One Higher Power

I’ve not posted anything here in quite a while. I’ve been busy with school and life. Rest assured, though… I have not stopped contemplating One Higher Power. Below is the text of a paper I wrote for my very first Philosophy class this Summer. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope for some feedback from people who have been great friends in this endeavor.

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Discovering Philosophy: Maybe I’m Not Crazy After All

Abstract: I have thought of myself as a philosopher for quite some time, even though I had never taken the time to explore what that meant academically. This paper is intended to demonstrate some of what I have learned over the course of this class about philosophy and how these ideas are manifested in my personal life. It will also be a reflection on my own natural progression as a freelance philosopher and illustrate the universality of philosophical questioning.

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One of the most burning questions philosophers face is regarding the existence of God. This age-old philosophical problem affects every thinking human being, and whether people decide to believe in a God or not believe is irrelevant. Philosophers like St. Anselm have suggested, since the question has been considered at all, therein lies one of the fundamental steps for proof that God does in fact exist. After all, denying the existence of God is a shining example of fallacious reasoning: post hoc ergo propter hoc (after this, therefore because of this). In having even considered the question, it raises the possibility that God does exist because, if God did not exist, the question would not be necessary. So saying that God does not exist is a philosophical absurdity. The djinni has already been released from the bottle, so to speak, and it is no different in my case. I was raised in a Christian household, and in my early childhood I simply accepted the information I was presented as true. However, challenging life circumstances and other influences gradually led me to begin questioning the reality of what I had been taught. Around the age of twelve or so, I began to wonder whether the religion I knew was in fact the only “true” one, and I began to explore the teachings of other religions. Perhaps not coincidentally, I was initially drawn to ideas of nature-centric religions like Celtic druidism, Wicca, and Native American beliefs – religions that focus on the “elements” of earth, fire, air, water, and spirit or soul; much like the earliest philosophers worked to understand reality and existence in terms of the natural world. At some point, those ideas fell short of answering my questions as well, and that led me down a more “rational” path of ideas similar to secular humanism, agnosticism and even atheism. There was a time I thought, like Bertrand Russell, that the universe must simply be infinite and human life just a coincidence of probability, and thus there could not logically be a God. Yet, these methods of rationalizing the mystery and grandeur of the world did not fulfill what burns inside me either. The best way I know to describe what was lacking is, as an innate feeling or sense that there must surely be something greater; much like St. Thomas Aquinas and René Descartes described in their philosophical writings. Today, I still do not have what I consider valid answers to my questions about God, though I have not stopped searching for answers.

During the course of my experiences regarding religion and the existence of God, I have developed more questions than answers. Not only have I wondered whether God exists, but I have also wondered, assuming God does exist, what form would God take and how would that form relate to my own existence. I have also wondered whether this physical world is even real, or if it could be just a dream state or something akin to a “brain in a vat” – that I am existing within a grand experiment of some external being. Like Descartes, I came organically to a dualistic conclusion about this problem; that my mind (or spirit, or soul) is a separate entity from my physical body. While there is evidence of a connection between the mind and body, by natural evidences of individuality et al and modern evidence such as brain scans and the like, no one has ever been able to touch or see a “mind.” The only real proof that the mind even exists is also like Descartes suggested; I know it exists because I experience it – cogito ergo sum (I think, therefore I am). However, Descartes did not teach these things to me; they are conclusions of mystery that arose naturally from experience and metaphysical questioning, well before I ever took to study philosophy academically.

Most recently, I have come to the realization that philosophical questions only beget more philosophical questions. For all my pondering and wondering, I have wound up with an ever-increasing number of questions rather than solid answers. Like Socrates, I am learning that I know nothing. Even that which I think I “know” to be “true” is ultimately a priori, meaning it is an assumption I have made; because what I think to be true has simply not been proven wrong yet. Even so, I am growing more comfortable in the awareness that the ultimate answer to the ultimate questions of life, the universe, and everything is: “I don’t know.” In fact, it is somewhat liberating in the sense that I am understanding no one else ultimately knows either. We are all on this ride together, and that brings about an unusually comforting sense of self and community that is missing for many people.

