Orice limitare are un sens atât timp cât se aşază firesc în continuarea unei funcţii existenţiale care se defineşte tocmai prin acesta limită – a o depăşi nu duce la nicio excelenţă, la nicio libertate, ci numai la pierderea conţinutului existenţial definit de acea funcţie existenţială şi susţinut de acea limită; sigur, sunt şi limitări conjuncturale, nefaste, limitări care nu definesc o funcţie existenţială, ci dimpotrivă – o împiedică să se manifeste, îi schimbă formula de bază şi alterează astfel tot conţinutul existenţial .

1. “Bună. Numele meu este Matilda!”

Atenţie: Persoana din spatele acestor rânduri se dă drept Matilda; în esenţă, însă, nu ştie prea multe despre aceasta. Pentru ea, Matilda e ultimul bastion, ultimul refugiu; un petec de pământ în mijlocul oceanului.

Matilda poate să zâmbească. Şi face asta destul de des. Matilda vorbeşte calm, aşezat;  ea ştie întotdeauna ceea ce vrea şi cum să obţină asta.

De ceva timp încoace, Matilda bifează victorie după victorie, mai mici sau mai mari. Fie că a renunţat la fumat, fie că a renunţat la mâncarea nesănătoasă, la gândurile „nesănătoase”, la sacii cu plumb care o trăgeau undeva sub suprafaţa pământului, fie că a reuşit, profesional, interpersonal, social să ajungă acolo unde şi-a propus, Matilda nu e… împlinită.

2. „Why am I sad? Don’t I have more than I ever had? ”

Uneori Matilda simte că are prea mult. Şi, într-adevăr, are destul de multe. Dar tot ceea ce are ea e ca un accesoriu: ceva ce se poate ataşa, ceva opţional, ceva ce o poate face mai drăguţă, mai atrăgătoare, mai specială; nimic din toate astea însă nu rămâne.

Iar aceste accesorii nu sunt doar obiecte. Aceste accesorii sunt şi oameni, sunt şi principii, sunt şi activităţi. Cel puţin virtual, simt că tot ceea ce am mă poate şi mă va părăsi la un moment dat. Ceea ce am nu îmi aparţine mie. E ca şi cum ai încerca să capturezi căldura soarelui de iulie – e ceva irealizabil, oricât de mult ţi-ai dori. E ceva ce se simte. Apoi, you just have to let go.

Mulţi gânditori spun că aici s-ar afla sursa înţelepciunii: în observarea şi conştientizarea buclei perisabilităţii, un fenomen căruia nimic nu îi poate scăpa. Iată că fiinţa umană ar fi, astfel, forţată să accepte existenţa conturată în termenii hazardului şi ai lipsei de liber arbitru. Sigur, poţi să îţi exerciţi această funcţie în jurul căreia se face atât de multă zarvă, dar asta doar într-un cadran de condiţii predeterminate şi sub patronajul tezei perisabilităţii. Şi atunci, cui foloseşte?

Nu ştiu cum stau lucrurile pentru voi, dar eu momentan cunosc doar ceea ce nu sunt. Cunosc ceea ce nu ştiu. Sunt lipsită, însă, de un răspuns în ceea ce priveşte formularea în termeni pozitivi ai identităţii.

1. 2. Existenţa mea, simulacru de logică

E lesne de observat, même din structura acestui articol, ce pasiune are Matilda pentru structurare logică. Ideea că există nişte cifre, o ierarhie, un orar a ajuns să fie un punct de sprijin pentru mine.

Aşa cum la 18 ani, Matilda a întors vehement cârma dinspre artă spre ştiinţă, renunţând sau – să practicăm optimismul – punând în aşteptare îndeletnicirile de până atunci pentru a se imersa înăuntrul black-box-ului[1]. Astfel, expediţiei de cunoaştere a fiinţei umane sub aspectul său raţional şi spiritual i se imprima acum un caracter sistematic, ştiinţific, îndrăznesc să spun.

