Not Something to be Grasped

So, I finally got around to reading Leisure, the Basis of Culture.  It didn't quite have the content I would have guessed, but nevertheless it helped me pull together some things I had been reflecting on.  The question, my friends, is one of outlook.  How are we to approach the world around us?  Last summer and indeed last fall, I struggled with a certain restlessness.  It's hard to describe, but is this not in any way the 'good' kind of restlessness I associate with the sublime, with that yearning for still something more found at the very heights of human experience.  No, this was something more akin to boredom, probably having its proximate cause in not having enough to do.  I had all this time to do what I wanted, and yet I wasn't happy.  In the worst moments, I didn't really even want to do anything.  It took a visit to Carmel, a nudge from St. Thérèse, and a blast of autumn air to draw me out of it, although I don't think my recovery was completed until recently (assuming full recovery is even possible, "inquietum est cor nostrum" etc.).  What Joe Pieper's book did was help me to understand that experience.  You see idleness and its fruit restlessness are so far removed from the leisure and true rest, they are its very opposite.  Idleness is marked by countless diversions, designed simply to kill time.  The only point to them, if there is one, is to distract from work and to take a break from being 'productive.'  The person who is idle doesn't really have a goal in mind, except perhaps to snatch little bits of pleasure while he can.  I suppose what such a person is really going after is happiness, but there is a certain aimlessness to idleness that makes this pursuit impossible.  So there I was, filling my free time with countless diversions.  At the same time, I was concerned with gathering up all the pleasant experiences I could.  I was grasping after good things.  And this attitude of grasping is directly opposed to true leisure.  This is related to the difficulties I've always had with trying to hoard into my mind good ideas or good memories/experiences.  This very act of mental possessiveness often prevents me from enjoying the things in the first place.  An analogous thing happens when you put a camera into my hand so that I can document experiences, which often leads to an obsession of getting photos of good things, rather than enjoying them in the moment.

The very opposite of this attitude or grasping is one of opening up or of letting go.  Consider how restlessness and sleeplessness are related.  To fall asleep you must let yourself go.  The same is true with true rest or leisure.  You must let yourself go.  It is this posture of receptivity, or openness that allows for one to enjoy good things, to receive them as a gift or a blessing.  Just as, in the words of the psalmist, God gives good things to His beloved while they sleep, in the same way, as Pieper writes, "greatest, most blessed insights, the kind that could never be tracked down, come to us above all in the time of leisure."  Truth, goodness, and beauty cannot be seized.  They are more to be passively received, just as one passively perceives things with the senses.  And where does this receptivity, which allows for good things to be enjoyed, come from?  It comes, first of all, from a sense of wonder.  Philosophy, poetry, art, and love all begin in wonder.  It is this sense of wonder that goes beyond scientific rationality, the empirically verifiable, what can be 'proven.'  Wonder transcends this, and breaks in with the intrusive question "why is there anything rather than nothing?"  To wonder is to see the world through the eyes of innocence, the eyes of a child.  To wonder is to be amazed that things exist at all, to see all things as new, and to delight in each as it comes into view.  To wonder, above all, is to recognize everything as a gift.  We could also say then that wonder is the beginning of morality.  It is by looking at humanity with wonder and looking with at nature with wonder that we lose all desire to misuse these good things, to grasp at them, to bend them to our own will, to make them means for our selfish ends.  This sense of wonder is the essence of fairy-tale morality.  This is why Chesterton said "We are perishing for want of wonder, not for want of wonders.”  This, my friends, is why mooreeffoc is so valuable.  Mooreeffoc is all about reclaiming this gaze of innocence, which allows us to receive things as gift.

This, then, is the way to enjoy life and to head towards that ever elusive goal of happiness.  It is to experience the present moment as a sacrament, as a gift.  It is to reclaim that sense of wonder so that you can to stand with a posture of receptivity to the world.  It is to let yourself go, to give yourself over to the good things you experience, without trying take hold of them.  To put an image to this, life is to be approached not with a fist tightly closed as if to hold on to something, but with arms wide open as if ready to receive an embrace.

Cosmos

I recently finished reading Carl Sagan's wonderful book Comos.  It is filled with a wealth of historical and scientific information.  Sagan has a grand vision of the human race in space, and some of the most interesting parts of the book concern the possibility of contact with another intelligent race in the universe or the possibility of interstellar travel.  These are fascinating concepts and the book goes a long way to inspire awe and wonder at the Cosmos.

