Boredom

Our 10-year-old grandson has been surrounded by every exotic age-appropriate toy from the cradle on. Today he largely disappears into cyberspace. Nevertheless, for a few years now, he will suddenly stop what he is doing and claim “I’m bored”.

Depression, ennui, boredom are all related. I assume they must have evolved for some reason. After all, other mental states like pain, hunger, sleepiness or even love have at least a purpose we can guess at. But what possible survival boost could being bored offer?

In fact, at first glance, boredom would seem to be an anti-survival skill. You’re sitting safe and comfortably when you are goaded to expose yourself to possible danger. Often it is better to do nothing.

And then there is the extremely strange resolution pattern. Many things can be tried with no result. Still bored. But a little later the same activity might seem very interesting. Weird.

I haven’t a clue. Like everyone else, I just throw ideas at depression, ennui, or boredom. I try various tasks with only partial and temporary success. Then – I get fully interested.

Until the next time.

Illusion

Our brain does an amazingly good job of organizing random photon bounces into a meaningful and useful construction of objects in our world. Sometimes, of course, it can be mistaken and create an illusion.

An illusion is anything that cannot be confirmed by other senses, logic, or outside observers. Upon examination, what we thought was a snake in the grass may turn out to be a vine (or vice versa!) Consistent verification by alternate means yields what we call a fact.

Agreeing with others’ opinions does not necessarily dispel illusions. Many of us may believe there is a snake when there is none. One viewpoint with one sense is not fully reliable, even for a group.

There has always been an equivalent problem with knowledge, writing, culture. How can we determine illusion? Does it matter anyway? If Alexander the Great is a myth, not real in a factual sense, does it affect me? Who cares? A lot of facts are (in fact) pretty irrelevant.

Today we are fed illusions by the bushel. The internet is filled with influencer sorcerers weaving visions. For most of them we have no way to test validity except with the opinions of others. Is anything we think we know a “fact” or an “illusion”.

Yet, we act on illusions all the time. I may run away from our imaginary snake. A whole mob may run away from an imaginary dangerous illusion. We vote based on compelling illusionary advertising.

Perhaps that’s no more dangerous than it ever was. Most cultured belief has always been of that nature. There is comfort in believing that an untested cohesive illusion is fact. At some point, we may be shocked to encounter factual reality

Sometimes

We are blessed with a mercurial mind. Sometimes, for example, we feel a mastery of our particular universe. Other times we feel helpless. Sometimes we drift entirely out of this time and space, vividly imagining things that never were nor will be.

It’s a gift of our strange over-developed consciousness. Perhaps even an evolutionary trick to comfort us through pain and hard times, when pure logic would surrender and die. A reminder that no matter how sophisticated we may consider ourselves, we truly exist in not one, but infinite (and infinitely varied) dream times.

Ask me what I know of the future and I would honestly answer “nothing”. But that does not prevent me from sometimes imagining possibilities or what is likely to happen. These visions may inspire or terrify, make me wish I could stick around to find out, or be grateful I will never endure. As I said, mercurial.

Sometimes I do in fact believe I have lived in the best of all possible worlds. An easily disproved conceit. I worry about how things have changed: climate, AI, society. And yet, when I try, I remember so many things I once worried about that never came to pass. Sometimes even the nostalgic past can be a mirage.

While life continues, sometimes also, in its astounding variety and kaleidoscopic fractals.

Work is Meaning

There have been many answers to the ancient question “what is the meaning and purpose of life”. I am sure, unless you are a dedicated fanatic, that you can come up with many. Possibly the silliest – currently ruling American society – is that the answer is “work”.

Supposedly that can be traced to the country’s “Protestant ethic” heritage, but as a modest student of history I know that for masses of people – and the common attitude – this was rarely so. There was religion, morality, social progress, and a lot of other noble stuff, as well as less articulated hedonism, happiness, and just getting by.

But today the Orwellian elites have not only seized control of the means of production, but also dictate mythology. Now “work” as they define it is the only virtue. Lack of such work is evil and should be wiped out. Even mindless sanctified work is SO much better than meditation or playing a flute in a tree (unless of course you don’t much want to meditate or toot that flute – work is defined as “forced to do something you don’t want to do”.)

So, madly, we are driven to consider exercise, happiness, consumption, existence itself as meaningless useless wastes of time unless they involve “work”. “Work”, anyway as defined by the myth makers, which somehow always involves coercion and money to yield a spiritual result.

I suspect in the long run alternative answers might be better.

Humpty Dumpty

Louis Carroll had Humpty Dumpty state “words mean what I want them to mean, neither more nor less”. Orwell expanded this into the political realm (“war is peace”) following the Nazis (“work is freedom”). We are living in a time when the meaning of words is as fluid as water.

On the one hand are the straight reversals. “I am honest” claims the dishonest politician. “I’m not a crook” the crook tells us earnestly. And – worse than that _ what do we mean by “honest” or “crook?” And by extension and implication isn’t everyone?

Then there are the all-encompassing labels, when simple values or statements are branded as signals for so much more – usually evil. These are at least our traditional – “traitors”, “communists”, ” “woke”. By making any small idea (“police should be less brutal”) into a monolithic conspiracy including all ideas that the speaker does not like, conversation becomes impossible.

Obviously, when everyone from rulers to influencers to your mother-in-law, neighbor, and children can make any words mean whatever they want, communication cannot happen. Language has been a glory of our species.