Sigur, nu pot nega şi nici nu aş vrea să neg revelaţiile însumate pe care această turnură le-a provocat. În foarte multe privinţe, ştiu mai multe despre mine, după expresia non multa, sed multum. Cu toate acestea, exceptând anumite paradigme, simt că psihologia s-a pierdut în denominaţii, în statistică şi discuţii chiţibuşare. Fără a ofensa şi fără a ne îmbrăca în pretenţii false, oare finalitatea psihologiei ca ştiinţă nu este aceea de  a oferi fiinţei umane armele pentru autocunoaştere şi, mai ales, pentru vindecare? Cum putem acorda fiinţei umane un sentiment de belonging, un sentiment clar al rolului şi al misiunii ei pe Pământ? Căci eu – deşi, vorba cântecului, pentru mulţi dintre voi I may seem to be strange archeology – încă mai cred că avem fiecare ceva de spus şi rolul nostru de jucat.

Aşa că, iată, sub aparenţa clarităţii logice, se ascunde faptul că cele mai profunde simţiri şi gânduri voalate din mine sunt tributare încă Necunoscutului. Şi dacă tot am afirmat că ştiu ceea ce nu sunt, iată că:

Nu sunt o persoană „realistă” în termenii pragmatismului. Pentru mine, ceea ce e subtil, ceea ce e mistic, tot ceea ce palpită în subteran, la unison în toate fiinţele umane, acel ceva care e de nedefinit şi intangibil gândirii e cel mai real.

Nu am ancore în această realitate. Pentru mine, ea e… un accesoriu, unul pe care nici măcar nu l-am ales, ci s-a nimerit să îl port. Îmi asum această misiune cu toată priceperea şi seriozitatea de care sunt în stare la 20 de ani. Dar ştiu că e doar un rol. Matilda cea pe care o arăt celorlalţi e contribuţia mea de combustibil la alimentarea imensului Mecanism al „realităţii” noastre.

Atunci, cine poate acorda răspuns întrebărilor cărora le căutăm răspuns de milenii întregi? Întrebărilor cărora le oferim de fiecare dată alte răspunsuri, toate corecte, şi toate greşite? Religia? Filosofia? Ştiinţa?

Cine se mai preocupă de aceste chestiuni? După umila şi nepriceputa mea gândire, toate pot fi pierdute, de toate ne putem debarasa, dar de acest gest colosal ca importanţă – confruntarea cu cele mai importante gândiri ale individului şi, în acelaşi timp, ale umanităţii nu ne putem debarasa fără să provocăm o gaură neagră a lipsei de sens, de speranţă, de voinţă  de viaţă şi voinţă de putere.

Să concluzionăm împreună că am găsit ceva ce e constant? Incertitudinea, vagabondarea prin experienţa vieţii pe Pământ cu simţurile anesteziate şi, mai ales, cu o conştiinţă anesteziată? Să concluzionăm că suntem o întrebare? Sau: Suntem căutarea unui Răspuns?

   Fiinţialitatea umană în finitudinea ei irevocabilă e dată odată cu o lume – lumea aferentă oricărei fiinţe umane, lumea ce face ca un om să fie om – închisoare teribilă şi nevăzută, datul existenţial dincolo de care nu poate fi gândită nicio liberatate deoarece acea libertate înseamnă renunţare la sine, anihilare de sine, sfârşit a tot ceea ce este dat în mod existenţial şi finit – începutul a toate câte sunt e undeva dincoace de ceea ce poate fi sesizat, conceput, reprezentat – eşti om înainte de a fi om şi devii astfel doar odată cu lumea ta – cu lumea sortită dintru început locuirii tale .

My first posting on a blog that has been thrown together to occupy the domain name that is…well…my name.

