We have a double feature today. After posting earlier today (see post below) I got to thinking. I mentioned that at one time I was a bit into poetry. One of the things that makes me a bit leery of poetry is the fact that so much of it is produced by average people in the throes of passionate lust. As such, much of it is trite and cliché. Don't get me wrong, there is some really great love poetry out there, and I've written my fair share of trite cliché. Well, what follows is a non-love poem that I wrote several years ago. I'm pretty proud of it. The rhythm is kind of variable throughout, but I feel that the rhymes are solid and that the story is pretty good.
A moment of darkness clouds the room
As drums beat out the rhythm of doom
A moment of silence ensues in the place
And a bright light shines on every face
Quite suddenly, a loud voice booms
And suspense rises and terror blooms
Steel-clad opponents step into the ring
Their eyes begin to stare, their weapons to sing
Beads of sweat shine throughout the room
And the feeling of terror begins to loom
The gong sounds and weapons fly
Muscles clench and hot air blows by
Nervous hands grip crumpled tickets
And heavy betting quickly empties pockets
A flash of silver, a flash of red
A clearing of dust shows one lying dead
A gasp, a sigh, a shout of joy
A cry from the mother of the boy
"He was mine! My only one!
Oh, they’ve killed him, my only son!"
"I’ve won! I’ve won!" shouts one man
And money passes from hand to hand
"Have you no hearts?" the mother cries
"My son, he lives, he fights, he dies!"
"Shut up, old hag!" the crowd echoes
And murmurs of, "It’s the law! She knows!"
Her son was chosen, he fought, he died
And for a moment, his mother cried
But now she runs into the ring
Holds her son and begins to sing
A song to bring him to another world
Thankful he'll not see her fury unfurled
She turns and faces the killer of her son
She says to him, "He was my only one"
Her tone is low, her voice is calm
Her eyes are closed, her will is strong
He looks her up, he looks her down
His lips curl into a terrible frown
He yells to her, "You know not what you do!
If you defy me, I’ll kill you too!"
She walks to him, from her soul she spits
He raises his arm and her face he hits
She falls to her knees, tasting blood in her mouth
As black and red clouds gather to the south
"A curse on you!" she says, red on her lips
The clouds roll in as she sinks to her hips
He looks around and sees the fiery sky
Then runs her through and watches her die
His lips curl in triumph, his big arms cross
But the crowd does not cheer him; they seem at a loss
He looks and snarls and shouts, "What is wrong?!"
And a low, dull murmur seeps out from the throng
The skies churn and seem almost to boil
Smoke pours out from the gray, damp soil
A figure large and imposing forms
And the clouds sink low, as if heavy with storms
The figure with a voice deep and loud
Calls out to the frightened crowd
"The woman was right, you mortal fools,
But now here she lies while her blood pools
And in her arms, her only son
Killed, not just by this man, but by everyone!"
As the voice booms, the crowd grows stiff
Frozen in fear, their gaze does not drift
"And now, like her blood, a curse fresh on her lips
I swear to you all, you’ll all pay for this!"
The clouds burst forth a rain of pure fire
And it sweeps through the crowd as if it were briar
And the people, they burn, like the money they won
All this for the mother, and her only son
"And now for you," the loud voice booms
And the man trembles at what terror looms
"Let me begin to say what I’ll do
I daresay it will sound quite unpleasant to you"
The large figure ponders, planning his worst
"Ah! I know! Here’s what I’ll do first:
I’ll tear off each finger, as retribution demands
Pull apart every knuckle with my own bare hands
I’ll bore through your skull, drill holes in your head
But not to your brain, I don’t yet want you dead
I’ll sew shut your eyes and then pull them open
Ripping your eyelids, the skin will be broken
I’ll curl your feet backward to roll to your knees
My, are you all right? You’re starting to wheeze!
As I was saying, I’ll rip off your nose
And then I’ll clip off your ears, I suppose
Then, after I remove your lips and your tongue,
I’ll knock out your teeth and then I’ll be done
What say you? What think you? Does it sound like enough?
