Fantastic Tales

I enjoyed Bible stories as a youth. Then those of the “golden age” of science fiction. Even now some space opera and fantasy. All had little twists and turns, many preached a certain view of society. Fortunately, I never confused them with science or history. Sociology – well that hung out somewhere in the middle .

I know the attraction of all those (mostly) male superheroes or charmed individuals who thrive against all odds. But, again, I rarely confused their exploits with what happened in my real life .

What bothers me now is that many people are overwhelmed with a glut of knowledge that still seems unable to predict their individual future usefully. So they cling to militaristic utopias like Heinlein’s StarshipTroopers. Or unfettered economic systems _ some controlled, some free. Or libertarian or dystopian or … And worse, these become not merely touchstones for their own consciousness, which may be a genuinely useful function, but also a blueprint for how society should really be, or actually is, or how they should act .

Ayn Rand is my personal hate. But any fiction is – really – fiction. Each person is more complex than described in a novel. Each society more chaotically unpredictable. Each solution encrusted with its own problems . And each individual life unique.

But not in these tales. “If only” has replaced “once upon a time” in our current fairy tales .

Lost Words

Young people tend to have nightmares or fantasies about old people (to be fair, old people reciprocate.) It is usually annoying to read “youngsters” giving us irrelevant advice, writing ridiculous entertainment scripts about elders, or solemnly discussing our plight.

It is true we have slowed down and become more careful. (But hardly so slow as the memory medicine ads would proclaim.) It is usually true that we gradually lose our taste for grand adventures – adventures occur all around us all the time, sometimes as simple as going to the store. We remain fully human, but (in spite of protestation) not as we were at 30 .

I feel a gradual degradation, which I accept (as I must, since – in spite of those ads for expensive medication – it is inevitable). Perhaps the most annoying are the constant little gaps in mind and memory. Particularly nasty are the constant stream of “lost words.” I know exactly what I want to say, know there is a word for it, know I know there is a word for it – but nothing but blank .

That clues me into other patterns I may not be quite aware of. Reflexes, adjustment to light changes, peripheral vision, and on and on .

In fact, what most amazes me in the whole process is how much I used to have, how much I can lose, and how I nevertheless remain me.

“Life is short, art is long”

“Life is short, but art is long” is one of those old Roman sayings that seem to make sense until we think about it. Up to a few hundred years ago, people conceived of time much differently than we do. Aboriginal tribes existed in a perpetual present, surrounded by “dreamtime” past and future. Civilized folks considered the past as a few hundred or thousand years – back to the Egyptians or some mythical beginning. Deep philosophers assumed the world to always have been as it is, possibly cycling through various stages .

More than that – in direct opposition to current ideas of progress – that past was always better, golden, inhabited by gods or semi-gods. Ancient art was always to be copied or imitated since the degenerate present could not compete. Thus “art is long”.

Now we laugh at a few thousand years. We know the world goes back a few billion, amazing creatures hundreds of millions, people like us over 100,000. And the world keeps changing. And “new improved” is demonstrably better than the old junk .

As for art … well it’s really as “short” as life. Useful for a generation or so at most. Like any legacy, soon gone with the wind, without even the solace of a grave marker .

As for other ” wise”, “golden”, sayings, ideas, and ideals of classic ancient cultures – don’t get me started .

Latin and Calculus

Striving suburban schools in the early ’60s would push Latin and calculus on “college track” students. The idea was – as it had been for centuries – that at least it would develop logic skills, language flexibility, and help us think more clearly .

Nowadays these courses are rarely taught in public schools. For one thing there is less overt “tracking” of students supposedly brighter than others. But mostly, Latin and calculus are seen as pretty useless compared to all the things kids “really need to know“.

I admit I’ve rarely used Latin and never touched calculus in almost 70 years. In that sense, I suppose it was wasted time. And yet …

It is good to get a firm logical base. Video games, wrapped in sensory candy, do not have quite the same applicability. The dry, hard exercises of calculus forced one to confront bare bones rules. Latin required a completely new and foreign manner of thinking and writing .

I have over my lifetime frequently felt the effects of that intellectual workout during my adolescence. Clear logic and formal observation of patterns have stayed with me and enriched my consciousness .

I know it’s not for everyone, possibly gone for anyone, but perhaps another meaningful cultural loss in our downward spiral .

Almost Right

People like to seize on the clearest and simplest explanations of phenomena. Things fall to earth because they “want to be nearer to it”. The Earth is flat. Those explanations are, actually, almost right. They are good enough for everyday life. They only fail if one is trying to predict something or control it. Malaria was associated, rightly, with bad air and swamps. Which just happened to also be filled with disease carrying mosquitoes. Avoiding the bad air in season almost worked very well. But it was useless for an eventual solution which required either draining or spraying the swamps.

I’m reminded of this with the MAHA fanatics, who once again want clean, simple explanations to complex problems. They point out that “science was wrong” in believing that COVID 19 was spread by infected air particles (largely able to be stopped by masks) when it was actually conveyed by tiny free floating viruses (against which most masks were useless). MAHA doesn’t believe science should ever be wrong _ if science gives incorrect advice it’s because scientists have nasty secret agendas .

Probably science has become much too complicated for most of us to understand. And it is still notably wrong or incoherent or provisional in many matters of health. So if flat earth and bad air were good enough for our grandparents, folks are sure they should be good enough for us .

