So long, and thanks for all the fish

Slick’s room, Friday the 26^th June, 16:10

Current Mood: Enthused

Morning all. Today I have a little extra bounce in my step- I don’t know if it’s the string of awesome times which have ensued since the end of exams, or the fact that I was able to satisfy my craving for orange cola (it’s a long and uninteresting story), but I am feeling especially ballsy today, and so I am going to tackle the mother of all questions: the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. Today I ask you: what is the meaning of life? Or, perhaps more modestly, what is it that personally motivates you in your life?

As a rather simple sort of atheistic hedonist, my background assumption has always been that the purpose of life is pleasure- or perhaps more accurately in my case, “fun”. I tend to lead my life in a manner which will lead, one day (I hope) to my last thoughts before I die being “Woooo! Let’s do that again!” Life, in short, is an attempt to achieve happiness.  Recently however, I’ve noticed some things, had some thoughts and done some things which run contrary to my natural hedonistic grain. In other words, I sometimes find myself acting in ways which are not conducive to my having the most fun, which implies there are other considerations at work.

Now, a lot of it, I hope, is to do with my possessing an (admittedly rather liberal) form of morality which prohibits me from doing precisely what I want all the time. I couldn’t for example, go on a kill-crazy rampage, despite how fun it might be. Or, more realistically, I couldn’t spread malicious yet hilarious gossip about my friends. This being the case, it would seem that the meaning of my life is “have as much fun as you can, without violating certain vague and difficult to define moral principles”- there are rules, in other words, which govern the attempt to achieve happiness.

Additionally, there are more obvious practical considerations. I would like to be a millionaire playboy astronaut, for example, but it is simply not going to happen. We all have a defined skill set, strengths and limitations, which we use in our attempt to find happiness, and so there are things we can and cannot do in pursuit of that goal.  Personally, for example, I cannot become America’s first female president, if for some convoluted reason I suspected that that would make me happy. Or, again more realistically, it would be extremely difficult for me to become a maths professor. Equally, sometimes circumstances beyond our control impinge on our happiness; I couldn’t for example, go and live on the moon, because the terraforming technology does not exist…. yet.  So, to sum up my investigations so far, it seems that the purpose of life is to seek happiness, while operating within a realistic conception of the world as it is and abiding by certain moral requirements.

Perhaps, however, I am looking at things the wrong way. The philosopher J.S Mill, father of utilitarianism, insisted on a distinction between “higher pleasures” such as philosophy, painting, classical music and “lower pleasures”- sex and drugs and rock and roll. I’d like to propose a similar, but fundamentally different distinction. I was having a conversation with my friend Rebel once, and between us we constructed a list of what I’ll now call “sublime pleasures”- those moments, rare enough to be special but frequent enough not to be miracles, which really show us how good it feels to be alive. The list is dynamic, but it includes moments as diverse as: really good sex, playing an awesome guitar riff perfectly, eating extremely tasty food, watching a stirring sunrise, hearing an excellent and uplifting piece of music, relieving oneself after a long time holding it in, telling a hilarious, off the cuff joke which has everyone in stitches, including yourself, falling in love, and that pristine moment when you realise life is so good that you just have to laugh out loud.  Now, obviously these things I’ve mentioned fall into both the “higher” and “lower” categories, but for me their special significance is in their distinct and life affirming character; it’s very difficult to describe. Also, it should be noted that the list is, to some extent, personal- I can’t play guitar, so the riff thing is really just for Rebel (and no doubt other guitarists). And I’m sure for the more religious among you could include something like “the knowledge that you are at one with God”. For me, these sublime pleasures are so far above regular “pleasures” that I actually think they deserve more place in my life philosophy. So, I would now say that the purpose of life is to maximise our acquisition of sublime pleasure, while operating within the aforementioned boundaries of practicality and morality.

Obviously, no one is obliged to buy into my concept of the meaning of life. Perhaps, for you, the meaning of life is to “be good enough to achieve salvation” or “to be the best surgeon in the world”. Well, these are all noble goals and purposes, but I think if you look at things the right way, they are really extensions of the same principles. Typically, one whose purpose in life is religious tends to expect the afterlife to be perfect- maximally pleasurable, and conversely fear that failure to abide by their religion leads to hell, punishment, exile etc- maximum negative pleasure. Therefore, the religious life- at least in the traditional, Judeo-Christian heaven vs hell sense, is really an attempt to maximise pleasure. Clearly, this doesn’t apply to all religious people- no doubt some of them genuinely want to help save others people- but why do they want this, if not to make them happy? And the same can be said of those whose lives are aimed at a career, or a family- we make these things the purpose of our lives because they make us happy. My thinking is, why not cut out the middle man, and make being happy the purpose of your life? Perhaps I am generalising too much, but it seems to me that pleasure and pain really are the fundamental- if not the only true human motivations.

