Thoreau #1, or An Introduction to Meaning

https://www.walden.org/what-we-do/library/thoreau/

It's about time we came round to the patron saint behind the idea of Deliberately Aimless: Henry David Thoreau. Thoreau was a man who ambled through town, the woods, over hill and over dale, for hours at a time, in search of space to think and freedom to commune with nature. Fortunately for us, he put many of his thoughts to paper, and we can thus dive in and examine them in detail through a series of posts, and see what Mr. Thoreau has to teach us.

I started this series because I wished to think critically, to ponder not only but especially the difficult questions, and see if I could not develop a sound philosophy, and not, when all was done, discover that I had never been tested.

You may well recognize the structure of the above sentence. It is, of course, based on the opening statement made by Thoreau in his profound memoir Walden; or, Life in the Woods. The original reads thus:

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

What Thoreau was searching for in the 1845 woods of Massachusetts is the same thing that many of us are still searching for today. That is to say, he was searching for meaning. Now there are various themes that will surround the word “meaning,” naturally charged as it is. Several of these include purpose, self-reliance, relationships – no, those two are not contradictory – achievement, wisdom. The list goes on and will likely vary from person to person. This series won't be a panacea for finding meaning in your life. 

Now a logical primer question would be to ask whether Thoreau in fact found meaning during his sojourn in the woods. That is a question that only Thoreau himself is capable of answering, but he does so throughout the course of Walden. In the posts that will follow in the coming weeks, I will demonstrate the ways in which Thoreau found meaning in his life, with special emphasis on some of the themes mentioned above. This exercise necessarily involves a lot of my own interpretation. Let's call it viewing Thoreau through a deistic lens.

Thoreau certainly experienced self-reliance, in the form of growing his own food and building his own cabin to live in. That much is obvious. And while some contend that his stay in the woods was far from isolated, in part because of his semi-frequent visitors and the railroad than ran within a half-mile of his cabin, I will contend that that is immaterial. Thoreau did not attempt to hide the fact that he regularly made visits to town nor that he had visitors. And regardless, the presence of others certainly does not diminish the meaning which he was seeking, it undoubtedly enhanced it. 

In this blog series, all kidding aside, I do hope to demonstrate the elements of a meaningful life through an examination of the life philosophies from but one of history’s great thinkers. My approach will be to present and evaluate direct quotes from Walden; or, Life in the Woods. From these quotes, I will weave a narrative, the common threads being philosophy, character, principle, and reverence, key ingredients of a meaningful life.

By no means is this intended to be a recipe, whereby you can follow a set of steps and live a fulfilled life. It is merely meant to be an examination of the prevailing life philosophy of Thoreau, an illustration of a life well lived. Though actions speak loudest, words are important, too. Whether or not Thoreau was always true to the standards and ethics that he espoused is not the point. The point lies in striving to reach those standards, in developing a sound moral philosophy and attempting to maintain it, while all around us the world tries to force us into a misstep or to fit the typical mold.

Finally, I also hope to demonstrate that philosophy, transcendentalism, and deep thought don’t have to be boring. Increasingly it seems that the world has less time for matters of substance, preferring instead to be entertained, looking always for the trivial, the summary, the path of least resistance. Indeed, perhaps our lives have become too easy, lacking tangible danger, self-exertion, even strong emotion. There’s no need to take the path less traveled because the path of least resistance is just so darn easy; why would we need to deviate from it, let alone want to?

Life is easy. You may well scoff at that statement and think I am off my rocker. Let me explain. When I say that life is easy, I’m talking about the general day to day necessities of life. In order to remain alive, all that is required of us really is to provide our bodies with sustenance, usually gotten from the money we’ve earned at a job. This job, distinguished or otherwise, likely requires only that we clear certain hurdles and maintain a median level of competence and effort. If a job begins to demand too much of us, fairly or not, we can get another one. Beyond sustenance and income, we need sleep in order to recharge our bodies and minds. Sleep is generally free and easy to come by. And there you have it, life is easy in our modern world.

