Scientific Poetry

"I began with physical anthropology. I was taught how to measure the size of the brain of a human being who had been dead a long time, who was all dried out. I bored a hole in his skull, and I filled with grains of polished rice. Then I emptied the rice into a graduated cylinder. I found this tedious.

"I switched to archaeology, and I learned something I already knew: that man had been a maker and smasher of crockery since the dawn of time. And I went to my faculty advisor, and I confessed that science did not charm me, that I longed for poetry instead. I was depressed. I knew my wife and father would want to kill me if I went into poetry.

"My advisor smiled. 'How would you like to study poetry which pretends to be scientific?' he asked me.

"'Is such a thing possible?' I said.

"He shook my hand. 'Welcome to the field of social anthropology,' he said. He told me that Ruth Benedict and Margaret Mead were already in it- and some sensitive gentlemen as well."

Kurt Vonnegut recounting anthropology at the University of Chicago

Wampeters, Foma & Granfalloons

Beauty in Truths

A friend and I discussed how he was frustrated by the fact that so many find solace in Vonnegut, but that Vonnegut offers a recapitulation of the words of Jesus Christ, and that recognizing and accepting Jesus offers more than does recognizing Vonnegut. His argument presupposes a belief in a god however, implied when he added that Jesus offered so much more; the "more" being miracles and a path to God. When I asked about how he would explain atheism he answered that it was essentially pride, that atheists are too proud to humble themselves to God and follow him. Again, this explanation reaffirms his own belief and really doesn't quite reach what I was trying to get at.

To rephrase, how do you explain different and opposing realities or truths? We're not so different he and I, we're both not fans of religion, both heed a call for basic good, both liberals (however one wishes to construe such an identity), both having found our place in the world. How then does he reconcile that I don't believe in a god? (Without saying that I am wrong.) Essentially, we both came to the same place, a place where we reflected on our life and the world and what we were taught. We then each chose two completely separate truths. Here's where I am: My truth accepts all truths, I see millions upon millions of different truths, each equally as valid as the next. Who am I to say one's truth is false, or that it really fits into other truths? This is not say that there are no truths. My truth recognizes the fact that there is no one single answer, each person's answer to life is unique to them, even if it falls under the realm of Christianity, Islam, Humanism, Atheism. I know that my answer isn't everyone's answer, but, as everyone does, I think that my answer is the most logical.

So, to make my point in a different way I ask myself the same question. How do I explain theism? Belief in God is an individual's reckoning of the world they live in, the things they've been taught and an inward search. They find that there is a higher power that has put us here, that we have fallen out with it, but that we are striving to reach again in an eternity. How do I explain atheism? Atheism is an individuals reckoning of the world they live in, the things they've been taught and inward searching. They find that science explains the world in predictable ways and that the world can only be reasonably understood by what can be observed. How do I explain Humanism? Humanism is an individual's reckoning of the world they live in, the things they've been taught and inward reflection. They find that, despite all the seemingly endless and irreconcilable contradictions, that all people on this planet share the human condition; respect of the human condition as it exists in the material world frames how they act. By reconciling different beliefs and ideas in their own terms, instead of my own, I create a world view that accepts multiple real truths all creations of individuals in unique time and space. This doesn't make my ideas or anyone else's more or less valid, but simply recognizes them as they are. (I cannot possibly get inside my friend's head, nor he in mine, and because of this neither of us can alter the other's truth.)

I don't think that Jesus or Vonnegut are the ultimate truths, that one or the other is better to find solace in, both only share their message on their own terms. Jesus believed in God the Father (a reflection of his own personal experience as being the son of God), Vonnegut was cynical of religion and the wars that he perceived to go along with it (a reflection of his horrifying experience in World War II). I identify more with Vonnegut then because we share the same cynicism. However, I reckon a truth on my own terms, that while influenced by Vonnegut, certainly does not take an identical form.

I think that recognizing other truths and beliefs is not so much a specific path that runs in opposition to other paths. It's not an absolute ideology, but rather more of a courtesy within or complement to an existing ideology. I think that by doing this we can find beauty in our own truths as well as others'. I hope that he, my friend, need not be frustrated with Vonnegut, and that this frustration, no matter how profound, would keep him from reading his words. Indeed, some things are easy to learn, some things are fun, others force us to continually be critical and thoughtful and are terribly frustrating and difficult; even exhausting. Nevertheless we should never deny ourselves knowledge and experience, for this is the only way we can know better who we are.

Again

This is the 4th or 5th time I've started a blog. It's starting to get ridiculous. Chances are this will fall through the gaps like so many other blogs before it. I think this is because my inspirations and cravings to write are inconsistent; by the time I get another urge to write it will have been weeks or months and I'll start anew. I tout myself as being stable, consistent in though, solid in life philosophy. The truth is probably much more believable, I find myself content in the moment, subject to the whims of the future. That's not to say that certain things remain constant. I'm comfortable with who I am, I understand who I am (to the best of my ability), I've resigned myself to the fact that tomorrow I will be someone different. That's the excitement of it. Is this was what makes life worth living, the understanding that each day brings new challenges, new influences, knew outrage and new hope? Yes. It's one of the things in any event.

Of late I've become, dare I say, obsessed with humanism. My interest and goals in anthropology have always hinted at it, a genuine concern with humanity, an understanding of (rather than devotion to) the supernatural, confusion and criticism to all things good and bad. (I live a life of contradiction, where my only certainty lies in my inability to accept anything at face value.) I started with atheism, a distrust of religion brought on by a catholic upbringing. I moved on to socialism, perhaps a futile political association, but one that makes the best sense all the same. Finally, deeply embedded in academia, thought and liberalism I find humanism in Kurt Vonnegut Jr. His novels are the only thing that I have read and understood in a subconscious way that allowed me to accept them. I finished Slaughterhouse 5 for the second time and it nearly changed my life. Perhaps the fact that I finished it while living in a rural town in western Kenya, isolated from the capitalist and busy world at home had something to do with it. Perhaps the fact that I have surrounded myself with thoughtful and confused company helped as well.

"Well. Here we are, Mr. Pilgrim, trapped in the amber of this moment. There is no why." There is no why, only now. Only what I can do now, only what I can think now, only who I know now. Is why a silly question? No. Without asking why one is stuck. Imagine just living in the amber of the moment, unaware of the why. Maybe it's there maybe it's not, you don't know, you haven't asked. There's an easy answer to the why; someone put me here. It's an easy answer, a comforting one, it gives purpose. But it still leaves open the path to ask why again. Here is where faith and reality split. Some say, if I ask why the only answer I'm prepared to accept is the answer I already know, that someone put me here. So I won't ask why, I'll just have faith in what I already know. Others, continue asking why. We find that we're led around in circles, why's lead to more why's lead to more why's. We realize that there are a plethora of co-existing why's, individual why's. There is no great why, no final why, only the why's that surround us in the moment. There are plenty of them, enough to go around.

Each one of us is why really. Within ourselves, our humanity, the only thing that is shared universally.

I think I'm confusing myself. It happens. Why? There is no why, only the moment. If only I could come unstuck in time.

In the end there really is no figuring it out, no final answer, no concrete identity. There is only the comfort and ability to accept that we are one thing today, another tomorrow, and that's okay.