While my current state of awareness has diminished what previously was a high sense of urgency to understand and identify truths about philosophical things, it has not stopped me from continuing to question. Now, I feel I am in a position to move forward with questioning in a less frantic way; to take the time to look closer at the world and take time to enjoy the experience more fully. These days, I tend to take a more empirical approach to philosophical problems of existence. Like David Hume suggested, I can no more prove that God exists, or that I exist, than I can prove that my mind exists or your mind exists. But, just because skepticism dictates I cannot philosophically prove any matters of existence, the empirical reality of my existence and experience constantly confront me – so I cannot rationally deny it. As John Locke suggested, though it may be skeptically impossible to prove the existence of something, I cannot disprove its existence either, especially when confronted with a thing’s physical form. I cannot rationally deny that the keyboard I am typing on exists because it has features that Locke described as “primary.” For example, I may not be able to prove with certainty that the keyboard is black with white lettering or that the keys make noise as I tap them, but the keyboard itself has an undeniable form because it takes up physical space and it therefore necessarily exists. Philosophically, I cannot prove the keyboard’s existence to another by way of reason, but anyone could verify for his or herself that it takes up space. In this same way, all of what we experience as being part of existence is at least partially validated because we can compare experiences and come to agreement on existence because of shared experiences.

So the reality of existence is largely dependent on and defined by shared experience. Human beings must cooperatively interact (or “fellowship”) with one another to verify and validate our experiences, in order for the experience of existence to make rational sense. Because this is the case, I have a duty to myself and others to be honest and truthful about my personal experiences and philosophical understanding. Without engaging in this sort of honest integrity, I rob others of the opportunity to develop their own greatest potential understanding from their experiences, which in turn gives them an opportunity to “pay it forward” and do the same for others. Yet I have to be alert enough to this fact to realize that being purely altruistic is impractical. While pure altruism by all is a rationally noble goal and would create a Utopian sort of reality, it is impractical because not everyone does in fact understand or engage in the values of pure altruism. There are unenlightened people who tend toward pure selfishness, or at the very least tip the scales of balance toward themselves in a selfish way. Because this is a reality, I have to learn to adjust my own balance in such a way that I promote myself to an extent that I can provide maximum benefit to and mutual welfare with others. To illustrate, I may wish to help the homeless, but if I give all my own resources to others and have nothing left for myself to survive, then I have wasted my opportunity to do the greatest good for the most people. The idea of ethical egoism reminds me that I serve a greater purpose in keeping most of my possessions so I can continue going to school to secure a job with a consistent salary. Doing so enables me with an opportunity to give charitably – perhaps on a lesser scale at any given moment, but on a more long term and consistent basis. Being in a position to give charitably over the long term would arguably do more good for more people, and thus my self-promoting interest, in not giving away all my possessions to one or a few, winds up an even more charitable act overall. Likewise, giving too altruistically of my own possessions to a single individual may end up robbing that person of an incentive to do for himself and make himself successful and someday continue the process of charity. There is a level of rational self interest and self-promotion that ultimately leads to the greatest benefit, and that level is best balanced each day in each moment with the best intentions of good will, which Immanuel Kant described as the only real source of “good.”

These ideas are not new to me. They are concepts I have developed personally over time, through my own personal reflection and contemplation about my experiences of existence and interactions with and influences from other people; including religion. Some of my experiences have been bad; having dealt with situations that turned out negative in spite of people trying to do good, and with some people who exhibit unsustainable moral character. I have engaged in hedonistic activities that felt good at the time, but left me eventually with an emptiness and understanding that such activity is unsustainable. Then again, many of my experiences have been good. In spite of having gone through many bad experiences, there have been enough positive people and situations to confront my life that I have come again to the conclusion that there must be a God. Those experiences and people are living examples of the innate, burning feeling that there has to be something “out there” and perhaps even “in here” that is greater than what I currently understand, philosophically or otherwise.

I have come full circle on the idea of God. I still do not know for sure who or what God is. However, I was born into a concept of God as real, questioned that reality, challenged that reality, rejected that reality, and come back to realize that it must be real. God is, and was, and always will be. The djinni cannot be put back in the bottle. Religions may come and go and change and grow, but the very idea of the existence of God is enough to leave the question open for investigation. From this academic study, I now realize that philosophy has existed, fueling and challenging religion, science and society all this time. It is affirming to know I am not crazy; these thoughts and questions I have had about life and reality are not unique to me. They are universal among men and women throughout the ages who have actively pursued greater understanding of this thing called life. This class has been my first academic exposure to the study of “the love of wisdom,” and it may even be my last academic encounter with it. However, one thing is certain, if I can be certain of anything. My own adventures in philosophy will likely never be completed.