But that’s not the type of life I want to talk about. Maintaining your life, staying alive, may be easy enough, but actually living may be less so. These days, all too often when in conversation with friends I find myself quoting from movies or referencing television shows, as though having watched them is the most relatable thing that I’ve done recently. It makes me sad. Not that having some baseline level of knowledge of popular culture is itself a bad thing; rather, that these are the things we choose to talk about. Once again we err on the side of the trivial rather than seeking true depth. 

Now I’m biased in that I have a love for the outdoors, hence a blog series based on quotes from a hermit transcendentalist, but that should not make my high regard for the restorative powers of nature any less legitimate. Nature, in my own limited experience, is the one place where we can feel truly alive. 

When you stand in the desert and feel the sand pelting your bare legs as it is driven by the perpetual afternoon wind; when the driving rain forces you to pack up your book and race from the lakeside to seek shelter in a park outhouse, before continuing on through mosquito infested portages to where you had parked; when you watch the sun cast its warm morning glow against the limestone bluffs from a kayak, and pray that your eyesight is never taken from you lest you miss the beauty of creation, only to return later in the day with a peeling sunburn; when you return from a January trail run and can’t feel your fingers for the next half hour, but head out the next day to do it all over again; these are the things that humble us, but don’t debase us. In some cases, nature brings us to our knees; it brings us to our most basic relationship: that of an organism valiantly, or so we’d hope, making its way in the world. We are base, but not humiliated.

There is an important distinction between humility and humiliation. I will present the case that humility is the key to a life well lived. This does not mean, however, that we become overly passive. A vigorous life and a humble life are not at odds. Again, base, but not debased. With that in mind, the posts in weeks to come will dive into Mr. Thoreau's philosophy, our resident transcendentalist guide.

Book Release of "Nor the Moon by Night"

 

This is not a typical post, but rather an announcement of some exciting news. My novel, which I began work on in August 2017, has finally been published! As I wrote in my acknowledgments, I wrote a story because I felt like I had a story to tell. A story that is, hopefully, one worth reading. See my recent interview regarding the novel here.

The narrative follows a protagonist in his mid-twenties who is adrift following the loss of his parents. In the intervening years, he has allowed several important relationships in his life to fall to tatters as he sought to find bliss via adventure. Nor the Moon by Night is the story of his journey to heal old wounds and nurture new relationships – as well as new ways of understanding his place in the world – as he seeks to find that which makes for a meaningful life.

I hope that this story speaks not only to the ethos here at Deliberately Aimless, but that it speaks to all those who may come across the book and dare to read it. It is my hope that it can also speak to the pathos of any prospective audience seeking to find direction – for this book might not re-invent the wheel where the notion of finding meaning in life is concerned, but then perhaps the wheel doesn't need re-inventing. It just needs someone to set it spinning.

Get the book on Amazon or Barnes & Noble!

A Brief History of Questions

https://unsplash.com/photos/eodA_8CTOFo

→Introduction

Mr. Hawking comes oh so close to connecting the dots in his book A Brief History of Time, but seems to narrowly miss in the end. To many readers I have just uttered blasphemy and overstepped my bounds, but allow me to explain myself. I don't claim to understand the science he puts forth. What may separate us commoners, though, is our willingness to admit when we simply don't understand something, which Hawking seems unable to do. He at least asks the right question, which is more than can be said for most who attempt to voyage through this particular rabbit hole. And what is that rabbit hole, you might well ask? It is the all-consuming question of “Why?” If we are honest with ourselves, we find that this is in fact the only question really worth asking, and perhaps the only question that doesn’t have a tidy answer.

Perhaps you’re still in the dark; let me explain. “Why?” questions the meaning and purpose of our very existence. By this point in history, ample scientific theory explains how we came to be, providing a quite convincing timeline to answer that question.

