Author: admin

Dealing with imperfection

In life it seems we can flit between ‘reality’ and that which we think, hope or imagine could happen. Yet, reality also being that place where problems exist and change needs to begin, there clearly has to be some overlap if we’re to attempt bringing better ideas into practice.

We almost undeniably live in an imperfect world: despite our intelligence, experience and often fine intentions, problematic behaviours and systems still persist and maybe even compound themselves. After all, if problems go unchecked – actions and attitudes having few apparent consequences – then what is there to prompt improvement? (see Notes One).

In that context, those seeking change may well get disheartened, angry, bitter. I mean, if you see problems, care deeply, and know enough to suspect it may become a far, far bigger cause for concern, then you’ll likely want to do something about it. Although others might attempt to discredit you, criticise your reasoning or dismiss it as idealism, you may also be right and speaking only out of concern for where things might lead.

And that seems to come down to the relationships between thought and reality, action and consequence, responsibility and agency (Notes Two). We may be habitually behaving in ways that don’t ultimately serve us well, but understanding reality thoroughly enough to see, in thought, the better path isn’t simple. And believing your ideas, intentions and actions matter is both incredibly powerful and confronting.

It takes confidence to change course; it may seem ‘safer’ to continue as you were rather than make changes and thereby become responsible for them. And all the while you’re doing as you were told, you can lay blame elsewhere. However I don’t think we can simply blame those who don’t realise their importance in the scheme of things either, as it’s not something we’re often told or given much time to contemplate.

Hopefully then, those able to see pressing problems and anticipate where it might all lead will push for the changes needed to avert disaster. And they may, quite rationally, conclude that the potential for transformation only exists in the present moment: that change only happens naturally if we can either understand its necessity or trust in those who tell us of it. Who to trust is a big question.

But believing in your responsibility, understanding your power, and trusting your ideas despite what’s going on around you are those remarkable qualities most often praised in figures such as Gandhi, Mandela, Mother Theresa or Martin Luther King. Having clarity of insight, courage in your convictions and persistence in following them through aren’t really commonplace human attributes, much as we might need and admire them.

Essentially, navigating flawed realities, acting wisely, finding the right places to stand, and respectfully convincing others of their importance are all tricky. Without foresight, vision and willingness, life is more than a little daunting; yet the paths towards effective communication and cooperation are also far from clear. But when has anything worthwhile ever really come without great effort?

Notes and References:

Note 1: Tell me why I should
Note 1: Fear or coercion as motivators
Note 2: The philosopher stance
Note 2: What if it all means something?
Note 2: What is real?

Looking more at the time it takes to make things happen, there’s Patience with the pace of change.

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The way to be

Human psychology is so incredibly fascinating: all the little ways every one of us is different as life, relationships, culture, society, opportunities, and that base note of our fundamental character, interests and outlook blend together into these undeniably unique individuals. Ways we – as people – meet with reality, respond to it, form our ideas around life, then act out of that understanding to continue reshaping our world.

It astounds me at times how all those complex and interwoven processes get reduced to relatively simple models, theories and opinions about what drives people and what it is we’re doing here. There’s such beauty and deep truth in all those aspects of being human. But then, of course, there are the practicalities of life; and maybe models and theories help us gain a foothold in navigating that.

Finding the right balance between respecting individual paths in life and pressing forward collectively is the kind of problem that could stop you in your tracks completely. If we wish to take our own existence as being deeply significant and worthy of respect, then logically we should apply the same courtesy to all others. But how could that work out, practically? That may not be a question we can answer.

But, on a smaller scale, it often seems we take our own way of being and see it as more or less the right way to be. We’ve lived a little, decided who we are, made the most of our choices, formed opinions and beliefs, then we seem to stand by that, defend it and hold others up against our own standards and experiences.

Which takes us back to the realm of psychology: how we form a self, relate ourselves to society, and then use that ‘security’ to make our way in life. Of course, we arguably need to limit our options, close some doors, define ourselves in order to have this firmer sense of identity from which to act – so others can know who we are and paths become clearer.