Perhaps I should make this punishment tough"
As the beast ponders, the man says not a word
But turns and impales himself on his sword
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Thursday, November 17, 2005
The Loneliness of Silence
Often when I come to speak with you, my mind is overflowing with words. Ideas, heated from the friction of bouncing excitedly around my mind, come bubbling forth from me, boiling over in a seemingly endless stream of language. But today is odd. Today, my mind is empty. No thoughts fill the void as they often do, yet I am still compelled to come and talk. Usually, I speak to clear my mind and find some much needed silence. Now, here I am, casting my voice into the emptiness, trying in vain to fill the cavernous, echoing nothing with anything.
Shouldn't I just be quiet every once in a while? I know there are some who wish I would. How can I be quiet? I have been for so long. I have a lot of lost time to make up for. That's why sometimes I speak even when I have nothing to say. Or maybe it's because I think some might see my silence as a weakness. I have many weaknesses. I like to hide as many of them as I can.
Isn't that funny? As humans, we are inherently flawed creatures, but we don't like others to know about our individual flaws. Shouldn't it be good enough for them to know that my main flaw is that I'm human? I think we think too much. At least, I know I do. Well, maybe it's better to say I think too much about some things and not enough about others. Does it balance out somehow in the end?
See? We're always seeking external affirmation. What's wrong with us? We know that reality is based on perceptions, so our best source of affirmation is ourselves. If we perceive ourselves as confident, intelligent, funny, beautiful, sexy, and just generally wonderful people, then we will be. But we don't. We're always looking for someone else to tell us what to love about ourselves. I say "we", but maybe I'm just speaking for "me". I hope not.
And there goes the insecurity. My mind just manifested an imagined world where I'm the only screwed up person. I know that's not true. I know it's not. I know it's not. Please, don't interrupt my litany; it's the only thing that keeps me from breaking down. Don't contradict me with your silence. Someone tell me I'm not the only one.
You know...until someone answers, I'm just talking to myself. That's scary. I talk to myself a lot. I call it "thinking aloud". I've done it ever since I can remember. It's gotten to the point where I almost can't think in my head anymore. I have to sound it out or write it down. Sometimes, I think about that and I wonder if I'm not crazy. I know what someone else would think if they walked in on me while I was "thinking".
But why should I care what someone else thinks? At this point in my life, I am who I'm always going to be, right? So, if someone doesn't like it, they're not worth wasting my time. Oh, how effortlessly those words come out. As if doing it were as easy as saying it. I only wish.
See why I hate when it's quiet up there? It's almost as chaotic as the alternative. At least if I have all this other stuff running around in my head, there's little room left over for the inevitable self doubt. Well, until things get back to normal, I guess I'll have to sit here and talk to myself, reassure myself that my usual company is not gone for good. That is, of course, unless you would like to join the conversation...
Shouldn't I just be quiet every once in a while? I know there are some who wish I would. How can I be quiet? I have been for so long. I have a lot of lost time to make up for. That's why sometimes I speak even when I have nothing to say. Or maybe it's because I think some might see my silence as a weakness. I have many weaknesses. I like to hide as many of them as I can.
Isn't that funny? As humans, we are inherently flawed creatures, but we don't like others to know about our individual flaws. Shouldn't it be good enough for them to know that my main flaw is that I'm human? I think we think too much. At least, I know I do. Well, maybe it's better to say I think too much about some things and not enough about others. Does it balance out somehow in the end?
See? We're always seeking external affirmation. What's wrong with us? We know that reality is based on perceptions, so our best source of affirmation is ourselves. If we perceive ourselves as confident, intelligent, funny, beautiful, sexy, and just generally wonderful people, then we will be. But we don't. We're always looking for someone else to tell us what to love about ourselves. I say "we", but maybe I'm just speaking for "me". I hope not.
And there goes the insecurity. My mind just manifested an imagined world where I'm the only screwed up person. I know that's not true. I know it's not. I know it's not. Please, don't interrupt my litany; it's the only thing that keeps me from breaking down. Don't contradict me with your silence. Someone tell me I'm not the only one.
You know...until someone answers, I'm just talking to myself. That's scary. I talk to myself a lot. I call it "thinking aloud". I've done it ever since I can remember. It's gotten to the point where I almost can't think in my head anymore. I have to sound it out or write it down. Sometimes, I think about that and I wonder if I'm not crazy. I know what someone else would think if they walked in on me while I was "thinking".
