Nathaniel, on important and unimportant
Posted on October 29, 2017October 29, 2017 by Frank DeMarco
Nathaniel on important and unimportant
Sunday, October 29, 2017
3 a.m. Very well, my friend. Not all deciders or decisions created equal?
Surely the point is obvious as soon as broached. It is only common sense, after all.
But if there is one thing this work has taught us to suspect, it is common sense.
Point. Very well, we shall look at it. But it shouldn’t take long. There are decisions that matter and those that don’t. There are people of substance and those of far less substance. You see this every day. The caveat as always is that what you see may not be what you get, but that is a separate point; that merely reminds you that your judgments are apt to be fallible. But the fact that you may misjudge does not mean there are no judgments to be made.
And, I presume, “judgments” in the sense of discernment, not of condemnation.
Of course. Condemnation implies a value judgment, a measuring of how far a given person or action or situation differs from the judging person’s norm or ideal. Discernment is exactly the opposite. It is a clear seeing of what is. Ideally, perfect discernment would precede and inform condemnation; that is, no one would condemn until he or she really, thoroughly, entirely understood what was being judged.
At which point, “to understand all would be to forgive everything.”
In a certain sense, yes. Once one understands, the heat tends to ebb from the condemning impulse. But perhaps the saying is too absolute to be entirely true.
In any case, in practice one knows the difference between important and unimportant decisions in general, if not always in careful specific. To walk down this or that side of a street, to wear blue instead of green, to drive this kind of car instead of another – usually these are trivial decisions and of no great consequence. Yes, once in a while they might be given greater weight by a specific circumstance, but in general, they do not produce decision-points that matter, because they are not decision-points that matter.
I had to think about that sentence for a second. I guess you mean, being themselves trivial in nature, they are unlikely to lead to more consequential choice-points.
Correct. Occasionally, trivial points are decisive, and you call the result coincidence, or chance, or “for want of a nail a kingdom was lost,” but mostly, no, and we want to pursue the usual here, not the exception.
Then there are levels of decision that are in themselves significant but may or may not lead to important choice-points. To stick to externals for the moment, the choice of a career, for instance. For some people, their career may shape their whole lives; all their primary energies may flow into it. For others, it may be of much less importance in that their world centers on other things.
A couple of side-issues floated by when I was writing that. A career as mother, for instance, could be as much a real center of interest as anything else. The much-derided “homemaker.”
Very much so, and for that matter, father. It varies from person to person, but many a person’s life centers in the family they emerge from and the family they create, and these, by the way, are often very centered, oriented people.
Something else floated by, but I forget what it was.
That a person’s consuming interest in life might have nothing at all to do with making a living, or conducting a career, or raising a family – might indeed be entirely invisible to the world, and yet might be just as important. And this is true, but tends more toward the point about being careful in judging the lives of others.
Then – still moving toward matters of greater significance – there are two types of very significant decisions, that may be one-time or, more usually, continuing. These may be decisions as to what to do, or decisions what to be. (And, as always in analyzing, we are somewhat downplaying ambiguities so as to present distinctions more clearly.) These are the defining moments, or – we might equally say – the defining trends, in a lifetime.
What to do. Either a momentous one-time choice or, as we say, an equally momentous but less dramatic continuing choice. A definition of action.
This is going to be a little more complicated than at first appeared, isn’t it?
Possibly. We shall see. The point here is that in choosing anything that is a true either / or, one in a sense alters the path, in a way that is not done by trivial or reversible decisions. Anything that, done (or, alternately, undone) will have irrevocable consequences, is of prime importance. However, the importance may not be noticed at first – or even perhaps ever assessed at its true value, either by the person or by others.
Such questions of doing may involve a choice of schools or jobs or physical relocations that result in unanticipated consequences, such as the people and other opportunities that arise [as a result]. The life one leads because of a move to Cincinnati may differ greatly from the life one leads if, instead, one remains in Detroit. That decision, to do or not do, may not be made out of a conscious intent to bring this or that result, but the result will nonetheless follow.
They say nobody ever moves to L.A. to stay as they are.
Well, be that as it may, at any rate people make significant decisions not consciously knowing what will ride on them. And here, you see, decisions of doing and decisions of being are much alike. Both flow as much from what one is as from what one decides.
You mean by that, I think, that what we are (known to ourselves or not) may then to have more to say about our decisions that we consciously realize. Our decisions may seem to us to be supported by this and that very logical, very rational reason, whereas in fact those reasons are closer to being rationalizations than causes.
And it is those occasions when your unconscious motivations tend to balance out that present your real choice-points. That is, this is when you affect your larger being, your probability-cloud.
So, free will v. predestination, then? Mostly our decisions could have been predicted by anybody who knew us well enough, but sometimes we can surprise them, and maybe ourselves?
You could put it that way. Mostly you are on a smooth glide-path, but sometimes you have to seize control, for only a minute perhaps, or perhaps for a long stretch, and choose what you want to do, what you want to be.
It has somehow been 55 minutes and we have covered fewer than seven pages, though as far as I know we have been working as steadily and well as ever. You have not yet addressed differences in substance among people.
This is conceptually simple, but is ringed with mine-fields, in that people’s perpetual temptation to judge – to condemn – comes easily into play.
Some people are weighty and some are not, you know that. Some are one-pointed, all of a piece; some are self-contradictory. Some are content to skim the surface of life, living the externals; others may scarcely notice the externals in their inward-swelling life.
Not quite clear yet. I know where you are going, I think, but so far you haven’t said it.
You are welcome to try to phrase it directly.
Well, I guess I would say you are working toward a distinction in gravitas, and these preliminary distinctions may tend merely to confuse the subject. Regardless of what we concentrate on, or how we appear to others, the difference you want to emphasize is a difference in seriousness, in character, in – well, gravitas, the way I experienced it in dealing with Carl Jung.