Months have come and gone, while I struggled to fine a purpose for this insignificant string of 1’s and 0’s in the vast cyber-universe.  Should I go the popular route, and compose and electronic record of what amounts to complete nonsense for the consumption of few who would contain even fewer that gave a shit?  How about the quasi-intellectual blogger, who found a convenient forum to cast sweeping judgments of complex issues with the wave of a keyboard.  Ever so naive to the reality of life and the dangers of taking a hard line stance on any partisan issue.  Of course, I cannot forget the “revenue generation” of internet kids, who’s unique idea has given them the gumption to pursue this concept on a monetary level.  I wish I could gently nudge them back a decade, the fat lady has already left the stage.

The internet somewhat resembles the travels of Columbus, who of course provides me an excuse to flee from work, but who also demonstrated the amazing power of persuasion.  He discovered a land that, although distant, had been inhabited by a population of people for many years.  For shame America!  We must only revere those leaders who blind us through religion and passion, because reason has no place in the reactions of a nation as great as ours.  The Bush’s, Cheney’s, Rove’s, and to a lesser extent, the Clinton’s.  They peddle religion as the novel cause for our indignant attitude against the remaining world population.

This most definitely will read as some sort of liberal, left-wing rant.  Trust me when I promise, it is not the conservative movement that is the impetus, it is the lack of logic and the indoctrination of religious solvency that is most upsetting.  Unfortunately, there is a significant number of Americans who take Glenn Beck seriously.

In the end, I see a few simple truths that are grounded, oddly enough, by a novel published in 1949 by George Orwell.  1984 was the name of the book, and given that this is 2009 it is somewhat humorous that we are far beyond what used to be a distant future fiction.  I’m not purporting that Big Brother is real, but moreover the imminent reality that our technology has a significant potential for misuse.  The main, relevant news networks are no longer “fair & biased” but driven by financial and dramatic goals.  I often wonder when I watch CNN (Fox News is far too mired in its own sickness to endure) whether or not I am learning and judging the issues in our world through a pre-applied corporate filter.  Should I seek truth in the internet?  I say yes, sometimes…

The internet is the single most revolutionary technology to ever be adopted by the human species.  It has literally transformed every aspect of life, and has provided immediate and unfiltered access to opinions that are borderline toxic.  I am amazing and inspired by the internet, but soon I am reminded of the duality of any great human discovery.  It is subject to exploitation not only to the benefit of our species, but to its destruction.

Let’s give Albert Einstein a shout out right now.  The greatest beauty of his work was E=MC^2.  This equation revealed the relationship between the mass of any substance, the speed of light squared, and the insane amount of energy that could be harvested.  Unfortunately, it gave birth to the atomic bomb, with a side of nuclear power.  If nations did not use plutonium for defense, the carbon emissions of our energy sources would be drastically reduced.  The power of that simple equation is truly frightening, because we as humans are capable of so many things, and also of such evil.

If anyone reads this, no matter what your opinion may be of my ramblings, please do me one favor.  Take the time to learn about Carl Sagan, and his Cosmos series that was aired in 1980.  It is the most comprehensive account of spirituality without organized religion – our small yet significant place in the universe – centered around a cosmos that has more mystery, magic, and wonder than any man-made God could provide.  I am a scientist, and a wanna-be cosmologist, so these concepts are like instinct to me.  Others may not find it simple, and will struggle with the immense size and severity of the concepts.  Do not leave it at that…take some time to realize that you, like all else, is capable of understanding this unique puzzle.

I will end with my favorite Carl Sagan demonstration:

Assume that we are looking at one calendar year.  January 1st at 12:00AM is the beginning of our universe – the Big Bang – which was billions of years ago.  Now think of this moment where you are reading the words I have posted…this moment is December 31st at midnight.  The known, verified existence of human beings in any form has been determined from fossil records, and represents the last 11 seconds of December 31st.  Our entire existence, all of our evolution, is 11 seconds of an entire year.  I find that it is not frightening, but rather awe-inspiring.  We’ve come so far in such a short span of time, and it is entirely within our powers to survive our technological adolescence.

We are not alone.  Somewhere in the universe, there is something just like you, hearing something stated by something just like me.  Both of us are wondering who else is out there, but the chances we will meet are a mathematical impossibility.  Given the scope of the cosmos, how can someone not be in awe of the beautiful, rare existence that we have made for ourselves.