But why should I care what someone else thinks? At this point in my life, I am who I'm always going to be, right? So, if someone doesn't like it, they're not worth wasting my time. Oh, how effortlessly those words come out. As if doing it were as easy as saying it. I only wish.
See why I hate when it's quiet up there? It's almost as chaotic as the alternative. At least if I have all this other stuff running around in my head, there's little room left over for the inevitable self doubt. Well, until things get back to normal, I guess I'll have to sit here and talk to myself, reassure myself that my usual company is not gone for good. That is, of course, unless you would like to join the conversation...
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Speaking of Dumb Questions...
Back in the early infancy of this blog (and I have to specify early infancy because it is still quite young), I wrote a post about stupid questions. I said that there did indeed have to be stupid questions, otherwise we would have to conclude that there are just a whole bunch of stupid people. I mean, I guess we can still come to that conclusion if we like, but I like to at least start out giving people the benefit of the doubt.
In a later post, I spoke about government, politics, faith, and religion. Somewhere in there, I mentioned in passing a question that has been asked by many to call into question the omnipotence of God. I dismissed the question then, but I would like to address it now. And before some of you start worrying about how the rest of this post is going to go, don't. This is merely a hypothetical philosophical discussion that I think anyone, regardless of his or her beliefs, will enjoy.
The question I am referencing, of course, is the one that begs whether God is capable of creating a stone so heavy that he himself could not lift it. When I mentioned it many posts ago, I said that the question simply shows the inability of a creation to understand the incomprehensible nature of its creator. I've come to believe, however, that it's even more basic than that.
God is supposed to be an omnipotent being. This is why the question is asked. If he were capable of making such a stone, it indicates a limit to his power. Likewise, if he couldn't, he is once again limited. But let us, for a moment, remove the identity of this being. Let us instead ask if any omnipotent being could do this. Or more accurately, let's ask if the meaning of omnipotence includes having the ability of one so endowed to create objects heavier than he can lift.
Humans are pretty funny. We spend so much time trying to alter the environment to suit our needs, tastes and whims. In the end, all of what we do in the physical world is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. We are hardly omnipotent, but we pretty frequently make things that are too heavy for us to lift. If we can do it, and do it quite handily, shouldn't a being infinitely more powerful than us be able to do it?
Before we get all high and mighty and say, "Aha! We can make objects so heavy even we can't lift them! Take THAT, omnipotent being," let's just think about this for a moment. Being able to accomplish this task only shows us how weak we really are. Wouldn't it be nice if members of land survey committees could just pick up a skyscraper with their bare hands and move it over just slightly if it overlapped city property? Wouldn't we really be something if we could effortlessly hurl the SUV that stole our parking space?
But that's the point, isn't it? What do I gain from arguing the above? If, by this argument, I'm claiming that said omnipotent being couldn't make an object heavier than she could lift, am I not also claiming a limit to that omnipotence?
Ah! Well, now we come to it. What does omnipotent mean? Houghton-Mifflin has this to say on the matter:
om·nip'·o·tent
Adjective:
~ Having unlimited or universal power, authority, or force; all-powerful.
Ok now, using this definition of omnipotence, let me rephrase the question to say what it is truly asking:
Does an all-powerful being also have the power to limit his own power?
If we answer yes to this, then the moment this being exercises this power, he strips himself of his omnipotence and is, therefore, no longer all-powerful. So, here we go again, around in a circle, right? Well, think about it. What kind of limitation is there really to not being able to do anything that in some way exceeds at least one of your other abilities?
Let me put it this way, what if God can't make a stone so heavy that even he can't lift it? That means that not only could God make a stone of infinite volume and density (i.e. mass) and the requisite source of gravity to make the force of weight appropriately infinite, but he could also lift that very same stone. Omnipotence is pretty cool, isn't it?
What it comes down to is that we have a basic misunderstanding of the word omnipotence. Because of the nature of our language, we're able to make paradoxical statements. For example, what is the truth value of the following statement: this statement is false. If it's true, it's false and vice versa. Obviously, such statements are anomalies caused by the rules of syntax and how we represent words in our minds. The truth value of the statement is moot because no one would ever be inspired to state it as a self-contained statement in a real-world situation. Likewise, as incomprehensible as God's will supposedly is, I am quite certain that such a being would not engage himself in such an endeavor as is posed by the question we're talking about.
