Have you ever been held in rapt discussion that was both entertaining, intellectually challenging, and where you felt like both you and the person you were debating actually came away having learned something? Sadly, most conversations must remain inanely superficial or risk a flaring of tempers and resentment, so I love it when I can find someone with whom I can verbally spar while maintaining humorous sensibilities and a spirit of shared inquiry.
My friend Skye and I enjoy discussing metaphysics. We like to collectively ponder conceptions of God, notions of morality, Truth, and Existence, among other things. One thing is for certain; there are no easy answers.
Skye: The "mattering" that matters is that you matter *to other people*. That other people love you, and that your love for them matters. ("Love" in a broad sense.) And to extend it past human-centric language: that you are in a web of mattering (love/compassion) with other humans, other animals, all the beings on the earth, and the earth itself. Do I matter to the earth? Of course!! (An existentialist/nihilist/pessimist would say "no, the earth doesn't give a damn if you live or die", but that's not the whole story, as Gary Snyder & Native wisdom has taught me... as I am part of the earth ("earth" in a broad sense), of course the earth cares about me, just like the Spotted Owls, Cougars, and Frogs!) Now, when I "matter" to the earth, it means among other things that my nutrients matter, so if wolves killed me, the bacteria would re-use my nitrogen for the wild blueberries growing on the spot. If I'm stuck in my "small self" (the ego), that really scares & bothers me. But if I can identify with the blueberries as well as my ego, then it's not bad at all! Really it's liberating and joyful to think that one day I will be blueberries.
Martin: Interesting. I'm not really sure if the vocabulary of "mattering" really captures the how we matter to the Earth. The existentialist in me would tell you that even if we become blueberries in a a couple hundred years, the whole galaxy is on a crash course with another galaxy in 3 billion years, and if we survive our sun will explode 2 billion years later, becoming a red giant. Poof! Annihilation. Every living thing on Earth is transitory and ephemeral in the since of "forever." The stuff of the cosmos is really just this unfeeling un-biological force. Acknowledging this tragedy, the pathos of what is never being the same as what was or what will be, makes us human. so if this "Earth-as-one-big-organism" mattering world-view is so important, I'd rethink it, because while we and all the creatures on Earth might "matter" to the Earth can that be extrapolated to the entire universe?
Skye: I think its about feeling, and letting go. I AM fine now with being blueberries one day, or stardust to extend to the case when the earth blows up. And perhaps the whole universe will vanish one day, and then my remants will be nothing, not even dust in the wind. Well the zen buddhist wouldn't mind that extenstion at all.
me --> bear's food --> blueberries --> kid's food --> eventually stardust --> eventually nothing.
Well, if what we are comes out of the Nothing (the Nihil, according to the recent death of god theologians), then why mind that we go back?
I think the point isnt about theories & such, its about accepting death & limits. the more i enter "community" (which in public-transit-less houston i was at the extreme other end of), the less i mind myself dying.
Martin: YES! You are right, but I can't let go of my human-ness either. I'm not a Neitzchean. I think that you can have your morals and your politics and your societal culture and give and receive meaning to and from them, all without this higher order power/universal organism/letting go (in which, by the way, I still choose to place my Faith). But it is still tragic that we know we will never recapture certain moments ever again. Even if we tried to re-enact them, it would be only a façade of what once was - and THAT in and of itself would still be beautiful but again comletely ephemeral. And yes, this continued attempt to live life over and over and new things and old things is beautiful, but also tragic because it will cease. It will be replaced by blueberries or stardust or an unimaginable state but it will still cease nonetheless. And that makes me cry sometimes.
Skye: Hm, right now it doesnt seem tragic that we won't have certain moments again... I think I've moved from clutching too tightly to "the particular" and instead letting go and seeing all particulars as "transparent to transcendence" (love). That's Joseph Campbells phrase, and I like it a lot. I've thought about it a ton this year too... because for a long time I was super sad that I couldn't go back to Philmont (where i used to work 3 summers, 135000 acres in NM, boy scout backpacking base, gorgeous mountains...). especially in May when all my friends were going back, and i was still here... but im now ok with it. Knowing that philmont is still there, even without me there... finding that i care more about philmont to be there than for me to be at it... like a discovery of "selfless love" for the first time. Crazy.
Martin: Selfless love? Not so sure about it. I've always felt like I benefitted whenever I've done something requiring "selfless love."
Skye: "Selfless love" as I see it is discovering that there are things you care about so much that they matter more "in themself" than they matter to have you enjoying it. And as the Hindus say, all is Self really, so the point is just to move from little self to big Self...
Martin: Okay, yes again, but the "in themselves" is transitory as well. So are you just getting at the idea of the whatever "in themselves" is enough for you to go on? Because I mean I love the beach, but it's eroding, the mountains are changing, Senegal is desertifying, the Milky Way is headed for Andromeda. What I'm saying is that basically it's all constantly changing, growing, decomposing, swirling in the cosmic soup.
Skye: I dont mind that all things must pass... I dont have any "reason" per se. Well, I just read "A Wizard of Earthsea" by Le Guin, and it helped me be ok with transitoriness. The guy goes: "In order for a word to be spoken, there must be silence -- before and after." I never quite thought about it that way before.
*****
Nor had I, Skye, nor had I... In other news, numbers don't need humans to exist. Why you might ask? Because ants can count.
(Note: The above conversation was edited for brevity (no lie) and clarity. It was the result of a very long gmail conversation over the course of a morning avoiding data-entry work like the plague)
