How to Identify Paradoxes in Your Life

       If you are caught between opposing principles, and the only way to live authentically is by living with the tension (rather than attempting to solve/dissolve it), then you have identified a paradox. An existential paradox is any dilemma which must be lived rather than solved.

        The best quotation I know that sums up this phenomenon is from Niels Bohr: “The opposite of one profound truth may very well be another profound truth.”

        These opposing truths are often founded in principles or virtues that exist in dynamic tension in both work and relationships. For example:         

• Freedom and Restriction
• Independence and Cooperation
• Safety and Risk
• Self and Other
• Ideal and Real
• Trust and Doubt
• Etc.

Developing our full humanity requires that we find a balance between these principles, rather than choosing and sticking with one side of the dilemma.

            So, ask yourself, where in my life right now do I feel “torn” between? Where’s my ambivalence; where do I find myself vacillating between opposing values? Would I be best served if I could somehow embrace the tension, recognizing that life and meaning are found in the interplay of these opposites?

            Then you’ve found the paradoxes.

Transtheism

            While reading Paul Tillich’s “The Courage to Be,” and doing some follow-up reading on the internet, I learned a new word: Transtheism.  I don’t think I will adopt it for myself just yet (“atheist” is more generally understood, and more accurate at the moment), but I want to share what it means to me.

Transtheism refers to a state which is neither theistic nor atheistic. This appeals to me because it attempts to avoid some of the limitations of either position. In Tillich’s philosophy, transtheism is described in various terms, like “the God beyond the God of theism” and “Being-Itself.” For my own purposes, I interpret Tillich as wanting to establish a relationship with something transcendent, something infinite, something that surrounds and includes him, without reducing it to the supernatural/ mythological/ all-too-human character “God.” So, it’s not theistic (since he’s going beyond God) and not exactly atheistic (too worshipful for that, I think). “Being-Itself” is no God, but it’s more than no-God.

            Of course, Tillich’s transtheism has its limitations. I think he wants “Being-Itself” to serve some godly functions, but it can’t, given its lack of agency and personality. And despite his book, I have trouble understanding how “Being-Itself” can provide an individual with courage (or morality, for that matter).

            But I share Tillich’s inclination towards the infinite, and his sensitivity towards Being-as-a-whole. While I am a non-believer, I want to continue to have a relationship (of some sort) with the Whole and the Transcendent, even if none of those will be god. I also recently finished reading Mitchell Silver’s very excellent book A Plausible God: Secular Reflections on Liberal Jewish Theology*, in which Silver considers the relative strengths and weaknesses of the naturalistic God-concepts of Mordecai Kaplan, Michael Lerner, and Art Green. Overall, Silver expresses skepticism at the usefulness of such a God-concept, until he discusses it alongside the limits of (certain conceptions of) humanism:

The theism is justified not by its humanism, but rather by its suggestion that humanism may not be all there is to value and meaning. Although God is immanent and most found in humans, God's separate name allows us to avoid a too quick identification between the divine and the human. We need God to avoid humanism. (94)

This is what I’ve meant by the empty throne. Humanistic values are utterly important, but humanism itself can run the risk of forgetting the relative smallness of humanity and its abilities. Perhaps something like a transtheism is necessary, just to remind us of our relativity.

            Of course, transtheism does just feel like a variation on atheism. I doubt a transtheist would pray, or religious texts (beyond negative theology) that speak to their faith. But it retains a love of the Whole and the Transcendent, which are not necessarily retained by either atheism or humanism.

*I swear that I had neither read Silver’s 2006 book nor even heard of him when I was forming my concepts of God1 and God2 and arguing Why God2 should not be called God. But WOW was this book ever written for me!

An Internet Metaphor for Getting What Matters in Life

In Martin Buber’s “I and Thou” a distinction is made between experience and relation, which corresponds to the distinction between I-It and I-Thou relationships. I’m not going to elaborate on these terms—I’m just mentioning them here because the point I’m about to make is just an internet-savvy riff on Buber’s ideas.

These days I get most of my TV and music from the internet, and I use two different methods: streaming and downloading. Now, I’m not going to get technical, mostly because I don’t know much about how streaming or downloading works. Here’s what I think I know:

Streaming requires an open and active connection. Streaming requires that I use the computer I’m streaming with, that my internet connection remains continuous, that I stay on the website I’m streaming from, and that the website is working.

