Finding Authenticity in Becoming

Most of us have a shared taste for authenticity, for freedom of expression and for finding new ways to allow our inner self and emotions to come through. 

Belonging to our sense of taste and values is the passionate interest for authenticity as it is perceived in settings of our own fanciful imaginings. The power of emotions and passions felt in such privileged locations illustrate this taste and preference. 

In authentic happenings, life triumphs over repose: the world is awake in its pantheistic view of itself. 

Whether one has a preference for the quiet moment of a morning spent in the presence of self or for a moment shared with others, each and every moment in which we find ourselves is our authentic self in that given moment. The homage we pay to past moments or importance we place on future moments are all held in A moment. This moment is different from this moment and yet they are all moments. As with being, I am me here, and there, and everywhere I go, even though I am a different version of me here, there, and everywhere I go.

Authentically being is as redundant as saying I exist in existence. Authenticity is a matter pertaining to judgment and values. If I like truly enjoy or connect to this moment, I am being my authentic self. If I do not enjoy this moment and wish to connect to a different moment, I am also being my authentic self in my preference and taste for specific moments of being (authentic or otherwise nonexisting).

Perhaps it is not a matter of authenticity for We are what we are (cue Popeye) in every given moment, thus the need for authenticity is as redundant as we are that which we are (as well as that which we seek, though admittedly this is a matter of debate).

I am as authentically me as you are authentically you. I am "me" and you are "you" and perhaps like the fleeting but highly complex trajectories taken by snowflakes on their maiden journey into ever-becoming, we are but the stuff snowflakes (and dreams) are made *of.

Giorgio de Chirico

"The dream is a little hidden door in the innermost and most secret recesses of the soul, opening into that cosmic night which was psyche long before there was any ego-consciousness, and which will remain psyche no matter how far our ego-consciousness may extend. For all ego-consciousness is isolated: it separates and discriminates, knows only particulars, and sees only what can be related to the ego. Its essence is limitation, though it reach to the farthest nebulae among the stars. All consciousness separates; but in dreams we put on the likeness of that more universal, truer, more eternal man dwelling in the darkness of primordial night. There he is still the whole, and the whole is in him, indistinguishable from nature and bare of all egohood ... It is from these all-uniting depths that the dream arises, be it ever so childish, grotesque, and immoral. So flowerlike is it in its candor and veracity that it makes us blush for the deceitfulness of our lives." (C.G. Jung, "The Meaning of Psychology for Modern Man" in CW X, par. 304-5)

A dream:

"I'm standing outside on a grassy, gently sloping field. In front of me, slightly higher to the right, a round silver ring hangs in the sky. Floating outward from the ring are 4 pieces of blue, faded slik. I can still see some faded Chinese-looking lettering on it. This is a THESIS. I know with certainty that whatever question it is asked, it will always reply with the only one possible true answer." 

lol

 *until we are something else, somewhere or somewhen else.

Unsettled Meddling

It started way back, when I was quite small

I would simply ask "why?"

one question, that's all.

I would wait for an answer,

sometimes it would come

"Because," "I Don't Know," 

"Ask your father or mum"

But it never stopped there

The questions kept coming.

And answers were lacking,

adults kept "ho-humming."

It would start out quite simply

and then get all muddled

I'd ask just one question

and end up befuddled.

Why is the sky blue? or

Why are plants green?

Why are they poor? and

Why is he mean?

Why should I be good?

Who put you in charge? 

My mind would start racing

as questions loomed large.

Why are we here?

What ought I do? 

Is there a rhyme, or a reason, or two?

Can it be learned, can I learn it, from who?

Will the answers be certain, or guesses, who knew?

My mind was unsettled, my brain never rested

But everyone moaned 

when their answers were tested.

I meant them no harm, I truly did not,

But I wanted some reasons for

"why," "which," and "what?"

Their moaning made sense

when I learned that adults

Although bigger and stronger, respectable folks

Were confused just like me,

but had stopped asking "why?"

They just didn't care,

so they just didn't try.

Or maybe they cared

and that's why they had ceased

When you care about answers,

doubt leads to unease.

The questions I asked

were very unsettling

And unsettled folks

don't appreciate meddling.

But questions are things that are meant to be asked,

Meddling's our nature, unsettling's our task.

When I got older I went off to school

To college to learn from professors who knew.

I learned about dinosaurs, classics, geology

African poetry, gods, and psychology.

But philosophy, that was the first course to show me

That questions, not answers, 

are how we keep growing.

We ask them because we're inquisitive beings

We're naturally wonder-full, curious things.