Recently, when I was feeling sunstroked and a little melancholy, I had somewhat of an epiphany on the subject of the meaning of life. It occurs to me that, in fact, happiness per se is an unachievable goal- we are only every relatively happy. Unfortunately, all humans have unlimited desires and only limited resources, so we are always frustrated. Just look at all the people who should be perfectly satisfied: popstars and footballers, who have more money than an average person would know what to with, and can, theoretically have whatever they want- and yet many of them are anxious, conceited, unhappy drug addicts. We all know that money can’t buy happiness, but nowadays I question whether happiness- complete contentment and lack of desire for anything more- is impossible. I don’t think that happiness is the purpose of life- I think that the purpose of life is the pursuit of happiness. The thrill, as they say, is in the hunt.

Happy hunting,

Slick

Me and My Shadow

Slick’s room, Saturday the 20^th of June

Currrent mood: contented.

That’s right folks: I’m back. And yes, I can hear you all berating me for my dismal failure to update with any sort of regularity (or perhaps you don’t care one way or the other and the voices in my head are back again.) My excuse this time is that, while my exams are finished, celebrating the end of the academic year is in itself an arduous task which leaves me little time for bloggery- I cannot, for example, remember the last time I ate dinner at home. Also, as I said in my last mini-post, my pc is dying a slow and painful death, and, for an artisté such as myself (scoff scoff scoff) there are few things as demoralising as seeing the liquid genius of my words erased by simple computer error. Anyway, I digress; my subject for the day is about my favourite type of ship; “Friend-“ship” (please don’t lynch me, I have terrible pun quota’s to fill). More specifically, the question I want to ask you today is: do you have a single best friend, or a myriad of close friends?

Personally (because, as you know, all of my discussions are fuelled by egocentricity) I do not, and have never had “a” best friend. As of right now, I would say that I have around 3 or 4 “best” friends- by which I mean people I would tell absolutely anything to without fear of judgement, and whom I can rely on to always be there for me when I need them. Sometimes, due to changes in circumstance- usually the amount of time I spend with them, my list of “best” friends changes- it is dynamic, and not static, so at different points in my life I have different numbers of best friends. Perhaps the day will come when that number is reduced to a single best friend, but that will be a result of practical issue, not a desire to only have one best friend. However, I am aware that for a lot of people, it is important to have a single, primary “bff” to spend most of their time with. For me, that seems like an impoverished system- surely best friends are too valuable to limit yourself to just the one? On the other hand, I suppose we only have enough time in our lives for a limited number of friendships, so perhaps it is better to focus on one really valuable friendship, and not spread oneself too thin.

Then again, this discussion really hinges on the “definition” of best friend. If it is defined as the person you spend most time with, then  arguably I do in fact have a single best friend- but this concept is surely too fluid: Rebel is my “best” uni friend in terms of most time spent, but not during the holidays because then we don’t see each other- or at least, not very often. My friend Marmalade from primary school, who I very rarely see these days, could be considered my “best friend” because he is my oldest close friend, and in terms of total life-time hours spent he probably beats my uni mates and my schoolmates. So who is my “best” friend? Some people are obliged to spend large amounts of time with people they aren’t that close to- are those people “best” friends? If we attempt to define a “best” friend as the one most similar to you, then again the definition fails because people can be similar in different, immeasurable ways- there really is no clear winner (in my  eyes at least) for the coveted “person who is most like Slick” prize. In fact, I rather think that one’s “best friend” is likely to be similar to oneself in some ways, but very different in others- opposites attract and all. There are ways in which all of my “best” friends are practically the opposite of me- the flipside to the coin of awesomeness which is my life- the moon to my sun, the Ted to my Barney, the Scooby doo to my shaggy. You get the picture. For now I think we should assume that “best friend” is a matter of simple self definition: if you want to call someone your “best friend”, for whatever reason you like, then that makes them your best friend.

