When Intention Gets Lost in Creation

Hannibal Smith would shake his head disappointingly, as our plan most certainly did not come together. Rather than make excuses on why, I simply prefer to acknowledge that as a team, we did not get the points intended across cohesively. For that, I am sorry and hope that some of the intended points came to the surface. At this point, I am not speaking for my team, as I don’t want to be presumptuous and assume they feel as I do or to assume a self-appointed position to speak for people who have not asked me to do so.

With that said, I would like to discuss something that I felt was presented properly of myself, that was not received in the intended context as I found out after class while talking to a classmate. When I discussed my experience with tragedy when I was a child, I discussed how I experienced a dream as I went into a seizure that I called “absolute nothingness”. The most absolute calm and state of simply nothing. Another way I would describe it is, how I imagine “non-existence”. I believe that at this point is where the confusion may come to some. So allow me to clarify, by restating the point of how it relates to Kierkegaard’s anxiety.

I was brought up to be Irish Catholic, with very little success. My grandmother on my father’s side was an incredibly mean and nasty woman who had an unnecessarily nasty tongue that spout anger, judgment and resentment. She died when I was 5, and I only felt bad as it made my grandfather sad and he was a very kind and sweet man. My father however took on much of his mother’s traits, and when I questioned the concepts of God that seemed to not make sense, it was made clear that I should shut my mouth. This was the same during Sunday “school”, or any other religious aspect around me. I did not really believe a big invisible man wasted his time watching everyone in judgment, with love, in order to see if we should all burn for eternity or spend eternity praising him while running his chores and fighting his wars. However, the anxiety of making the wrong choices was heavily a part of me, and I would say was strong enough a part of my life then for me to say it kept me agnostic. This anxiety was in the same manner Kierkegaard speaks of in terms of it preceding sin, or of those lead astray by the understanding of a finite outcome. I wasn’t exactly sure why something I felt was so terrible and horrifying still held so much power over my mind to where the notion of death or being “sinful” brought such anxiety. Now we get to the tornado.

I will spare graphic detail and simplify it by stating that the scene was grisly showcased death and savagery to a rather fine point. This was followed by so many people saying a few statements that to this day anger me due to their absolute ignorant and self-segregating component of well-intended willful ignorance: “I couldn’t imagine”, “god works in mysterious ways”, “gods will/plan/any derivative”, “we/you/they were blessed” or any derivative and, one of the most arrogant I find, “I/we/they will pray for you/them/us”. The obvious questions came to mind when I heard these, like what plan of an all loving god would include needlessly killing 9 children, wounding so many others in such graphic a manner in front of about a hundred other children? If we were blessed, why weren’t the others? Were they evil? I had to watch my first friend I ever met through school and liked so much, Adam Soltis sliced throughout his body with glass shrapnel and crushed savagely by a large concrete wall because I was a blessed catholic, and as a Jew, he did not accept Jesus as the messiah? If we were so blessed, why did the event fill me with fear, anger and anxiety while taking away any verbal outlet as no one had time or cared to listen? Or simply wrote off my woes as I was “just a kid”? Needless to say, those questions received no valid answer and the universe remained as quiet as expected. To say I had faith would be quite a jump. Through that, I still had the anxiety however.

                Then came my “experience” or dream. This is when I fully understood just how easy it was to hold on to the notion that death is not the actual end. The difficulty to accepting we are finite ourselves, and that death may very well actually be “the end” for us seemed rather apparent to me when I came to in a hospital being told that I was having seizures. The “nothingness” that I felt made me feel calm and happy. Not because I thought I died, or that it was how it may feel just before you die; but rather it made me feel like I understood that I existed, and that I didn’t need a purpose for existing. It seemed so egotistical to me that I ever felt it was important for my life to be defined by something greater to have created me for some manner of intent. I lost all anxiety. This is where I disagree with Kierkegaard, as I lost the anxiety, as I believe, not because I am lost, but rather because I no longer felt the subconscious need to define my life through some immeasurable notion of omnipotent meaning. I lost the anxiety of death being inevitable, with no amount of suicide, but rather a vibrant outlook on life and how enjoyable all experiences are, the good and the wretched; not because they have some given meaning, just simply because I happened to be. My life’s meaning, I believe, is simply defined by compounded choices that I have made and no other reason, and I think that is incredibly beautiful!

Woeful, or just misunderstood?

I often feel that I’m not among the majority in how I interpret the mood of concepts such as the one Camus appears to convey through The Myth of Sisyphus. Suicide or recovery. Accept that life is meaningless and face the absurd or have a leap of faith and hope a god or gods are guiding us to life beyond where meaning is plentiful. In most cases people put this notion in a manner of optimism vs. pessimism, or even pessimism vs. pessimism, and place a negative connotation on the prospect that life, in and of itself, is simply meaningless. Even if the person ultimately agrees with Camus’ view that it is meaningless, they still present it in a downtrodden manner typically. I noticed this very heavily in our discussion, and I am always very curious why the prospect that life is meaningless is very rarely ever considered the optimistic point of view? Isn’t this the main point that begs reflection from his words and concepts he presents? Why does the prospect that in the grand scheme of existence, we are insignificant specs of various forms of mass to a universe of no consciousness towards the very notion that we even exist, or of existence in the first place, cause so many to become upset, sad, depressed, angry, defensive or even suicidal? Why do so many draw a conclusion of the absurdity of life in a very similar manner as Camus, such as Kierkegaard, and then turn away from the very inherent contradiction that they proposed? Is the idea that we are not here specifically to perform tasks that were pre-ordained by someone or something “greater” than ourselves one that should raise so much ire? Or is it an idea that is meant to propose contemplation of how we see “life” in the very first place? A notion that while “we” are only the sum of compounded personal choices, these were choices that were made of our own cognition, making “life” a singular aspect where it becomes plain and simply our own? What is it about being alone in this universe that hurts the human ego so severely? Should this not make life seem that much more wonderful and positive? To see life as an improbable occurrence set in motion by specific occurrences for absolutely no specific meaning or reason other than a chain of particulate cause and effect events, seems like winning the universal lottery, does it not? Why can happiness only derive from feeling someone or something else gave meaning and purpose to life? 

                Personally, I find the notion that there is no meaning to life to be absolutely beautiful and fantastic! I believe that ultimately, this is where Camus guided the reader with the notions presented. By realizing the utter absurdity of our own existence, it destroys the mental linearity we place on “ourselves” and to enjoy this meaningless existence. To accept absolute freedom, an existence with no strings, no path, no universal answer, no significance, no unearthly or earthly guidance, where we are responsible for the life we chose to create should arouse passion in one’s mind I believe. We all know inevitably we will die, so why keep living? To me, that answer seems inherent in the question, because we are alive. There are so many amazing things in this world to experience and learn. I could spend so many lifetimes simply learning to play every instrument that already exists. Traveling and sharing in other cultures, customs, interactions, and of course the food. The understanding of the inevitable death and realizing that it presents a limit on time for us I believe is a major point of why humans feel the need to derive meaning from life, an understandable greed that creates a false bravado or ego. This is why I believe eternity has become an obtainable thing (such as eternal life through the blood of/acceptance of Christ), rather than the alternative of eternity simply being infinite. Ever occurring. Vast. Nothing.