What life is this life
why has it dropped here
who may survive it
with out knowing when
or how high?

My dog gives my foot a happy lick
not caring about my good deeds
or shame.

The biggest thrills I’ve ever sought
were in the imparting of information
the quest to become an expert
my minds a whore
legs open to everything
ejaculating questions
fuck answers
answers are for scientists

The biggest thrills I’ve ever received
were the moments where
everything clicks
where a definition
sends me on a cascade
that questions everything
changes my writing
wipes my brain clean

It always comes
right at that moment
when I feel I’m drowning
in contradictions, cliches
water metaphors
the inescapable
the… “deep unknown”
or something equally as contrived and sad

a theory ripples in the far off edges of my mind
moves towards me
grows, swells
overtakes me
my lungs fill up
coughed up
water on the brain
I struggle
kicking
holding my breath
attempting to reconcile my beliefs

But, I surface again
I’ve been carried closer to the strand
I lie back
float in the sweet embrace of structure and theory
catch my breath
categorizing
mesmerized by the circling sharks
I sleep
content in this cliche,
with the academic high,
cheap thrill

Loads of words have been written about fear. Enough to fill pages and pages. In fact, I suspect that if you laid all those pages end to end, they would span the highways and byways of a small state. Like Rhode Island. Maybe even a really big state. Texas perhaps. I don’t know.

Geography aside, it’s fair to say it would be a very large state of fear.

Which is exactly why I’ve been reluctant to write about it. I mean, what could I possibly add? I threw caution to the wind last week, though, and went and cracked open the door.

I began by spilling the beans about a few of my own experiences with it.

Then I introduced the F – E – A – R acronym: False Evidence Appearing Real. Well, I didn’t exactly introduce it; I know some of you have heard it before.

But I didn’t stop there. No. I asked my savvy readers to comment on the fear acronym. To consider if it could really work to make a person feel less fearful. And everybody who chimed in seemed to agree that as nifty as the acronym is, a longer conversation is required to fully understand the depth and breadth of fear (many thanks to Sara, Wilma, Belinda, SuZen, Eric for playing along with my somewhat unusual movie moment).

So there you have it. The door is no longer cracked open, it’s wide open. Beckoning. I’ve come this far, and I figure I might as well walk through and put my two cents in.

WALKING THROUGH THE FEAR DOOR

Okay. FEAR. Have you noticed the words we tend to partner with it?

Defeat. Overcome. Conquer. Master. Destroy. As in: How To Defeat, Overcome, Conquer, Master, and/or Destroy Your Fears in Three Easy Lessons.

Think about it for a minute. Those are fighting words. Warrior words. In fact, we’re channeling the warrior archetype when we use them. But the thing is, the warrior isn’t usually skillful enough to slay the fear dragon.

Because it can be a very BIG dragon. That even an army of warriors couldn’t bring down.

And at some level, I think we know that. So we try a different tactic. A whole new set of words: discard, eliminate, get rid of. And my personal favorite: banish.

Mmm, banish. If fear were a Shakespearean character, the king would proclaim, Fear…you are ban – uh – shed from the kingdom.

Don’t you love how Shakespeare livens up that simple two syllable word?

BAN – UH – SHED! (Say it fast).

Yet even with the extra syllable, we’re still left wanting. Because no matter how powerful the king, fear will find its way back into the castle. Maybe it’ll have to swim across the moat, but trust me, it will persevere.

Does this seem depressing? I don’t want it to. I’m just trying to make the point that fear can’t be beat down or kicked out.

There was a time, though, when I was in the camp that believed you could do just that. If a client told me they wanted to be rid of fears, I’d enthusiastically sign on. I reasoned that if I could just discover the right tactic or strategy (do you hear my warrior words?), the fear would be eliminated.

I WISH.