Downloading does not require this kind of connection. Once I’ve downloaded my video or audio, then I could very well use that file even if the website crashes, even if the internet is down, even on another computer once this one is dead.

Ready for the metaphor?

Many of the most important things in life must be streamed, not downloaded. There are very few things that can be obtained and then possessed forever. Love must be streamed. I can’t simply have the love of a partner or friend; I can only seek out, again and again, interactions and connections through which that love is shared. I’ve been finding recently that joy too must be streamed. Happy memories and recent achievements are pleasant, but joy is a here-and-now experience. I can only feel joyful when I am present, and when those things or people that bring me joy are also present.

There are some necessities that appear to require only downloading, but this is an illusion. For example, food: at the grocery store, I get the illusion that I can purchase this food, and then it’s mine, to be eaten as I like when and where I like. True enough—but the availability of that food depends on civilization maintaining an open and active (I think the buzzword here is sustainable) connection to our natural resources.

What else must be streamed rather than downloaded? 

Diversify Meaning

            “Diversify meaning” is a play on the classic financial advice to “diversify your investments.” It’s a motto I’ve been trying to live by that has felt pretty wise, but recently I’ve run up against a major flaw in its usefulness for life. I want to lay out the topic here, as a way of continuing to develop my thoughts around “meaning.”

            And, for the sake of clearer reading, I think I will write this in Q&A form.

Why are you comparing “meaning” to financial investments?

            Not that I know anything about investing or finance, but my understanding is that people make investments in order to generate wealth. There’s a risk in investment, a possibility of disappointment or loss, but also a chance for greater returns than if no action was taken.

            I believe that we can understand “meaning” as a kind of personal investment. Meaning comprises the experiences of connections to our selves, others, and things in the world, and through these connections we make sense, find direction and purpose, and generate joy. But these connections only grow through the time, energy, and care we invest in them. I only reap joy insofar as I sow care. My mother would probably call this “You get what you put in.” I could save myself a lot of time and energy by not bothering, but then what would I have? Meaning requires investment.

Why diversify?

Diversifying investments reduces risk—if one investment tanks, all is not lost. It’s wise advice to diversify financial investments because it expresses a realistic assessment of the unpredictable nature of business and markets.

To diversify meanings means to cultivate lots of connections. In one sense, this could sound very positive—hey, the more connections the merrier, right? If one friend is great, then another friend could be twice as great. Personally, I find myself invested in many things at the moment, including:

- Teaching health       - Teaching philosophy        - Leading gender groups

- Working at PPLM   - New career directions      - Blogging

- Family                       - Partnership                       - New Friends

- Old friends                - Reading projects               - Comedy improv

But still, diversification is at heart an act of pessimism. I diversify meaning because I don’t trust any single source of meaning to be enough, to provide all the joy I’m looking for, to be dependable. We are complex people, and so no single source can provide the full variety of meanings we desire. Jobs likely won’t provide love; friends likely won’t provide money. The day is long and attention grows weary. Furthermore, connections can fail just like financial investments. Plans and hopes fall through. By diversifying meaning, I create a more stable sense of self, one built up through many venues and personas, one that doesn’t stand or fall by a single dimension of identity.

So why isn’t this motto working like it used to?

Recently I’ve been facing some existential dilemmas in life, pitting various “meaning investments” against each other. That is the nature of existential dilemmas—we can’t have everything; we are forced to choose among parts of our selves, forced to make decisions that must involve loss.

And it seems like “diversify meaning” does not provide any guidance in navigating these dilemmas. Yes, it’s important to seek out meaning in many places—but how do I choose among my various investments? There’s no sense of priorities. If I can’t depend on one source of meaning fully, then how can I authentically choose one and sacrifice another?

            In some ways, these existential dilemmas emerge from pursuing diverse meanings. Only by cultivating many connections can I end up finding myself caught in the tension between them. The issue now is, figuring out how to integrate all these connections. Or figuring out which connections are somehow… ok to lose? It makes no sense. “Diversify meaning” offers no advice on compromise or letting go.

            Any wise advice regarding meaning and sacrifices? Another motto?

