thought I would celebrate three years of blogging by simply throwing out some random thoughts and questions.

When I think about areas of thought I want to explore, or types of projects I might want to pursue, there are 4 concepts or categories that frame many of my interests today. Whether or not these interests will hold my feet to the path tomorrow or down the road, I surely don’t know, but for now they’re good food for thought. Four areas that pique my interests presently are as follows: mind, meaning, knowing & doing, and finitude. The meanderings below are simply some random thoughts and questions for pondering.

Mind

The first question that comes to mind (no pun intended), is: What exactly do we mean when we speak of the human mind. How would we go about describing a person’s mind? The concept of mind leads one possibly to contemplate the various components of an individual’s makeup. Historically, several positions have been proffered to explain mind: materialist or reductionist, dualist, interactionist, and spiritual. Throughout the millennia, art and literature have spoken of the human mind, heart, soul, spirit, and body. How do these entities contribute to our understanding of what it is to be human?

No doubt one component of mind is its functionality in helping us to adapt and live. The mind is our tool that we employ to adapt to various contexts in which we live. We refer to mind as the bastion of knowledge. We speak of mind when we seek to understand our lives. We point to the mind as the entity that hopefully leads us to wisdom. Some would say that our mind comprises our beliefs, values, and precepts from which we seek to live out our lives.

Moreover, we use our mind to change and adapt. But what is change? How do we change? How do we adjust to life’s vicissitudes that come our way? Through the process of change, we sense that even through major changes in our lives, we, nonetheless, maintain a core of who we are. What is the relationship between mind and identity? Mind and change appear to go hand-in-hand. What does it mean to change core beliefs and values – that is, to change our mind? How does mind come to understand mind?

Meaning

When we talk about making sense of life, are we not talking about meaning? Some would say that we are meaning-making creatures, that is human beings are the species that seek to understand their existence. We use our mind to interpret and make sense or meaning of personal experiences. Such experiences are countless, but in general may include the world we engage, the various encounters we undergo, the relationships we have, the people we know. What parts do mind and experience play in our meaning-making? What is the difference between surface and deep meaning, if there is such a distinction? What is the relationship between meaning and values. Some believe that meaning is totally constructed, while others believe that there is meaning inherent in the structure of the universe. Why do some people spend their lives in a search for meaning and purpose, while others appear not to give such notions a second thought?

Knowing & Doing

Do we act on what we claim to know? The mind is involved in this dynamic as well. Personally, I believe when a person lives out – acts – according to his beliefs and values, such a knowing-doing connection is a powerful dynamic for living. None of us probably come close to being anywhere near perfect in this dynamic. My so-called fortitude fails me everyday in a number of situations. I think the question whether or not our knowing and doing is in alignment is one that constantly haunts and nags at us. On the one hand, ultimate fulfillment rests in such an alignment; however, on the other hand, the constant failure to do so teaches us immense lessons about ourselves. Moreover, the relationship between knowing and doing appears to be related, as well, to the acquisition of wisdom. Wise living is wrapped up in the concrete living out of what we say we know, believe, and value. Misalignment has its upsides. It leads us to question things. Do I know what I truly believe and value? Do I know who I am, and what I’m about? Do I know how to skillfully go about life? Do I know how to live? We tend to feel out of sync with ourselves, others, and life in general. These experiences can leave us in doubt, generate a feeling of lostness, and can bring about powerful emotions. The dynamic of knowing and doing is one that continually pulls at our conscience, shaping our understanding of who we are.

Finitude/Humility

I believe it was the philosopher of science, Karl Popper, who stated: What we don’t know is infinitely greater than what we do know. I think that notion not only entails the limits of science regarding the universe, but also our own limits to self-knowledge. We immediately recognize the sense of arrogance, hubris, and lack of humility in those who claim to have a full understanding of self, life, and the universe. How many times throughout the history of thought have various fields of endeavor claimed to be approaching the limits of knowledge, only to be blown back by new technologies and discoveries? I believe we need to become more enamored with what we don’t know in contrast with what we do know. The mind is a wonderful tool and avenue towards great understanding. But the limits of our knowledge are immeasurable.

