Care
He posited that meaning is a function of caring. That is, if you care, then you will find meaning. This seemed almost exactly what that book Zena and the Art of Motorcyle Maintenance was addressing with the concept of Quality. And what Zen talks about with acting choice fully. And perhaps too what Christians mean with the concept of Faith.
The notion is that by Caring deeply about the way that you act, you generate/find meaning in the world.
Someone recently challenged me on my healing. Well, a lot of things, relaly, were challenged. Lets just say I was being an asshole. Not a suprise to those who know me, but I digress.
Someone recently challenged me on my healing. My immediate response was, of course, fuck you. This is despite 4 years of undergratudate education, a juris doctorate and a voracious appetite for literature; the best i could come up with was Fuck You.
But after that angry bit, I did what I always do and sat with the hard part. My appraoch is generally that the hard part might be right, it might be wrong, but if its hard to hear, its probably worth investigating.
So thats it really...Has my illness become a crutch now? Am I using it to justify certain behaviors? Am I really healing, psycologically, as fast as I can, or am I more in love with the scars than moving on? In short- do I want to be whole, or fragmented, even if whole is less than I want.
Its complicated. One observation she made was that I fight my own healing regimine. Doing this by not putting myself in a place to get what I deem I need in terms of sleep, relaxation, meditation, supplementation and diet.
It is, in fact, largely in my control, yet I am often caught unawares by the necessities of my needs. As if by denying that they are there, then I deny having been ill, or still being ill. It is, after a time of inquiry, quite selfish really. No, wait, maybe not so much selfish as careless. In some ways I guess I still see myself as a victim. And a victim is not someone who cares about his environment. And without care, you are lost of meaning. And without meaming, there is no purpose and then you are really lost.
Being ill disrupts all that. A lot of the meaning we once had is dashed. Basic life presumptions are just humilated over and over and over. Each time they cautiously build up again to a point of pride, down into the ditch they are kicked.
You lose hope, which is excusable and even healthy, but later you give up on Faith. On meaning. on purpose. You see yourself a little piece of flotsam in the massive currents of an ocean that is too large to comprehend.
I am not ashamed of this. You see people reach this place all the time. We call them elderly. When we finally accept that despite all of our cautions, despite all of our plans, our achievements, our memories, our caring, we are going to die- we panic. We reject the things that meant something to us. We stop caring for ourselves. We are lost.
Being ill was pre-mature enlightenment in that sense. But there is a sickness common on that path. A preference for being painless. A preference for a certain state instead of THIS state. After a while you get disgusted with THIS state, and I was disgusted with who I actually was. I sometimes hated the weakness and the illness. This caused me to ignore it and in extnesion- me. that sucks. I may be kinda flawed, but its me.
What we, what I need to do, is take the advice Nessim Teleb once offered: shave on your way to the gallows. I didn't get it at first, but I do now. If you are looking for meaning in life, that is, if life has to play out the way your limited little pea brain expects it to, you will be gravely disspointed. But take care in life, pursue quality, be Faithful, and you (er, I) will find meaning. Make meaning? Whatever.
Ok, I am presing publish instead of reviewing this drivel. I hope it makes sense-ish-ness to you.