Maybe I clung to that notion because of some unwanted companions during the first half of my life: anxiety attacks. I suppose I didn’t want anyone to experience the dark shadow of fear if they didn’t have to. And it certainly wouldn’t be the first time one of us helping types unwittingly tried to protect when instead we should have been encouraging a form of capitulation.

Luckily I caught on. And over the years many wise teachers have helped me to understand that there is another way with fear. A more life affirming option that allows us to change its meaning.

CHANGING THE MEANING OF FEAR

At its most basic, changing the meaning of fear requires acceptance. Admitting that it JUST IS. It’s an emotion and we’re going to feel our share of it. It’s rarely a good idea to deny or refuse emotions, because if we do they come back to bite us in our collective butts. (That said, if you experience paralyzing fears or panic attacks like I did, it’s time to get help).

Usually, however, allowing ourselves to feel fear lessens its grip. And since many smart people have written about this, I won’t belabor the point.

But a curious thing happens when we simply choose to accept fear. We’re able to open our eyes and look beneath. We can see the story that breathes life into it.

THE STORY BENEATH THE FEAR

It’s an ancient story, the one about the orphan. The abandoned child; the lost and vulnerable waif. Who, no matter how hard she or he tries, can’t make their way in an unforgiving world.

If you think this isn’t part of you, think again. Because each of us confronts the existential inevitability that we are ultimately alone. Even in spite of our families and friends and connections, we’re the only ones responsible for our lives.

Tag, we’re it!

And if that’s not enough to throw you, to leave you feeling overwhelmed and insufficient at times, and yes, occasionally fearful, then I don’t know what is.

So, nine times out of ten this is the gas that makes fear go. This primitive story is in the driver’s seat when we say things like, “I’m afraid I won’t measure up” or “I fear making a mistake” or “Why bother, it won’t work out.” The story tries to convince us that we’re not up to the task, that basically, we’re not enough (like the orphan). And if we try to go for it, we’ll be overwhelmed, abandoned, and confused.

Now, mind you, the orphan character doesn’t normally sit on us every morning and tell us to pull the covers over our heads because the world is such a big, hard place. Rather, it operates at a pretty deep level in our psyches.

Nevertheless, as much as we might not want to admit it, we’ve all got it, no matter if life to date has been a comedy or a tragedy or something in between. And that’s actually a good thing. Isn’t it comforting to know that we’re all in this together? That this archetypal story stretches back far beyond our individual histories and experiences?

I think so, because it is exactly this communal experience of the story that gives us the gumption to step back and locate it outside of ourselves. To make it less about our personal problems and more about the story itself, thus changing the meaning of the fear.

LOCATING THE FEAR STORY OUTSIDE OF OURSELVES

Are you still with me? If you are, then you probably recognize times when the orphan story has been operating beneath your own fears. And you’re willing to consider that it’s a universal story as much as a personal story. Just making that leap gives you breathing room to start a dialogue between the story and yourself. You can begin by asking yourself a key question:

How can I stop cooperating with this story?

At first glance this may seem like a simple question. In some ways it is. But putting it into action is quite another thing. So I’m going to sign off for now and give you a chance to ponder it. Even take a stab at answering it, if you like. And then I’ll continue the conversation next time.

*************************************************************************************

WHY NOT START NOW?

Prologue

This story deals with a seeming paradox in the world of quantum physics. That is, that light can be proven to be both a particle and a wave, depending on how you look at it. It stems from theories and experiments from the mid-twentieth century; Einstein and all that.

Story

It was the big day for this photon – there he sits, snugly, in the particle accelerator, waiting for the green light.

For months he has been preparing for this moment; hanging out with the larger electrons, learning ow they came to be as big as they are, while he was still barely a nucleus.

To the mesons and bosons he had spoken, whilst they raced along backwards and forwards, (and sometimes both!). From them he learned the order of things, the ‘elimentariness’ of the world.

And now he was ready, sitting there, waiting for the electromagnets to warm up. Soon he would be journeying, at the speed of light, towards the most important event of his life!

