Good and Evil in a Modern World

One notion that this liberated postmodern man has been unable to let go of, despite having recently freed himself of the religious notions of his parents and rebuilt his worldview entirely on only what can be proven scientifically, is the notion of good and evil. He can't seem to let it go. It must exist, and it must be explainable within his new peridyme, because without it there is no meaning or passion or texture to life. In fact life becomes a story without a plot. Everything is flatlined. I mean, think about it. Why do we do anything, really. It's usually because we think it is a good thing to do. Even when we do something that we know is wrong, we have somehow justified it in our minds before we do it. It is the basis of every argument, every endevour, every motivation. We wake up to it in the morning, and we fall asleep to it every night (unless, of course, it's keeping us awake). God might be dead, but good and evil are alive and well. How then do we explain what it is? I mean, this used to be easy. Good is good because God said it is good. But now that God is out of the picture, what justifies our indignacy at being wronged. Some have said that good is what keeps the human race going. It's just another word for efficient cohabitation. Others have said good is what makes us happy, and evil is what causes suffering. But if we reduce good and evil to a theory, what do we have left to evaluate our theory with. We can't really evaluate if the longevity of the human race is good or that suffering is bad, because these evaluations are made outside of our definition. Even these two theories themselves are incompatible, as the longevity of the human race seems to bring about more suffering than it does happiness. The more we think about good and evil, the more we come to realize that they really stand outside of everything. Despite not being able to agree entirely on what is good and what is evil, we all seem to know they exist and are worth defending, even though we don't really know why.

Wind

I joined a writer's group a few months ago, and one of our assignments was to write about something we like. I chose to write about wind: I love the coolness on my face when I open the window over a steaming hot sink.  I love how it chases away stale air and bad smells I love how it suddenly surges a candle flame with light and life Or awakens a tree Or churns an ocean I love how it playfully messes up tidy gardens and pathways with leaves and sand,  Just for the sheer delight of watching people put it all back so it can do it again.  I love how it cools my lips and throat when I'm running  And fills every tired crevice in my body with energy, life and heightened awareness As it moves through me, stiff joints become soft and limber, colors are brighter, sounds are clearer and a rhythmic give and take of wind sets in as I find my pace.  Eventually fatigue comes and wind no longer invigorates,  but sustains.  I gasp heavily for more air and it always delivers, holding me up and coaxing me forward.  But what I love most about wind is what it does to an airplane Pulling unseemly metal and fabric high up into itself  Showing  its occupants sights otherwise never beheld.  Because of wind I have seen a setting sun rise as it carried me up And I've seen it set under the clouds Only to appear again as I settled below them Making islands of snow covered mountaintops turn pink in a sea of fog. 

Bias Is Beautiful

History is not a record of the past, it is a record of perceptions of the past. The true past, as it really was, is gone, ...forever ...never to be recovered. Why? Because just as with the evening news, nothing recorded as history can be free of bias. But not all is lost. What is left is possibly even more valuable. What every historical account gives us is a glimpse inside the mind of one who has perceived. When we read (listen or watch) history, we see a biased view, not only in how something observed is described, but in what is described. Assuming everything could be observed, not everything observed can be recorded, since it usually takes longer to record than to observe. But not everything is observed. There are a lot of things that happen that we simply miss, just because we aren't looking for them, or are distracted by something else we find more interesting. So when we read history we are actually reading about something that someone else decided was important. We are reading someone's bias, even before they have interpreted what they saw. But are most historical accounts primary sources? That is, are they accounts of actual observations? Not usually. We usually aren't reading a person's perception of what they saw. We are reading a historian's interpretation of what a person said they saw, and the truth is tainted yet again by another bias. Not only that, but we the reader, can't escape the effect of our own biases. So reading history is rather like the 2010's blockbuster movie "Inception" where Leonardo DiCaprio's character finds himself in a dream within a dream within a dream. We are quite far removed from the actual past, but we are face to face with bias. Living as a Christian guest in arguably the most conservative Muslim nation in the Middle East, has made me much more aware of my own bias, just by observing the bias of others. What has been remarkable to me, is not how different these biases are from my own, but in fact in their familiarity. My Muslim neighbor and I grew up with a monotheistic world-view. The primary cause in an infinite chain of cause and effect has been attributed to a personal being we both call "God" (Allah comes from two Arabic words: "al," which means "the," and "lah," which means "god."). Both of us have been told over and over again that this God jealously guards his "one-ness" as he does his demand for moral purity. We have also been told that he is merciful, and willing to forgive the one is truely repentant. So we have spent our lives trying hard to be good, while perpetually seeking forgiveness when we are not. Our perceptions have allowed us to allow for the supernatural to occur, whether it be Muhammad's miraculous overnight trip from Mecca to Jerusalem on a winged steed, or Elijah's flight to heaven on a chariot of fire. All of these beliefs affect how we perceive everything we experience. Our differences are few, really, compared to the ardent naturalist, but even though we are similar, each one of us has a unique but fallible view of the world. All of us, including the naturalist have one thing in common. We all long to know what is true.