Cosmos comes from a Greek word meaning order.  It is the opposite of Chaos.  There is a beautiful orderliness to the universe.  There are fractal patterns: moons orbiting planets orbiting stars orbiting galaxies orbiting each other.  There are billions and billions of stars and galaxies, and the same laws of nature which apply everywhere.  And most wonderful of all there is at least one place in the universe where matter has become alive.  Humans beings, creatures made from matter, from the same protons and electrons that make up the stars and were once in the stars, are conscious and able to ponder their own destiny.  What wonders!

Yet, Dr. Sagan's book is not just a search for order but for meaning.  In fact, this is largely how Sagan views the human endeavor in space.  Our current forays into space parallel the great historical voyages of discovery.  He writes:



The Eagle nebula



The surface of the Earth is the shore of the cosmic ocean.  From it we have learned most of what we know. Recently, we have waded a little out to sea, enough to dampen our toes or, at most, wet our ankles.  The water seems inviting.  The ocean calls.  Some part of our being knows this is from where we came.  We long to return.

If we discover intelligent life on another planet, Sagan thinks we will have a better grasp on what it means to be human.  As we continue to learn about the expanse of the universe, we learn what it means to be live on earth.  We learn that such a habitable world is precious, but that it pales in comparison with the rest of the universe.  As we seek to learn more about the universe, we seek to learn more about ourselves.

Meaning.  Perhaps this is the thing that people are searching for.  We want to know what our lives are all about, what life itself is all about.  When something captures our imagination, be it a sunset, a song, or a beautiful face, and we feel that twinge of restless longing that can never quite be satisfied, it's as if we're on the verge something profound.  It seems like the meaning we are looking for is finally within reach, but, like the end of the rainbow, it always remains just ahead of our outstretched hands.  And so we keep searching.

Thoughts of space, time, and the cosmos are tantalizing.  They are exciting.  They fill us with wonder.  It's tempting to think that we can find the answers to some of life's most persistent questions out there among the stars.  Science has worked wonders and given humans so much.  With it, we have fed the masses, eradicated disease, and traveled around the world and into space.  Science has answered questions about gravity, the lives of animals, and how our own minds work.  What can't science do?  Yet, Palmer Joss (character in the film Contact based on the Sagan novel by the same name) reminds us that "Ironically the thing that people are most hungry for, meaning, is the one thing that science hasn't been able to give them."

No matter how long we listen with our radio telescopes among the stars, no matter how many light-years we travel, no matter how much our hearts ache as we gaze at the night sky, we will never find meaning there.  Sagan is fascinating, inspiring, and uplifting in his book as he searches for order and meaning.  He is also dead wrong.  Science can say nothing about the questions that matter most.  Allow me an example.  It is a scientific fact that if you were randomly inserted anywhere in the universe, the odds that you would be on or near a planet would be less than 1 in 10^33.  The odds that you randomly select a place in the universe where there is life is considerably less, much less intelligent life.  It would be fair to say that beings such as humans are rare.  This is a fact of which modern science makes us acutely aware.  Yet Sagan goes on to write, "Every one of us is, in the cosmic perspective, precious. If a human disagrees with you, let him live. In a hundred billion galaxies, you will not find another." I don't disagree a bit, but his statement is one of pure philosophy.  He assumes that because something is rare it is therefore precious and ought to be preserved.  But mightn't it be the other way around?  Might not humans be like ugly recessive mutations in a universe meant to be perfectly smooth and uniform?  Wouldn't it then be better if we blew our tiny planet up and squashed conciousness out of existence?  Science or nature by itself tells us nothing about the value of our lives.  It's worth repeating here part of the GKC quote from my last post. (I think it rather apt here.  Sorry for the redundancy.)

Nature does not say that cats are more valuable than mice; nature makes no remark on the subject...We think the cat superior because we have (or most of us have) a particular philosophy to the effect that life is better than death. But if the mouse were a German pessimist mouse, he might not think that the cat had beaten him at all. He might think he had beaten the cat by getting to the grave first...It all depends on the philosophy of the mouse. You cannot even say that there is victory or superiority in nature unless you have some doctrine about what things are superior. You cannot even say that the cat scores unless there is a system of scoring. You cannot even say that the cat gets the best of it unless there is some best to be got.

Orthodoxy, Chapter VII, The Eternal Revolution

If Sagan's logical leap from saying that life is rare to saying that life is precious seems natural to you, that is because you and he are both humans.  The conclusion does not come from science, but from the very thing that makes us human.  To paraphrase Pascal, our heart tells us what our reason cannot.  Science is by no means useless in the pursuit of ultimate truth.  The facts of science can challenge our worldview and help us to think in new ways.  Philosophically, it did make a big difference when we realized that the earth was not the center of the universe.  It makes a difference that our universe is big and not small.  It makes a difference that there are beautiful, unexplored worlds out there.  It makes a difference that the human spirit is not bounded to this planet alone.   But these facts only make a difference because humans are humans. We are influenced by the world we inhabit.  At the end of the day, the answers are not going to be found out there, but in the depths of our human hearts.  It is ironic that we should look billions of light years away in search of ourselves.

