There's no "I" in Statement

One of the most compelling impulses I seem to have is the tendency to use "I" statements. I'm good at this. I like to do that. When this happens, this is what I like to do. It like a very natural thing to do, but it occurs to me that every time I make an "I" statement, I almost always find the statement incomplete or incorrect, not because I enjoy lying, but because "I" statements are much more dynamic than I thought at first.When I make a statement about myself, what I am really doing is thinking about what I've done or how I've felt in the past, marking a tendency in my mind, adjust that tendency to create harmony with the way I already think of myself, and then making the statement. After all, it's very difficult to describe something that constantly changes, and it's much more comfortable to think of myself as predictable to my own psyche. But am I? Certainly not. As much as I'd like to think I know myself, I cannot always express my tendencies correctly or predict my reactions accurately, so statements I make about myself I find to be awkward at best.

Instead of making "I" statements, which are in essence just silly predictions--"I'm pretty laid back", "I don't cry at movies", "I do my best work under pressure"--maybe the most accurate and compelling way we have to describe ourselves is by simply living. Instead of locking myself into a certain prediction that I may feel so obligated to fulfill that I alter my actions just to fit it, maybe I should allow myself to live naturally and leave the tendency marking and prediction making to those who see me live. In this way, I have lived not up to a false and trivial standard set by an "I" statement, but simply lived and let others tell the stories. For some reason, perhaps because of their wider perspective, I find that others are much better at describing me than I am.

Nintendo Philosophy

I have admired Nintendo for a long time. I have admired them since the day my brother and I got our first video game system for Christmas, the SNES. But back then, admiration was mostly wide-eyed wonder at the magic of controlling colors on the screen. Now, ten years later, I admire this game company for very different reasons (in addition, of course, to those I had when I was a kid).

When it came time to make a new generation of systems, Sony and Microsoft, huge gaming companies, decided the best rout was to take what's been known to work and ramp it up to a technological platform it had never before reached. Sony especially embodies this approach. But what did Nintendo do? Did they make a GameCube 360? What about a Gameboy III? No, they didn't do that.

Instead of simply progressing forward with smoother graphics, Nintendo took a different approach. They asked: "How can we make as many people happy with our products as possible, thereby generating the most sales?" This kind of thinking is what developed the Wii and the Nintendo DS. They thought in a new way, and it worked much better than the obvious path. The DS is now the best-selling game system of all time, and the Wii has very nearly overtaken the 360, even though the Xbox had a year's head start.

This success story helped me remember the same thing seems to have always applied. It's the great ideas, not necessarily the great money or muscle, that makes the greatest and most beneficial change.

So how can I apply that to my own life? This idea of big, innovative change--the great idea that shapes the future--is one that I will be contemplating for quite a while.

Constructing My Daily Philosophies

I think everyone lives by certain priorities, whether they set them consciously or not. These priorities are the beginnings of philosophy: how we see the world. As they grow and mature, philosophies can develop into very complex and specific ideas that apply to every niche of life, and since they sometimes become so specialized, many can gather dust like old pocket watches. But there are some philosophies that are so important, they should be remembered and exercised every single day.

I've been thinking a lot about mine lately. For a long time, I've wanted to sit down and construct my Daily Philosophies and see what I come up with. What are my guiding lights? How do I strive to live? What things will I say to myself when things get tough and decisions get hard? As I was constructing them, I made several versions--lists that contained what I felt were ideas worth living by. Finally, I came to something I felt good about when I read. The list that changes ended up looking a little like this:

1. Love others as yourself
2. See things from others' perspective
3. Seek wisdom through experience, observation, and contemplation
4. Be reasonable
   
5. All conclusions are tentative
6. Being wrong may occur often--this is normal
7. Be brave
8. Serve others
9. Do not fear work
10. Health is important and worth striving for
11. One must do what one believes is right
    
12. No person is fundamentally above or below another

Funny. Though almost all of those philosophies changed dramatically from my first draft to my latest, the first one stayed pretty much the same.

Philosophical Examples

It is not often in the world of radio and podcasts that something truly gripping to me comes along, but ever since iTunes introduced a new service called iTunes U, a way institutions of higher learning can present content in podcast form to students and interested parties around the world, I have become more and more interested.