 

It is widely understood that carbon is the basic building block of life. Humans have a not insignificant carbon content, though it may be disguised via various molecular connections with other elements forming compounds in our chemical makeup. Every living thing has some level of carbon content. You’ve likely heard that the carbon that allows for our existence came from the stars, ergo, we really are composed of star dust. This is perhaps not entirely accurate, though not necessarily inaccurate, either. Sort of imbues our existence with a special significance off the bat, no? These stars, in turn, received their makeup from the material generated at the purported beginning of the Universe, the Big Bang. It is ironic, then, that a carbon compound, carbon dioxide, is proving to be a thorny issue for the planet, but that’s a discussion for another time.

It is widely accepted that life has grown increasingly complex and sophisticated over billions of years through the process of evolution. We could dive into Darwin’s theory of natural selection, the idea of random mutations, and so forth, but I think you get the idea. These theories all explain the question of how we came to exist. Yet none of them even touch the surface of why we exist. That’s what I want to tackle in this brief article using Hawking's timeless book as our guide.

→The Thorny Notion of Providence

I will now proceed to the question of God – as I inevitably must – and seeing as it comes up so much throughout Hawking's own work and must therefore have a prominent role in this analysis. Those of us who are of a spiritual nature – which is to say, all of us, in some form or another – generally believe that our purpose is derived from God (whatever divinity, higher power, being, or mystery you may believe in), and that God imbued meaning in all of Creation. In so believing, we don’t have to look far to find meaning in the world around us. While I don’t expect that a mere article will convince you of this if you don’t already believe it to be true, I do want to examine the false dichotomy in which science and spirituality are always placed when examining this question. I believe the two fit quite well together, and are not diametrically opposed as they are often made out to be.

For instance, I see no incongruity between the scientific description of the origin of the Universe and the Creation story presented in the Bible, so long as that story is rightly understood to be an allegory or metaphor. It seems perfectly logical that God (or, again, some higher power or being) set in motion the Universe that we see today by making use of the mechanisms that we are only now coming to describe with physics. It also seems odd to me that scientists look at proofs of evolution, and conclude that that must necessarily mean that there is no God. It seems only natural that evolution is yet another mechanism which God used to achieve Creation.

Hawking unfortunately borders on such egotistical boundaries as thinking that increasingly accurate scientific theories somehow preclude the existence of God. And he isn’t alone in this line of thinking, as Carl Sagan says as much in his introduction for the book. I have a great deal of respect for both Mr. Hawking and Mr. Sagan and their innumerable contributions to science. Unfortunately, I think they lack a similar respect for the ideas of a person of faith. Or perhaps they don’t understand that which they claim to be false, as each tries to put God (and even transcendentalism – that is, seeing divinity in everything) in a box, as though the divine were finite and subject to the same physical laws that limit humanity. 

Following is Sagan’s closing line of the introduction: “And this makes all the more unexpected the conclusion of the effort, at least so far: a universe with no edge in space, no beginning or end in time, and nothing for a Creator to do.” Such hubris! Considering a notion of divinity that is limitless, without beginning or end itself, I don’t know how Mr. Sagan can conclude that the Universe must be independent of any greater force simply because it appears to have no definite beginning.

→A Description of the Universe

Following the introduction, Hawking provides a fairly dense description of the Universe as we currently understand it to function. He describes the contributions of various scientists and mathematicians through the ages and the various theories they developed which advanced the state of the science. We are treated to a discussion of the theory of relativity, the relationship between space and time, and an introduction to elementary particles. Hawking even at one point describes such things as virtual particles.¹ As an aside, while I am perfectly willing to accept the existence of such particles, it is ironic that Hawking is so willing to accept a particle which cannot be detected, yet is at best ambivalent, at worst dismissive, of the notion of God.