So, when you come right down to it, I seem to be saying that God cannot make a stone so heavy that he can't lift it, right?
Right.
So, that does mean there's a limit to his power, Right?
Well, I suppose, technically.
But then, that means he's not omnipotent, right?
No.
Huh?
Okay...here's my proposed solution. We need to redefine the word omnipotent because that is really where the problem is. I'm sorry, but not being able to limit your own power is no kind of limit. Here is my new proposed definition:
om·nip'·o·tent
Adjective:
~ Having the power, authority, or force to do anything and everything aside from anything that minimalizes or contradicts that power; essentially all-powerful.
It may not be perfect, but there it is. Also, just as a note, this is not meant to be a proof of God's existence nor a proof of his omnipotence if he does indeed exist. This is actually a proof of the inadequacy of our understanding of the nature of omnipotence. In essence, we are impotent to comprehend omnipotence...whatever that means.
In a later post, I spoke about government, politics, faith, and religion. Somewhere in there, I mentioned in passing a question that has been asked by many to call into question the omnipotence of God. I dismissed the question then, but I would like to address it now. And before some of you start worrying about how the rest of this post is going to go, don't. This is merely a hypothetical philosophical discussion that I think anyone, regardless of his or her beliefs, will enjoy.
The question I am referencing, of course, is the one that begs whether God is capable of creating a stone so heavy that he himself could not lift it. When I mentioned it many posts ago, I said that the question simply shows the inability of a creation to understand the incomprehensible nature of its creator. I've come to believe, however, that it's even more basic than that.
God is supposed to be an omnipotent being. This is why the question is asked. If he were capable of making such a stone, it indicates a limit to his power. Likewise, if he couldn't, he is once again limited. But let us, for a moment, remove the identity of this being. Let us instead ask if any omnipotent being could do this. Or more accurately, let's ask if the meaning of omnipotence includes having the ability of one so endowed to create objects heavier than he can lift.
Humans are pretty funny. We spend so much time trying to alter the environment to suit our needs, tastes and whims. In the end, all of what we do in the physical world is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. We are hardly omnipotent, but we pretty frequently make things that are too heavy for us to lift. If we can do it, and do it quite handily, shouldn't a being infinitely more powerful than us be able to do it?
Before we get all high and mighty and say, "Aha! We can make objects so heavy even we can't lift them! Take THAT, omnipotent being," let's just think about this for a moment. Being able to accomplish this task only shows us how weak we really are. Wouldn't it be nice if members of land survey committees could just pick up a skyscraper with their bare hands and move it over just slightly if it overlapped city property? Wouldn't we really be something if we could effortlessly hurl the SUV that stole our parking space?
But that's the point, isn't it? What do I gain from arguing the above? If, by this argument, I'm claiming that said omnipotent being couldn't make an object heavier than she could lift, am I not also claiming a limit to that omnipotence?
Ah! Well, now we come to it. What does omnipotent mean? Houghton-Mifflin has this to say on the matter:
om·nip'·o·tent
Adjective:
~ Having unlimited or universal power, authority, or force; all-powerful.
Ok now, using this definition of omnipotence, let me rephrase the question to say what it is truly asking:
Does an all-powerful being also have the power to limit his own power?
If we answer yes to this, then the moment this being exercises this power, he strips himself of his omnipotence and is, therefore, no longer all-powerful. So, here we go again, around in a circle, right? Well, think about it. What kind of limitation is there really to not being able to do anything that in some way exceeds at least one of your other abilities?
Let me put it this way, what if God can't make a stone so heavy that even he can't lift it? That means that not only could God make a stone of infinite volume and density (i.e. mass) and the requisite source of gravity to make the force of weight appropriately infinite, but he could also lift that very same stone. Omnipotence is pretty cool, isn't it?