Soon it came – the hum in the background, the green light came on – he was off! Out through the barrel of the gun he went, out into the unknown, out into the world!

And there it was – the famous dark screen that his contemporaries had whispered about. ‘Be careful,’ they had said, ‘for a choice awaits you there. Beware of That Which Watches.’

Onwards he hurtled, and then he saw them – two there were, many many orders of magnitude larger than himself – looming, gaping holes in the screen. He knew his purpose then, he knew what he was here to do. He braced himself,preparing for that most sacred act that a photon can perform.

He concentrated and, slowly but surely, as he sped along, his whole being stretched, blurred, smoothed and spread. He was going for it! He was now truly a wave, spreading though the ether, a movement of energy, not of particles; propagating himself towards the voids in the screen.

But wait! What is this? As he approaches the screen he can see, concealed behind each hole – particle detectors!

‘Oh no!’ he thought – ‘if That Which Watches’ is expecting a particle, how will It notice me, if am but a wave?’ Losing his concentration completely, the photon collapses back into a single particle, and just scrapes through one of the holes in the screen…

And there he is picked up by one of the detectors, like an all-seeing orb, as passes on to the sensitive plate beyond.

the photon hits this new plate and comes to rest, the agony of the journey and the energy expended in collapsing from wave to particle finally spent, all remaining of him a single spot on a photographic plate.

Epilogue

In another world a human being looks up from a small photographic plate and turns to another human, saying ‘You see, Albert, I told you light was a particle…’

Thanks to Sarah de Nordwall and the Scanners crew for inspiration and support.

Disclaimer: I know the physics isn’t bang on; it’s just a story x

wordless encounter
in the middle of the night
glance,you’d think collateral?
before sensing it is right
a flash or two morph
into a headrush so burning
like addiction, add sound
could not saturate
even if you wanted

   Protejând un vis ce nu-şi mai poate găsi împlinirea într-un timp ce nu-i aparţine şi nu-i va aparţine în veci nu reprezintă altceva decât hrănirea unor fantome, a unor făpturi pe jumătate virtuale, pe jumătate reale ce încearcă astfel să capete puţină viaţă, să mai dureze cumva dincolo de timpul ce le-a fost acordat; în felul ăsta orice vis viu şi real devine imposibil şi marca eternei neputinţe copleşeşte totul – nici măcar o alternativă nu mai e conceptibilă şi pereţii unei închisori nevăzute se închid în jurul visătorului prins în suprema fundătură existenţială, în cercul vicios din care singura ieşire este trezirea bruscă şi nemiloasă .

Charles Mingus is an absolute deity of 20th century jazz…

…and this album proves it beyond any doubt.  One of the towering achievements in modern music, this is perhaps my favorite jazz album, and certainly one of the most wildly ambitious, mold-breaking pieces of music recorded in the 20th century.  Not only is the music here spasmodically orgasmic, scaling heretofore unheard-of heights with reckless abandon; it’s mind-warpingly catchy, telepathically moving hips and nodding heads.  The crescendo swells practically cry out for hands raised in ecstasy.

I could, and have, listened to Black Saint and the Sinner Lady several times in a row and could not possibly tire of it.  I love all of Mingus’ work, but this suite in particular seems to have struck some vein of godlike power, conjured through the four movements presented here as “dance” pieces.  Building organically from the first short Solo Dancer movement through the final blasted frenzy of Trio and Group Dancers, each additional layer is a natural evolution on the basic theme – expanding, soaring, dipping, roaring, and simply freaking out, Mingus never relaxes his kung fu grip on the proceedings.  Covering so much ground in such a tightly wound coil would be impossible for most musicians, but the group assembled here sets off the aural fireworks like they’re genetically engineered to do so.  The virtuosity on display here simply must be heard, over and over again, to fully grasp.

[obtain your soon to be treasured copy of this landmark at cduniverse (only $4 digital!) or amazon]

In exchange for something we want, we will agree to look at a certain quantity of advertising.