It just interests me, because by doing all this we’re effectively making our selves the standard by which we judge things. It seems a process that creates conflict, as we’re drawn to those who share our views and struggle to understand those who don’t. In all the richness and diversity of life (see Notes One), all these battle lines are being drawn between us.

Just because something is ours, we like it and there’s a history behind it, does that make it right or true? How much of our personal identity is firmly tied up with the paths we’ve walked, choices we’ve made, and needing to feel secure about it all?

Stopping short of becoming too philosophical, it’s surely all a little strange. If we were truly secure within ourselves – knowing our experiences and choices to be personal, fleeting and limited – could we not instead be more curious about the many ways we are different, and all that that could bring to our lives together?

Notes and References:

Note 1: “Women who run with the wolves”
Note 1: What are we thinking?
Note 1: How it feels to be alive
Note 1: Is anything obvious to someone who doesn’t know?
Note 1: Communicating divergent experiences

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Is anything obvious to someone who doesn’t know?

Thinking about life, there are clearly going to be things we know and things we don’t. There’s the things life itself and those around us have taught us, then those things they might not have known themselves or known to pass on. And how else do we learn anything?

But then there also seems this sense that some things are just obvious and not being aware of them is unthinkable, laughable, a sign of stupidity or – more sympathetically – of ignorance. Ignorance being this state of “not knowing” where people lack awareness, knowledge or information. Generally it’s also a word thrown around as an insult within a reasonably intelligent and well-informed society.

Just because information’s widely available and we’re intelligent enough to understand it though, it doesn’t necessarily follow that we’re stupid for not having found it or realised its importance. Arguably, the more information that’s available the harder it is to see what matters from what doesn’t, and the more likely we are to overlook things in an attempt to manage the sheer volume of what’s now surrounding us (see Notes One).

Maybe it’s ‘natural’ to see our own knowledge, values and priorities as obvious? Not necessarily noticing where these ideas we live our life by came from: those subtle processes whereby we came to see things a given way and drew conclusions around what it all means about us, the worlds we exist within, and how best to act for mutual benefit.

Surely anything we know is something we were told or shown, and in a way that we understood its relevance and truth for our lives? Sometimes those lessons may have been intentional, other times they might have been incidental or actually the reverse of what people had hoped to teach us. We might have accepted the wisdom offered or rebelled against it, reaching similar or vastly different conclusions.

None of this is straightforward. In this day and age, who do we really trust to impart unshakable wisdom? It used to be religion or tradition that was looked to, then perhaps those educated in a certain way or entrusted with positions of power. This task of shaping our lives, our ideas – having the authority to impact lives in that deep and lasting way – has clearly changed hands over time.

In that light, are we ever right to mock or insult those who don’t share our ideas? If their life’s not led them to see things that way, might that be better explored respectfully rather than incredulously? It’s easy to see things as obvious and get taken aback by those who’ve experienced life differently, but our reactions to this parting of the ways can undoubtedly throw up serious obstacles to the gap ever being bridged (Notes Two).

It’s interesting because we live in times of increasingly converging experiences in some ways, but then there’s this heightened awareness of divergent perspectives nestled within it all. With so much going on, assuming there’s common ground may be an obstacle in itself.

Notes and References:

Note 1: Complexity of life
Note 1: The need for discernment
Note 1: Need to stand alone & think for ourselves
Note 1: What are we thinking?
Note 2: Anger as a voice
Note 2: We may as well laugh

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History’s role in modern culture

Books, films and other cultural forms often turn to the past as a source of inspiration. It might have always been the case: that cultures draw on what precedes and surrounds them, retelling stories with their own particular slant on what things mean.

I suppose any dominant, overriding culture is in the position to rework how we see the past or other ways of living within our times. It’s this voice that can really shape our perceptions, ideas and conclusions about reality. The argument being that controlling the narrative serves the needs of society: casting events in a light that justifies things and reinforces the beliefs, attitudes and customs fitting with its aims.

Of course, in telling a story, we likely do so in our own words and using our perspective. We might make ancient peoples speak, think, look, act, and relate as we do – imagining people were always the same, that the process of living hadn’t changed us that much. But of course it has, even if we might struggle to relate to how things once were and what brought us to where we stand today (see Notes One).