Conclusion

These random thoughts and questions are ones that frame the direction I want to take my personal thought and exploration. I would possibly add to them the notion of worldview. I’m not sure how it fits in other than we shape our worldview via our mind, personal experiences and engagement with the world, and our constant failing and succeeding at our endeavors. The seven questions that I listed in last month’s article can help shape our understanding of worldview. For now these thoughts and questions lay the groundwork for an exciting journey on which to travel toward greater knowledge, understanding, and wisdom. It is a journey that ends only with our finitude. It is a journey that as we travel, we come to realize more and more the limits of our own understanding.

John V. Jones, Jr., Ph.D., LPC-S/July 14th, 2016

GENERAL ESSAY

Introduction

The one thing that I don’t do on this blog is “ambulance chase”. I know for some, it’s tempting to “cash in” on recent horrific events that have occurred, and now fills the airwaves, be it news, blogs, and, heaven forbid, political speeches. I believe it’s unfortunate, and says something about our society, that we don’t start “thinking” about things seriously until major crises cause us to stop and reflect. The downside of such a modus operandi is that little “thinking” is done, but a crap-load of reactivity fills the air, particularly from newscasts, talk shows, and politicians.

We hear a lot these days about the notion of worldviews: a Western worldview versus an Eastern worldview; a Christian worldview versus an atheistic worldview; an individualist worldview versus a collectivist worldview, and so on. During the Cold War, there was a worldview in front of and behind the Iron Curtain. But what exactly is a worldview? My purpose for this blog is to explore that question, as well as to encourage people to think, read, and live worldviewishly. Rather than merely reacting to the world and its events, which at times do shake us to the core, is it possible that we can we develop some understanding about the world and the people in it prior to events that come at us? If so, perhaps we can lay a foundation in thinking that allows us to understand what we encounter in life. Can we develop a core that, instead of crumbling, stands the test of the storms of life?

In the discussion that follows, I’m indebted to the work of James W. Sire and many of the books he’s authored. Specifically related to this blog, I draw from his two works, The Universe Next Door and Naming the Elephant, primarily the former. I will utilize Sire’s definition of worldview, as well as the seven questions he delineates that we can ask so as to understand one’s worldview. But there’s a larger question than merely defining and outlining ways we can possibly understand other people’s worldviews. Sire addresses this head-on in his works. We can think and read worldviewishly, as Sire says; however, we also have to live our worldviews. And in fact we do, whether or not we are aware of it. Going beyond mere description, I hope this blog leads one to question his or her worldview and consciously shape it so as to live it out. One of the tough questions of life is whether or not we align what we do or act with what we claim to know. Knowing and doing are two sides of the same coin. If what we’re doing, i.e. how we are living, does not align with what we claim to know or believe, then either we truly don’t understand what we know, or we are simply lost in self-deception.

Rather than reacting to life and following like little lost sheep our favorite talk-show host, politician, or some other guru who claims to have answers to life for us, let’s do the hard work of shaping our own thought, becoming aware, and living out what we claim to believe or know.

Defining Worldview

I believe it was T. S. Eliot who said, minor poets emulate, great poets steal. So I’m going to cop James W. Sire’s definition of worldview from his work, The Universe Next Door. (Since I’m at least referencing him, perhaps he will forgive me my theft.) Sire’s definition contains several components I want to delineate. But first let’s look at his definition:

A worldview is a commitment, a fundamental orientation of the heart, that can be expressed as a story or in a set of presuppositions (assumptions which may be true, partially true, or entirely false) which we hold (consciously or subconsciously, consistently or inconsistently) about the basic constitution of reality, and that provides the foundation on which we live and move and have or being. [p. 17].

This lengthy and rich definition is one that we must unpack. We can glean several components from what Sire has spelled out: commitment; orientation of the heart; expressed in a story or set of presuppositions; held consciously or subconsciously; open to critique as being true or not; lived consistently or inconsistently; and a foundation on which we live out our lives.

Commitment

A worldview that one holds reaches deep into the core of his or her being. It is a matter of the heart in that one’s worldview entails one’s mind, emotion, and will. Hopefully, our worldview is one on which we build wisdom, that is knowledge and understanding applied to living skillfully, fruitfully, and fully. Sire comments, a worldview is situated in the self – the central operating chamber of every human being. Our worldview is such that we say, I’m committed to thus and thus; this is on what I stand. Our worldview is our channel to how we answer the question: How should I then live?