This is understood as a form of exchange – you give me free email, I get adverts down the side of the page. There are many examples of this.

But what are we exchanging? Our attention? The use of some part of our brain, connected to the visual cortex? Whatever it is, advertisers hope that it is more or less directly connected to an impulse to follow the advert, eventually allowing someone to connect to our bank accounts.

Many people don’t click through or, if asked, wouldn’t say that they even look at the adverts. However, they are still there, pulling on your attention, at the edge of your vision.

There’s a big question here:

Is the source of this attention finite or infinite? If infinite, then we are getting a good exchange. But, if it is finite, or somehow degradable, we may not realise the consequences of such transactions – until it is too late…

[cue ominous roll of thunder and flash of lightning, briefly illuminating your fear-filled face]

Cheers,

Philip

I write.  Haters hate.  Fappers fap.  The world turns.

*sigh*

What you are about to read is very VERY important…it could very well mean the end of all the horrific and nightmarish acts and atrocities people commit toward each other “in the name of religion!” As it turns out…we are all Agnostic! Isn’t that wonderful news! Now that we are all the same, we have no need to rape and kill each other for being different!

Now I know that this transition is going to take time, that it won’t be accomplished overnight. But it is a very simple conversion to make. All you have to do is understand why you dismiss all other religions as false, then you will understand why yours is dismissed for the same reason. Then the understanding that we all “believe” will be realized and you will recognize that its not who or what you believe, but that belief exists.

–M–

Ages ago, in a time before mankind was even a glimmer of a shadow of a thought upon the immaculate fabric of the cosmos, there was only One. He looked upon the perfect order of the universe and was discontent, vowing to craft the greatest of all stories in the virgin darkness. His was an amazing power, one too great for any mortal mind to comprehend. With His left hand, He plucked a twinkling of amusement from His Own Eye, casting the glimmering jewel outward. With His Great Hammer, He shattered this Source of All Light, spreading the fragments through the Universe and arranging them to His own delight. With His right hand The One scribed the laws that would govern the Universe, simple limericks of gravity, electromagnetism, and matter, the foundations of all that Man would discover and name Science. One planet in particular He was proud of, crafting it with both His Mighty Hands, and His touch was quickly felt. Wherever The Great and Powerful One laid His Hand, life sprang forth, growing and evolving, borrowing from him the tiniest fragment of the Great Flame of Life which burned within Him, indeed, which comprised Him. And He did choose the mightiest of these lifeforms, communicating to them in the thought-language of Gods the path toward civilization and enlightenment. And so, Man did flourish across this great planet, filling its lands and leaving its mark upon the landscape. And then The One looked upon the great Chaos that He had wrought upon the once-immaculate cosmos, and He did smile, for it was His Chaos, and it pleased him. On a Whim, The One decided at that moment that forever will he walk among the Great Flock of His Creation, reborn time and again as one of them for as long as the Human Flock endures. And so His current form resides, taking the name Mike as His own, and the Flock is enriched by His Mighty Presence, even filtered as it is by the crude matter He dons to walk among them.

The Book of Mike 3:17-84

A very special thanks to ArgentBlaz.

in 1687 Sir Isaac Newton was hit in the head with an apple. Now I’m sure he wasn’t the first person in history to be under an apple tree and have one fall and hit his head. I’m also fairly certain that people have been hit in the head by oranges, coconuts, pears, and bananas…yet it was an apple that sparked the idea in Newtons head about gravity. But what if Newton wasn’t the first to have the revelation, but just the first to publicize it? Perhaps Jesus was sitting under an apple tree, minding his own business, having a good time when an apple fell on HIS head. What if he looked at said apple and the thoughts of gravity started to flow through his mind?

But then he choose a different path…he said to himself  “self, someday…somewhere…someone will be hit with an apple again, and they will know what I know. But right now I have a greater opportunity.” And then Jesus decided to write a book, the single greatest work of fiction ever written. And in this book, the apple fell because someone wanted it to…and then all of mankind fell with it.

