On Mattering

If a person says happiness is what the basis of what morality is, then it seems that morality is just a matter of self-interest. But if we reflect on this, can it be right (i.e. good)? If one replies, 'I guess so' then the repercussions are pretty strong and wide ranging.

Think of and apply this response to something like friendship; that is, what is friendship good for except as some sort of utility? Here's the example: It's good to have friends because they can always help one out in a jam and because they're loyal. So under this premise, the only reason it matters to have a friend is for what the friend can consistently do for one. This doesn't seem to make sense with regard to what friendship is meant to be? And this same logical structure is equivalent to the following example. Say a student takes a philosophy class but her only interest is to do so in order to fulfill a requirement and raise her gradepoint average. To this student, the actual class, what it can show about life, what it is able to teach one about oneself, doesn't matter. And yet, given the subject matter with which philosophy deals, it may be that saying such a thing has moral implication, especially because philosophy deals with certain areas which touch upon moral matters.

Now a person might still say that these are different cases nevertheless and, given this fact, there is a disanalogy. But now, another could ask who makes the decision that these are different cases morally speaking? I mean, it might or might not apply depending on who's perspective one takes. But is morality a matter of perspective? If so, we're back to self-interest - in fact, we never left. But again, it seems that, if we reflect on our intuition on the matter, it doesn't seem that morality is about self-interest; that is, what matters seems to have to do with something more than ourselves. However, even if one agrees with this remark, it doesn't necessarily mean that a person's internal attitude changes only his outward expressions. A person might still not care, might think it doesn't matter to do the right thing, though act like it does matter without thinking of the consequences in the short or long run. But do the consequences matter, especially since we may not know what consequences those might be? Do consequences to acting morally have to do with morality? After all, one might act morally and be hurt by the consequences. This could be something to consider for the person merely acting morally, where a truly moral person may not care whatever about the consequences. So it seems that if I act morally, it doesn't necessarily mean that I am a moral person. I could be just looking after my own happiness which may sometime arise out of playing moral. That is, playing moral usually accords with social order which in itself may afford certain luxuries and, thereby, a certain amount of happiness. Here it appears that Bentham and Mill seem to be correct: generally, pleasure is happiness, and happiness is the basis of what it means to be moral. But there's the intuition again that seems to say otherwise.

A Pause for Reflection on a Song of Some Existential Nostalgic Reflective Worth

I've been thinking about this song recently. The lyrics suggest to me a fear about facing the upcoming seasons of one's life. The beginning of the song characterizes the flame of youth still burning strong, holding onto the extreme pleasures of life, eating up as much of life's worldly pleasures as fast as one can while the strength of youth burns bright.

"I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw, I'm in the prime of my life.
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives.
I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and f^%$ with the stars.
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars."

And so the singer declares:

"This is our decision, to live fast and die young.
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun."

But the fear that's hidden deep in the heart rears it's head here:

"Yeah, it's overwhelming, but what else can we do.
Get jobs in offices, and wake up for the morning commute.
Forget about our mothers and our friends"

Yet the reality that is realized is that for all their sucking up of life's extreme pleasures, they cannot but help understanding that:

"We're fated to pretend
To pretend
We're fated to pretend
To pretend"

The following for me is the important piece. It's important because it speaks to that part of one that has come to a realization. This realization has to do with the moment of an initial realization, which is that one is just pretending to stave off growing up. This realization may manifest as a kind of nostalgia for when the person was young, when the comforts of home - and all that the word entails - were the comforts of absolute security.

"I'll miss the playgrounds and the animals and digging up worms
I'll miss the comfort of my mother and the weight of the world
I'll miss my sister, miss my father, miss my dog and my home
Yeah, I'll miss the boredom and the freedom and the time spent alone."

And for those who reject the realization but continue pretending that they can stave off the seasons of life with pure extreme worldly pleasures:

"There's really nothing, nothing we can do
Love must be forgotten, life can always start up anew.
The models will have children, we'll get a divorce
We'll find some more models, everything must run it's course."