Expressed in A Story or Set of Presuppositions

When we think about how we would describe our worldview to others, obviously we use the tool of language. We may use the tool of narrative, expressing what we believe in some form of a story that makes sense to us. Likewise, we may draw on some form of logic to express what we believe in an interrelated set of presuppositions. Expressed in propositional form, a worldview is our statement about how we make sense of the world, our place in it, and our relationship to others who populate our world. With our worldview, we seek to make meaning of our existence.

Assumptions Which May Be True, Conscious, or Consistent

The notion of a worldview being true, partially true, or entirely false entails that we leave open our worldview to critique. Such an act sounds easy, but it is exceedingly difficult. To critique our worldview involves our capability to step back from our view of things, critically appraise them, and possibly look at them from other viewpoints. How do I step out of my worldview to accomplish such a task? Rather than the entire worldview, we may have questions about various components of our take on existence. To alter certain components of a worldview, however, can lead to minor or major shifts in our thinking. Questioning, analyzing, and critical inquiry allows us to do such assessment. The importance and the will to do so, however, may be built into our very worldview. If our worldview is closed to critical inquiry, then we are trapped in a maze of subjectivity.

It would be comforting if all of us were fully aware of what we believed. As finite human beings, that simply does not appear to be the case. Many times it takes experiences that shake up our thinking to discover that we are not living the way we thought we were. Other people, as well, can point out to us, or at least question us regarding our consistency with what we claim to believe. These experiences, too, call for our being open to our willingness to question, analyze, and assess. Knowing and doing is a powerful dynamic in life. The recognition that we are living out what we claim to know provides a powerful sense of fulfillment. Likewise, becoming aware of those times when we are not consistent in doing what we claim to know, allows us a corrective. Moreover, such awareness may lead to our questioning the foundations of our worldview, which, in turn, can lead to worldview shifts.

The Foundation on Which We Live

Again, knowing and doing is a powerful dynamic in life. Our worldview, as Sire points out, may not be exactly what we think it is. No doubt, however, what we show in our words and actions has much to declare about our worldview. Our worldview is the foundation off which we act and move through life. Personal and private analysis of our worldview must begin with profound reflection on how we actually behave. I personally believe there is nothing more disturbing than when I realize that I’m living in a disconnect with what I claim to believe and hold as true.

Thinking, Reading, and Living Worldviewishly

In this technological age, we encounter people from all over the globe who live in different cultures, with totally different backgrounds, values, and language. We also consume an extraordinary amount of books, magazines, blog articles, movies, plays, as well as all the various art forms from painting, photography, to sculpture. How do we think about all the worldviews that form the foundation of what people think, say, and do? Or do we think about it all? Rather than merely defining worldview, I hope this blog encourages readers to think, read, and live worldviewishly. James W. Sire, in his book, The Universe Next Door, provides seven questions we can ask, not only about our own worldview, but also about other people’s worldviews as they proffer what they theorize, hypothesize, think, as well as how they act and live out what they believe.

The questions Sire puts forth are as follows: 1) What is prime reality – the really real? 2) What is the nature of external reality, that is, the world around us? 3) What is a human being? 4) What happens to a person at death? 5) Why is it possible to know anything at all? 6) How do we know right from wrong? 7) What is the meaning of human history?

Most philosophers, theologians, ethicists, artists, and others may not have an answer for all these questions, but they most likely have considered some of them in detail. Indeed, systems of thought seek to answer these questions in some systemic and logical manner. The questions cover the gamut of philosophical thought that people have asked from the docks and streets to the ivory tower of academics. Ontology, identity of nature, anthropology, death and finitude, epistemology, and understanding of history are all covered by these seven questions. And they are questions we can ask as we talk with others, read what others write, think, and say, as well as recognizing how they live. They are questions we can ask about our own take on existence as well. Then there are those uncomfortable questions: How am I living? Does what I do align with what I claim to believe? If not, how should I then live? Knowing and doing – how do we put it togehter? These questions, as well as others, can help us think, read, and live worldviewishly.