How to Save a Life

My job during the summer is to be a lifeguard.  Watching water all day is surprisingly hard work, at least when you work at a waterpark, so there's not a lot of spare mental capacity while I'm on the job.  Nevertheless, I have found myself musing while I work about the role of a lifeguard. As a lifeguard, my job is, broadly speaking, to protect human life.  My job is not to ask whether life is something which is worth protecting.  I am not concerned with whether the people I am protecting want to be alive.  I do not ask such philosophical questions such as whether it is better to be alive or dead, or what the social benefits of a particular person's life is.  No, my job is just to save your life if it comes to that.  Life is the value and the good I am single mindedly charged with protecting.

I suppose it's worth mentioning that I am employed by the county government.  The municipality I am working for has, for whatever reason, has decided that life is worth protecting.  And so it pays me to do just that.

Just as we need lifeguards (and doctors, firefighters, etc.) to enforce the ideal (here that life is a chief good to be protected), we need philosophers (and theologians, lawyers, politicians, etc.) to protect the ideal itself.  There needs to be someone who reminds us why we place a value on the things we do.  Chesterton always seems intrude upon these posts.  Needless to say, one can hardly go wrong by submitting to Mr. Chesterton's intrusions.  Therefore, I unapologetically place one of my favorite quotes from him here, which concerns the importance of ideals.

Nature does not say that cats are more valuable than mice; nature makes no remark on the subject. She does not even say that the cat is enviable or the mouse pitiable. We think the cat superior because we have (or most of us have) a particular philosophy to the effect that life is better than death. But if the mouse were a German pessimist mouse, he might not think that the cat had beaten him at all. He might think he had beaten the cat by getting to the grave first. Or he might feel that he had actually inflicted frightful punishment on the cat by keeping him alive. Just as a microbe might feel proud of spreading a pestilence, so the pessimistic mouse might exult to think that he was renewing in the cat the torture of conscious existence. It all depends on the philosophy of the mouse. You cannot even say that there is victory or superiority in nature unless you have some doctrine about what things are superior. You cannot even say that the cat scores unless there is a system of scoring. You cannot even say that the cat gets the best of it unless there is some best to be got.

Orthodoxy, Chapter VII, The Eternal Revolution

Since nature doesn't give us ideals, we need human ideals and we need unpractical people to argue about them and hold the right ones in place.  Human nature ensures that we are going to hold some doctrine, so it's worth making sure the doctrine we are holding is the right one.

A Patriotic Post

This Independence Day is coming quickly to a close, so here is a quick attempt to say something about my country.  I won the lottery of life by being born in America.  There is no better place I could live.

The strength of America has come from its citizens.  People who lived and died for the ideals of freedom like the founders of this country.  The only way America will be strong in the future is if people continue to work hard and live up to the rightest ideas of liberty and human rights.  Nothing good ever comes without a lot of hard work and sacrifice.  My great fear is that too many Americans today live with a sense of entitlement and in a way which is inward and self-directed.  Being a true citizen means living a life which is poured out for others so that they can live with the same dignity you do.

Our country may not always live up to its founding ideals, but it needs heroic individuals like you who will carry them out.  It needs people who will recognize the founder's vision of human beings as creatures with special dignity and essential equality.  In the words of Chesterton, America needs men and women who will "hate it enough to change it, and yet love it enough to think it worth changing"

"Men did not love Rome because she was great.  She was great because they had loved her."
-GKC

ADDENDUM:
Above I wrote about the danger of Americans living "with a sense of entitlement and in a way which is inward and self-directed."  While a sense of entitlement is at all times to be eschewed, working hard to better primarily one's own lot is not such a bad thing.  Upon reflection, I realized that one of the American ideals is the ability to shape one's own destiny.  When the colonists dumped tea into Boston harbor, I doubt it was because they were concerned with the tea tax shrinking the discretionary income of the working classes.  They were upset because it raised their tea prices (and of course the general intrusion by the crown it represented, plus all those other taxes...my point is that they were acting in self interest.)  The American revolution is a story of people fighting for their freedoms and their land.  Rosa Parks stood up (or rather sat down) for her right to a bus seat.  Of course she knew it wasn't just about herself, and there were others who supported her even though desegregation didn't benefit them. My point is that Rosa Parks wasn't fighting for Abe Lincoln's right to wear a tall hat, although she might have worn one alongside him if it came down to that.  America was built by people who wanted to make life better for themselves and for their children.  Even our prided economic system, capitalism, contains the basic idea of self-interested action which ends up benefiting everyone.  America will continue to be a great country if it continues to remain a land of opportunity.  It must continue to be a place where hard work and ingenuity is rewarded, where the social classes are mobile, where anyone can be president.  This is and forever will be the challenge to America.

