Questions
One of the most difficult problems I have wrestled with since ninth grade is negotiating a normal, healthy medium between nihilism and obsession.
"Obsession" occurs when emotions gain too much pull, defining "me" for the transient time of their occupation. They control my interactions, my mood, my view of people, my view of everything. They taint my judgement, leading me on searches without direction or solution, simply a frantic grasping for escape or meaning.
But my emotions provide no meaning, leaving my grasping mind with nihilism. When life gets discouraging, it is easy to say it lacks meaning. I say the unpleasant emotions are meaningless, or that the pains of life are hollow. I know they will fade. I know that they really don't mean much in the grand scheme of the world. I know they are part of the human condition, often a manifestation of brain chemicals gathering in arbitrary ways.
But nihilism has the obvious conclusion: all is meaningless, not just the bad. So all my joy lacks any meaning, too. Moreover, sometimes meaningless pain is much more painful than pain with a meaning. So it is often more palatable to say life has meaning.
But if it does, I don't know where to find it. In particular, how much pain truly has "meaning"? A lot of bad things happen for no reason. People age, grow sick, and die seemingly for no reason. Some suffering arrises because outside forces foil inward expectations--without meaning. For me, I'm often pained when ideals clatter to the ground when faced by reality.
I often ask myself, is life just this? I mean, is life only my current, visible world: all of us clinging to shallow, impermanent comforts like status, or money, or relationships that will fade or bring suffering? Because that seems so hollow to me. What's the point of anything if it is all subject to decay and corruption. Ideals may build up family, money, love, life, etc., but reality is so pale.
It seems that the ideal way to go through life is to tread lightly, experiencing it's beauties while ignoring it's pains. As the Muslims say, "build no houses." Just enjoy your friends and family and ignore the gnawing sense of angst beneath the surface.
Is that even possible? And more specifically, would I be "happy"?
I don't know.
And I don't know how I should treat my emotions. Ignore them? Accept them and move on? Try to rectify them? They seem to lead to these overdramatic slides into nihilism, propelling my analytical mind to build complex arguments that substantiate shadows. I'd be a lot happier kicking a soccer ball around.
But I don't think I can control my emotions or escape these tides of nihilism. Even when I'm busy, obsession and nihilism return to duke it out. In which case, how can I ever succeed in a world when I think everything is meaningless? It's like Camus' problem in The Myth of Sysiphus: how can life be worth living when it lacks any meaning at all? That nauseating gulf leaves no answers, leaves no drive, leaves--quite simply--nothing.
I think this feeling also propels me toward Buddhism. It's a defense mechanism, yes, but one that seems healthier than nihilism. Perhaps that's what any religion is, a defense mechanism to give us ethereal comfort for earthly woes. Perhaps that's what any of our lofty philosophical frameworks are: love, meaning, destiny, joy, fate, moral law, etc. They're overdressed conceptions for common sense and physiological conditions.
But that's painful too. How can a human possibly say love and joy are meaningless and still be happy with the world?
In the end, it seems, one is left having to make a leap somewhere or reach a hollow compromise. One could dive at religion, believing that something perfect exists beyond this imperfection. One could dive at hedonism and accumulate as much pleasure as possible in this life. One could dive off a building. Or one could just accept the world as it is and live with the mediocre sense of meaning from that, chasing after joy as a dog chases it's tail.
Or one could just be happy and not ever doubt. But I know I can't do that.
What then is life? Is it a biological function? Is it a brief time between birth and death? Is it a constant cycling of birth and death, leading us from one painful reality to another? Is there anything beyond life?
I don't know. I really don't know. But for now, I think, the best thing is to get out of my head and go do something besides homework and writing. I don't know what. Go for a walk? Perhaps. At least then I can give myself a destination.
"Obsession" occurs when emotions gain too much pull, defining "me" for the transient time of their occupation. They control my interactions, my mood, my view of people, my view of everything. They taint my judgement, leading me on searches without direction or solution, simply a frantic grasping for escape or meaning.
But my emotions provide no meaning, leaving my grasping mind with nihilism. When life gets discouraging, it is easy to say it lacks meaning. I say the unpleasant emotions are meaningless, or that the pains of life are hollow. I know they will fade. I know that they really don't mean much in the grand scheme of the world. I know they are part of the human condition, often a manifestation of brain chemicals gathering in arbitrary ways.
But nihilism has the obvious conclusion: all is meaningless, not just the bad. So all my joy lacks any meaning, too. Moreover, sometimes meaningless pain is much more painful than pain with a meaning. So it is often more palatable to say life has meaning.
But if it does, I don't know where to find it. In particular, how much pain truly has "meaning"? A lot of bad things happen for no reason. People age, grow sick, and die seemingly for no reason. Some suffering arrises because outside forces foil inward expectations--without meaning. For me, I'm often pained when ideals clatter to the ground when faced by reality.
I often ask myself, is life just this? I mean, is life only my current, visible world: all of us clinging to shallow, impermanent comforts like status, or money, or relationships that will fade or bring suffering? Because that seems so hollow to me. What's the point of anything if it is all subject to decay and corruption. Ideals may build up family, money, love, life, etc., but reality is so pale.
It seems that the ideal way to go through life is to tread lightly, experiencing it's beauties while ignoring it's pains. As the Muslims say, "build no houses." Just enjoy your friends and family and ignore the gnawing sense of angst beneath the surface.
Is that even possible? And more specifically, would I be "happy"?
I don't know.
And I don't know how I should treat my emotions. Ignore them? Accept them and move on? Try to rectify them? They seem to lead to these overdramatic slides into nihilism, propelling my analytical mind to build complex arguments that substantiate shadows. I'd be a lot happier kicking a soccer ball around.
But I don't think I can control my emotions or escape these tides of nihilism. Even when I'm busy, obsession and nihilism return to duke it out. In which case, how can I ever succeed in a world when I think everything is meaningless? It's like Camus' problem in The Myth of Sysiphus: how can life be worth living when it lacks any meaning at all? That nauseating gulf leaves no answers, leaves no drive, leaves--quite simply--nothing.
I think this feeling also propels me toward Buddhism. It's a defense mechanism, yes, but one that seems healthier than nihilism. Perhaps that's what any religion is, a defense mechanism to give us ethereal comfort for earthly woes. Perhaps that's what any of our lofty philosophical frameworks are: love, meaning, destiny, joy, fate, moral law, etc. They're overdressed conceptions for common sense and physiological conditions.
But that's painful too. How can a human possibly say love and joy are meaningless and still be happy with the world?
In the end, it seems, one is left having to make a leap somewhere or reach a hollow compromise. One could dive at religion, believing that something perfect exists beyond this imperfection. One could dive at hedonism and accumulate as much pleasure as possible in this life. One could dive off a building. Or one could just accept the world as it is and live with the mediocre sense of meaning from that, chasing after joy as a dog chases it's tail.
Or one could just be happy and not ever doubt. But I know I can't do that.
What then is life? Is it a biological function? Is it a brief time between birth and death? Is it a constant cycling of birth and death, leading us from one painful reality to another? Is there anything beyond life?
I don't know. I really don't know. But for now, I think, the best thing is to get out of my head and go do something besides homework and writing. I don't know what. Go for a walk? Perhaps. At least then I can give myself a destination.