Often, for me at least, the issue of who is my “best friend” is tied intimately to this question: when (if) I get married, who do I see delivering the best man’s speech? Again, this is a question which at this point I would struggle to answer- I think it would honestly depend on what kind of a wedding I wanted, and therefore what kind of a speech would go down best. There are several candidates who I’m sure could do a sterling job. So, if you are interested in the position of Slick’s best man, send me a draft wedding speech and I will consider your application. Also, the problem with this issue will arise if I am invited to be best man more than once- which I sincerely hope I am. I’d feel bad about being someone else’s best man, and then not asking them to be mine- and I find the idea of having several “best men” a terrible cop-out. I guess the solution is to not get married…

To use the whole best man thing to segue awkwardly into a slightly different question: is it possible for a man to be best friends with a woman? Like, real, exclusive, one-on-one best friends with a member of the opposite sex? Now, I do have a female best friend- Freedom. However, it is probably the case that, had we never dated, we wouldn’t be anywhere near as close. Also, I have had cause to question whether our friendship, as much as I value it, really counts as platonic, given our history.  I cannot think of any prominent examples among my friends of guy/girl best-friends where there is no sexual element whatsoever. I know of several couples who started out as “just friends” and right up until the first kiss one or both of them was haerd to say “I don’t think of him/her like that, we’re just really good friends”. If you are an attractive girl, and you are reading this and thinking “but that’s not true: I’m best friends with Greg, and there’s nothing going on between us”. I would recommend that you get Greg nice and drunk, and ask if “you could ever be more than friends”. I think you will be surprised by the answer. Or you are less attractive than you think. Or Greg is gay. No offence to any Greg’s out there- I just picked out a name at random, I’m not talking about asnyone in particular. Except you, Greg.  You can come out of the closet- we are all here for you. Ok, I’ve kinda lost track  of where I was going with this one…

In a way, I think that this discussion ties in weirdly well with my discussion about the possibility of non-exclusive sexual love. I think that, for some people, having an exclusive best friend, who is their best friend and theirs alone, is more valuable than having several extremely close “best friends”, each of whom might have several other “best friends”- in a manner analogous to the difference between monogamy and polyamory. And, while the jury (for me at least) is still out on the whole monogamy thing, I think it’s fair to say that, when it comes to best friends, I am a massive slag. Or am I confusing my metaphors a little too much?

Peace and love,

Slick.

Update

Hey everyone, just thought I’d post a quick apology for failing to post in so long,and explain a little of why. Basically, my pc is knackered and keeps breaking while I’m midway through writing a blog, which is very frustrating. That said, I intend to lie, cheat and steal access to other people’s pc’s if necessary so that I might keep writing, and I promise I will try my very hardest to get back to some sort of regular update schedule. Keep reading, and I will keep writing.

Slick

For Mine is the Kingdom, the power and the Glory

Slick’s room, Monday the 1st of June, 13:26

Morning all. Be not alarmed that I am writing so early- just came back from an exam and I can’t take a nap because I have another one tomorrow morning which I need to revise for, so I’m awake, and blogging is my chosen method of procrastination right now.

I know that I’ve ready written a rant against religion as a blog, so today I promise I will keep any religion-bashing to an absolute minimum: instead, I’d like to explore the flipside of that particular coin and attempt to convey to you all a little of why I love being an atheist- so, if I do mention religion, it will be a valid comparison, and not a mean-spirited grumble. Or so I hope.

For me, the idea that we are alone and unsupervised in the universe, that man alone is the measure of all things, is both terrifying and, more importantly, exhilarating. My form of atheism allows me to see the universe as some sort of colossal party or theme-park- one without adult supervision. The fact that we, as humans, are free to carve our own destiny out of the cosmos fills me with a profound sense of pride and gratitude at the hand fate has dealt me- I feel like I am standing on the precipice of a great void, and that I have been taught the secret of flight.

For me, the people are divided into two basic types. When faced with the universe, with all its majesty, its cruelty, its absurdity and wonder and pain and joy, ask themselves: why? Why has this happened? What is the purpose of all this? Typically, these people find God as the answer- God, for them, is the fuzzy blanket which they hide behind, and keeps the scary questions away from them at night. Some of these people actually don’t choose religion- instead they put their faith in science or philosophy- science, they cry, will save us. it will answer our questions and light up the great dark void which lies before us. For me however, science is at best a torch shone into the dark of night: however bright the torch becomes (and I am indeed all for science becoming brighter and brighter as it were) it will never banish the darkness, never restore purpose to  purposeless cosmos.