This is what it's like to be on the way

This is what it’s like to be on the way

When you’re on the way it’s a lot of uphill struggle

When you’re on the way you likely can’t see the top

When you’re on the way it’s good to keep going and not stop

When you’re on the way you don’t know what it will be like when you get there

When you’re on the way you don’t know how much further it is

When you’re on the way you sometimes forget how far you’ve come

When you’re on the way people might join you but they are also on their way

When you’re on the way you’re in one spot at each moment

When you’re on the way it helps

To think of yourself as on the way

Theonomatology

"That God does not exist, I cannot deny, That my whole being cries out for God I cannot forget." -- Jean-Paul Sartre 
 
These days, in my experience, there is no being called God,

But I have a yearning with that name—God!

It’s strange because I usually don’t name my cravings

—my appetite is no Andy, my sexuality not Sandy—

So is it appropriate to appropriate a proper noun

To this mystical desire for divinity?

A God by any other name would tell a tale incomplete:

If I called out for Truth, would I also find Love?

If I called out for Love, would I also find Strength?

If I called out for Strength, would I also find Hope?

Of course, when my yearning yells “God!” I find nothing and no one,

But the name rings a bell—

It re-members me to a time when He and I

Were together, when unity was simple, when “to be” was to be with this One.

But like that ringing, the name echoes and then dissipates,

And my call is simply a call, my yearning named, that’s all.

What if…

Well, how about…

What if God were not the name of a being, but instead…

An ideal place?

As in “Let’s find our way to the Land of God,

Where we will all be free and peaceful and creative!”

Or a band name?

As in “I play keyboard with the People of God,

Our tunes are soulful, and our harmonies divine.”

Or a dance craze?

As in “Let’s all do the God, oh baby,” “Let’s God again like we did last summer,”

“Teach me how to God, teach me teach me how to God.”

Or maybe not.

There is a state of being I’m desiring, a way that I want to be

In the world, in solitude, in communion.

And I want it so badly, and I want you there with me,

And, for me, the cry of “God!” expresses both the aim and intensity of that desire.

But there is no being called God, and a yearning cannot respond to my call.

So when that word escapes my heart, I realize that it’s because my heart is outdated,

And then the challenge is to develop this name into a fuller description,

And then I can explain it to myself and explain it to you,

And then it can become the name of a plan, a shared plan,

And then I can develop this yearning into reality.

Stimulation vs. Satisfaction

Stimulation and Enjoyment

            I seek out stimulation and enjoyment every day. The best days are when I get that enjoyment from my work or from interactions with people. However, when I’m struggling at work, or am not ‘feeling it’ with people, I have ways of seeking out supplementary pleasure.

            Some of these are activities that help me feel pleased with myself—exercising, doing household chores, or pursuing my various hobbies, including writing blog posts, writing poetry, or making hula hoops. I enjoy the competence and self-expression in these activities, and the fact that they result in a product that I am able to continue enjoying even after the activity itself is over.

            The easiest manner of enjoyment is in consuming something, sometimes food, but usually entertainment. I follow a number of podcasts and TV shows, many of which keep me amused, all of which keep me engaged. But they do not satisfy—after I’m done consuming, there’s little to no “afterglow” of happy mood.

Satisfaction and Joy

            I’m thinking about this topic because I am seeking greater satisfaction and joy in my life, and so far I feel like I have a much better understanding of attaining stimulation and enjoyment. Here’s my current understanding of satisfaction and joy.

            Satisfaction is enjoyment that extends beyond direct contact with stimulation. If I enjoy eating, but experience hunger/blandness as soon as I stop, then there is no satisfaction, and I will just need to eat again. When I’m satisfied, a need is fulfilled for enough time to give me relief from the anxiety of seeking its fulfillment. In satisfaction, the desperate itch for stimulation ceases.

            I think people use the term “joy” in different ways, but I’m thinking of joy (could be interchanged with “happiness”) is a stable state of satisfaction in one’s place in life. I feel joy when I feel like I fit in the world. When I experience that fitness, I have less anxiety about trying to fit.

Meaning

            I think the key term in this “stimulation vs. satisfaction” dichotomy is meaning. The experience of meaning can involve situatedness, depth, purpose, and connection. Activities that are meaningful make me feel like I “make sense” in the world. When I do my work well, I am pursuing my purpose. When I connect with people, I belong somewhere. When I tend to my chores or my arts, I am getting in touch with deep needs for self-care and self-expression. Joy and satisfaction last longer because they are “resonant” experiences. Whatever is meaningful resonates.

*This seems like a solid start to a longer analysis, but I’m not sure what. I’ll leave it here for now, and I invite your reflections and reactions.