I decided that asking is what I should do

And I'd help others get good at it too!

A philosopher, that's what I wanted to be

I'd never leave college,

I'd stay here and teach.

My parents were less than excited, you see

College for them was about a degree

And degrees are just things for getting good jobs

And good jobs pay lots, oh yes money in gobs.

But philosophy isn't that kind of position

It won't earn you fame

and there is no commission.

And some don't think

teaching's a worthwhile job

"Those who can't do..."

say the ignorant mob.

For people like this life is just about stuff,

Having more than your neighbor and never enough.

For these types of folks 

it's all about fortune and fame

What pays off is good, 

what does not is lame.

So they don't, and they won't,

and they can't understand

It's wisdom, not money that makes a life grand.

So I kept pondering year after year

Up to this point with me sitting right here

A professor, philosopher, questioning type

Seeker of answers, asker of "Why?"

For questions are things that are meant to be asked,

And answers are things 

that are meant to be passed...

Passed on to the next generation of Why-er

Passed by when they're old, outdated, and tired. 

I've met many strange birds

as I've traveled this road

And some of them helped 

write the book that you hold.

These doubters and Why-ers

these fabulous scholars

Address some big questions

and offer some answers.

We begin with a huge, spectacular query

One for which all thinkers have their own theory.

The meaning of life, now we are talking

A question so big it leaves everyone gawking.

A question so big it can't fit in one mind

So I've gathered a few to help with this bind.

But the number of answers is too great to count

And the answers we've counted

are too great to mount

In the pages that follow, 

you'll just have to deal

with a brief introduction

to a very large field.

Ancients and moderns, Greek, German, and French

All play the game, 

no one's left on the bench.

They'll tell you to flourish, 

live well free of pain.

Or perish and suffer, 

and struggle in vain.

They might be quite playful or doleful and dry

But at least these dear fellows do give it a try.

We have theories and guesses and tries by the oodle

Enough twisted fellows to twist up your noodle

And when thoroughly twisted

we'll keep right on going

We'll ask about knowledge

our minds over-flowing.

Epistemology!

"What can I know?"

And why does it matter

and how does it go?

This stuff is important for one cannot travel

The road of the wise if one can't unravel

The true from the false, the sense from the babble

The solid and firm from the dribble and drabble.

And once we can begin to get smarter on smarts

We can move ourselves on to the ethical arts.

There's so much one can think

o'er the good and the bad

And so many dear thinkers

and thoughts that they've had.

We'll do our best to give you a view

A snapshot or a glimpse

o'er a theory or two.

We've got Greeks once again,

and our German friend Kant

As well as a Scotsman,

thats more than you'll want.

We'll do all the theory,

apply it as well

To issues like nature

and business pell mell.

We'll give you a history

as well as some praxis

And then we'll move on

to grind other axes.

It's off to the realm of political thought

Where it isn't just personal questions of "ought."

Now we will wonder about our relations

How people should be

and what of their nations.

Contracts and property,

how to divide it

Diversity, needs,

all the ways to contrive it

And once we've wound

through these odd wiggled roads

we will find that our story has not all been told

there are questions

that still have yet to be asked

but this book isn't big enough for such a huge task.

Clearly one blog can't hold all the big thoughts

So we haven't discussed

all the whys, whats, and oughts.

This book offers a glimpse

It's merely one look

If you seek understanding

you'll need more than one book.

is fantastic read 

for those who like to think,

it's fun and witty, 

and over in a blink!

Sometimes the questions are complex,

the answers simple,

but reading this book

will leave you with plenty of examples.

You'll enjoy the ride,

the words and the inevitable Bang-ups,

following paths toward deeper understanding

and life's invariable Hang-ups.

There's a reason that Dr. Seuss's

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

is popular among scholars,

teachers and people you know. 

It speaks right to us, 

straight to our hearts, 

and requires that we contemplate

the BIG IDEAS by using our smarts. 

The places you'll go

 while you're reading this book,

will have you returning

for many a look. 

I found it funny, drôle and persuading, 

the ideas, the concepts, 

the thoughts left me contemplating. 

How does one review a book

with such grand meanings, 

with a rhyme or two, 

my thoughts kept leaning

Back to my studies, 

back to my thoughts I thought in school, 

the ones I keep revisiting,

the ones which I now use as tools. 

To decipher stuff like this 

and make it my own, 

to tell others about it

and that by reading this book 

they can get into "the zone"

A place where we think and don't let go, 

of the things we know 

and the places we can go.