What it comes down to is that we have a basic misunderstanding of the word omnipotence. Because of the nature of our language, we're able to make paradoxical statements. For example, what is the truth value of the following statement: this statement is false. If it's true, it's false and vice versa. Obviously, such statements are anomalies caused by the rules of syntax and how we represent words in our minds. The truth value of the statement is moot because no one would ever be inspired to state it as a self-contained statement in a real-world situation. Likewise, as incomprehensible as God's will supposedly is, I am quite certain that such a being would not engage himself in such an endeavor as is posed by the question we're talking about.
So, when you come right down to it, I seem to be saying that God cannot make a stone so heavy that he can't lift it, right?
Right.
So, that does mean there's a limit to his power, Right?
Well, I suppose, technically.
But then, that means he's not omnipotent, right?
No.
Huh?
Okay...here's my proposed solution. We need to redefine the word omnipotent because that is really where the problem is. I'm sorry, but not being able to limit your own power is no kind of limit. Here is my new proposed definition:
om·nip'·o·tent
Adjective:
~ Having the power, authority, or force to do anything and everything aside from anything that minimalizes or contradicts that power; essentially all-powerful.
It may not be perfect, but there it is. Also, just as a note, this is not meant to be a proof of God's existence nor a proof of his omnipotence if he does indeed exist. This is actually a proof of the inadequacy of our understanding of the nature of omnipotence. In essence, we are impotent to comprehend omnipotence...whatever that means.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Good vs. Evil
The deep rumble of thunder reverberates across the barren countryside. A shadow looms over the craggy desert landscape as dark clouds fill the sky from seemingly nowhere. Pulsating flashes of light illuminate portions of the dense ceiling, revealing illusions of flickering shapes that skitter along the ground. The air grows heavy with a sudden stifling humidity and a sense that something other than a simple summer storm is afoot.
Soon, the sky's thick shroud obscures the corpse of the land from sight. The intermittent flashes of lightening reveal glimpses of the macabre features below. Jagged formations of red stone jut from the uneven ground, and here and there great gashes in the earth open to depths unseeable. The wounded desert floor ripples and heaves as the spidering veins of electric light in the sky inspire the shadows to take up a lively, if stilted, dance.
Slowly, as the ancient wounds stretch, the very blood of the land rises up to the surface. In its bright yellows, oranges and reds it oozes up through the cracks, steaming from the earth's body heat. And there, crawling from the tainted blood as if a parasitic infection, an angular perversion of all that is natural stretches its oddly-jointed limbs in the open for the first time in millennia. With a gaping yawn, the beast reveals row upon row of perfectly-aligned and deadly sharp fangs. Its eyes glow with the same hue of the fiery lake to which it and its brethren were condemned in a time before written history.
All around, more of these creatures, different in shape but similar in utter contradiction to what had been intended by Him, emerge from the earthblood and flex their tortured joints and muscles. Hell is emptying upon the world, and its inhabitants are ready to exercise their demonic will. Woe be unto the heirs of God's creation on this day of Armageddon.
A light of brightness and purity not seen in two millennia cleaves through the churning blackness above, blinding to those who shun it but enlightening to those who embrace it. The celestial radiance streaks outward in all directions and casts away the troubled sky. The creatures on the ground shrink back in terror, the light burning their otherwise impervious skin.
As the intensity fades, figures can be seen approaching on beams of holy luminance. Astride heavenly steeds of righteousness, the seraphim boldly gallop forth, incarnations of God's perfection of beauty. At their head rides the son of man, His gleaming sword pointing the way, its fateful edge hungry to unleash His wrath upon the wicked.
Arrows of the seraphim, blessed by the very will of God, precede them to the ground, each perfectly aimed to vanquish one of Satan's minions. Lightning infused with His fury erupts from His sword and lays low many a demon. Evil scrambles to be out of the Lord's sight, but there is no place to hide from Him that is called I AM. The devil's soldiers are sent one by one to the only place worse than that from whence they came, their wickedness stripped away. For how can one be wicked when one can no longer be at all?
Almost as quickly as they appeared, the interlopers are gone, dispelled by the power of Him. Up from the lifeless ground springs miraculous greenery, nourished by the light of the Lord. Here they will stand, these cousins of the garden, as guardians over this land, keeping Hell locked in the fire until God Himself decides that the end of time has come. Once again, unbeknownst to His mortal children, premature apocalypse has been turned aside.