One final course, I guess for these, is the course of many a rockstar:

"We'll choke on our vomit and that will be the end
We were fated to pretend
To pretend
We're fated to pretend
To pretend"


I'm not sure that the last part of this song does much for me, nor do I think all rockstars end up this way or actually think this way. I do know that realizing 'being', that is, coming to a new level of self-awareness can be a painful process; for what comes with it is an acute view of one's mortality, where the weight of the world demands the strength of youth become focused in order to carry it. One might remember not having the need to care at the time because it was a burden for parents and there was a home to shelter the young from struggles and hardships. Parents grow old and pass away as the seasons pass away. But as the seasons advance, so does one advance with age, with learning, with responsibility; and whatever family one has wrought looks to him/her for security now. It's at this moment one can call upon the nostalgia and hope that it gives him/her strength to shoulder the umbrella for his/her youth from the deluge that can be life.

Yet, it is heart-wrenching to know that there are some that will never have such a nostalgia due to the loss or the 'never had' of parents and home. I may think upon nostalgia, perhaps with sadness at its passing. But there is a deeper sadness I feel in the face of the fact that many can't even have the solace of a nostalgia of family. Life for people with these kinds of experiences is one in which strength is found through different means. I suppose they might say, 'don't pity me,'. But pity is not what I mean by sadness. The sadness that I'm talking about has more in common with a deep respect and awe; though it is sad to think that life can be that way.

Logic of Absurdity

Last blog I focused on the sense that logic has wider application to life than the cold, calculating, factually based conception it is generally given. I want to say that it has graver consequences for one's understanding of not just one's context, but one's being. There is an existential character to logic which is rarely, if ever, talked about.

One place that the gravity of logic is important is that of the absurd. But to just say the 'absurd' in this way is to abstract it from a possible context where absurdity arises. The absurdity I'm referring to here is one that has the ability to crush one's meaning that s/he has to life and is an expression of a person's reaction to some horrible situation of life where they lose all hope, all meaning with respect to life. One gruesome outcome is that the person chooses to end their life. Here the absurd has a powerful logic that forces an outcome upon a person; that is, the only reasonable thing that a person sees about life is an end to it. One expression of this is, 'why am I here if there's nothing to live for?' Another is, 'there's no point to life; we all just die without ever knowing what it's all for,' and so forth.

This is a serious challenge to contemplative philosophy; that is, a philosophy that wonders at life and looks to bring out the sense, the meaning, the logic, of whatever it is that it contemplates. For the implication of absurdity, at its most subtlest, is skepticism of the possibility of sense, of logic, of meaning. The subtle suggestion in 'why am I here if there's nothing to live for' seems to be one of serious doubt that there is any meaning in life so that living is necessary to any degree. And if one sees 'no point to life because we all die without ever know what it's all for' strongly suggests that we can a) never know, and b) don't know already.

At this level, the person does not seem able to think of the possibility that his/her life is showing meaning at present. Oddly, for this person, the question doesn't seem to arise as to why s/he thinks that life must be going towards some ultimate goal. Should it? Is meaning of life constrained to some future perfection that will evidently complete some ideal notion the person as in mind? It seems that life's meaning can also be found at present, not because one has reached some terminus 'now', but because there can be importance in the now, in perhaps the love one has for a child or a companion, the happiness of the moment of sharing a care with a friend, in helping someone with an extreme difficulty.

But the skeptic may ask why these moments are important. Perhaps s/he sees life as movement towards some perfect ultimate - the question of 'why' here would be a question worth asking of the skeptic. But one can't be sure that there is a perfect ultimate. This premise of being unsure leads to the possible 'and since it hasn't been proven, and now because this certain situation has arisen (ex: loss of a close friend, a relative, a brother or sister; tragedy of life or limb; a victimization), life has no meaning.'

Pause for next blog.