Conclusion

No doubt, Sire’s discussion and what I’ve said here are couched in a worldview. We cannot escape our worldview, even to think about, discuss, and act on our and other people’s worldviews. Hopefully, this blog will encourage readers to reflect upon, contemplate, and delineate their personal view of existence. I believe if we have a solid understanding of what we believe, how we think about the world and others, and how we grasp the major questions of life, then we might be less reactive when we encounter horrific events. Moreover, we can begin to think for ourselves rather than jumping on the bandwagon of newscasters, talk-show hosts, and politicians. My personal worldview calls us out to embrace the freedom to think about our own lives, shape our worldviews as consciously, with as much awareness as possible, and to live them out as consistently as we know how. All the time, however, we remain open to critique, analysis, and further understanding. From my worldview, such a process is called personal and spiritual growth.

John V. Jones, Jr, PH.D., LPC-S/June 14th, 2016

GENERAL ESSAY

Introduction

I have a confession to make. I am addicted to reading. There is no better way I like to spend my time, leisure or otherwise, than exploring the pages of a book. I’ll take a plunge into anything I can get my hands on that has to do with ideas, creativity, imagination, or critical inquiry. I devour books on a consistent basis, taking in poetry and prose fiction, as well as non-fiction essays, well-researched biographies, philosophy, science, theology and Christian thought. In a word, I love to read, research, and study the history of ideas. Most of all, I enjoy delving into the mind of various thinkers to explore how they used their creativity and imagination to derive their theories. What were the roads they traveled to reach certain conclusions? What were the experiences they encountered and barriers they faced in shaping their thought? What difficulties and nagging doubts did they have to work through to get to where they got? What fortuitous events played in contributing to their creativity and discovery? I could go on and on because since reading has become such a habit for me, I find myself at times in what Csikszentmihalyi Mihaly describes as flow, sitting with a book deep into midnight and the early morning hours without noticing how much time has passed.

For 25 plus years, I also have worked as a professor. Teaching at the university level was a goal I set for myself many years ago, and through sinuous paths eventually reached my target. I have discovered, however, that reaching one goal is only a starting point for many other ventures. I believe my paths will always take me into the history of thought, and the impact that ideas have had on people across history. From my perspective, being a good prof entails taking complex information and breaking it down into more simplified forms so that students can digest it. That does not mean over-simplifying information, but clarifying it in ways that students can take it in, process it, and hopefully be encouraged to explore it at deeper levels. Even apparent simple information may rest on a ton of unexplored premises. What is meaningful for me is getting at the ideas and thoughts that lie behind certain claims to truth. Such work I could not do if I didn’t thoroughly enjoy reading the way I do, or if I didn’t form the critical habits that go hand-in-hand with directed reading and analyzing information. I consider such a life of reading, studying, and teaching to be my calling. There is an exhilaration that goes with reading and studying that I believe emerges from both the heart and the mind. Much too often, these two ways of experiencing life are placed in conflict with one another. This blog article explores the heart and the mind and their relationship to reading and studying. How do these two aspects of our being human contribute to what goes into the effort after understanding, and how do they explain an individual’s passion for knowledge and wisdom?

Reading Directs Thinking versus Thinking Directs Reading

There’s reading. And then, there is reading – study, analysis, critical inquiry, determining whether or not what an author says holds together. Even if an author makes a good case, do I agree with his or her position or not? Why or why not? Does a theorist’s claims align with, alter, or expand on how I see and understand things? Although now and then I enjoy relaxing with my detective and other kinds of light fiction, the more critical type of reading is what I pursue most of my time. There are more books than one can imagine that delineate different ways, methods, and techniques of how to read and study. Method and techniques applied to reading, while important, are areas I want to explore in the near future. For now, on this blog, what I want to touch on is the notion of how both the heart and the mind hold a place in an effort after knowledge, understanding, and wisdom. Some might ask: are not the heart and the mind at odds in such pursuits? This discussion revolves around an approach to Biblical reading called Lectio Divina, a topic for another blog. At this point, suffice it to say that such an approach to reading was developed fully in the Middle Ages to get at the meaning of Biblical texts in the pursuit to know God. I first came across these ideas on reading through Christian writer James Sire’s, Habits of the Mind. Sire addresses the apparent conflict that has raged across the ages, the clash between reading with the heart versus reading with the mind. He designates these ways of reading respectively as Reading Directs Thinking versus Thinking Directs Reading. To pursue a life of reading and study in the manner that Sire discusses, one must develop what he calls a habit of mind. Much of what I discuss on this blog I take from Sire’s work.