Concerning the Name

My favorite word is "Mooreeffoc."  You won't find this word in the Oxford English Dictionary (I checked).  However, this word is associated with the likes of Dickens, Chesterton, and Tolkien, and represents a wonderful concept.  Tolkien defined mooreeffoc as "The queerness of things that have become trite when they are seen suddenly from a new angle" in his essay "On Fairy Stories."  The ability to see things from a fresh perspective is integral to the value of a fairy tale, as well as a pretty important element in G.K. Chesterton's thinking on life in general.  Enamored with this concept, I decided to name by blog after it.  What follows is a reflection on mooreeffoc.

Today we live in a world of wonders.  I can contact almost anyone I want to almost anywhere in the country almost instantly, by means of a cell phone.  I could be almost anywhere in the world is less than a day, by means of a jet airplane.  I can find much of the information that I want about countless subjects by pushing a few buttons.  If I hadn't grown up in a world with such wonders, these things would be almost unimaginable.  Less than 150 years ago, to go around the world in 80 days was unthinkable.  Yet we have become so accustomed to things like cell phones and airplanes and Google, that we no longer find anything remarkable in them.  They have become trite.  It takes something like being deprived of them to make us realize how fantastic and wild these things really are.

Yet, these modern marvels are really the most insignificant of the things to which we become habituated.  They are just the easiest to recognize because we know there was a time when they didn't exist and because we can actually live pretty well without them.  It's things like breathing oxygen, walking on green grass, and having two legs that are at once the most amazing and the most easily overlooked.  But the fact is that the world could have been such that our bodies needed an element other than oxygen for metabolic processes, that most vegetation was red, and that you were born without legs.  The world is a great "might have been."  Yet we so easily lose our sense of wonder at life.  Fairy stories allow us to reclaim that sense of wonder.  Their value is partly therapeutic.  "These tales," Chesterton wrote,  "say that apples were golden only to refresh the forgotten moment when we found that they were green.  They make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water."

Recognizing that the world is contingent, that things could have been other than they are, properly leads to a feeling of gratitude.  Because I might not have been, I have reason to be thankful that I am.  Indeed gratitude is a natural response to wonder at life.  But we naturally want someone to whom we are thankful.  Chesterton wrote, "We thank people for birthday presents of cigars and slippers.  Can I thank no one for the birthday present of birth?"  This feeling of gratitude leads us naturally to God, as the object of thanks and praise.  Gratitude is also connected to morality.   Reality itself is construed in such a way that happiness depends on certain conditions.  This is another thing that fairy tales teach us.  "A box is opened, and all evils fly out.  A word is forgotten, and cities perish.  A lamp is lit, and loves flies away.  A flower is plucked, and human lives are forfeited.  An apple is eaten, and the hope of God is gone."  But because the world is a gift, who are we to question the conditions whereby that gift is given?  Gratitude naturally leads us to act morally.  "Keeping to one woman is a small price for so much as seeing one woman."  If this isn't clear to us, what we need is to see the world with the fresh eyes of a child.  What we need is, in a word, mooreeffoc.

Being able to see things with fresh eyes also informs Chesterton's apologetic for Christianity.  In The Everlasting Man, he wrote that "the best relation to our spiritual home is to be near enough to love it. But the next best is to be far enough away not to hate it."  When we are far enough away from Christianity, detached as it were, we can see Christianity unprejudiced and for what it really is.  The Christian faith is nothing less that remarkable, for it claims that God has become man.  A sense of wonder at the mysteries of the faith is not only important for leading people into Christianity, but is also something which Christians needs to reclaim.  How often does prayer and liturgy become trite as we become habituated to it, how often do the paradoxes of the faith fail to move us?  If we could attend every Mass as if it were our first, how awestruck would we be at what is happening?  And how grateful would we be?

This is the power of mooreeffoc.  Mooreeffoc allows us to see the beauty that is everywhere, but which we have forgotten.  It gives us the eyes of a child, who wonders at the world and has learned at a young age to say "thank you."

Unless noted in text, all quotes came from the chapter "The Ethics of Elfland" from the book Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton.
To see the selections in Chesterton and Tolkien where the word "Mooreeffoc" is discussed, see this post from the American Chesterton Society blog.  I suggest you check it out.