For me, however, the real question is not “why” but rather “why not?” Why not say yes to the universe as it is? Why not embrace the darkness, and fill the void with laughter and song? Life is exactly and only what we want it to be: in our hands we have the power of Gods, so rise up I say, and use it! For me, atheism is the ultimate affirmation of life, exactly as it comes to us on this day, in this very moment. Theism tells us “thou shalt not”, but atheism tells us “thou shall!”- atheism is the answer to my question: there is no reason why not!

Traditionally, religion has held that God has a purpose in mind for us, but I say we should make a purpose for ourselves. In a way, theism is analogous to childhood- God is our mother, our protector and our teacher, showing us right from wrong and guiding us down the correct path. But we cannot be perpetually children- the day comes when we must make our own choices, leave the warm maternal bosom and live for ourselves. Theism means submitting your will entirely to Gods: I call that slavery. (Ok, maybe I’m harshing on religion a little, but I think this one is validly in context.) I firmly believe that no-one, not even God, should impose their will on another, in the same way as a mother has no right to tell a fully grown child how to run their life.

I wish I could tell you that all this came to me in some sort of epiphany, that I was struggling along in my vague agnosticism and suddenly the truth hit me like a thunderbolt.  As it happens, that is not how it was. I remember believing in God as a child. As I grew into adolescence the problems of believing became more and more painfully obvious to me, and for a while I entertained a kind of sceptical agnosticism, acknowledging the likelihood of something being the ultimate grounding of the universe, but accepting that I couldn’t know for sure what kind of being it was. Francis Bacon once said “a little philosophy makes a man an atheist, but a lot more reconciles him to religion”. Well, either I have just not studied enough philosophy yet, or that is bullshit- because the more philosophy I study, the more atheistic I become. Today in fact, doing an exam on the Philosophy of religion has inspired me to write this very blog. Regardless, it was not really until university that I fully embraced atheism- and again, I couldn’t tell you the exact day or moment, but when the realisation came, it came hard- I realised that for years I had been arguing against religion while maintaining my agnosticism, and I could not for the life of me think why.  Since then, all I have learned has simply confirmed my beliefs- sometimes I wonder whether this is simply intellectual arrogance, but it is simply a fact of the matter that, every time a new religious concept or argument is introduced to me by a lecturer, the very same lecturer proceeds to dissect the argument and shoot it down. Maybe I had natural atheistic tendencies, but I don’t think they would ever have been fully realised were it not for my A level religious studies course (taught, interestingly, by two teachers,  one of whom had her application to become ordained rejected by the Church  because she was a woman, and one who, as far as I’m aware, is now undergoing or has undergone ordination) and the Durham university Philosophy and Theology syllabus. And for these things I am thankful.

There is a common misconception that atheism is morally bankrupt, that its adherents are miserable or amoral, anarchists and suicidals. Well, I stand (or rather sit) before you as living proof to the contrary. It is important to remember that, just because we don’t have God, doesn’t mean we can’t have values- after all, there are many well developed philosophical systems, such as utilitarianism, which teach us how to be good with no reference to God. Most of the atheists I know are happy, decent, intelligent  people who, as far as I am aware, do not suffer from moral/existential angst about the lack of a God to ground their worldviews- and if I ever have such existential crises, it is no doubt because I am encouraged to do so by my course. I hate to be cliched, but I should point at this point how much evil has been done in the name of religion, and ask if it is really atheism which is morally bankrupt: in a theistic system, anything God says, goes- or rather, anything which anyone gets it into to their head that God has said (e.g “kill all the fags”) is apparently A-ok.

I’d like to leave you all with one of my favourite images in philosophy. Nietzsche, who was a more passionate and committed atheist than I could ever hope to be, had an idea called “Eternal Reccurence of the same”. Imagine, he said, that the life you have lived will be repeated, over and over without change, throughout infinity- all the same regrets, pains, joys, loves, again and again in eternal sequence. Would you want that to happen? The ultimate “yes” to life is to actively want something like this to be the case:, to lead a life which you would be happy to live again and again for all eternity. Now that is the kind of life I  wish to lead.

Foreverer and ever, Amen

Slick