Does this matter? Does it matter how our understanding is defined by those assuming the responsibility of informing us about the world? It’s a question as relevant to modern culture as to education, technology or the media. We have to get our ideas from somewhere, yet ‘facts’ often come with a coating of how we’re meant to receive them (flippantly, obediently, loaded with fear or superiority).

And everything can be seen to mean something: the ideas we hold reflect our sense of the past, of choices made and outcomes achieved; they inform our views on the world we live in, our attitudes towards systems, people and things; all becoming part and parcel of how we see ourselves and how we act as a result.

History, however, is a complex discipline seeking to uncover how disparate influences led to incremental or momentous changes; to understand a little more the paths human civilisations have taken over time. That kind of truth may not be straightforward or lead to simple conclusions, but it’s useful in seeing where we’ve come from.

By comparison, it’s relatively easy to spin compelling narratives with strong characters, stunning effects, and convenient outcomes. Such tales may also be far more memorable, visually and conceptually, than the delicate study of uncertainty described above. Yet we may want this clear arc to the past, neat themes and an obvious sense of right and wrong that fits with our views. Maybe that’s all very socially desirable.

As with anything, there’s no simple answer. The stories we tell ourselves may serve us well in navigating our times, but they might not give us an entirely accurate view of them. How we got here – all the complex relationships, transactions, ideas and compromises that created Western society and still ripple through it – might not be so entertaining, but could it be more valuable to see?

Notes and References:

Note 1: History as a process of changes
Note 1: Culture and the passing of time
Note 1: “Ecological Intelligence”
Note 1: Writings on Education

Shifting more to the economic drivers of the stories we’re told, there’s Culture selling us meaning.

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The conversation of society

Carrying over this notion of society as a project we all have a part in (see Common knowledge), I wonder at times how aware we are of the long, flowing conversation of human coexistence. We could view pretty much any civilisation or grouping since the beginning of time in terms of its variation on the basic themes, functions, propositions, responses, and outcomes it achieved or stumbled over.

We could look at ways societies were organised, how they interacted with environment or related to neighbours, and the stories they told to hold these communities together in patterns of behaviour supporting their way of life. We could look at how, over time, some more rigid hierarchical structures seem to deconstruct, handing more power and initiative over to individuals. How more responsibility ended up in our hands.

It’s interesting, because any society is essentially a way of structuring communal existence: delegating tasks, organising the flow of goods and information, laying down infrastructures, providing a sense of belonging. There’s many ways that could be arranged, many beliefs or ideals we might place at its foundations, many paths we might take to bring them to realisation (see Notes One).

And these days we seem acutely aware of the recent history and its accompanying storylines that led into our way of life. Compared with the past, all that’s happened in the last hundred years or so has often been shouted through a megaphone, thrown up on screens of various sizes, and coated in countless shades of interpretation. It’s all very much in the public consciousness and still within living memory.

Modern society is strange in that it’s so self-aware, so incredibly ‘well-informed’, yet also quite caught up in its own narrative. It’s walked its path alongside developments in communication, shaping its little human citizens in completely new, untested ways. And often – almost inevitably – we’re given those viewpoints that are deemed to serve society, reinforcing its priorities in all these subtle ways.

We’re inundated with information, opportunity, urgency, on every side: news we should know about, products we should choose between, opinions we should share. I guess that’s culture? The things we’re talking about, beliefs we have in common, realities making up our lives, and where our attention’s being drawn (Notes Two).

Yet maybe all that also risks distracting us from what’s going on at society’s core, those shifts and conversations happening that may completely change how we live together. Day by day, year by year, generation by generation, society must be drifting in new directions. Are we aware the part we play, the ways all our choices are shaping their respective markets and often shifting the balance?

Understanding the systems we live within, purposes they serve, and the thinking behind them – how all that arose over time, the result of many different conversations – must surely place us in a stronger position to make wise decisions now. Because, in every single area of our lives, our words and actions bear consequences for the realities we will share.

