Monday, January 23, 2006
Starting Worldview 3.0 With Straw Dogs
I've just finished reading Straw Dogs, by John Gray (no, not the relationship therapist guy). It's a book I bought when I was in London (years ago, that is) and never got around to reading until just recently. I bought it because it sounded like a book that would thoroughly challenge my worldview, and has it ever done so. (It has.)
All I really need to say is this: go read this book as soon as possible. At least, if you have interest in challenging your worldview you need to go read this book.
I think you'll understand as soon as you start reading it why I'm so adamant about this. If you are willing to be genuinely challenged, I think you're going to absolutely love the book, and even better you just might hate it a few times too, as I did. (As one of the reviewers on the back cover if the book says: "The more you disagree with [the author's] main line of argument, the more you will gain from him.")
Much of what I've been strongly influenced by in Dogs is far from new to me. I've often had discussions with certain friends of mine (let's call them Moe, Larry, and Curly) that border or get right at the main issues and arguments that make up the core of Dogs. The thing is that he's so damned convincing. And it's not for a lack of brevity: Gray makes his points clearly and concisely.
The short end of it is that Gray has indeed pushed me over the line to somewhere where I *must* rethink my worldview once again. As the above quote exemplifies, one of Gray's strongest arguments is about what he calls the "non-progress" of humanity and fallacy of our thoroughly-embedded illusion that technology advances civilization in a way that betters human life by allowing us to control our future.
(Welcome those who followed a link here from my LiveJournal account)
Looking back on the last few years of my life, one thing is perfectly clear: I value my friendships, family, and education more than anything else in life. My happiness comes from accepting life as it is, learning to appreciate it, and exploring the limits of my interactions in it.
Having to choose my next steps (or at least step) in my path recently was very difficult for me. I found myself with an array of options, all of which had their pros and their cons. I searched for some kind of inspiration -- a revelation of sorts -- to show me which path was the one I truly wanted to follow, not in fear, but in love. Alas, I found no such source of clairvoyance to effect my decision. Ultimately, I decided that the best I can do is to follow the path that I *think* is best for me, *despite my doubts* in why it seems like a good choice for me right now.
I decided that what's *really* important is that I pursue this path fully and without reservation, with honesty and a open heart & mind. If it's not right for me, I'll know it. And perhaps I'll only know it if I try. The only way I can lose is if I make that deathly decision to (in an odd sense) not choose at all. If I let myself wallow in doubt, uncertainty, and specifically a *lack of confidence*, then I'll have caught myself in the classic catch-22: without experience, I'm afraid to experience.
The naïveté and idealism of youth leads us to dwell on such sophomoric questions as "what is the meaning of life?" and "what makes a person good?" My experiences, and the reflections of those of my elders whom I respect most, teach me that instead I should ask questions like "what is there in life that is valuable?" and "what good can a person do?"
Books like Dogs serve a clear purpose for us: to help us clear away the lies that so insidiously infect our thinking to the point of chronic self-deception. We strip away out mothers and fathers' all-too-convenient but ultimately bankrupt faith in the progress and value of human civilization. We let loose the assumptions of what good and evil are and we ask ourselves -- or at least we try -- what it is that we should truly hang on to in life.
But when all the walls fall down, the lights are turned on, and the circus (of great deceptions) is revealed for what it is, the remaining lesson is clear: that the truths of life -- the answers to all the big questions -- are right under our nose. As impossible as it may be for us to ever truly and fully see them, the answers lie in the very experience of life -- indeed, often in the very asking of the questions to begin with.
All I really need to say is this: go read this book as soon as possible. At least, if you have interest in challenging your worldview you need to go read this book.
I think you'll understand as soon as you start reading it why I'm so adamant about this. If you are willing to be genuinely challenged, I think you're going to absolutely love the book, and even better you just might hate it a few times too, as I did. (As one of the reviewers on the back cover if the book says: "The more you disagree with [the author's] main line of argument, the more you will gain from him.")
How can there be play in a time where nothing has meaning unless it leads to something else? In our eyes, Homo ludens lives a life without purpose. Since play is beyond us, we have given ourselves over to a life of purposeless work instead. To labour as Sisyphus does is our fate.
But can we make our labours more playful? At present we think of science and technology as means of mastering the world. But the self that struggles to master the world is only a shimmer on the surface of things. The new technologies that are springing up around us seem to be inventions that serve our ends, when they and we are moves in a game that has no end.
But can we make our labours more playful? At present we think of science and technology as means of mastering the world. But the self that struggles to master the world is only a shimmer on the surface of things. The new technologies that are springing up around us seem to be inventions that serve our ends, when they and we are moves in a game that has no end.
Much of what I've been strongly influenced by in Dogs is far from new to me. I've often had discussions with certain friends of mine (let's call them Moe, Larry, and Curly) that border or get right at the main issues and arguments that make up the core of Dogs. The thing is that he's so damned convincing. And it's not for a lack of brevity: Gray makes his points clearly and concisely.
The short end of it is that Gray has indeed pushed me over the line to somewhere where I *must* rethink my worldview once again. As the above quote exemplifies, one of Gray's strongest arguments is about what he calls the "non-progress" of humanity and fallacy of our thoroughly-embedded illusion that technology advances civilization in a way that betters human life by allowing us to control our future.
(Welcome those who followed a link here from my LiveJournal account)
Looking back on the last few years of my life, one thing is perfectly clear: I value my friendships, family, and education more than anything else in life. My happiness comes from accepting life as it is, learning to appreciate it, and exploring the limits of my interactions in it.
Having to choose my next steps (or at least step) in my path recently was very difficult for me. I found myself with an array of options, all of which had their pros and their cons. I searched for some kind of inspiration -- a revelation of sorts -- to show me which path was the one I truly wanted to follow, not in fear, but in love. Alas, I found no such source of clairvoyance to effect my decision. Ultimately, I decided that the best I can do is to follow the path that I *think* is best for me, *despite my doubts* in why it seems like a good choice for me right now.
I decided that what's *really* important is that I pursue this path fully and without reservation, with honesty and a open heart & mind. If it's not right for me, I'll know it. And perhaps I'll only know it if I try. The only way I can lose is if I make that deathly decision to (in an odd sense) not choose at all. If I let myself wallow in doubt, uncertainty, and specifically a *lack of confidence*, then I'll have caught myself in the classic catch-22: without experience, I'm afraid to experience.
The naïveté and idealism of youth leads us to dwell on such sophomoric questions as "what is the meaning of life?" and "what makes a person good?" My experiences, and the reflections of those of my elders whom I respect most, teach me that instead I should ask questions like "what is there in life that is valuable?" and "what good can a person do?"
Books like Dogs serve a clear purpose for us: to help us clear away the lies that so insidiously infect our thinking to the point of chronic self-deception. We strip away out mothers and fathers' all-too-convenient but ultimately bankrupt faith in the progress and value of human civilization. We let loose the assumptions of what good and evil are and we ask ourselves -- or at least we try -- what it is that we should truly hang on to in life.
But when all the walls fall down, the lights are turned on, and the circus (of great deceptions) is revealed for what it is, the remaining lesson is clear: that the truths of life -- the answers to all the big questions -- are right under our nose. As impossible as it may be for us to ever truly and fully see them, the answers lie in the very experience of life -- indeed, often in the very asking of the questions to begin with.