In the old days, different languages sounded quite distinct. Now they all sound the same but are incomprehensible except to other members of your tribe.

We all know what happened to Humpty Dumpty.

Normally Inert

In apocryphal metaphor, a frog will not jump out of a slowly warming pan of water until it is too late. Similarly, people continue their normal lives as disaster approaches or rages around them.

When I was much younger, I’d casually wonder what I would have done were I living in Germany in the 30s. Or how I would have reacted in the Roman empire as barbarians invaded distant frontiers, or what I might have done in a medieval European village as plague swept nearby.

Sadly, I now know the answer: nothing at all.

We may dream of being part of or even of influencing grand history, but the fact is we live in daily routine. We are too busy with everything around us to care much about big issues. At least until they strongly affect us.

To be fair, this is evolutionary sanity. Survival overrides everything else. We may use leisure to consider cosmic issues, but often leisure not related to daily life is counterproductive to security and happiness.

So the American voter frogs squat in their warm water, as customs and institutions they took for granted are ripped to shreds and incinerated. The only consolation is that sometimes vast destruction leads to evolutionary (perhaps good) change.

Once upon a time I thought the cataclysm would at least take a while and be imperceptible locally. Now I’m not so sure.

Ignorant Belief

My childhood education was stuffed with scientific outlook. It was a dangerous world out there and we needed all the science we could handle to defeat godless communists and other horrible menaces. Science can, after all, help us build much bigger bombs and delivery systems.

But science is stark, complicated, and based on probability. It’s turned out most folks can’t handle it as a life guide. Belief in anything simplifies a complex world immensely, represents common sense, and ignores annoying exceptions. Most of the time, for an individual, it is comforting and harmless.

If you believe that the lucky penny in your pocket keeps away elephants, you’re in luck. If you believe it helps your team win you will be sporadically rewarded. If you believe it will deliver next week’s lottery, you’ll probably be disappointed. No matter. You have a right to believe anything.

Unfortunately, ignorant belief is not as useful as science in dealing with the “objective world” you and I share. And it may be a danger to others or society. If you believe your sick child will be saved by a lucky penny rather than a doctor’s care, I may decide to help that child and the hell with your belief.

Many beliefs, however comforting to believers, have been horrible to societies. Witness the Nazis or Aztecs.

Humans are complicated and finite in an ever more complicated and infinite universe. Lucky pennies may help any individual. But they can be an evil way to deal with others.

New House

One year after the house across the street burned down, various permits and legal issues have been cleared and building is rapidly underway. A typical American balloon frame. In only a month, concrete has been poured for foundation, the skeleton is complete and plywood is being slapped on.

Americans invented this type of home – stronger than it appears and in some ways ideal as long as there is an abundant supply of milled lumber and cheap nails. Much easier to maintain then old European chateaus – as wealthy expatriates have been discovering for years.

Over a century or so, we have come to expect this to be the absolutely typical housing outside of urban areas. We assume the materials are available and labor is plentiful. Most of the middle class regard it as a birthright.

I suppose that like everything else it will vanish soon.

In the meantime, my wife and old time neighbors complain “too big for the lot” “No personality.” It’s true that current aesthetics (or lack thereof) tries to fit the largest blocky McMansion on as many square inches of property as code allows. People these days live indoors unless away on vacation. A yard larger than a living room is a nuisance. A giant box fits the bill.

Anyway, I enjoy the sense of old-fashioned construction, workers like busy bees in a hive, something quickly emerging from nothing.

Besides, lately complaints are futile and as my radical friends used to say, so it goes.

A Tiny Prayer

I do not believe in an anthropomorphic god. I do not trust any holy writings created by humans, however inspired. I reject the mystic core of the dogmas of major religions.

But I do have a spiritual aspect. I know there is far more to the universe than I can ever know. The only proper feeling is awe and gratefulness for existence.

I recite this mantra each morning and as I wander through each day:

Thank you God. Thank you for this time. Thank you for this day. Thank you for all we have been given.

Thank you for our health. Thank you for our wealth. Thank you for our family.

Help me do what is right. Help me to appreciate everything. Help me to support those I love.

Thank you for all my life and help me to remember it with gratitude.

Okay, it’s not mysterious and deep. But it helps me to center, to put things into perspective, and, yes, to give me a spiritual lift.

Dreams

There are essentially two kinds of dreams.

The first arrives when we are sleeping. It is often realistic, fantastic, and strange. It’s made up, apparently, of odd bits and pieces of memory, neurons firing chaotically, for all we know influences from an alternate reality as well. Unlike “primitives”, we sophisticated folks dismiss it out of hand (possibly wrongly) as nonsense at worst, entertainment, or possible diagnosis and inspiration from the subconscious.

The other case is “waking” dreams, when we construct grandiose plans. Imagination provides a more or less possible future filled with wonders, wealth, influence, whatever our hearts currently desire and of which we feel deprived.

Lately I’ve been very fortunate. My sleep dreams are pleasant and resemble old romantic comedies. My waking dreams tend to be quite congruent with my actual life. It’s a terrific state of being.

Of course, that does promote laziness. I’m afraid of little, I don’t want more. Ambition is limited to enjoying daily life and appreciating each moment. I’ve become a drone. However, not too much of a guilty drone. I’ve done most of what I wanted to do, accomplished some goals that once seemed impossible, and can still enjoy the nostalgic remembrances of having done so.

I suppose that means both kinds of dreams are happily safe for a while.