*****
Since the beginning of recorded history, and we assume before it as well, humans have been fascinated by the battle between good and evil. It's an ongoing struggle that has raged for millennia and will continue until the end of time. There are some who believe this battle is as concrete and unambiguous as the one described above, but in reality, the various complexities of the good-evil dynamic are tough to pin down. If we want to better understand these standards to which we hold ourselves, we need to figure out where they came from and what their purpose is.
The Christian bible tells us that knowledge of good and evil was imparted to humanity when Eve disobeyed God and ate from the tree that He forbade. She shared this fruit with Adam, hence condemning all future generations of humans to suffer the wages of sin. The story of Adam and Eve, while fascinating mythology, simply cannot be a literal accounting of history. Several obvious logistical problems contraindicate its veracity. Many of these problems are presented elsewhere, so they will not be included here.
So, if we accept that the story of Adam and Eve is mythology, where did the concepts of good and evil come from? Cultures all over the world, some without any exposure to the biblical origins of sin, have a general agreement with each other on what constitutes a good or evil act. Clearly, there is something deep within the human psyche, perhaps something instinctual, that separates these two concepts for us.
Recent research has revealed that humans (and, interestingly enough, macaque monkeys) have an area of the brain that appears to be dedicated to empathy. Specifically localized brain activity suggests that when we see others of our species in pain or pleasure, we simulate the event in our minds, placing ourselves in the situation. This simulation causes a chain reaction that results in sympathetic emotions, as if we were experiencing the event ourselves. People shown images of one of their own in distress ended up having brain activity similar to what would occur if they were in distress as well, likewise for images of happiness and pleasure.
Either way, empathy is certainly a crucial element in our understanding of good and evil. It evokes a "treat others as you would like to be treated" philosophy. Indeed, much of what is considered evil involves bringing harm to others. Murder, thievery and adultery, all fairly prominent in their persistence as acts that are considered sinful, are certainly events that bring people distress. Being instinctually empathetic creatures, we wish to avoid inflicting this distress on others because we are able to manufacture within ourselves the resultant emotions, and we don't like them.
It seems strange that nature would imbue us with something as complex as empathy. After a bit of thought, though, it should become clear why such a trait would be beneficial. Humans typically live in communities. We interact with each other on a regular basis and, for the most part, depend upon each other for survival. Even though one of us is capable of surviving alone, it is obvious by simple observation that we are communal creatures by nature.
Being communal creatures, our chances of mutual survival are maximized when we are able to cooperate with optimal efficiency. Certainly, it is a lot easier to coordinate between individuals who are capable of understanding to some degree the emotional mindset of others. A community is easier to keep together when members generally forgo violent competition with one another because they not only want to avoid distress to themselves, but also to avoid feeling the distress of others. These are just a couple of the reasons why empathy is an advantageous adaptation.
Empathy, however, cannot be the whole picture. Not everyone seems to have the ability to interpret empathy accurately. The most extreme example is seen in individuals with autism. The study mentioned above showed that the same brain activity was not observed in autistic subjects. This may be one of the reasons autistic individuals don't seem to be able to foresee the consequences of their actions. The part of their brains that simulates circumstances to their end results doesn't function properly.
Still, even some without autism seem able to remorselessly commit acts that defy the idea of empathy. There are many factors aside from empathy that dictate people's actions. Given this fact, what is it that prevents us from overriding our empathic judgment? Is there another major influence that determines how we interpret good acts versus evil acts?
Self preservation is a good candidate for this secondary influence. As communal beings, it is in our interest to protect those in our community, if for no other reason than so that they return the favor. This common interest brings about the formation of values and morals, an agreed upon code that protects the health and well being of the community as a whole. Any violation of this code usually carries some undesirable consequence for the offender.
Really, empathy and self preservation provoke one another. It is the general empathic concurrence of a society that determines what the code of morals will be and what the consequences are for violators, and it is the selfish interest of personal safety and well being that ensures that we listen to our empathic voice, even if immediate circumstances are inspiring us otherwise. A sense of self preservation indicates at least a basic ability to understand when our safety is threatened by a potentially dangerous situation. A sense of empathy indicates the same understanding about the safety of other individuals.