Notes and References:

Note 1: History as a process of changes
Note 1: Culture and the passing of time
Note 1: Patience with the pace of change
Note 2: Culture selling us meaning
Note 2: Media within democratic society
Note 2: “The Tipping Point”
Note 2: “Paradox of Choice”

What is real? also considered the importance of how we think about reality.

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Common knowledge

What do we have in common? What agreed experiences, perspectives, conclusions, values or ways of being unite us under a banner of common sense, community, or national identity? It’s presumably one aim of education: to create a shared appreciation of society and the paths it’s taken, alongside a commitment to act in ways that sustain our way of life.

Yet, by having curriculum, practices and priorities largely established by the government, this must almost inevitably tend to align with particular social viewpoints. It seems unlikely to be neutral, given how party policies are laid out to appeal to the outlook and interests of certain portions of the voting population.

I find myself picking at that fact quite a bit (see Notes One), but it seems significant. After all, if a diverse and unequal society hopes to find fair representation and a balanced, respectful understanding of their place in that system, then having political agendas setting the tone of what they receive seems troubling.

As soon as we conceive of education as a means to maintain a specific formation of society, we’re veering into territory of social engineering and manufactured outcomes. And while we’re arguably all products of our society – its norms, reference points, history, and relationships – is that to say formal education should fight a particular corner too?

Maybe it’s little wonder young people sense an agenda and distrust authority. If you’re to look back on what you were told in youth and come to realise it was part of some scheme to shape things a certain way, having made life-defining choices based on that understanding, it might be painful to see you weren’t being given the whole truth.

Of course, I understand government stepped in to ensure greater consistency and accountability for educational standards; but, as with anything, you can swing the other way. Also that trying to ‘plan’ any area of activity must place you into a swirl of statistics, opinions, formulas, definitive solutions, and so on. At what cost?

Rather than attempt political outcomes through education, might it be better to impart young people with a thorough, realistic understanding of the society they stand within, its journey and its place in world systems? And, rather than conveniently telling that from whatever perspective suits for now, to see it for what it is within the shifting flows of time (Notes Two).

How can we act responsibly within society if we don’t fully, impartially and freely understand it? Without a living sense for this human-made set of systems, agreements and theories, I don’t see how we can ever be expected to act intentionally within it.

That social understanding is, to me, what we need to be aware of. Because viewing society as a collective project – its citizens as beings capable of understanding and worthy of respect – surely reveals our shared existence to be a profoundly complicated and delicate balance. Those ties that bind us, now and into the future, seem so important for us to get to grips with.

Notes and References:

Note 1: Writings on Education
Note 1: Ideas around education & responsibility
Note 1: “Brave New World Revisited”
Note 2: “Towards a New World View”
Note 2: “New Renaissance”
Note 2: Need to stand alone & think for ourselves
Note 2: People, rules & social cohesion

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How it feels to be alive

It intrigues me to discover how people experience life. Not only in the sense of being within another culture or living through society in different times or ways, but also the idea of how we relate to being in our body and how that plays itself out.

Because it seems some people feel quite at home, that their body is clearly a part of them and dressing it up to express how they’d like to be seen is second nature. Facts like having to move through space, actions having consequences, and needing to achieve some state of regularity in order to create stability for your existence don’t seem cause for concern.

In other cases, people might feel their form to be this slightly detached, almost alien thing that bears little relation to how they experience life. As if it has nothing really to do with them and adorning it for the impression it has on others seems a fairly mysterious process – this masquerade ball of cultural reference points you tie round your neck or place on your feet.

Those being but two extremes of how we might experience life in the human body, I’d imagine there’s other ways individuals may feel about the practicalities of physical existence. And surely it has significant implications?

If you feel your body to be a remote appendage you likely live quite an inward life, struggling to inch down into that space and relate yourself to the world. You’d maybe find it hard to manage life, given that maintaining physical existence requires consistency (whether we’re talking plants, diet and exercise, work or finances). You might find less common ground with those operating more effortlessly in the everyday realities of life.

Whereas, at the other extreme, it’s presumably much easier to find your way in the world: reading its signs, playing its games, and generally fitting in without too much trouble. You might quite happily choose a look, create a lifestyle, build some stability. Bringing ideas to life is probably more straightforward, one thing leading to another.