–M–

I’ve just noticed (with a mild sense of guilt that I managed to firmly wrestle to the ground with deft application of rational and positive thinking) that it’s been almost two months since my last posting. Thankfully that has been entirely down to me being rushed off my feet with enjoyable coaching and training projects… a very happy place to be when you’re a freelance consultant in the midst of a recession. As they say… mustn’t grumble!

So forgive me if I gently tug you back into the dim and distant past and re-present our happiness equation: H = S + C + V. We had got to the final letter – V – the variables within our control that impact our day to day happiness level. In my last posting we looked at how events in the past can impact V, whereas in this posting we will look at the impact of our views of the future.

The future looks bright then… or it does if you happen to be an optimist. As Henry Ford once said, “whether you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right”. I think it was him anyway.

You can check out your own optimism level on Martin Seligman’s website ‘Authentic Happiness’. You will end up with a report that compares your optimism level with someone of your own age, gender and in your line of work… and you can then see if you’re a Tigger or an Eeyore!

In his book ‘Learned Optimism’, Seligman refers to two crucial dimensions called Permanence and Pervasiveness.

Let’s take Permanence first… Eeyores believe that the causes of the bad things that happen to them are permanent and that these bad things will always happen to them; whereas Tiggers see the causes of bad events as being temporary.

So if you forget your partner’s birthday, you might think “oops, I’ve been preoccupied with work this week” (temporary glitch – optimistic) or you might conclude “I’m rubbish at remembering birthdays” (permanent behaviour/character style – pessimistic). As you can see Tiggers move on with the rest of their lives not giving the missed birthday a second thought… while Eeyores gloomily conclude that all birthdays in the future will be potentially forgotten.

Interestingly if we look at good events, your explanatory style swaps over. So if you win the lottery, Tiggers conclude that they are always lucky (permanent), whereas Eeyores might conclude that it was just a lucky day (temporary).

Next up… Pervasiveness! This is the difference between people who can compartmentalise their problems and carry on regardless with the rest of their life, and people whose world comes crashing down if one tiny aspect breaks.

An example would be that Tiggers who fail an exam might conclude that they didn’t study hard enough for that particular exam (specific). Eeyores on the other hand would be more likely to catastrophise the event by thinking that they were useless at taking all exams (universal). Again with good events the explanatory styles for the optimist and pessimist swap over. So if someone at work comes to them for advice and guidance, Tiggers might conclude that they were respected in the organisation as a good mentor (universal); Eeyores however might think that they were only picked out because they happened to know about that particular topic or issue (specific).

So you can see how being a bit of an Eeyore can put you into a pretty helpless state – you will explain bad events in permanent and pervasive ways so your future expectations are lowered and you make mountains out of molehills. And you will dismiss good events as mere fluke and explain them away by being extremely specific. I feel gloomy just writing this!

Much better then to be a Tigger who dismisses bad events as temporary dips, is focused when finding a root cause in order to minimise any spillover into other pursuits, and comes up with permanent and universal explanations when things go well. Or is it?

Well before we get into all of that philosophy stuff, what can Eeyores do about transforming their pessimism to optimism? Seligman recommends that we practise optimism by first becoming aware of our explanatory style and then by challenging pessimistic thinking patterns (in our own heads of course not by having a heated debate with ourselves out loud in a public place). Why? Because the more optimistic you are the happier you will be.

So is it really better to be a Tigger? I do recall an Open University tutorial a couple of years ago when we looked at something similar on our Social Psychology course. We learned that the human psyche is wired to be more optimistic than pessimistic – a self-preservation technique; and that people who have clinical depression are experiencing depressive reality i.e. they really are seeing life for what it is and have a more accurate view of the world.

So what do you think? I do try and be optimistic in my thinking as I believe it gives me a more positive and enjoyable life experience. And if I dwell too much in the land of existential angst, I can get a trifle gloomy. Overall I’ve concluded that being positive is a good thing, as long as there is a healthy dose of realism in there somewhere. Onwards and upwards!