Many who practice Lectio Divina will not accept much of what I’ll say in this article about this approach to reading. Historically, Lectio Divina has been approached as a mystical encounter with a Biblical text. Although I do not discount such experiences, I prefer Sire’s position that addresses the need to combine head with heart rather than pitting them against one another. As a Christian, I would rather approach Lectio Divina as both an encounter with Scripture (Reading Directs Thinking) and as an approach to studying the text (Thinking Directs Reading) to get at its meaning, what the author seeks to convey, and what implications the text has for living out one’s life. Both habits of reading, I believe, go hand-in-hand, rather than being antithetical to one another. Sire points out that in the Middle Ages, monastics and scholastics were at odds regarding Biblical reading and study. When the monastics emphasize the habit of Reading Directs Thinking at the expense of the other, the scholastics believed they unwittingly fell into a personal and radical subjective mysticism that could not be held in check regarding the truth of Scripture. When the scholastics exercised the habit of Thinking Directs Reading over the former, monastics believed they instituted a cold scholasticism, an intellectualized Christendom that lacked the Biblical emphasis of humility leading to understanding and wisdom. Note, however, that with either position both reading and thinking are involved. The scholastic scholars believed the monastics, however, handed thinking and rationality the short end of the stick. The monastic monks countered that the scholastic scholars viewed Biblical texts as just another object of study without any implications for one’s life. Such distinctions may mean little to those who do not profess Christianity. But for those of us who do, how do we combine head and heart in approaching Biblical texts?

Reading Directs Thinking. When Reading Directs Thinking, the reader encounters the text, takes it in, so to speak, and breathes in the text so as to live it outwardly. The meaning of the text addresses the core – the heart – of the reader who seeks to garner meaning from the text. Readers draw on their own experience as they engage the written words. Texts are read repetitively, slowly, thoughtfully, and reverently. This type of reading draws on our memory because the words we read we have read before. We have a previous understanding of what they mean based on our repetitive reading of the texts. The experience of reading is a personally contextualized one, and what we encounter  impacts us through an inner spirituality. Those who seek to let Reading Direct Thinking speak of a text as staying with them, haunting them, revitalizing them, or refreshing them. The monastics would have no part of the Scholastics’ efforts to analyze, critique, and systematize their understanding of various texts, particularly Biblical texts. The monastics viewed such endeavors as antithetical to spiritual formation. No doubt, however, mysticism led to a disparagement of the mind in the development of theology and Christian thought. An emphasis on rationality was suspect to these monks who set rationality against spirituality. The monastics valued what they regarded as the heart’s way of knowing.

Thinking Directs Reading. When Thinking Directs Reading, one engages serious study of a text. We study a text to mine it for information, to gain perspective, to obtain reflective insight, to see the text in its proper context, and to hopefully garner from the text what it sets for us to understand, and how it calls for us to live. The Scholastics were reading Biblical texts to learn the truth. Their take on understanding involved a highly rational approach to study. They did not care to track with the monastics and what the scholastic scholars viewed as an extreme mysticism. These scholastic scholars, such as Thomas Aquinas and those who came after him during the Reformation, used a variety of methods, tools, and historical contexts to study and exegete the text. Through the centuries, Biblical study methods have continued to develop through such efforts as the study of original languages, (Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic, etc.), and the field of textual criticism. No doubt, excessive scholasticism contributed its share to an intellectualized theology that sought to reconcile Christian ideas with philosophical categories rather than seeking to answer philosophical questions via Christian thought. These scholars emphasized a form of rationalism that could lead to intellectual understanding without spiritual formation. The Scholastics valued what they regarded as the mind’s way of knowing.

There is a need to heal the tear between the heart and the mind. I think this is particularly true regarding Biblical texts. If we are to read so as to build knowledge, to gain understanding, to acquire wisdom, and to discover truth, we must study, analyze, and critique, using all the critical tools available to carry out our tasks. Additionally, we must also accept the fact that texts mysteriously engage and touch us on a deep level, passionately speaking to us regarding how we are presently living our lives, showing us how we should be living our lives day-to-day, and forcefully challenging and convicting us toward acting on what we understand to be true. The separation of these two approaches is tantamount to dissecting the mind from the heart, soul, or spirit. It is taking the human being, placing him under a microscope, dissecting his parts, and never putting him back together again.