This isn’t a normal topic, I’m aware, but it fascinates me how this fundamental sense of being might shape our lives. Presumably how you feel on this level – how comfortable, in control, at ease, confident, safe – would filter into your general outlook on life, into all your actions and relationships with the world. I suppose it’s this sense of consciousness existing in matter, relating to it and living through it.

It’s clearly something that interests me, the interplay of thought and reality (see Notes One). But I’d not really thought, before trying to write this, about how far it might affect someone’s life: this sense of comfort, agency, belonging. I mean, if that way of being makes perfect sense to you then you’d probably find your feet in life much faster.

Of course it’s weird to see yourself as an appendage, but maybe in seeking to understand the diversity of life we need to break away from the norm?

Notes and References:

Note 1: What is real?
Note 1: Thoughts on art & on life
Note 1: Mirrors we offer one another
Note 1: What if it all means something?
Note 1: The philosopher stance

Ways to share this:

What are we thinking?

Sometimes I wonder what we’re thinking. Not in the sense of frustration at where society’s headed (although there’s an element of that here at times too), but simply what it is that’s running through all our heads.

Are we tending towards this ongoing commentary of what we see out there, taking it all in, appreciating things or judging them in varying measure? Are we entertaining completely different thoughts, unrelated to what’s around us but springing forth from something else we might’ve seen or be preoccupied about? Are we synthesising what we see into a narrative, seeking meaning and the arc to our existence?

It’s interesting, because clearly all that goes on in someone’s mind is pretty much hidden from view. They might be aware of it, but they might not. We might sometimes be quite absentmindedly thinking without knowing what’s going on up there, unaware of where we are or how we appear to others. We might not know where our thoughts come from, as if they arise from nothingness but take us along for the ride.

After all, we have a lot of input. There’s our senses with all the messages they bring, memories they can stir up, and our sensitivity to all those things. There’s the physical spaces we occupy, with all the social and cultural relationships we have to navigate and find our place within. Then there’s the broader sense of life itself, our collective existence, and how precarious or valuable that all might be.

The options for what might occupy our minds are seemingly endless (see Notes One). And, with that, surely we’re running a few risks? The mind must have limited capacity, with a point we’ll get overwhelmed and be unable to process things wisely or reach appropriate solutions. There must be a stage where we want to shut off all the information we’re having to deal with, where it’s affecting our feelings and sense of inner peace.

At what point do we draw the line? If everything is real and everything is meaningful, how do we decide what actually matters? Were we to put filters on our minds, what criteria would we set and can we be sure of not tuning out something of absolutely crucial significance? And why are we living in such a way that this becomes necessary?

And ultimately it interests me because I care. About individuals, how they view themselves and their value in life. About our communities, whether we understand them rightly or if our actions might inadvertently be causing intense strain to something we rely upon. To my mind, the ideas we take in – the meanings we hold to and act upon – shape and sustain the world we all share in (Note Two).

Whether it’s a problem how we use our minds, the content running through them and what we let spill out into everyday life, seem like important questions. Because taking it all in hand, let alone communicating it with others, is becoming quite a massive undertaking.

Notes and References:

Note 1: What if it all means something?
Note 1: Nature tells a story, about the planet
Note 1: The web and the wider world
Note 1: Complexity of life
Note 1: The need for discernment
Note 2: What is real?

Ways to share this:

“Women who run with the wolves”

Thoughts around the qualities of women, their value, and roles they hold in society are interesting. I struggled for a word there, as it’s hard to encapsulate all women are then reconcile that with prevailing attitudes towards them. Also hard to see what seemed to be progress in this regard reveal itself as illusion, with very different views apparently hiding beneath the surface. But that seems the modern predicament.

Feminism, though, is also quite conflicted, as presumably there are as many different ways of being a woman as there are or ever have been women. Every culture, time and place has its experiences of what it is to be a woman and how those functions, traits and strengths offered by women have been welcomed, treasured or scorned by the societies they’ve sustained over the years.