In conclusion, the difference between basic good and evil is not only perceptual, but it is also fundamentally based on a selfish desire to remain content and safe. Empathy causes us to be in distress when we witness others in distress. It is a mechanism without which we would not have a moral code for society. We would only have our sense of self preservation to guide us, meaning we could watch others suffering without emotion as long as our own safety was ensured. Even with empathy, we shun evil acts only to protect our physical, emotional and mental well being, while we engage in good acts to promote the same. Regardless, its side effects work out for the benefit of the entire community, which helps make us a very successful species, meaning that the concepts of good and evil are likely to be around for a very long time.
Soon, the sky's thick shroud obscures the corpse of the land from sight. The intermittent flashes of lightening reveal glimpses of the macabre features below. Jagged formations of red stone jut from the uneven ground, and here and there great gashes in the earth open to depths unseeable. The wounded desert floor ripples and heaves as the spidering veins of electric light in the sky inspire the shadows to take up a lively, if stilted, dance.
Slowly, as the ancient wounds stretch, the very blood of the land rises up to the surface. In its bright yellows, oranges and reds it oozes up through the cracks, steaming from the earth's body heat. And there, crawling from the tainted blood as if a parasitic infection, an angular perversion of all that is natural stretches its oddly-jointed limbs in the open for the first time in millennia. With a gaping yawn, the beast reveals row upon row of perfectly-aligned and deadly sharp fangs. Its eyes glow with the same hue of the fiery lake to which it and its brethren were condemned in a time before written history.
All around, more of these creatures, different in shape but similar in utter contradiction to what had been intended by Him, emerge from the earthblood and flex their tortured joints and muscles. Hell is emptying upon the world, and its inhabitants are ready to exercise their demonic will. Woe be unto the heirs of God's creation on this day of Armageddon.
A light of brightness and purity not seen in two millennia cleaves through the churning blackness above, blinding to those who shun it but enlightening to those who embrace it. The celestial radiance streaks outward in all directions and casts away the troubled sky. The creatures on the ground shrink back in terror, the light burning their otherwise impervious skin.
As the intensity fades, figures can be seen approaching on beams of holy luminance. Astride heavenly steeds of righteousness, the seraphim boldly gallop forth, incarnations of God's perfection of beauty. At their head rides the son of man, His gleaming sword pointing the way, its fateful edge hungry to unleash His wrath upon the wicked.
Arrows of the seraphim, blessed by the very will of God, precede them to the ground, each perfectly aimed to vanquish one of Satan's minions. Lightning infused with His fury erupts from His sword and lays low many a demon. Evil scrambles to be out of the Lord's sight, but there is no place to hide from Him that is called I AM. The devil's soldiers are sent one by one to the only place worse than that from whence they came, their wickedness stripped away. For how can one be wicked when one can no longer be at all?
Almost as quickly as they appeared, the interlopers are gone, dispelled by the power of Him. Up from the lifeless ground springs miraculous greenery, nourished by the light of the Lord. Here they will stand, these cousins of the garden, as guardians over this land, keeping Hell locked in the fire until God Himself decides that the end of time has come. Once again, unbeknownst to His mortal children, premature apocalypse has been turned aside.
Since the beginning of recorded history, and we assume before it as well, humans have been fascinated by the battle between good and evil. It's an ongoing struggle that has raged for millennia and will continue until the end of time. There are some who believe this battle is as concrete and unambiguous as the one described above, but in reality, the various complexities of the good-evil dynamic are tough to pin down. If we want to better understand these standards to which we hold ourselves, we need to figure out where they came from and what their purpose is.
The Christian bible tells us that knowledge of good and evil was imparted to humanity when Eve disobeyed God and ate from the tree that He forbade. She shared this fruit with Adam, hence condemning all future generations of humans to suffer the wages of sin. The story of Adam and Eve, while fascinating mythology, simply cannot be a literal accounting of history. Several obvious logistical problems contraindicate its veracity. Many of these problems are presented elsewhere, so they will not be included here.
So, if we accept that the story of Adam and Eve is mythology, where did the concepts of good and evil come from? Cultures all over the world, some without any exposure to the biblical origins of sin, have a general agreement with each other on what constitutes a good or evil act. Clearly, there is something deep within the human psyche, perhaps something instinctual, that separates these two concepts for us.