It is difficult to make the point, for lack of jointly understood examples. The externals of anyone’s life may be evident; the internals must always be inferred, which is a tricky business, rich with ambiguity and prone to error.
Let us put it this way. In any trade (to use a more understandable, external, example) you have master craftsmen, journeymen, apprentices, tyros. Right? In any discipline, be it scholastic or religious or philosophical or whatever, you have the same gradations. And in any sense of endeavor, the same. Well, no one who discerned clearly would put equal weight on the opinion or judgment or output of any two stages, especially including those being considered.
That sentence got away from me. I know you meant, even those being judged wouldn’t dream of setting different levels of experience and skill on a par.
That is correct. And it is exactly thus when we consider a given soul’s gravitas. Some are more weighty than others, as is only what you would expect if previous experiences and decisions are to mean anything at all. Now this doesn’t mean these differences may be fairly and safely judged; but they do exist, and they do matter.
And there is your hour, or, in this case, your hour and a quarter.
Thank you. And for next time?
Let that emerge.
Very well. Our thanks as always.
The Wright Brothers
Posted on October 29, 2017October 25, 2017 by Frank DeMarco
[Working backward from the year 2000 toward America’s beginnings.]
At first, Wilbur and Orville Wright, and their sister Katharine, fascinated the Europeans. They were so modest and unassuming, so businesslike, so down-to-earth, so willing and able to deal with workmen and with kings (literally) in an equally friendly but dignified manner. They seemed the very personification of the best of America’s supposedly classless society. Later, when patent infringement suits seemed to threaten the development of the airplane industry, they came to personify another aspect of America, a less attractive side. Yet the Wrights hadn’t changed. Circumstances had brought out a different aspect of their collective character.
It was an attractive partnership. Wilbur and his five-year-younger brother Orville played together as boys, tinkered together as teens, went into the bicycle assembly and repair business together as young men, and together solved the problem of flight by heavier-than-air machine. Together they wrestled with the intellectual and practical problems that had to be overcome – problems that had defeated everyone else from the beginning of time – and together they conquered them, one by one. After Wilbur died in 1912, age 45, Orville lived another three dozen years, but never made another significant contribution to aviation theory or practice. Their life’s work was done together, first to last.
Everybody knows the elements of the story, and those who don’t can Google The Wright Brothers. (Those who live in southwestern Ohio can go visit the Wright Museum in Dayton! In North Carolina, the museum is of course at Kitty Hawk.)
Wilbur was fascinated by the problem of flight; he set out to learn what was being done, hoping to make a contribution to the field. Concentrating not on powerful engines to force a machine into the air but on a reliable method of controlling the machine once it was there, he and Orville developed a method of three-axis control that made fixed-wing flight possible. They tested and developed different wing structures and propeller shapes, and in three years came up with an efficient glider that would carry a man and let him control it. Then they (and their friend and bicycle shop employee Charlie Taylor) built their own gasoline engine to power it! The first controlled, powered and sustained heavier-than-air human flights took place, as all the world knows, at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, on December 17, 1903.
But, to paraphrase Churchill, that was not the end, nor the beginning of the end, but more like the end of the beginning. They had a machine that flew. Now they had to patent their control system, and had to develop the airplane, and had to teach themselves how to fly, and had to keep it secret (to avoid patent infringers) while doing all that. And then, if they were going to make a success of all their years of work, they were going to have to sell it.
You wouldn’t think that would be difficult, but it was, because all the government agencies they approached – first the American, then the British and French – were wary of looking ridiculous. The United States government had helped finance Samuel Langley, the head of the Smithsonian Institution, and his machine had been an expensive and very public failure. But finally the brothers won contracts from both the U.S. Army and a French syndicate representing the French government. The contracts depended on successful public flights meeting certain conditions, which meant that one brother had to be demonstrating in Europe while the other was demonstrating in America. Wilbur went to France.
On August 8, 1908 at a race track near the town of Le Mans, Wilbur made his first flight. It was only one minute 45 seconds long, but he made banking turns and flew a circle, and, on later flights, flew figure-eights, all of which was well beyond the capability of any other machine in the world. The other machines being developed were not really capable of controlled flight. At best, they could hop.
Wilbur’s triumph was complete, and was rendered particularly dramatic because, during the weeks he had been assembling his airplane, newspapers were calling him a “bluffeur,” adapting the American word. But his skillful piloting and his ingenious and effective flying machine silenced all criticism. Indeed, the very people who had been loudest in their derision fell all over themselves apologizing. The impossible had been accomplished, and they had seen it. And the field where Wilbur was flying became a Mecca for thousands of spectators.
In one flight, Wilbur had made “the Wright Brothers” world famous. Then, the following month, Orville demonstrated another Wright Flyer to the United States Army at Fort Myer, Virginia. His first flight was on September 3, 1908. Six days later, he made a flight of 62 minutes and 15 seconds, demonstrating that the new machine was not a toy but a useful piece of equipment that could be used – it was thought at the time — for scouting. It would be only half a dozen years before the new machines were being fitted with bombs and machine guns, but, in these final years of Europe’s sanity, that tragedy was yet undreamed of.
And, speaking of tragedy, on September 17, in Virginia, aviation suffered its first casualty, as Army lieutenant Thomas Selfridge riding with Orville as passenger (in his role as official observer) was killed in a crash that put Orville in the hospital with a broken leg and four broken ribs and (unsuspected and thus untreated for years) with three hip bone fractures and a dislocated hip. He was hospitalized for seven weeks. Katharine rushed from Dayton to be with him, probably not dreaming that this was the end of her career as school teacher and the beginning of another, quite unprecedented career as hostess/secretary for her brothers.
Wilbur spent the next few weeks setting new records for altitude and duration, observed by – among so many others — the kings of England, Spain and Italy. When, in January 1909, Orville and Katharine joined him in France, they charmed all Europe. From Pau, in the south of France, Wilbur continued his demonstration flights, trained two French pilots, and transferred the airplane to the French company. In April he did the same in Italy, giving demonstrations and training more pilots. By the time they headed back to the States, they were as beloved as they were famous.
But then the patent wars began. It’s a dismal story that arguably cut Wilbur’s life short. The brothers, having made flight possible for the world, logically enough thought that others should not profit from their pioneering work without paying them royalties. But Glenn Curtiss, for one, refused to pay license fees to the Wrights and sold an aircraft equipped with ailerons to the Aeronautic Society of New York in 1909. The Wrights filed a lawsuit, beginning a years-long legal conflict. They also sued foreign aviators who flew at U.S. exhibitions, including the leading French aviator Louis Paulhan. European companies which bought foreign patents the Wrights had received sued other manufacturers in their countries, and the lawsuits dragged on until the patent expired in 1917.
Wilbur took the leading role in the exhausting patent struggle, traveling incessantly to consult with lawyers and testify in what he felt was a moral cause, particularly against Curtiss. The Wrights wound up spending their time and energy on legal battles rather than on further work on airplane design. By 1911 European manufacturers had surpassed Wright designs. Orville and Katharine Wright believed Curtiss was partly responsible for Wilbur’s premature death, which occurred in the wake of his travels and the stress of the legal battle. The lawsuits damaged the public image of the Wright brothers, who began to be described as greedy. Europeans who were always ready to believe the worst about anything and anyone American seized on the stories of the patent disputes as evidence of a materialist, grasping society. Still, those thousands who saw Wilbur’s European flights never forgot the sight.
Many years later, in his old age, having seen the destruction rained from the air during two world wars, Orville Wright said of flight, “What a dream it was. What a nightmare it has become.” Perhaps Wilbur was the more fortunate, to die before the end of the long era of peace.
Nathaniel on decisions and the higher self
Posted on October 28, 2017October 28, 2017 by Frank DeMarco
Nathaniel on decisions and the higher self
Saturday, October 28, 2017
5 a.m. I guess we’re ready to proceed. Your call.
Then let us proceed to talk about your very interesting speculation.
Yeah, speculation – or maybe a planted idea?
Does it matter?
I don’t know. Okay, here is my journal entry from yesterday. “It occurred to me, on the road to CVS and Kroger, that our higher self’s choices may be what matter, and our individual choices on each path may somehow sway it. But this may be confused. We’ll see.”
It is, in any case, an interesting change of focus, is it not? Another instance of the productive redirection of thought that may occur when you move your focus of attention from your 3D level to your – higher self, some call it, others use other names. Oversoul, say.
Is that what Emerson meant by the term? Or, for that matter, Jane Roberts?
Don’t concentrate on other people’s formulations. Remember what we said about using the written word as inspiration, as sparks, rather than as logic or textbook.
Okay. In any case –
Well, let’s back up a bit, as usual, to draw context.
In 3D you experience yourself as living one life, making choices as you go. You may believe, abstractly, that the alternative lives formed by other choices exist, but it is hard for you to know it in the absence of sensory evidence. Even those who experience inexplicable changes in memory find it hard.
I think you meant, people who remember things that turn out not to be true, or not anymore, let’s say.
That’s right. Even they will usually have to go through a period of adjustment before they can integrate that evidence with that theoretical construct. After all, your sensory evidence works night and day to persuade you that the world is real, is solid, is one time-stream, and explains away any irreconcilable data.
As you say.
When you arrive at seeing the world as innumerable projected equally sort-of-real versions, your own role in things becomes less clear. Now not only is there conflict between sensory and intuitive, or sensory and intellectual constructs, but also conflict between the logical consequences that seem to follow (on the one hand) and one’s feelings about one’s life.
Yes. It doesn’t feel like our choices don’t matter, even though abstractly we may believe that all choices are made, so it all cancels out.
That is one dilemma that may arise. We will not revisit the free-will / predestination argument, but obviously no matter which of the two choices one finds oneself committed to, the same conflict with feelings ensures. If you are not free, why does it feel like you are? If you are free, but for every heads you choose, another version of you will choose tails, what could be more futile?
Exactly.
So your underlying question of meaning could be restated: What is the point of our choosing? What does our choosing actually affect? If you say, “choosing changes you,” the question remains.
That’s a fair summary. We don’t want to feel useless – Sartre’s “man is a useless passion” – but we can’t just decide that we matter by a sort of force of will to believe, either.
So then, to explore the subject let us – always coming back to the very useful reminder, “as above, so below” – look at things from the next higher level. The probability-cloud, you sometimes think of it. Your higher self, your oversoul, the complete set of results from the expedition sent into 3D in your time and place, using your body and mind.
Sam?
No, not a Sam. The Sam is a higher level from which – out of which – you were created. No, this is you in your true complete self. Well, complete except we are going to have to ignore so many integral connections to “past lives,” other people, etc. For the purposes of making a compact coherent statement we have to treat “you” – even at that higher level – as if you were the isolated individual that you are not and never could be.
Okay, I get that. A future subject maybe, after we get a clearer picture?
Perhaps. So –
You have the accurate insight that the purpose of your 3D creation – which in effect means the purpose of your 3D existences – is to choose. But that insight was given to you when you had a much oversimplified idea of who and what you are. You thought you were the 3D version you were identified with. We now invite you to identify with your complete selves, your full probability-clouds. (And we lapse into the plural merely to remind your readers that this is to them, not just to you. It does not mean more than one probability-cloud per 3D individual; just the opposite.)
Now, if you identify with the completed self, what is its experience of your 3D excursion / creation? Remember, it has seen – it has lived (at one remove) – every single possible choice, trivial or momentous and all the way between, from which sweater the schoolboy would wear to – well, name your own significant decision. What does your probability-cloud get out of all that experiencing, all that splitting off this way and that way?
I suppose it gets an exhaustive knowledge of the possibilities of that particular excursion.
Yes. Why? Does it amount to taking a survey?
Am I supposed to volunteer an answer? I don’t know. I can see that panorama survey of possibilities, but I can’t see any point to it. It is only my own unshakable knowing that this has meaning that keeps me from Sartre’s futile pessimism, I suppose. The answer has to be choice, but – how?
And here we are at the nub of it. Consider this carefully. (It will be easy to become confused).
You have been thinking of 3D life as choosing in the way your friend Ed Carter described life as perpetually voting. You each do your bit to sway the result, whenever and however it is to be tabulated. But that leaves out the intervening factor that will help you make sense of it.
Yes, I vaguely got this on the road, though it still isn’t clear.
Each 3D version, heads or tails, in effect votes by what it becomes, and this at the end of the 3D day is what determines the composition of the higher self.
By that, I get that you mean, determines its values, in much the same way that our individual decisions determine our values.
Not determine, but express. Though, come to think of it, either way of seeing things is right enough. In any case, it is in exactly the same way, only the higher self is in effect tabulating individual 3D decisions, while the 3D versions are tabulating their own pre-existing predilections, including built-in conflicts.
Now, we may say the most likely source of error in your understanding of this is an unconscious assumption that every heads version contradicts its corresponding tails version. Not necessarily so at all. Obviously trivial decisions, like which side of the street you walk down, usually have no effect on your values. But even important choices of conduct do not necessarily imply differences in values. You see?
Clear, once you mention it. You’re right, I was making that unconscious assumption.
What becomes critical are those times when you are the focus of conflicting impulses (that is how you will experience them) and can, and have to, choose which rabbit to follow. Both heads and tails of many, many other decisions may support the same choice. And sometimes, both heads and tails versions have to choose by deciding within themselves what to do, what to be.
But by definition, don’t opposite choices always get made?
Maybe by definition, yes. But in practice not all decisions or deciders are created equal
And we have to stop here, as you no longer have enough mental energy to bring it through clearly, and it would be a pity to muddle what has so far been useful.
Okay. Next time, then. Our thanks as always.
Nathaniel on free will and predestination
Posted on October 27, 2017 by Frank DeMarco
Nathaniel on free will and predestination
Friday, October 27, 2017
5:45 a.m. We have a few questions queueing up, but I’m anxious to hear you on predestination and free will.
Very well, it’s very simple – or very complicated, depending upon which end of the stick you pick up.
It doesn’t seem so to us. To us it looks like it ought to be an either/ or.
But, remember what you noticed repeatedly whenever Rita would find a contradiction. The universe contains all contradictions, but does not contradict itself.
But is this a contradiction of fact, or only of opinion?
Well, a contradiction of opinion is usually either a mutual seizing of partial evidence – that is, neither party considering all factors, each choosing only those factors most agreeable to it – or
Sentence went on too long in time [that is, it came too slowly]; I wound up wool-gathering.
No great loss, but you aren’t quite here yet.
I’ll focus. Hold on. [Pause] I hadn’t realized. Go ahead, then.
Free will means, in essence, that in a given set of circumstances – at a given moment in the ever-flowing river of time carrying you along in your 3D life – you seize choices. That is, you have the real, not theoretical, ability to go this way or that way, like the lassie in the old song.
Now, I know that was me finishing the sentence, because that isn’t even what the song means! Try again to finish the sentence?
No harm done. Yes. You have a real, not a theoretical, choice. You really can choose heads or tails, A or B. You and Rita were told, first thing, that free will is the point of 3D existence, so that you will develop as you will, not as puppets, not as chips floating in rapids.
Predestination means, it’s all well and good to say you have freedom to choose, but your whole history leads you to choose one way rather than another. Not only your past but your future pulls you in a certain direction – or, one might say, holds you as a piece of iron might be held in an overwhelmingly strong magnetic current. That piece of iron won’t even be able to tumble end over end, though it might perhaps rotate on its forward-aft axis. To say that you have choice is to consider yourself as if you were in isolation; to say you are predestined is to see yourself as one tiny element in an overwhelmingly powerful, continuing organizing system; a rapids; a hurricane; a magnetic field. (Organizing systems aren’t necessarily calm or even apparently stable, but they channel immense forces.)
Swedenborg said humans were artificially suspended between equalized forces in order that they might have real, effective, free will. I think that is a fairly accurate summary of what he said.
Let’s set that way of seeing things to one side for the moment. Swedenborg was a great seer; so was Cayce; so were uncounted individuals known to the world and unknown. But nobody else’s experience and thought and conclusions can ever prove anything for anybody else. What they may do is spark a recognition, and of course that is what we are trying to do here, say things that some will recognize and profit by.
Thoreau said something similar once, that nothing was ever true to him because somebody else said it, but only because it whispered itself in his ear.
And that thought, expressed, in itself appealed to you, you see. It sparked a recognition. That’s why people find favorite authors; their minds run in parallel.
Now, bear in mind, free will and predestination – seeming opposites – both depend upon one way of seeing things, namely that there is one time-stream, one consciousness, one individual will, for each person. When you change those assumptions, everything changes; consequences differ as circumstances differ.
Why is this hard slogging, suddenly?
Because you are nervous, wondering if we are going to make sense.
Yes, I suppose so. Well – onward, then.
In a reality in which the physical world was what it seems to “common sense” people, there would be only one time-stream. The physical world would be solid, substantial (as it appears) and obviously could not be multiplied millions of times every day as all those people made all those decisions. One reality-stream; real and irrevocable consequences.
In such a one-timestream reality, the free will / predestination argument would naturally arise as people seized on this set or that set of unarguable facts that cannot be reconciled, for in such a system, there could be no reconciling them. It would have to be an either / or, and yet the evidence would be too great on either side for the contrary assertion to be sanctioned. Deadlock, you see.
So the clue is that the world is projected thought.
Projected consciousness; formed not so much into thought as into awareness. There is life without thought; there is no life without awareness.
Okay. The world is projected consciousness, and, as we have been told repeatedly, all possible paths exist; all are waiting for us to walk them, and somehow we do walk them all, choosing heads and tails, time after time, with our awareness restricted somehow to only one path, the others remaining only theoretical to us. It often seems only a fanciful idea, even after nearly 20 years.
That is because you have the wrong idea of who “you” are. You are identifying with the pac-man eating obstacles, rather than with the player playing the game. Or if you don’t like that example, another analogy would be you are identifying with the character and not the actor, or the movie-goer viewing the final film rather than with the film editor choosing among possible scenes.
We get the idea. Pretty hard not to identify with what we experience every moment, though.
You also experience the other level, when you don’t filter out the evidence as impossible or fantasy or hallucination or merely inexplicable.
Yes, I have a few friends who experience alternate realities poking in, every so often.
A more accurate statement would be that you have friends who are occasionally conscious of it, for you all experience it; only they do not always screen out what they experience but may have no framework for.
In any case, when you realize – or even, for the moment, theorize, pretend, envision – yourselves to be the one, single, undivided you that takes all paths, rather than the fragment-you that you customarily experiences as taking one path only (whether or not free to choose), you see that there is no real contradiction at that level. Of course you are free, but not free to take only one path: free to identify with this or that part of yourself. Of course it is all predestined: the paths existed from the moment the world was created; all you could do was fill them, or as it seems to you, walk them.
And all this has ramifications.
Because all paths exist, it is easy to see and even visit the future. (And how could anyone see the future if it was not already pre-formed?)
Because you change timelines – reality-streams, if you will – it is easy to cease to have one future and have another. (How else could real seers nevertheless predict futures that “don’t happen,” like Cayce predicting so many physical catastrophes that did not occur, instead of World War II, that did?)
We keep coming back to the same simple (but not necessarily easy) statement: You are not what you think you are; the world you exist in is not what it appears to be.
We do know that. Our questions mostly amount to, but who are we, then, and what is the world? And we’re glad for your assistance in orienting us.
Bear in mind, it is a continuing enterprise, because you – and we – may come to a resting-place, a comfortable way of making sense of things, and that’s all well and good, but ultimately there is always more to learn, always a deeper way of seeing things.
So we’ll never be bored, I know.
That isn’t the purpose, but it is the effect, yes.
Okay. More, or is this it for now?
This will do. Our thanks for your attention.
And ours, for yours.
Nathaniel on desire
Posted on October 25, 2017 by Frank DeMarco
Wednesday, October 25, 2017
6:15 a.m. “Desire.” That’s the word that finally rousted me out of bed where I lay half-sleeping. Other dreams had been going through the old film projector, but the single word “desire” gave me the sense that this was the theme du jour. Am I correct?
You can be.
Meaning, it’s up to me to follow your lead or propose my own.
We smile.
Yes, I get it. That’s the point in a nutshell.
It is. What you desire in life is what you get.
It certainly doesn’t seem that way.
That is because you are not thinking of it correctly. “You,” meaning everybody, you know. Statements meant for you alone are few, and are given separately. Even matters concerning you alone may have applicability for others, and so are given here as a “twofer.” But your own filters assure that no messages too personal for other ears get recorded. It is because you, personally, have wide filters that we can use you this way.
“Twofers,” I should say for the studio audience, is a very old piece of slang. Two for the price of one; “twofer”; an unsuspected or anyway fortuitous advantage. I would offhand expect Americans to understand it, but perhaps our overseas friends might not, so there you are. For that matter, “for the studio audience” is a bit of obsolescent slang too, left over from radio and early television. You guys may need a younger camel.
You will do for the moment. Now, to proceed. The very word “desire” often suggests sexual desire, whereas “desires” suggests many random appetites. Neither meaning will do here. Here, at the moment, we are using the word “desire” in only one way, as meaning the thing you really want in life.
Good that you made that clear. It isn’t the way we use it typically, as you say. But do you mean to imply that we usually (or always, for that matter, or ever) want only one thing in life? One at a time, maybe? Or, one more than others? How do you mean it?
Perhaps we should rephrase and rather than say “the one thing you really want in life,” say “the one way you want your life to be.” For life is not a simple thing, and desires are not additive but are inter-relating and (to coin a word) inter-transforming. Those whose lives consist of desires all of which flow in the same direction lead remarkably able, efficient, single-minded lives. Those – on the opposite end of the spectrum – whose desires are in deadly conflict with one another may have all they can do to hold it together, let alone accomplish anything or find a moment of rest. And everyone else, as usual, may be found on the bell curve between these extremes.
Yes, all right. So, what I was intuiting as I lay in bed was that this was going to be about – “follow your desire, it will not lead you astray.”
Not so far wrong, but not quite that simple either.
Why does that not surprise me?
Matters are always precisely as simple as you wish them to be; no more, no less. But that simple statement is going to require some explanation.
Yes, I should say it would.
“You,” in the first place. As usual, it is vitally important to understanding to know which “you” you’re referring to at any given moment. Who is the “you” who is doing the wishing? The 3D you? The 3D-you in working harness with the non-3D you? Both of these, with the active assistance of other non-3D friends? It makes a difference, as you can imagine.
The 3D-you on its own (and realize, here, no 3D-you is ever on its own, but it may often enough feel like it is on its own, and it may pig-headedly proceed without accessing its own deeper knowing, disregarding conscience, intuition, “irrational” caution signs, etc.)
Had to bring that sentence fragment to a halt, merely because it was getting too long to hold in mind. Proceed.
The 3D-you on its own may have its own ideas about what it wants out of life, and those desires will automatically complicate or simplify the life as far as that life is under its command. But of course, 3D is where you make decisions. In a sense it is not where you make decisions and set up the problem.
The 3D-you acting in cooperation with its non-3D component – in other words, living in cooperative contact with intuition, with hunches, with knowings – will be less inclined to confuse superficial and essential desire. It will not be so easily misled by surface appearance, and by that we mean not only external (or, really, externally-perceived) forces, but internal currents and their eddies. And so on and so forth.
I get it. The deeper we live in connection, the truer our compass.
Yes, with the caveat that it isn’t necessarily conscious connection. But yes, as in physical life, the more attention you pay to your compass, the less likely you are to lose your way.
So, you say our lives are always as simple, and only as simple, as we wish. I think you still need to give us some evidence of it. I will say, I sort of get an inner assent, but it is against the evidence of experience.
It is not against the evidence of your personal experience, if you will examine it. You have come to a nice simplified existence that suits you. but where you are going wrong is in thinking that desire manifests immediately and automatically.
I do see. Yes, I was thinking of my turbulent past, and I keep forgetting that you-all don’t so much care what we have been through, as what we come to.
What you make yourselves (what we make our-selves!) by your / our decisions, yes.
So what does this mean? Look at what a person came to be, to see what his or her desire was?
Subject to the unchanging and unchangeable fact that you can’t really judge anybody’s life, yes. Abraham Lincoln was haunted – foreshadowed – by the feeling that he had been created to do one momentous thing. He knew, even though nothing in the intellectual or religious thought of his day gave him any excuse to know or any support in knowing.
It’s on the record. He said that to somebody – I think it referred to the Emancipation Proclamation, but it may conceivably have referred to saving the Union. The former, I’m pretty sure.
Well, he knew. And in support of that knowing, you might say – or equally, you might say to support that knowing – his life’s desire was to reach a position of influence. So, you see his mainspring, and let us remind you, you see it a whole lot more clearly than he ever did! The 3D Lincoln lived in a clutter of impressions, desires (with a small “d,” so to speak), ambitions, enjoyments, harassments, distractions. He had his logical mind always there to pooh-pooh any thought of his really attaining such a post, or of the times bringing such an opportunity. Ye he married the woman whose consuming ambition could only be reached through his career, and who continually prodded him as he needed. His story-telling ability, his kindness, his sociability, his humility, his awareness of his own worth without a sense of his ability to stand out from others – all this led him to political prominence, and his inclination to deep thought gave him better understanding of his time than those around him in his own professional and political circle, and so lifted him in their estimation.
The 3D-Lincoln didn’t plan that. No one could. The best 3D-Lincoln could do – and did – was to remain in close contact with his intuitions, his deepest sense of reality, and this led him where he needed to go, and where others needed him to be.
I can hear at least one friend of mine saying “predestination!”
It can look like that, surely. Only, that idea omits the fact that what is predestined only takes place when and where you make the supporting decisions.
So predestination depends upon free will! Care to expound upon that a bit?
At another time. It is too much for a mere aside. And, by the way, the sentence is reversible. Free will also depends upon predestination. They are intricately connected. They are, in fact, the same conditions seen through different filters.
Well, that ought to be interesting. Are we finished with “desire” for the moment?
It is worth reminding you, and the reader, to do some pondering on the statement that your lives are always as simple as you wish them to be. It is one more reason why “all is well, all is always well.”
Hmm. Not immediately evident. Very well, see you next time, and thanks as always.
And, as TGU used to say to Rita and you, our thanks in turn, for your attention.
[That word “desire” remaining in my mind, I tried to remember what poem was trying to reinsert itself into my mind, and finally remembered, the Rubaiyat. Before transcribing this morning’s session, I went to this site: http://okonlife.com/poems/
[There it said, “The most famous translation of the Rubaiyat from Farsi into English was undertaken in 1859 by Edward J. Fitzgerald. It appears that in many of his translations, he has combined a few of the Rubaiyat to compose one, and sometimes it is difficult to trace and correspond the original to the translated version. However, he has tried his utmost to adhere to the spirit of the original poetry.” And it was Fitzgerald’s haunting version I had remembered:
[Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire!
Would not we shatter it to bits–and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart’s Desire!
[Not exactly an unfamiliar sentiment, particularly in these times!]
Chasing Smallwood — .17. Politics
Posted on October 25, 2017October 24, 2017 by Frank DeMarco
[Wednesdays, I am posting pieces ofChasing Smallwood, an early book now out of print. This is a book about four interconnected themes:
- how to communicate with the dead;
- the life of a 19th-century American;
- the massive task facing us today, and
the physical world’s place in the scheme of things.]
December 26, 2005, 2 p.m. All right. More? What else would you like to talk about?
Well, how about politics?
Sure. What about politics?
Well you know they say it took politics in the ’50s for Henry Thoreau to find out he had a country. That’s the kind of smart-aleck remark people make who don’t see behind the surface of things, or don’t want to be out of step with everybody else. The fact of the matter is that politics is mostly a waste of time, and always will be, except for one big thing: It keeps the machinery in being against an emergency. It’s like a standing army, mostly you don’t need it – in our time, at least – but if you do happen to need it, you need it, and what you spent on keeping it in being isn’t any too much, considering.
Now you know that the whole game of politics ain’t usually principles and statesmanship and high purposes. Usually it is offices, and government contracts, and everything we used to call “the courthouse crowd.” You could call ’em parasites and you wouldn’t be wrong. That’s why when the people finally have reason to pick up the machine and use it, it works so poor – they haven’t been maintaining it, they’ve been milking it.
I was never in politics and never could have been in politics. But when you got eyes to see, and friends to tell you things, and when you are living in a pretty small place like most places were then (I mean, the scale of things was different, and we could see it easier) you can’t help see what is, clearer than anybody might say ought to be, or what they say it is.
Politics was about putting together a machine to control jobs and contracts. There was other objectives too, like somebody’s personal ambition to be somebody, like that puffed up little squirt Douglas in Illinois. But that just helped keep people interested in feeding the machine.
Now, down south, politics was entirely different, you see, because there it wasn’t a whole bunch of different interests fighting for control. Them that had the machine was part of the group that always had the machine. If them that ran it liked you, and you had ability, you could move up. If they didn’t like you, you could move, period, because you weren’t going anywhere in the machine if Jesus Christ Himself vouched for you and signed your petition.
Do you understand what I’m saying? It was a very tight system because it represented a very tight system. There was only one party that counted – the slave power – so any politics was just who was going to be on the payroll.
I do not say the North was better, though it did suit me better, but it was different, for certain. The North had all these cross-currents the South did not have, so it was a real continuing battle to see which little pigs would get to the tits. Therefore northern politics was different. Therefore, too, the slave power ran the Union for too damned long: Where there were competing interests, the slave power could swing the balance. This was the most obvious in presidential elections (until ’60!) but equally true in congress, in state elections in the North, and even lower in the system – for someone running for a lower office who had the approval of those in higher offices had an advantage, and those higher office-holders often enough were running errands for the national party, and that often enough meant the slave power was recruiting and grooming its future allies.
Now, I know this ain’t what you are taught. And I know half of your readers are saying “that’s just Smallwood’s prejudices.” It’s hard sometimes to show you the truth when you’ve had years of other ideas.
The North had farmers, and it had the first factories, and the beginning of the iron and steel men, and it had its inventors, and its money-men – you’d call some of ’em bankers and other financiers – and it had its shippers and it had different interests in New England, Northeast, Midwest and after a while Pacific Coast. You can’t mix that many elements into something that’s going to function like the South where anything beyond slave plantations just did not figure.
So, you see, the South didn’t care if the president was from the North – as long as he only got to the White House with slave-power help and consent. And it didn’t much care about immigrants going north – the South couldn’t have swallowed ’em even if anybody had been fool enough to move to a place where he’d compete with slave labor – as long as it could block what it needed in the Senate.
Am I off the point again? I was trying to tell you how our politics worked.
Because southern politics was about maintaining a small class in control and northern politics was about various elements scrambling to be king of the hill, the politics was different; it was played for different stakes and by different rules, and the Democracy, being the only national party after the southern Whigs sort of dried up and blew away, bore the brunt of the strain. Because it was the Democracy, trying to be all things to all people, that couldn’t hold together after a certain point. And when the Democracy split, it let in the Republicans – and it was the end of an era.
But you see, the point I want to make is that the Democracy sooner or later was going to have to decide what it really belonged to, slave power or the new thing coming into being north of the Ohio and the Potomac. Things kept sharpening, sharpening, and there came a time you couldn’t serve both masters, but had to choose, even if (as usual) you didn’t give a damn about principle. How many office-holders take big chances for the sake of principles? Damn few, and damn seldom, and for all I know that’s the way it has to be and maybe the way it ought to be. Maybe that’s what makes the compromises that keep us from flying at each others’ throats.
The last politician who could walk both sides of the street inside the Democracy was none other than Stephan A. Douglas. And it was Abraham Lincoln putting the question to him in their debate in ’58 that put paid to Douglas’ presidential hopes. Mr. Lincoln – sly, clever, long-headed, calculating Mr. Lincoln – asked him a question that Douglas didn’t dare answer the way his presidential backers in the South wanted to hear – because he was too well aware that he could lose his Senate seat if he did. So he saved his seat, probably thinking he’d weasel his way out of his words in the next year or so – and that was the end for him, for the Democracy, and for the old Union. All from Mr. Lincoln’s question.
Douglas may not have understood that the southerners weren’t ever going to trust him. They’d use him, they’d borrow him in committee, so to speak, and they’d sure-God elect him if they had to – until he said the people of a territory could prohibit slavery from entering. Didn’t matter why, didn’t matter his qualification of the statement, didn’t even matter if he meant it – by this time they were rabid on the subject [of expansion of slavery into new territories], and there was no more way he could get two-thirds vote in a national convention.
And that was before John Brown! Mr. Lincoln blew it all up before John Brown and the only people who noticed were the politicians, who weren’t going to say it in public.
But, like I say, probably it was only a matter of time. The people in the North with the money wanted their way, too. Sooner or later the Democracy was going to have to choose, when the ground of compromise ran out.
Nathaniel on characters, actors, and playwrights
Posted on October 24, 2017October 24, 2017 by Frank DeMarco
Nathaniel on characters, actors, and playwrights
Tuesday, October 24, 2017
3:20 a.m. So, gentlemen, I took some time off from direct interaction, and spent the day reading ad thinking about things. May we resume? That isn’t actually a question, I hope. I have come to rely upon there being someone on the other end of the line when I call.
And you are thinking of Joan of Arc and her voices that ceased to speak to her, and what was that all about.
I was, vaguely, yes. Joan was an historical character. What she did is not disputed even by the most mechanistic, determinist, materialist critic. The fact that she did what she did cannot be explained without reference to the voices she listened to, the miraculous events that occurred as she foretold, and the power that she came to wield not only as a symbol but in her person. The Middle Ages had no trouble putting the facts into its accepted framework of the world – God and angels, miracles and sorcery, true faith and heresy. We in our half-blind civilization – or maybe I should say, blind in different areas – cannot quite make sense of it. The “modern” thing to do has been to talk away miracles and any sign of what people call the supernatural. Only, Joan is history, not merely legend, so the only way to talk away the miracles attending her career is to talk away he miracle that she was, that her career was.