After introducing us to the general workings of the Universe, Hawking then leads a discussion on black holes. It is a fascinating discussion, though most of what is “known” is theoretical, and to some degree speculative. Owing to the infinite gravity found within black holes, it would be nigh impossible to directly record data at or within the event horizon, let alone to transmit this data back into space. As Hawking puts it, “One could well say of the event horizon what the poet Dante said of the entrance to Hell: ‘All hope abandon, ye who enter here.’”²

Having thoroughly described the inner workings of black holes, Hawking proceeds to the most important section of the book, as he writes at length on “The Origin and Fate of the Universe.” Hawking proceeds with a questioning of why we should be able to understand the Universe as it is now, but not necessarily be able to apprehend its initial state or "boundary conditions" or the reason that it was so. Lacking a satisfactory answer, he concludes that, due to the anthropic principle, "We see the universe the way it is because we exist."³ 

Throughout the discussion of the origin of the Universe, Hawking makes allowances for the existence of an omnipotent being only when all other avenues have been exhausted, and seems to confuse the notion of improbability with impossibility. For instance, given that we don't know the boundary conditions at the start point of the Universe, it makes sense to ask whether the Universe even had a beginning. If it has no beginning, perhaps it also has no end. In the words of Hawking, "...it would simply be. What place, then, for a creator?" And my question to Mr. Hawking is this: Is this not a description of the divine itself?

→Time Itself

Following this, Hawking proceeds with a fascinating discussion of "The Arrow of Time." For instance, the no boundary (or, at least, unknown boundary) conditions described above imply that the Universe might very well be in continual cycles of expansion and contraction. It stands to wonder why humanity should appear in the expansion phase rather than the contraction phase.⁴ 

Hawking demonstrates that intelligent life can only occur during the expanding phase of the Universe because of the strength of the arrow of thermodynamic time. Intelligent life relies on principles of order and disorder, for instance, in how humans consume food and convert it to energy. This is an example of using energy to create order from chaos. We thus could not exist in a contracting state in which the thermodynamic arrow is either in reverse or when the Universe is already in a state of complete disorder.

A state of complete disorder roughly approximates where we end our quest for the answer to the question "Why?" if we do not allow for the existence of something greater than ourselves. It seems that Hawking knows this to be true, but can't quite allow himself to state it plainly. Hawking allows that many things are uncertain, as described by the Uncertainty Principle in quantum mechanics, which states that we can only observe either the position or direction of an elementary particle, and that the very act of observation will change the result. 

Perhaps uncertainty is God in Hawking's reckoning. Hawking best sums it up when he writes, "The usual approach of science of constructing a mathematical model cannot answer the questions of why there should be a universe for the model to describe."⁵ Indeed, a model cannot describe why the thing which it attempts to describe should exist at all. We must allow for a little mystery. We must allow that we simply do not know.

Footnotes

¹ Chapter 5 of A Brief History of Time

² Chapter 6 of A Brief History of Time

³ Chapter 8 of A Brief History of Time

⁴ Chapter 9 of A Brief History of Time

⁵ Conclusion of A Brief History of Time

The Elusiveness of Bliss

https://unsplash.com/photos/-N0YnyNweJQ

I recently re-read a fabulous book by Eric Weiner titled The Geography of Bliss. The first time I read it was in preparation for a summer program at Cambridge in 2012, and I felt that it was worth revisiting, particularly in our troubled cultural moment, when bliss seems so difficult to come by. 

Weiner takes us on a journey both within and without to examine various cultures and what it is that makes them happy. Or, barring happiness, what it is that makes them miserable. Told with remarkable wit, it is an honest foray into the often fruitless search for happiness. As is by now well known, simply wondering whether we are happy can make us unhappy. Anything that takes us out of the moment can lead to unhappiness. It is for this reason, I surmise, that Weiner chose the word bliss rather than happiness in his title. 

In my estimation, bliss exists somewhere between happiness and joy. It is not as fragile or fleeting as happiness, but neither does it require quite the same sense of quiet contentment that we often associate with joy. I would liken bliss to a state of flow (that wonderful concept explored by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi): that blissful unawareness that is achieved by being aware of and immersed in where you are and what you are doing – let's call it a sort of mindful happiness. 

With this definition in mind, let's take a brief look at the places that Weiner visits in his book and my interpretations of his main conclusions from each.

1. The Netherlands
   
   In the Netherlands, Weiner tells us – after smoking some hash for "research purposes" – it is a combination of freedom and permissibility that contributes to the nation's relatively high levels of happiness: the Netherlands checks in at number five globally on the 2019 list of the world's happiest nations. But it is not mere permissibility that leads to happiness. It is a sort of structured permissibility without judgment. Even in the Netherlands, too much of a good thing is still too much.
   