Logic, Love, Meaning of Life, and Death

It’s important, I think, that before moving on to the things that are exciting to talk about like love, meaning of life, and death, it's helpful to understand how one might rid oneself of a sense of absurdity that can at times seem intrinsic to life. Absurdity is that which has the power, as Camus suggested, to annihilate one’s sense of meaning. There can be moments for certain people, he warns, which can bring a feeling of meaninglessness and absurdity that only leads to one thing: their self-imposed end. In this sense, the person is utterly crushed.

The 'how' I’m talking about is logic. Now this may at first seem counter intuitive. But this is only because the notion of logic has been focused into a definition that encompasses or characterizes a cold, calculating, analytical view of the world or way of looking at the world where love and the rest do not and cannot seem to occupy. There is nothing romantic about logic under this heading; no song has been written about it, and no odes dedicated to it. So how can logic have anything to do with love, life, and death? What message does it have to convey to those things which are reserved for the undying questions of life? On the contrary, one might say that logic cannot even deliver the grieving man from the tragedy of his wife dying, the mother suffering from her child’s battle with cancer, or a person who is willing to commit suicide. Far from being the savior of humanity, on many occasions, it can drive a person to suicide because it is logical for that person at that moment that their life is meaningless, that life is absurd.

But this is precisely why logic should be taken seriously. Its power can both take the life of the person who has fallen into the logic of absurdity and save the life of a person who has seen the logic that is the beauty and wonder that life can come to mean for that person. In this sense, it is not logic in the abstract that has power; its power is such because it arises from life – the way we understand, the things we do, the words we speak. Saying ‘I want to live’ has logical meaning. The meaning is clear, the logic powerful, undeniable – to live. ‘I want to love’ – here, too, we find a place where logic occupies but rarely touched upon.

Here is a place, I want to propose, where one might see a divergence between contexts, from which, as a matter of course, arise 'logics'. There is the logic in the context of community (whichever community one might refer to) and the logic of the person who begins to see the world as absurdity. What the divergence shows is a deadly contradiction between what the world means for the community and what the world means for this person. The way the problem surfaces for the person, that is, from the notion of world that is meaningful to notion of world that is absurd, I would like to suggest, has a hidden skepticism, which is consequential of a bad situation. In other words, a logical doubt creeps in, somewhere along the person's line of reasoning, that life is not worth living, love is not worth having, and death, given its nihilistic, existential (or non-existential) standpoint, is not just the right response, but the best, no, the only response - it is, for all intents and purposes, what is 'Truth'. The logic of the doubt is deeply tied to the bad situation that caused it to arise. The person does not reflect on it, for who normally reflects on one's logic for doing something or believing something that seems to be plainly in one's face? It is a consequence of wanting to negate self, a rationale that is intrinsically woven into the desire like an aspect of it - 'what is the use of living?' also means 'is there any meaning to my existence?'

Someone may want to show the person who is in the grips of absurdity the beauty of love, of life, of moments yet to be had by a community that wants to share its moments with the individual, in whatever form sharing takes. But even to these, the skeptic asks his perennial questions, ‘for what reason?’, followed by ‘how do you know?’, and then the final conclusive blow, ‘we cannot know for certain’. He might apply this methodological reasoning to answers like ‘because I want to love’, ‘because I want know purpose’. Yet even these cannot satisfy the ‘cosmic skeptic’, cosmic because he questions to a cosmic degree. Everything is in question, even love, even life, and therefore, even meaning. If we cannot satisfy the skeptic, we cannot give reason to these wants, the wants of which have a connection to meaning which are not only unquantifiable, but inevitable to any human being. When meaning cannot be found, it is lost. 'Lost' seems to suggest here that we have at some point gained it. What must be remembered is that we don’t begin without a certain sense of meaning, however basic. But we can lose that sense by many different roads – cosmic skepticism is one such road. And this is a road which goes hand-in-hand with many, if not all, roads.

Thus, my suggestion here is that logic carries a much greater weight, has a much wider application, a far more inclusive definition, if you will.

More next blog...