There are many, many worthwhile sources of content on iTunes U sponsored by legitimate universities all around the world, and I may even write about some of them later, but for now, I would like to highlight a fascinating radio program sponsored by Stanford University, called Philosophy Talk.

"The program that questions everything... except your intelligence."

This program is exceptional for a lot of reasons, but firstly, it is supremely legitimate. It is hosted by Ken Taylor, Professor and Chair of Stanford University's Department of Philosophy, and John Perry, Henry Waldgrave Stuart Professor of Philosophy at Stanford University, and every week they are accompanied by an expert on the topic of discussion. The topics range in diverse philosophical issues including Aging, Global Poverty and International Aid, Intelligent Design, Friendship, and more. The program discusses current philosophical views on these subjects and how these issues may effect the way we live our lives, helping the listener form philosophies for themselves on issues they may not have previously thought about.

What is even more impressive to me is the faithful execution of the program's motto: "The program that questions everything... Except your intelligence." On this show, callers are allowed to contribute to the discussion, and some callers may not be quite as well educated as others or may submit shaky reasoning, but the hosts are always consistently respectful and focus in the the caller's best points and even clarify what they may be trying to say.

The reason this is so incredible to me is because I've been trying to find philosophical role models, people whose philosophy and human relations skills I can truly admire and hope to emulate, but these examples have come very scarce to me.

In the media and especially in other podcasts, hosts always seem to want to abolish or publicly defame something and/or forcefully convert the viewer to a certain way of thinking rather than discuss issues respectfully and look at things from other people's perspectives. These poor examples usually come across as fanatical and intolerant. I do not, nor do I think many reasonable people would, admire either characteristic.

I want very much to find someone able to question life, be open-minded, but not cynical. I want to admire someone who displays consistently admirable human relation skills. The guys on Philosophy Talk very closely fit this description, and so I love to listen to them, and I feel like the program has a lot to offer, not just in content, but also in spirit.

There are ten podcasts of Philosophy Talk available on iTunes U, and dozens and dozens more available on the Philosophy Talk website. Each show is a little less than an hour long. They are well worth the time.

Human Relations

I've been reading a book this summer called How to Win Friends and Influence People, written by Dale Carnegie back in the 1930's. It's been in hearty print since it was published, and it's been for me one of the most eye-opening pieces of literature I have ever read, and it started with a considerable disadvantage with me. I am typically not a huge fan of self-help books.

I may never have read this book at all, but this year, I've been placed in several leadership positions with a frightening degree of responsibility that I've never experienced before. President of a Club, RA in Kitchen dorm... just as a senior in College, I am automatically a leader and a role model to hundreds of people whether I like it or know it or not. As the thought of this became more and more real, it became embarrassingly obvious to me that my human relation skills are in dire need of a tune up. I needed help. So it was principally on Travis Hellstrom's advice that I began reading this book, and I have not stopped thanking him since. Now I can see why the praise surrounding this book is so overwhelming.

This book is very much common since, which, insistently, is not very common at all. I found the ideas very easy to grasp, very logical, and upon every chapter, I could not help reflecting on the many times, just off the top of my head, when this simple advice could have saved a situation or relationship. On rare occasions, I could even think of how I had accidentally followed the advice and how amazingly well it worked.

The book goes into great detail about the benefits of each point and possible applications. I haven't found anything in How to Win Friends and Influence People to be a waste of my time to consider. The chapters are short and very griping. I read each one twice before moving on.

Though I've learned a huge lot of lessons from reading this book, some of the best things it has taught me have been that everyone, like myself, has a desire to feel important and that sympathy without criticism, enthusiastic appreciation, true attempts at seeing things from the other person's point of view, and being, above all, sincere and authentic are the best and most effective ways to live at peace with other people and to receive mutually beneficial cooperation. I can't recommend this book enough.