   
2. Switzerland
   
   Switzerland checks in at number six on the 2019 global happiness list, just behind the Netherlands. It is also the second stop for Weiner on his grand tour. He is quick to note that the perception of Switzerland as a clean and well-functioning nation is spot on. Switzerland is also a little boring, but perhaps that's why it lends itself to being a happy place. For the Swiss, Weiner notes, it is a combination of structure, rules, and trust that produce a happy society. Everyone knows how to behave, neighbors know what to expect from neighbors, and one does not seek to inspire envy in others. Everything has its place, including indulgence in a little chocolate now and again.
   
   
3. Bhutan
   
   Bhutan is the first of Weiner's stops that misses out on the top ten of the 2019 global happiness index. It is also, perhaps, the place that inspires one the most of all the places to which he travels. For the Bhutanese, attentiveness, deliberateness, and, once again, trust, contribute to a happy society. Things move slower in Bhutan. Weiner notes the lack of infrastructure we are accustomed to in the West. But in Bhutan, this is not a lack, it is a freedom. A freedom to slow down and actually practice deliberateness, not just espouse its positives as we Americans so often do without ever testing it out. Perhaps trust comes easier in a smaller nation, but its recurrence as a cornerstone of happiness seems to be an indication of something worthwhile. 
   
   
4. Qatar
   
   The nation of Qatar is an outlier. It is a nouveau riche nation doing its utmost to purchase a culture. "We are revising ourselves through our...cultural development," said Qatar's chief art buyer. Call it revision or creation, Weiner does not seem impressed with the effect. In his estimation, money buys leisure, but not necessarily bliss. As has been noted by so many researchers, money on its own does not lead to happiness. In fact, tying self-worth to money even hampers happiness.
   
   
5. Iceland
   
   Iceland checks in at number four on the 2019 global happiness index, the highest of the nations that Weiner visited. In Iceland, Weiner jokes, the people are drinkers, but happy drinkers. But Icelandic happiness goes beyond enjoying a good drink. Weiner informs us that it is a combination of imagination and cultural inventiveness, with ample room to fail and try again, that contributes in large part to the bliss of the nation. It is this inventiveness that also leads to valuing generalization over specialization, a rarer thing in the modern world, but that seems to point to a more well-rounded society. In Iceland, the focus is on learning more about more, not excessively more about less and less. It is a sort of moderation through unbounded exploration that we could all learn from.
   
   
6. Moldova
   
   Weiner's brief visit to the country of Moldova, which consistently ranks near the bottom of world happiness indices, reveals what happiness is not. In Moldova, we learn that happiness is elsewhere. It's a sort of grass is greener approach, but in this case, the grass really does seem to be greener in any direction outside of Moldova. We are introduced to lovely people there, though, who teach us that we are hardwired for altruism, even, and perhaps especially, in difficult or less than ideal circumstances. To take this idea further, we should avoid envy resolutely, as envy of our neighbors makes us less likely to want to help them. This seems to be a symptom that we are seeing play out in current US politics.
   
   
7. Thailand
   
   In Thailand, we basically find the antithesis of the prevailing mindset that drives America. Weiner writes that Thailand taught him to make things fun and to take the long view, especially in light of the belief in re-incarnation. Do not take yourself too seriously, for if it is not fun, at least on some level, then what is the point?
   
   
8. Great Britain
   
   Great Britain is another of those places that Weiner does not find to be particularly happy at face value. With that in mind, he advises us that happiness is a matter of how you choose to see things. Re-framing is important in most aspects of life, especially regarding work and career, but Great Britain teaches us that it can also be important in how we view ourselves and where we came from.
   
   
9. India
   
   In India, where Weiner served as a foreign correspondent for NPR for a time, he instructs us to allow and embrace contradictions, embrace uncertainty and imperfections, and allow for an ad hoc experience of life. Again, all things that we in America find difficult to do. As Weiner notes in his book, the contradictions of India may be best summed up by a Mark Twain quote in which he wrote, "Every life [in India] is sacred, except human life." Perhaps this stems from a wide belief, like Thailand, in re-incarnation. Perhaps, though, it's just a further invitation to accept the contradictions and absurdities that are inevitably encountered in life.
   