Conclusion

Sire rightly, I believe, views the monastic-scholastic split, the heart versus the mind, as a false dichotomy. From a Biblical perspective he points to the greatest commandment, Matthew 22:37: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and with all your mind. Sire speaks to the need to combine the heart and the mind. Whether it’s reading Biblical texts or poetry, prose, and non-fiction, Sire holds, and I agree with him, that we can approach various texts, encounter them, enter them, yet back away and critique and study them. Reading without study can lead us to miss important meanings in the text. Study without passionately confronting the text can lead to a cold intellectualism that can, in turn, lead to our overlooking the impact that a text has for our lives. For next month’s blog article, I will delve into the six-point technique that Sire describes in his approach to Lectio Divina, as well as his recommendations for how to combine heart and mind in reading, sharing his examples of various texts to approach and study.

Does Reading Direct Thinking, or does Thinking Direct Reading? There is a tension here that I think we must simply hold onto and embrace, seeking not to dichotomize the two approaches, and to avoid rending the heart from the mind. Perhaps Pascal’s quote holds this tension best: The heart has reasons that reason cannot understand. In Scripture we read constantly about the heart and the mind, as well as the soul and the spirit. What do the words, mind, heart, soul, and spirit really mean in describing the human being? What part do they play in our reasoning, gaining knowledge, and living wisely? Perhaps rationality alone will not answer such questions for us. But for those of you who love to read, reflect on how you approach texts that you enjoy reading.  Ponder how and why you find personal meaning in reading and studying certain texts. Choose some short passages over the next month and read them repetitively, attending to them closely. Become aware of how your understanding of them might develop as your read them slowly, attentively, and repetitively. Then think about those texts you have read and choose those into which you would more deeply like to delve so as to analyze them more closely. Utilize any tools you find necessary for your study – historical contexts, lexicons, word studies, commentaries, language tools, etc. Such an approach to texts is for those who love to read, study, analyze, and critique, so as to accrue a deeper understanding of what they read, to obtain meaning from what they read, and to garner something regarding the truth.

John V. Jones, Jr., PH.D., LPCS/May 14th, 2016

GENERAL ESSAY

[This discussion is the third of a three-part exploration of the human capacity for meaning-making. This article also continues a series I began in October, 2015. The series of articles as projected into the future will cover various themes that I explore with clients within the counseling framework I practice.]

– – Commit all your work to the Lord, and he will establish your plans. (Proverbs 16:3)

Introduction

I believe that one of the major struggles for our lives entails our finding meaning and purpose in our day-to-day living. People might experience the Proverb that I quoted to introduce this discussion on meaning making in a variety of ways. Some people might wonder why plan at all. Other people might ask: What is my part in the struggle of living? Although I believe the Proverb allows for rest, it does not provide an excuse for irresponsibility, lack of planning, or slothfulness of any kind. There’s a commitment to what one believes, and in the case of the Proverb, in whom one believes, and then there follows the day-to-day planning out of how one lives. There’s an ultimate promise, but there is nothing included in that promise that offers a guarantee that one’s day-to-day journey will be smooth sailing. The working out of life involves our daily grind of carrying out our plans, while being committed to our values, and facing the experiences that life throws at us. I firmly believe that it is through these hour-by-hour, day-by-day, and year-to-year experiences that we come to understand how we make meaning of our existence. Our mind is a wonderful tool to help us reflect upon, embrace, and make sense of our experiences. Yet we can use our mind to do something else that can take us off track of our journey. We can easily get lost in the search for abstractions, what I call in the quest for meaning, the search for the Big M.