I have also learned another vital lesson, one which I have been notorious in breaking, and that is: Don't get into arguments. The truth of that statement stings, because I have gone out of my way to wage arguments, not just with the people around me, but even with my own family, causing nothing but tension and hard feelings. It created a lot of tension, but it NEVER changed the other person's mind. That is truly something that can never be done by force. Have I ever changed my mind because someone argued at me that I should? Of course not. Never. So why should I expect someone else to? As the Carnegie puts it: "You Can't Win and Argument."

I use this book's advice every day now. The suggestions aren't hard--they are, in fact, very simple--and even though it has been in print since 1936, every chapter is not only relevant, but intelligent and thrilling.

Relating to other human beings is one of the most important things we do in our lives. Why don't we study it like we study other things like math and science? Why is this so neglected? After getting such benefit out of that knowlege personally, I am seriously running out of answers to that question.

Finding New Things

When is it okay to hold on to something you miss, when in other cases, the same feelings are considered pathetic? Why are songs of loss so touching and noble when we listen to them, but in practicality, unhealthy or, at worse, delusional? Better yet, what is the difference between romance and obsession? I suppose that is mutual-ism, though it could be argued differently, I'm sure. It is irksome sometimes that there aren't any more words than "Love" in English to describe the concept, while in some languages there are so many. I guess at some point it became advantageous to be unspecific.

It is painful sometimes to note that things endearing to us or important to us may change, relocate, or disappear, and in those cases, when our treasures as they were have been irrevocably removed, it must be best to somehow find another thing, or facet of things, that we can love too, because, unfortunately, the treasures that capture us so dearly tend to be singularly and tragically unique--unmistakable and irreplaceable to very root of the word.

Forgive me, because I do not mean to suggest that it is impossible or dreary to seek after different things to love, nor the same about keeping an thimble's full of hope that whatever it was that left may, in some form, one day return. In fact, it can be a healing and gratifying experience to remember how the light would shine upon it or how differently the air would smell around it or in what season it was most enjoyed, but there are other things, too.

In the end, it may be what reaches us first that determines which great thing in this universe we will miss the most. Prejudices forms so quickly... That may be unfair, but then, circumstances--or so I have found--rarely have any consideration for fairness unless they are guided. What guides them? People, sometimes, but other than that I do not suppose to know, nor do I know for sure that there is anything explicitly meant for each of us, which is both assuring and damning. On the one hand, if we find something that fits and lose it or fail to gain it then there may be something else out there that can be made to fit just as well; but on the other hand, the entire ordeal may be shoving an assortment of square pegs through a round hole. I doubt that last part, though, since I think there are just too many beautiful things.

Scalars and Touchstones

Direction. What the crap are my goals? Where on Earth are they going to take me? Why are they so important? What should be important about them? Questions, questions. They should be asked in reverse order.

I feel like a scalar--that is to say, a magnitude with no direction. A scalar at it's best can only sit down and marvel at just how voluminous it is. "Wow!" says the Scalar. "I sure am big!" And that is about all it can say for itself. It is a holographic horn-of-plenty spilling out on sand. No one wants to be a Scalar. Even the tiniest little vector is being more useful as it presses on the Wall of Berlin. An amorphous blob of glory does nobody any good, and as Carlyle observed: all thought must end in action. I cannot expect to be happy if my power, whatever that may be, is dwindled to nothing more than "I sure am big!"

Oh, but it's scary! A direction is something that is difficult to choose. In the past I've let influences make my decisions for me, believing whatever direction I fell into would be God's plan and that everything would be okay. I mean, the worst I would ever have to do would be to deal with life every once and a while. But life... Life is not supposed to be dealt with; it is much more enjoyable when lived! This has been my realization of the year, and so has been the recognition (or perhaps assumption) of my Scalar status. Before, I didn't even realize I had a magnitude or even a true capacity to choose a direction. I always just assumed I'd fall into one as I always had. That was great. Now I have responsibility to choose for myself not because somebody is making me, but because it WILL be chosen. It may be chosen quickly and ignorantly or I may just drift into the stream and hope there isn't a waterfall at the end, but either way I will have made my choice, and I will have nobody to hold that to but myself.