   
10.  America
    
    Weiner ends his journey with a review of America and what makes its citizens tick. According to Weiner, it is willpower, gumption, and prosperity that underlies the American drive for happiness. Much of this is ultimately empty, though. How much prosperity is enough? More. We are a  society hell-bent on seeking money, when what would really make us happy – and the research bears this out – is seeking time and connection with others.

No single place has the perfect formula for happiness. Happiness is, after all, fleeting. Again, perhaps this is why Weiner chose to use the word bliss in his title. There are lessons worth taking from each of the nations that Weiner visited. The ones that seem to recur, though, are an emphasis on connection, trust, and time – all of which require a certain deliberateness on our part. Deliberateness is certainly a concept we can get behind here at Deliberately Aimless.

Stories of the Nature of Cities

https://unsplash.com/photos/6WrKKQcEnXk

What follows is a flash fiction story that I wrote for a project called "Stories of the Nature of Cities," with a vision of what cities will look like in the year 2099. The focus of the project is, of course, on transdisciplinary thinking and efforts to make for a more connected and greener city. More about the project can be found on The Nature of Cities website. 

Whether the global pandemic of 2020 casts any doubt on the viability of cities is undoubtedly a concern, but it seems that that is where further innovation can come into play to make cities feel safe to the masses and allow them to continue to thrive. Density, previously a key selling point of cities, is naturally considered less than ideal in the midst of a pandemic. But, one could argue, perhaps it is also this same proximity that has allowed us to build the institutions that we have that have led to the relatively quick rollout of a vaccine. 

Cities are, without a doubt, hubs of innovation. But in the following flash fiction story, I focus on a simpler version of a city. One that is smaller, and based on communal cooperation and mutual care and trust. A community and society that promotes the common good, while maintaining concern for the individual, is one we can all get behind. The fictional story that follows is one that I feel epitomizes the type and quality of life we aim to promote here at Deliberately Aimless. Welcome to the notion of SimpliCity, otherwise known as Peace River.

→Peace River

Diana watched from under her visor as the green leaves fluttered in the breeze above her. She took a spade from the wheelbarrow next to her, relishing the feeling of its wooden handle in her grasp. This tool allowed her to cultivate both her own food as well as an intimate relationship with the natural world, an experience she realized she shouldn’t take for granted. It was only a short while ago that people had little contact with nature; a sizeable portion still didn’t. In humanity’s quest to eliminate hardship and effort, it had unwittingly removed purpose from life. As Diana saw it, many in the mid-century period became shells of their former selves, having no physical concerns, and thereby no connection to their bodies, to nature, to each other.

But things were changing. On the eve of the 22^nd century, there was a movement by a significant portion of the population to re-establish the small town, to leave behind the concrete jungle, the overcrowding, and the desultory life. Many would choose to stay in the still-growing cities, for the convenience; others desired something more: to know Mother Nature.

With this aim in mind, Diana had moved to Peace River, high on the Canadian prairie, a year ago. When she arrived, she hadn’t witnessed a utopia in action; pursuit of utopia had made the megacities what they were. Neither were these remote communities communist. They still operated under capitalist principles, but not the capitalism that you and I know. Currency existed and people held occupations, sure, but interest was not earned on loans and wealth was not created simply by manipulating markets. The towns operated under the not so radical idea put forth by Solomon in Proverbs, that “dishonest money dwindles away, but he who gathers money little by little makes it grow.” In fact, this described much of the outlook of how the town operated as a whole, not just as pertains to commerce. Nature, too, was something to be used little by little, as needed, but not without tender care.

