Talents (part 1)

In my post, A stroll on the beach, I indulged in some good-natured fun at the expense of the Philosophers.  :)

"Why are we here?"

I searched long and hard for an answer to this question but, in the end, aged 35, I gave up on the question itself.

My search ended when I made the following observations.  I think each and every one of us possesses talents of some kind. And inasmuch as we discover, develop and utilize those talents, we find personal fulfilment.  Moreover, the exercise of our talents will inevitably enrich the lives of others also.

(Sometime later, I discovered that Aristotle had said much the same thing.  (If I'd spent more time reading, I could have saved myself a lot of time!))

Next: Talents (part 2)

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A stroll on the beach

Three people are taking a stroll along the beach of an isolated island when one spies an object lying thereupon the like of which none of them have ever seen before.

The first holds up the object: it is a gold fob-watch.  He winds it up and notices that it makes a ticking noise.  Additionally, the hands are observed to move at various, inter-related speeds.

The second says, "the waves must have washed it up from the deep, but I do declare that this is the strangest rock I have ever seen!".

The third says, "no, quite clearly it has been informed by design and by intent.  Ergo, a god must have dropped it from one of the great, silver birds that occasionally pass high above".  The second retorts, "there are no gods!!  We've never seen them!  Why haven't they presented themselves to us?"

The first man, who had picked up the watch, abruptly exclaims, "Good God!  Look at the time!  I'm late for a date.  I'll see you jokers later…"

How did we get here?  Who put us here?  Why have we been put here: what is our purpose?

Rather ask, what is our function?

For it is in the execution of that function that we experience the fulfillment of our living.

[The Monday Morning Quarterback returns next week after a long stint in rehab: a bad case of writer's block.]

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Utopia

I suppose the worst thing about being an idealist is the sentence for the crime, which condemns the convicted to a lifelong pessimism and the lonely funeral of a cynic.[¹]  It's a potent brew.  

And yet we are all irrepressible optimists.  Who among us does not hope for an end to poverty, disease, starvation, warfare, misery?  It will come one day, we are quite sure, and we take that as a grant.  But really?

What progress are we making today toward Utopia?  What changes are we making in the status quo and, indeed, in our modus operandi?  And if we are not making progress yesterday and today, why should we ever expect to make it?

Recently, I was challenged, politically and philosophically, on this score.  The challenger is a quietly brilliant and idealistic youngster (about the age of my second son).  There is not a trace of cynicism in this man, but neither any naivety nor gullibility.

The only plausible defense I have been able to muster against admitting his distinctly positive vision for humanity has been, "people will never go for it".

And is this not so true!!?  What we are doing is not working, but not one of us is thinking about what is mistaken about our own philosophical view; none of us is accepting the challenge to change things — including ourselves[²] — to make things better.  Like the cynic, "it is always the other guy!", at fault.

All of us, optimists, have our own recipes for how Utopia can be achieved: and all of these have in common only that everyone else must embrace the same creed for it to work. 

But surely that is true of any workable Utopian creed?  So the question must be, which is the one that we can all accept?

Thus, humanity needs to make a choice and, I think, soon.  The cynical, divided status quo forever.  Or we, each and everyone of us, lift ourselves above what we have been habitually thinking.

For my part, I am going to keep pondering the idealism of this youngster.

[1] Well, at least there's no stigma in being a cynic: one has the rightful defense, "it is everyone else that made me so!". 

[2] the hard part: palpable change must radiate outward…

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