Love is great thing. Perhaps the best of things in which a decision can take root. Love connects all people with no regard for matter. It is the form of compassion, sympathy, empathy, service, emotion, and telling somebody they look nice today. It is in grief and sorrow and pain and acceptance. It is the empathetic imagination and any goal that has no grounds in love is probably not that great of a goal. I keep this in mind and think of it as a working definition.

So it is no secret: Goals are nearly synonymous with direction. Life Goals are foci and touchstones for every activity we take part in and guide our thoughts and what are minds will be molded to. They cannot be untouchable, and they cannot be fickle. How do I form them? I don't know the exact answer to that, but I do have a certain direction in mind.

1) What should be important?
-Tough Question, but it's really the first question that must be answered. It's like setting goals for my goals. Finding out what truly matters to me and why it matters to me will help me know how to value the things and activities of my life. Levels of importance should also be determined. This is the same as setting priorities. Is happiness important? Free time? Family? Friends? Pets? How? How much?

2) How should my goals reflect what is important?
-Okay, I figured out what's important. Now, I need to figure out how those important things are going to be translated into philosophies of living. What are my mottoes? What are my themes? Every one of my goals should line up with my general philosophy of importance so that I remain focused and uneasily fooled into things that I don't think are good.

3) How will my goals bring me closer to what is important?
- I think I've figured out how my goals will reflect importance, so now I need to know how they will actually translate into practicality. How will what's important translate into doable achievements, physical directions, and actual decisions. Understanding my capabilities and motivations, what things can I achieve or acquire that will make me a living example of what I think is important?

4) What the crap are my goals?
-Now I need to make a list. First of long-term goals: as specific as I can feasibly make them so that my shorter-term goals can be working toward them. Then work backwards from there until the NOW.

5) How do I test my goals to make sure they are good ones?
-I have to be able to test every aspect above at that level of development so that I'm not just shooting blind and working toward something that isn't actually in vain or destructive. I haven't actually figured out how to do that yet, but I would be a great thing to have a touchstone for it all. Maybe that's God. Make nothing untouchable or fickle.

All in all, this in is itself is a goal that has passed though all 5 stages, just without some written law. I don't expect it to be quick, but I think it will be fun and something to think about. It is important to have direction, and I'm finding that out more everyday.

There is No Such Thing as a Simple Person.

Every person has a story and everyone is going somewhere. I've heard it said that one should live their life in such a way that if it were a written in a book someone would want to read it. I don't know about that. The thought of whether or not my life would be a best-seller does not particularly drive me. I believe, every man's story is worth telling and worth listen to. I've said it before that getting to know a person is one of the highest forms of entertainment; and there's a subtle truth in that. It is wonderful to learn about a person on level deeper than "Hi" and to try to understand them. Incredibly insightful. I have never been disappointed in the understanding that people should be known, and I've found that even people I may be tempted to label as 'simple' are inordinately complex. The 'why's and passed years weigh on all of us and impressed upon us their seals of maturity, denial, wisdom, and mistake. Unavoidable. Unmaskable.

We are complex because the human heart does not lend itself to being simple. Even so, the greatest minds I've ever know have striven years for simplicity--trying to attain oneness of character. Consistency. I've read of artists who spent their whole lives learning to paint like a child. They want that simplicity back, and why? It might be that as children we were the most alike. We all wanted food and mothers. To be cared for in ways didn't have to understand. In the relative simplicity of childhood, we must have been so close to each other. Now that we're grown, does that mean every man is an island? If we are, we must certainly be an archipelago because we're all connected below the surface.

Sometimes sitting in the cafeteria, I'll see someone, and for whatever reason, they will catch my mind's attention. As I eat my meal, I think about that person sitting down with their friends across the room, and I wonder where they were born, who they love, and how the events of the world led them to sit in that particular chair. Most times, wondering is enough for me, but other times it is not. I can't explain why it's not, but I feel drawn to ask that person a question. Usually, I do not ask. How strange would it be to ask a stranger who they love? I think the answer would be a long one.

I think similarly of shacks and overgrown buildings on the side of a road. I have to wonder when they were built and who built them. I think of how proud the owner must have been when he first walked into his new and beautiful building. What were his plans? I learn names about as well as a monkey learns state capitals, but do I wonder a lot.

There is no such thing as a simple person.