Recent research has revealed that humans (and, interestingly enough, macaque monkeys) have an area of the brain that appears to be dedicated to empathy. Specifically localized brain activity suggests that when we see others of our species in pain or pleasure, we simulate the event in our minds, placing ourselves in the situation. This simulation causes a chain reaction that results in sympathetic emotions, as if we were experiencing the event ourselves. People shown images of one of their own in distress ended up having brain activity similar to what would occur if they were in distress as well, likewise for images of happiness and pleasure.
Either way, empathy is certainly a crucial element in our understanding of good and evil. It evokes a "treat others as you would like to be treated" philosophy. Indeed, much of what is considered evil involves bringing harm to others. Murder, thievery and adultery, all fairly prominent in their persistence as acts that are considered sinful, are certainly events that bring people distress. Being instinctually empathetic creatures, we wish to avoid inflicting this distress on others because we are able to manufacture within ourselves the resultant emotions, and we don't like them.
It seems strange that nature would imbue us with something as complex as empathy. After a bit of thought, though, it should become clear why such a trait would be beneficial. Humans typically live in communities. We interact with each other on a regular basis and, for the most part, depend upon each other for survival. Even though one of us is capable of surviving alone, it is obvious by simple observation that we are communal creatures by nature.
Being communal creatures, our chances of mutual survival are maximized when we are able to cooperate with optimal efficiency. Certainly, it is a lot easier to coordinate between individuals who are capable of understanding to some degree the emotional mindset of others. A community is easier to keep together when members generally forgo violent competition with one another because they not only want to avoid distress to themselves, but also to avoid feeling the distress of others. These are just a couple of the reasons why empathy is an advantageous adaptation.
Empathy, however, cannot be the whole picture. Not everyone seems to have the ability to interpret empathy accurately. The most extreme example is seen in individuals with autism. The study mentioned above showed that the same brain activity was not observed in autistic subjects. This may be one of the reasons autistic individuals don't seem to be able to foresee the consequences of their actions. The part of their brains that simulates circumstances to their end results doesn't function properly.
Still, even some without autism seem able to remorselessly commit acts that defy the idea of empathy. There are many factors aside from empathy that dictate people's actions. Given this fact, what is it that prevents us from overriding our empathic judgment? Is there another major influence that determines how we interpret good acts versus evil acts?
Self preservation is a good candidate for this secondary influence. As communal beings, it is in our interest to protect those in our community, if for no other reason than so that they return the favor. This common interest brings about the formation of values and morals, an agreed upon code that protects the health and well being of the community as a whole. Any violation of this code usually carries some undesirable consequence for the offender.
Really, empathy and self preservation provoke one another. It is the general empathic concurrence of a society that determines what the code of morals will be and what the consequences are for violators, and it is the selfish interest of personal safety and well being that ensures that we listen to our empathic voice, even if immediate circumstances are inspiring us otherwise. A sense of self preservation indicates at least a basic ability to understand when our safety is threatened by a potentially dangerous situation. A sense of empathy indicates the same understanding about the safety of other individuals.
In conclusion, the difference between basic good and evil is not only perceptual, but it is also fundamentally based on a selfish desire to remain content and safe. Empathy causes us to be in distress when we witness others in distress. It is a mechanism without which we would not have a moral code for society. We would only have our sense of self preservation to guide us, meaning we could watch others suffering without emotion as long as our own safety was ensured. Even with empathy, we shun evil acts only to protect our physical, emotional and mental well being, while we engage in good acts to promote the same. Regardless, its side effects work out for the benefit of the entire community, which helps make us a very successful species, meaning that the concepts of good and evil are likely to be around for a very long time.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Vanessa's Reflection
Okay, everybody. I have something a little different for you today. It's a bit long, 42 pages according to Word, but I think it's decent. Many posts ago, I mentioned being suddenly inspired before getting my hair cut. Well, this is the story that came from that inspiration. I posted a link to it because it's far too long to put up here. If you'd like to see how I perform in the genre of drama, check it out. It's about a young, professional woman who finds out that going to great lengths to change her appearance "for the better" may not have been worth all the trouble.
Vanesa's Reflection
Vanesa's Reflection
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