The Big M

Have you ever been There? You know, that place everyone is trying to reach. I’m not sure where There is, but it has some seemingly common characteristics. It’s a place where I no longer have to strive, work, or struggle. It’s a place where everything will be answered, and I’ll have no more questions. It’s a place where I no longer have to fear anything at all or be concerned about the vicissitudes of life. I will have arrived. I’ll be There. As a Christian although I believe in a place of faith and rest, I do not believe that any such place as There exists for our human experience – not on this side of life anyway. Nor do I believe that we are promised such a life. On the contrary, I believe that meaning, rather than being some ultimate discovery that resolves every question about life, can be achieved through our daily tasks of living. I can find meaning in the moment – just living, breathing, seeing the beauty of nature, enjoying the day, relaxing in the moment, and reflecting on simply being alive. But more importantly, I can find meaning in the way I face my daily grind of living and seek to make sense of the experiences that life brings my way, those enjoyable, as well as those that are painful. When I seek to live out what I claim to believe and value, both failing and accomplishing that day-to-day, I can begin to make meaning of what it is to carve out a life.

When our quest for meaning, however, becomes the search for the ultimate, one-time discovery – the Big M – it can become a frustrating and disturbing quest indeed. We all know and have heard various metaphors: the proverbial pot of gold; the secret oracle that sums up all life’s questions; the miracle that removes all problems of living from one’s calendar. The search for the giant M in the sky will frustrate people for the simple reason that the nagging question tends to hang on as to whether or not they have, in fact, discovered the right M. Viktor Frankl spoke, instead, about meaning being an achievement that we carve out through our day-to-day struggles. The Book of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes address the need to seek for and acquire wisdom for living. The problem with the Big M is that it too easily becomes an empty abstraction. No doubt I can say that I find meaning through my family, friendships, work, art, community, etc. Such statements can entail day-to-day concrete experiences, or they can be meaningless and empty abstractions. I can make the summation that, I find deep meaning in my career. But how does that summation unfold in the hours I pour into my work that, in fact, leads to something meaningful and purposeful? Is it something I merely say that lacks evidence that my work is truly meaningful? Even as a Christian, I can make the claim, I find meaning ultimately in God. Such a statement can indeed be truly meaningful to the person who makes it. But do I carry it out in a day-to-day realization? If not, then such a statement, as pious as it sounds, can be as empty as any other abstraction that has no connection with living.

As Frankl puts it, I can encounter the daily tasks of living as drudgery, something merely to get through, or as meaningful experiences that hold something to teach me about living. That is not to say that all experiences are of equal value, but they are all part of our living. How we face them and carry them out says much about our mind – our attitude toward living, our modus operandi of  how we approach the tasks of life. I believe the most important contribution to our meaningful existence entails clarifying what we indeed believe in our heart-of-hearts, what we truly value, and then living in alignment with what we claim. Such a way of living seems to me to address the notion of fulfillment and joy, knowing that life will involve all the crazy and sinuous paths that will challenge what we claim to believe while also helping us adjust our compasses of how we go about life.

The Big M is a trap. Be aware of it. Be leery of it. Abstractions without concrete realizations, rather than having meaning, are empty of meaning.

Conclusion

As I reflect on this three-part series on the quest for meaning, I purposely have framed the discussion to encourage anyone to step into the journey for the quest for meaning. I hope to embolden anyone to, indeed, ask the bold questions about meaning, purpose, core beliefs, and values. These are not easy questions, yet I firmly believe facing them brings something important to living that we would otherwise miss if we chose simply not to ask such questions. There are in fact those who claim to believe that life is meaningless and absurd, as Albert Camus has stated in his writings. Yet Camus’ rebellion, even if he believed that it added up to no more than his concrete life, is a telling tale. [In one of James Sire’s works, he speaks of Camus, before his untimely death, as entertaining some serious questions about the existence of God.] People may believe, or want to believe, in the absurdity of existence; however, they appear to find it difficult to live consistently that abstraction with their day-to-day existence, whether it be toward their work, art, or loved ones. The fact that they place value into something or someone speaks to people’s need for meaning.

John V. Jones, Jr., PH.D., LPC-S/April 14, 2016

GENERAL ESSAY

Introduction

Even in this skeptical age, I think it would be a safe bet to claim that many people still value a search for the truth. Obviously throughout the centuries debates have raged over the question: What is truth? How do we know when we have found the truth of something? How can be sure that we, in fact, possess the truth? People like to play the self-stultifying word game, everything is relative, yet they despise lies, betrayal, and deceit. As well, we most likely have all struggled with the question surrounding truth and its possession. Well, believe it or not, I’m NOT going to continue with the philosophical exploration of the question, what is truth?. I’m not going to try to resolve the dialectic of absolutism versus relativity. As someone who believes in the notion of truth, I do, however, want to explore what some call the quest for certainty. And particularly how such a quest relates to the notion of change is something that has always interested me. Change is something that is scary for many people. The quest for certainty most definitely has an upside, yet when it seeks to look in the face of existence that is constant change so as to negate it, that is when it carries a dangerous downside.