Diana had found employment as a journalist, covering the goings-on in the town of about 7,000. She enjoyed riding her bicycle to her appointments, the global warming of the past century having made the winters of the northern prairies more tolerable. Most of the town’s residents commuted by bicycle, much as the Dutch had used to do before rising seas had forced many of their number into the megacities. Life moved at a slower pace in Peace River, and the residents subsequently found themselves without regular need of automobiles. A train line ran once daily to Edmonton, and a city-subsidized rental facility allowed residents to rent autonomous cars on an as-needed basis.

Digging the nose of the spade into the soil, Diana upturned a small amount and deposited the potato tuber, covering it back over. She trenched a line about thirty feet long, and continued planting about every twelve inches. Finishing, she tossed the spade into the wheelbarrow and pumped some water from the nearby well into her bottle, savoring the fresh taste as she drank it down. Northern Alberta had outlawed the use of pesticides nearly eighty years before, and all cities had moved to grey water systems, to reduce the amount of waste entering streams. In that time, the groundwater tables had begun to recover, in terms of both quality and quantity. The installation of bio-swales and permeable pavement throughout town had also helped with the infiltration of rainwater and snowmelt, intercepting portions of it before it could runoff into the river, where it would become “lost” due to salinity when it entered the sea, until such time that it precipitated over land again.

Which reminded her that she needed to meet Tom back at the house to have him check the pressure in her front room radiator. She walked round to the front just as he was riding up. He leaned his bicycle against her wire fence, and she led him inside. A socialite, Tom explained as he set to work. “I see you have the newer units with the gridded folds to maximize surface area. That helps with efficiency. So what seems to be the problem?”

“It’s been emitting a high-pitched sound when it runs. I’m worried about the pressure since we run recycled water through them these days.”

“Understandable, don’t want to have that sort of mess to clean up. Again, it’s more efficient to run re-used water through, but I understand the concern.” Tom made quick work of it, replacing a fitting and O-ring, and was soon on his way.

“Thanks, what do I owe you?” Diana asked as he headed down the steps.

“Nothing, it’s part of your community fees. The city, which is to say the people, take responsibility for all municipal water services, even into the house. Have a good evening.”

Diana liked Peace River. It was small enough that she could know people and be known. Yet it wasn’t a cult; no one was forcing her to be there. Should she ever desire to return to the hustle and bustle of the megacities, she could. It was just last week she had visited her brother in Calgary. And, in fact, she still held investments in some of the larger companies of the world at large; ties and communications still very much existed to the so-called “outside world.” But at the moment, she found it difficult to envision a scenario in which she would return to that world. The pace of life in Peace River was slower, the people friendlier, her career less stressful, and the town better connected with the lifeblood of humanity, which is to say, nature. Diana had rediscovered the joys of physical nature, better understood her own nature, and felt a peace and connectedness which she knew gave life to her body and to the world.

Difficulties

https://unsplash.com/photos/GRk5T551-80

A poem dealing with the difficulties of life seemed apropos for the moment we find ourselves in. With the Covid-19 pandemic ongoing and worsening in many places, travel limitations and the inability to spend the holiday with family, to work stress and just the general stress of life, sometimes we must ask tough questions and cry out to the Universe for answers. Thus, poetry, perhaps the best and most honest form of crying out when the going gets tough.

Difficulties

A call with difficult news, a struggle ongoing.

Sit with, walk with the person on the other end of the line.

My instinct is to throw that coffee cup bearing the cross and flame,

Smash it to bits on the tile floor.

But I don't.

Life is hard, and cleaning up the fragments would only be harder.

I instead cry out in spirit, in solidarity with the one I've just spoken with,

Asking, pleading to make it easier, better.

Can the cross do that?

The Meaning of Value

The Konza Prairie, Kansas
https://unsplash.com/photos/DS5kYa3PmZo

Value

Value is a complex subject that encompasses several meanings. There is what we value, there are our personal values, and there is the value we place on things, to name but a few. I want to focus on a combination of these.

If it is true that big data is the way of the future, I suspect then that big data will have something to reveal to us about value and the nature of human beings. An image search of the term "value" will, once you have gotten past the infographics about the topic, produce images showing money, watches, cars, and gadgets. Our increasing reliance on big data hints at a notion of value: the more the better. Except when that's not the case. In some instances, it is the opposite, and we assign greater value as rarity increases. It all depends on what is being valued.