Then there’s the question of how any given individual feels about being a woman or the women in their lives; which truly can never be anything close to straightforward. The intricacies of identity, relationship and social projection are so incredibly complex: images we’re presented, ways we’re spoken of, qualities getting praised while others are sidelined, and issues sitting okay for some but unbearable for others.

I can see why these things have rightly risen back onto the public agenda, and also why the conversation can be almost impossible to navigate. It seems what we once might’ve hoped was resolved has now revealed itself to be an ongoing battle we all have a place within.

And in that, “Women who run with the wolves” still stands out as an incredibly valuable book for unravelling the boundaries of the female psyche and seeing how it finds its place in the world. I mean, what is it to be a woman? In what way is the female soul – that way of looking at life – different from that of a man? What qualities, principles, concerns have a place there?

We have so many stereotypes in life: ideas as to what’s masculine, what’s feminine, and how things play out between them. How people might relate to that – identify with some parts but reject others – surely gives rise to a beautiful range of experience and insight into the nature of the soul, the mind, the body. No wonder it’s a complex and contentious conversation, given we only truly speak for ourselves (see Notes One).

But then the psyche isn’t easy to understand. Clarissa Pinkola Estés talks of “What must I give more death to today, in order to generate more life? What do I know should die, but am hesitant to allow to do so?” This push/pull of creation and destruction, tending life or ending it, seems to echo the dynamics at play in the soul as much as in society itself.

Hopefully ideas around gender, how we relate to life, and ways society might be served through this can somehow break free from all that binds them and become more akin to the incredibly powerful, exciting conversations this book contains.

Notes and References:

“Women who run with the wolves” by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, (Rider Books, UK), 1992

Note 1: People wanting change
Note 1: Anger as a voice
Note 1: Listening, tolerance & communication
Note 1: Where’s the right place to talk?

Ways to share this:

The need for discernment

Ideas around knowing what to do in life, where we stand, what it means, where we want to be headed, and whether we’re on the right track with it all often preoccupy me (see Notes One). This sense of seeing the possibilities, sifting through them, and deciding what to do for the best.

It’s the undercurrent of this writing, and something I’ve struggled with from the outset: not wanting to limit my scope too much, I created a structure where I could talk about anything. But then, clearly, you need to be a little selective. How do you create a system that balances freedom with necessary constraint?

You might flit around in endless novelty, following whatever idea takes your fancy and ending up on strange paths leading to stranger places. You might impose a fairly rigid system to ensure that kind of thing doesn’t happen and everything proceeds steadily; but then you might end up in an equally strange place, bogged down by prescriptive detail.

Thought’s an interesting one, as it can often take on a life of its own and lead to such outcomes. It’s like it has this intrinsic sense of where to go next, this logical train of ideas that draw you down such pathways. Then the ability to see connections sneaks in and suddenly you’re caught in a web that’s pulling you down by the sheer weight of its implications.

All that’s as true of this writing as it is of mind, society, technology and modern life in general (Notes Two). We have these connections: all this knowledge, these complex relationships we may or may not see, and the sense of each thing leading to countless others. It can easily seem like too much and, in the face of that, we might turn back to the lighter frivolous path or cling to systems we once established.

And that, for me, is where discernment really needs to step in: that we somehow find the means to hold our ground, see what matters, and decide to let go of some things. This idea of all that we might choose to leave undone; letting perfectly good options fall by the wayside. Then, what might prompt us to change, be that threats, promises or honest insight into where we might be going wrong.

Because there’s so much choice in life: as consumers, with friendships, or in terms of what we do, how we are, ways we present ourselves to the world, thoughts we think and words we might say. Without a clearer sense of what we’re doing, what’s valuable and what’s more of a hindrance to us or to others, then it seems we risk going nowhere fast.

I’m talking on a lot of levels here, as is my way, but mainly just acknowledging a shift from the contracted path this writing had drifted onto. As it seems I’m the kind of person who likes things to be stated, recognised, honestly released, even if nobody knew there was a problem.

Notes and References:

Note 1: The philosopher stance
Note 1: Right to question and decide
Note 2: Does it matter if others suffer?
Note 2: Mental health as a truth to be heard?
Note 2: The web and the wider world

Ways to share this: