When Gravity Catches Us: Thoughts on Thinking

Plastic

We live in two worlds; one’s outside, one’s inside.

The outside world is the world of earth, air, water and fire. It makes its own rules and we obey them. Walk off the edge of a cliff and this world gives you gravity. Build wax wings and fly toward the sun and it will suffocate you before you reach 30,000 feet. These are the rules of the world that existed long before we arrived. We’re the eggs; outside is the chicken. 

The inside world is in our heads and under our skin. It’s where we think and where we feel. It’s us…the eggs…and we also make our own rules but the outside world doesn’t necessarily follow them. We have to adapt our rules to conform to the rules of that other world. Walking off a cliff? Wear a parachute. Flying into the sun? Surround yourself with a space ship. 

This hierarchy of rules has worked well for about a million years, or since whatever date you deem human thinking to have begun back at the beginnings of the bicameral mind or maybe when we learned how to build a campfire without becoming the logs. If we come to a river where we think there should be a path, we build a bridge. If we need water for power, we build a dam.

This is not changing the rules; this is modifying them, and that’s OK: beavers build dams. 

The problems start when we ignore the rules or deliberately disregard them, like when we build thirty dams on the same river. Or when we remove masses of material from the earth and transform them into materials that never have and never should exist and then we coat the earth with them, like buttering the planet with poison. 

And you might ask: Why the hell would we do that? And I might answer: Because we convince ourselves that we’re not doing it…even while we’re doing it. For example, you buy the health wise, low calorie pasta bowl that cooks in just four and a half minutes in the microwave. When you finish the meal, you have a sense of doing something right, giving your body healthy sustenance. And you throw all that plastic packaging and the plastic bowl into the plastic garbage bag without thinking that what you’re doing is being simultaneously done by millions of other people. 

All that plastic.

When it comes to satisfying our needs and wants, we look at the good and ignore the bad. It’s called rationalizing and rationalizing is one of the highest levels of intellectual activity and very likely the key ingredient in the extinction of the human race. 

Some people talk about how logical the rational mind is, but there’s nothing innately logical about it. Logic says, “I’ll buy the smaller more fuel efficient car and be part of the solution.” Rational says: “I’ll buy the gas guzzling SUV because everybody else is buying the smaller cars, so it doesn’t really matter what I buy.”

It’s adaptive thinking. At which point you say, “Adaptation is good. It’s a survival mechanism that allows us evolve as the conditions around us change.” But there’s a big difference between adaptive thinking and adaptive evolution. 

Adaptive thinking wraps itself around the needs of the moment and justifies itself by meeting the needs of the moment, but we’re not going to physically adapt to a world with un-breathable air. We can live underground or in controlled climate housing or maybe even under the ocean, but we’re not going to walk in a park, canoe down a river or harvest a crop without some form of portable life support system, at least (depending on future technologies) not for several hundred or several thousand years. 

If we’re still around that long. 

Back to that thing called rationalizing. 

It creates a situation in which we create another world (the one we think we live in) and the real world (the one we live in). The problem here is that we’re so good at rationalizing that the world we think we live in becomes the world we live in. We convince ourselves that tossing that plastic water bottle into the garbage isn’t going to be harmful to the outside world because it isn’t harmful in our internal world. It’s just one bottle. Who’s going to notice? Sure as hell not the tens of millions of other humans throwing out plastic bottles every day.

Tens of millions. Every day.

That’s a lot of bottles. But we don’t see them. We see just our one bottle. We know the others are out there but we choose not to see them. It’s a conscious choice. 

This is scary. We need to come out of the cocoons of our inside worlds and live more in the outside world before gravity catches us without a parachute.

For more on Biff.

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Thinking Hurts

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Thinking hurts.

Think about it.

No, don’t think about it…you’ll hurt your head. But if you were to think about it, if you were to endure the pain, you might ask yourself, “Why does thinking hurt?”

Let’s look at this question and see if we can answer it. Without thinking. The obvious truth throws itself across the path of our search for an answer: Because it’s complicated and it means looking at things from all angles whether I’m comfortable with them or not and maybe being faced with opposing views that demand that I make a decision or even a series of decisions with one decision creating the need for yet another decision and possibly another and another and maybe I don’t agree in my gut with those decisions but I know they’re right in my mind and this might just require that I act on the decisions arising from my thinking and that means getting off my ass and doing something or I could just sit and think and rethink and counter think and get all angsty and depressed because I started thinking and now I can’t stop because once you start thinking it’s like taking your thumb out of a dam that’s leaking all around you and now you can see those leaks.

Got that?

You could drown in the truth…just by thinking about its possibility. I guess that’s what really hurts about thinking: Once you start, you have to decide whether you’re going to finish the thought, or whether you’re going to drop the thought and just let it dangle in your head like a discontinued piece of yourself.

Having to finish a thought can be tough for the above started reasons: It can lead to truth. Truth can be a bitch. You might have to do something.

Not finishing a thought can be tough because its incompleteness will park itself just under the surface of your days like a broken tile that you have to continuously avoid stepping on.

And then there are the unobvious truths about why thinking hurts:

  • We might have to stop fooling ourselves
  • We might have to admit we were wrong
  • We might have to admit someone else was right
  • We might start asking questions
  • We might start getting answers

And who, these days, really wants to hear answers to their questions? I mean, isn’t it enough to just ask the question? And just leave it at that? Personally, I have a hard time dealing with the questions. I don’t need a bunch of answers to complicate things. When the questions are just hanging there, swinging in the wind, thumbs out for a ride on the answer bus, you don’t have to do anything but drive past them. But if the bus stops…

Ouch!

Something to think about.

 

(www.biffmitchell.com)