Perhaps, for this discussion, we need a definition of value, then. In my view, value stems from three main components: skill, scarcity, and utility.

→Skill

We tend to assign greater value to tasks or accomplishments that require more skill. This seems reasonable enough. Lionel Messi possesses a great deal of skill in soccer. He is subsequently compensated at a very high level: with money, fame, assumed credibility, etc. We take it in stride that possession and practice of such a skill can and should be compensated at a higher level than unskilled positions in the food service, waste management, or hospitality arenas, to name but a few.

But why does his immense skill on the pitch carry greater value than someone who is similarly skilled in a cognitively-demanding field such as dentistry? Each field undoubtedly has a vast array of methods, techniques, and baseline knowledge that must be mastered. To answer that question, we must examine the second component of the value equation.

→Scarcity

Not to harp on the professions of soccer and dentistry, but is mastery of one rarer than mastery of the other? I would argue that the answer is no. Soccer – and other skill-focused professions that place a premium on coordination, muscle memory, or athletic ability – may simply provide a more obvious arena for sussing out the highest levels of mastery than in cognitively demanding fields. So while mastery of soccer may in fact not be rarer than mastery of dentistry, it is easier to determine who is "better" at soccer than at dentistry.

Furthermore, soccer is fun. Dentistry is (generally) not considered to be so, at least not in the same way. People like to watch soccer, broadcasters subsequently pay for rights to show soccer matches to more and more people, advertisers join the fray, fans buy tickets, and the spoils of this vast machine cascade to the best and most popular players and teams. We prefer grand mountains to simple prairies, dramatic waterfalls to meandering streams, and large estates to humble abodes. Soccer is a grand mountain. Dentistry – and similar cognitively demanding fields – are simple prairies, associated with the day to day, and therefore, unremarkable. More on this later.

→Utility

Utility is where a wrench is thrown into the equation. It is doubtful that, if asked to rank the top one hundred most useful professions, any two people from a reasonable sample size would produce a list of the exact same order. Even producing agreement ranking the top ten most useful professions would be difficult. 

However, we can reasonably hazard a guess that soccer would not be on that list, and dentistry would be. Dentistry has a much more direct, practical application to day to day life. It is necessary; soccer is not. Most jobs that we everyday people do are necessary. They fill a need to keep the world moving. Things like soccer – sports, in general – and other performance professions, are entertainment. They provide a diversion from the tedium of everyday life. In this sense, those everyday professions are far more valuable than something like soccer, even if that's not summarily represented by compensation.

The Disconnect

So what is missing from our equation? Is it impressiveness? Is it desirability of the job or action being performed? Remarkability? Perhaps it's this last one, remarkability. Remember the mountains and prairies comparison? In reality, neither mountains nor prairies are more unique or rare than the other. But mountains are usually looked upon with more awe than prairies because of their remarkability. 

Humans live in a predominantly horizontal world, and so we are more attuned to something in the vertical plain. It catches our attention. The day to day jobs that you and I work are in the horizontal; jobs of athletes and entertainers are in the vertical. This seems to be a differentiating factor in determining subsequent compensation and interest. This may not be entirely consistent with the other factors influencing value, but it is understandable, dissectable.

Worth

Sometimes, however, we conflate value with worth, which is a problem. The vertical is no more "worthy" than the horizontal, any more than the mountain is more worthy than the prairie. This is why I chose a picture of the Konza Prairie in Kansas as the header of this post. Kansas (my home state) is often the subject of dismissal and disdain, usually regarding its lack of vertical features. But this in no way makes it "less than." 

In a similar vein, you are of no less worth than someone else simply because you earn less or because the world values their dreams more than yours in a monetary sense. As complex as the notion of value can be, worth is even more so. Do not conflate the two, for we are all of equal worth, and, simultaneously, "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23 NKJV). Develop the components of value to your benefit and as you are able, but remember that we are all equal in a cosmic lens, even if that can be a difficult thought to maintain in the day to day.