Plato

Now that rich white men have seized power, studying dead white men is all the rage. Mostly it’s a social signal to show who has “merit.” Among the things one must know to be admitted to the club is a gloss of Plato .

I’ve read Plato. I found him a boring ignorant old fool. As are the philosophical musings of anything written before the 19th century – particularly before Darwin and Einstein who finally placed humans properly in the universe .

I enthusiastically enjoy history. I freely admit that any human over the last 50,000 years could think as well as I do, experience life just as deeply. People are complex, amazing, and deal with existence in miraculous ways .

But logic – Plato is very logical, for example – is a tricky tool. Useful but easily dangerous. Politicians, preachers, and various madmen are always able to construct wonderful logical castles on completely wrong and stupid foundations. Plato sees visions of “real ideal” and imagines fairy tale perfect men who wisely use logic to rule everything. He includes souls and reincarnation. In fact, he has no idea of everything we actually know about – well – everything .

Oh, there are major things still unknown and maybe unknowable. The nature of time, the meaning of consciousness, the purpose (if any) of life. None of that related to the cold dead weight of writings such as the Republic.

Should Be Better, Could Be Worse

Pop psychology asks “is the glass half empty or half full?” I’m a middling type, so I always thought “both”. I was more aware that by tomorrow the glass might be overflowing, dry, or broken .

I’ve led a fortunate life. One of the great gifts – unappreciated at the time – was a spell of near poverty when I was a young adult. It put some perspective into my outlook. Since then, I’ve always been much more keenly aware of the difficulties others have than of their imagined happiness .

It settled into “should be better, could be worse”. That philosophy has served well at work, raising a family, and now in retirement. Half empty, half full, no matter, adjust and seize the day .

Interestingly, most of it is a simple mental adjustment. After all, a monk sworn to poverty can be quite content. Wealthy people with the world at their fingertips can be neurotically miserable. I’ve cultivated a sense of permanent contentment, as opposed to the militant envy screamed by this culture and its commercials .

Anyway, there the glass sits, inertly evoking whatever mood we desire. That trick of permanent uncertainty and our ability to control how we feel about it is one of the greatest glories of being human .

Wind and (A)I

Long Island has so far been spared most of the more severe aspects of climate change. A little drought, more rain during storms. Rising sea levels in the bays wreaking havoc with ecologies and worrying shoreline property owners. Oh, and wind …

I was walking in the park yesterday into a cold fierce gale. Now, climate deniers will say there have always been such things, but in my experience they seem to be increasing. Anyway, cold, cutting, but benign enough. I smiled into the frosty blow, leaned forward, and enjoyed the minor adventure .

That in a nutshell is why being human is not simply being an intelligence. I feel the wind and experience the world at an animal level that cannot be wired into a machine. My hormones and flesh react into an engulfing experience .

Now, I know AI will be able to measure the wind, maybe use it to adjust things like turbines, record it, “speak” to others of the “facts”. But it does not now – and I claim never will – feel it as I do .

That’s why I pity and fear those who claim they hope to pour themselves into artificial intelligence. Smarts with personality. I think that in so doing their pure logic will be horrific, untethered from the reality of experiences like that wind .

All of that is beyond my influence. I commit once more to enjoying my animal nature deeply and with appreciation .

Que Sera

“Que sera sera, whatever will be will be”, a song from childhood. Nice to embrace as one grows older, but in opposition to progressive capitalism .

It’s kind of a variant on “accept God’s will”, a mantra in some form of almost every religion. So obviously it has relevance to just about how everyone considers life, at least part of the time. Find the good, enjoy the moment, do what must be done, “Don’t worry, be happy” .

Of course we also have that old standby “carpe diem”. Seize the day, grab opportunities, define goals, change things you don’t like. There is no shame in failure, only in never trying.

Two conflicting outlooks. Hegel might claim that of such opposites a synthesis could be formed. But that is wrong. Instead we fragment our times, finding some moments when one approach applies, others when the opposite is appropriate, a lot of situations when neither quite fits .

For me, the resolution has been that rigid dogmatism is useless in life. A person who never lifts a finger is frequently a useless drudge. A maniac who is always taking risks may destroy our community. So we end up back with another aphorism – “moderation, even in moderation” .

Hot Shower

This morning I pulled myself from my comfortable clean insect-free bed. Heated instant coffee in a microwave, drank it gratefully in a soft chair as I watched birds fly against a blue sky behind budding maple branches. Wrote in a journal with a ball-point pen, checked news on the internet. Woke up with a hot shower, shave, brushing teeth. Put on warm clothes, brought in the emptied trash cans and newspaper … and on and on .

Every one of these things would seem miraculous to most humans living over a hundred years ago. Many are still unavailable to many people today. All taken for granted by me .

Electricity! Water! Safety! But you can complete the endless list without help.

A sad note is that we rarely notice how wonderful all this is. From the top down, everyone loves to complain. Our leaders scream that we live in a hell hole surrounded by horrible aliens. Neighbors worry that their house is too old and small, their yards too filled with dust, perhaps their children less than perfect. Ignore the wonderful, concentrate on whatever bothers us (this moment).

I’ve always been a little too complacent and content, more so now that I am elder and retired. I’m amazed that the sun rises, electricity works, and that I am so much alive. And that hot morning shower remains a treat worthy of gods – which in some ways we are .