The Desire to Know

The upside in the quest for certainty is most readily witnessed when it translates into the desire for knowledge, understanding, and wisdom. The desire to know, to be sure about certain things has spawned creativity in human activity and interaction across various fields of endeavor, including philosophy, the sciences, and the arts. Whether it’s the practicality in solving certain problems or simply the deep satisfaction of exploring the unknown, these various fields of endeavor are peoples’ stance on how they have come to understand the human condition, as well as the universe in which human beings find themselves. I believe one should hope that whatever conditions exist, such quests never cease to exist. Such desire for knowledge, understanding, and wisdom is the basis for how civilizations come about. Hopefully, there will always be those who possess that sense of awe and wonder regarding ourselves and the universe in which we exist that lead them to never rest, to never cease, in the pursuit of knowledge. Is this a Faustian heart? Then so be it. We can have it without making a deal with Mephistopheles.

Life as Change

If there’s one thing that seems to be certain about us, it’s that we change across time. Change is an experience that can be painful and scary. Think of the phrase, growing pangs. We grow. We develop physically, mentally, and spiritually. Although genetics has much to say about some of our development, we also make choices as to how we grow in all these areas. Certainty and change can appear at first glance to be diametrically opposed. Can we find certainty in the face of change? I guess one way to think about this paradox is to reflect on the fact that I am the same person who was born in 1947, yet I have changed over the many years that have followed that birth. In one sense, I’m that person, yet I’m not the same person at all. I am reminded of Thomas Wolfe’s You Can’t Go Home Again.

While the upside of the quest for certainty is its translation into the desire to know and to understand, the downside of the quest is when it is used in the hope for a false sense of security, particularly securing one against the fear of change. There are simply a lot of things about living where we have to admit that we lack certainty. I watched my dad go through much uncertainty when the plant that manufactured oil well equipment for which he worked shut down in the 1970’s. He was out of work for about a year. Those supposedly secure jobs don’t last forever like we hope. Marriages don’t last for a lifetime like we hope. We watch loved ones grow old and eventually attend their funerals. We are reminded that we too grow old and the cemetery is our destination as well. When the quest for certainty is a quest for some foundation that wards off the unknowns in living, then we are asking too much for our finite knowledge. People refuse to take risks because they want guarantees. Change is the great unknown. Sometimes an entire country of people wake up one morning, and their currency is worthless; their economy and means for carving out a living for themselves are gone. Change is an unknown frontier, and it is ominous and frightening at times. A quest for certainty in our day-to-day living that alters that reality is not a quest we will complete. It is a quest fraught with depression and anxiety, fear of the unknown, the hope for absolute guarantees.

Yet we can embrace change as an exciting possibility. We can engage that continuum we are on between who we are now and the potential of who we can become. Think about it this way. Life is change. If you stop changing, you’re not alive. Change does not have to mean that we can’t discover truths. It for sure doesn’t mean that we cannot gain in knowledge, understanding, and wisdom. Indeed, I would venture, expanding on the notion of the one thing that is certain is change, that, in our finite existence, what we don’t know in infinitely greater than what we do know. But we can continue to seek knowledge. But in seeking knowledge, understanding, and wisdom, perhaps what we should not seek is a guarantee that we can be certain of all that life will throw at us, that we can stay the uncertainties of living.

Conclusion

What am I not saying? For sure, I’m not saying that we cannot discover truths, and ways of living that can enhance or existence. In response to the above examples I gave, we can garner wisdom in how to plan for possibly unplanned unemployment. For sure, we can pursue economic knowledge that protects our way of living. We can embrace what it means to mature, grow older, and what that means for our later years of existence. But if one’s quest for certainty is to totally conquer the unknown and the anxiety it engenders, then all I can say is good luck. A life of knowledge, understanding, and wisdom can indeed help us embrace and live with the reality of what we do know, as well as what we don’t know.

John V. Jones, Jr., PhD, LPC-S/January 14, 2016

GENERAL ESSAY