I’m drifting from the point. Captured [by the English enemy forces], Joan was not any more helpless than she as a young peasant woman (disregarding other factors) would always have been. But when her voices failed her, she knew not what to do. Why did they fail her? She hadn’t lost faith, if I remember rightly, but they ceased. Why?
This will seem harsh.
I know what you’re going to say.
You say it for us, and we will correct.
Joan’s task, like Lincoln’s, was to be an enduring symbol, and her martyrdom, like his, sealed and multiplied the effect of her life upon her contemporaries and their descendants. But how could she be seen to be defeated and destroyed while still in connection with the forces that had made her career? It would have been discrediting to the forces as reliable, perhaps, or perhaps as being of God. So, by their withdrawing from her, she was seen to be destroyed in the absence of that connection, which preserved the prestige of the link that there had been, hence preserved the charisma of Joan as saint.
More or less accurate.
Hard on faithful Joan, to die thinking she had been forsaken. Maybe even thinking she was to blame.
All right, now remember to tie this in. Hard on Joan in her role as Joan. Not hard on the actor (actress?) playing the role of Joan. That is what we mean by not quite real, or not fully real.
The actor playing Hamlet wouldn’t profit if the play were re-written to let Hamlet live in Act V.
He would not. At Hamlet-the-character’s level of reality, the tragic ending is implicit in the rest of his life as expressed and hinted at. At the actor’s level of reality, the role and the play make a satisfying mini-world for a couple of hours, leading people on an emotional and intellectual journey (at the actor’s own level of reality). At what we might call the behind-the-scenes level of reality, the playing of the play, all over the world, all through various centuries, is a useful and interesting pry-bar kind of tool which occasionally lifts people out of their accustomed mental habits or emotional patterns and leaves them temporarily or permanently altered. Only remember, everyone lives all three levels at once. Just because you aren’t aware of being actor, character, and behind-the-scenes observer doesn’t mean you don’t live all those roles, each at its appropriate level of reality.
Did I get carried away there and put words in your mouth? How do we play Hamlet, say?
The words are right. Your question is not. The life you lead – the external life you are accustomed to take for granted in the way you take your body for granted – is the role. Your occasional or continual awareness that you are not your role – that is the actor’s self-awareness, thinking about his career while on stage mouthing the author’s lines. Your non-3D awareness – at a higher level than your non-3D at its usual accompaniment-of-3D level – is you as playwright, you as observer, you as co-producer.
And, I get, flashes of greater awareness can interfere with our lives.
Well – “interfere.” Let’s look at it. Is this interaction here interference, or is it enrichment? What interferes is conflict of self-definition and experience. Without that conflict, you get greater richness, greater scope, as you should know. However, yes, the conflict between too rigid a self-definition and inflowing awareness from things not included in that self-definition can be disorienting, even harmful. Why do you think we repeatedly send you angels?
Say more.
The definition of angel is “messenger.”
Yes, I know that. I wasn’t aware of it when I titled my first novel Messenger, but someone called it to my attention then. And so –?
Disorientation is sometimes the only path to re-orientation. Not always, but sometimes. And one path to disorientation is an influx of incongruous or inexplicable contents from the levels of reality beyond the one of the person to be disoriented. Joan as ordinary farm girl was a role useless to herself and to her country. Joan as ordinary farm girl inspired by divine voices was a role of a lifetime – a role of the civilization’s lifetime. But the early stages were not necessarily any easier for the character than the later stages. But don’t waste your pity: They weren’t difficult or painful for the actor (except perhaps by empathy). And the role got played.
So what I’m hearing between the lines here is that the character, not merely the actor, had to be disoriented.
No, although in this case that is true. The point is not about the character – the role Joan of Arc that was played upon the world stage – but about the actor, the equivalent of the level of reality you and your readers exist on. That actor wasn’t playing Joan (as far as she was aware) but being Joan. Therefore the identity between actor and character was absolute as long as the play was being performed, but only – shall we say tenuous and theoretical? – once the play had been performed. While it was being performed, everything depended upon the actor. Playwright could only watch and see how well or badly the scenes were brought to life. Character could only act as she felt impelled, often having no idea why she felt that way, living on faith. It was up to the actor how it played.
Except, all possible variants were lived.
Correct. Great performances, flops, revisions, ad libs, every variant – just like the rest of your lives.
So Patton didn’t always slap the shell-shocked soldiers in Sicily, but maybe he didn’t always lead the charge liberating France.
All possible performances exist, you know that. The ones you choose to identify with [i.e. the reality we experience as real] say something about you as individuals, except that it is not so much conscious choice on actor’s level as on playwright’s level. There is, after all, at least a loose plot, and certain desired developments.
Now, don’t get too enmeshed – entangled, we might say – in this actor, character, playwright analogy. It is useful, but it is analogy. We almost think we should apologize for continually reminding you of that, only we know it is necessary! Analogy, not identity – but useful. You live at different levels of reality, and if you make that real to yourselves, many emotional knots will ease, much of the world’s injustice and cruelty will appear in a different light, and your own potential and burdens and opportunities will all be enhanced. It you do not choose to make it real to yourself, an entirely different array of choices and constraints automatically appear, or rather, seem to remain self-evident.
We know you feel a bit at sea. No harm in that.
It’s just that I can’t really say I have a handle on where this session went. Does it contradict itself somewhere? That is the feeling I have.
“Be strong and of good courage. Be not afraid. Neither be dismayed.”
I have to say, the first two are easier than the third, sometimes. J But, okay. Is that it for today?
Enough, and we will rejoin you at another time.
Thanks as always.