Of course the answer to the question at the end of my previous post is "no". Over-analyzing day-to-day decisions is stressful. Instead of trying to calculate the effects of each of our actions, we should look at the bigger picture. Good habits and balance are the keys to increasing joy and minimizing suffering.
It's not hard to list many things that are out of balance. The number of humans on Earth. Energy use per capita in the U.S. The lust for wealth. The decline of habitat for many species. The amount of carbon in the atmosphere.
Our choices, big and small, will be better if we take balance into consideration.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Sphere of Concern
Increase joy and minimize suffering for whom?
At the center of our sphere of concern is self, close family and intimate friends. Heading away from center, we find people we identify with and perhaps animals we cherish. Further out are unknown people. Somewhere in the sphere are future generations. Very far out are species that are quite different from us. While it wrenches our hearts to see a deer explode in a collision with a car, we are virtually unemotional to a fly being splattered by a flyswatter.
The sphere is different for each of us. Some no doubt value all human life above all animal life. Some would include the notion of country (although very few Americans would include county!) For some, race or ethnicity are important factors in determining how close to the center someone is.
The closer to center, the more important the joy and suffering. So the suffering of a stray cat on the other side of the world means very little. It still means something, though. All living things have value in my sphere of concern.
For example, let's suppose I'm hungry, and I consider eating a steak. What is the joy and suffering, and for whom? Starting at center, there is my obvious joy. My id is screaming for a medium rare filet mignon. Money may be a concern -- my family and I may suffer in the future from my financial indulgences. If my diet is out of balance, my future self will pay the price. The creature that I may eat has already suffered its murder, but by increasing demand, more cattle will be slaughtered to fill the markets with steaks. More will ultimately be born as well, which may be a joyous thing. My choice will provide economic joy to those who benefit from it, but quite possibly suffering for future generations since the meat industry is hard on the planet with respect to many environmental concerns. Certain jungle species will suffer as they and their habitat are removed to make way for pasture and crop farms.
The worst thing is, now my life has become complicated! I'm hungry, and need to eat to survive. Do I have to assign values to the happiness of the grocer and the misery of my unborn great grandchild who will not have the opportunity of visiting the Amazon Jungle?
At the center of our sphere of concern is self, close family and intimate friends. Heading away from center, we find people we identify with and perhaps animals we cherish. Further out are unknown people. Somewhere in the sphere are future generations. Very far out are species that are quite different from us. While it wrenches our hearts to see a deer explode in a collision with a car, we are virtually unemotional to a fly being splattered by a flyswatter.
The sphere is different for each of us. Some no doubt value all human life above all animal life. Some would include the notion of country (although very few Americans would include county!) For some, race or ethnicity are important factors in determining how close to the center someone is.
The closer to center, the more important the joy and suffering. So the suffering of a stray cat on the other side of the world means very little. It still means something, though. All living things have value in my sphere of concern.
For example, let's suppose I'm hungry, and I consider eating a steak. What is the joy and suffering, and for whom? Starting at center, there is my obvious joy. My id is screaming for a medium rare filet mignon. Money may be a concern -- my family and I may suffer in the future from my financial indulgences. If my diet is out of balance, my future self will pay the price. The creature that I may eat has already suffered its murder, but by increasing demand, more cattle will be slaughtered to fill the markets with steaks. More will ultimately be born as well, which may be a joyous thing. My choice will provide economic joy to those who benefit from it, but quite possibly suffering for future generations since the meat industry is hard on the planet with respect to many environmental concerns. Certain jungle species will suffer as they and their habitat are removed to make way for pasture and crop farms.
The worst thing is, now my life has become complicated! I'm hungry, and need to eat to survive. Do I have to assign values to the happiness of the grocer and the misery of my unborn great grandchild who will not have the opportunity of visiting the Amazon Jungle?
Thursday, January 8, 2009
The Mission
Recently I realized I live in a spiritual desert. I say "spiritual" for lack of a better word -- the least "spiritual" thing I can think of is sitting in any of the churches I've been in -- but other candidate words, such as religious, supernatural, metaphysical, essential, joyous, none of them work.
I have some idea of what I mean when I think of being "spiritually nourished", as I've had that feeling. I often feel it in the wild places, or in positive interactions with others. I feel the absence of it when materially overwhelmed with endless entertainment, too many posessions, constant climate control, excessive concern with regard to financial and personal security. I feel its absence when around those who show disdain for others, who wish to surpass those others in some privilege; often they are just as happy to see others fall as to rise up themselves. The spiritual fountain is dry when those of us in good health are too lazy or hurried to walk a half-mile, and it doesn't feed us when our time is aimless.
I am my best self when I have a mission, and I have had one for some time, though I continue to hone it. It's not always clear how to interpret it, but I truly believe it.
All my actions should serve to increase joy and minimize suffering.
That's how simple it is. The difficulty lies in applying it to a situation. I'll start with one of my favorite examples -- the suburbanite with dandelions growing in his yard. Should he spray toxins on them to make his lawn look like that of most of his neighbors? The details will supply the correct answer. My first response is no, this does not support my mission. Whose joy is increased? Some may be relieved to see he has conformed, but the absence of dandelions is a far cry from art that may move us deeply. And suffering is probably increased because of his actions. Present and future generations may live in a more toxic world; living things will die; and the time and money used could have been put to better use. If, however, our suburbanite stands to be punished substantially for leaving the weeds alone, then the application of toxins may be the lesser evil. Battles must be chosen carefully.
Next, let's look at the person who spends nearly all of his time increasing his wealth. He drives several miles to a job he doesn't believe in, eats fatty food, is constantly rushed and anxious, and collapses into a chair to watch television and consume alcohol at the end of his work day. This person is the average American. He is aware his excessive consumerism is rapidly destroying the habitat of most living things, but feels he has no choice. Does he? If he lived a simpler life, consumed less, spent more quality time with others, used his energy for more fulfilling and beneficial activities, could that increase suffering? His adolescent children would certainly tell you that they suffer more when he can no longer send them to private school and buy them expensive clothes. If enough people behaved in a similar fashion, the retailers would lose money. Some would go out of business -- in an ultra-competetive society some might even die of starvation. But ultimately, this scaling back is the only hope we have. The key is, our lifestyles are not sustainable. Not only will future generations not enjoy our present level of luxury, the may suffer greatly due to the lack of the most basic necessities for survival. This lifestyle causes suffering on the most massive scale.
So here is our spiritual mission. Each action that we undertake for the short term, for the long term, matters in the most profound way.
I have some idea of what I mean when I think of being "spiritually nourished", as I've had that feeling. I often feel it in the wild places, or in positive interactions with others. I feel the absence of it when materially overwhelmed with endless entertainment, too many posessions, constant climate control, excessive concern with regard to financial and personal security. I feel its absence when around those who show disdain for others, who wish to surpass those others in some privilege; often they are just as happy to see others fall as to rise up themselves. The spiritual fountain is dry when those of us in good health are too lazy or hurried to walk a half-mile, and it doesn't feed us when our time is aimless.
I am my best self when I have a mission, and I have had one for some time, though I continue to hone it. It's not always clear how to interpret it, but I truly believe it.
All my actions should serve to increase joy and minimize suffering.
That's how simple it is. The difficulty lies in applying it to a situation. I'll start with one of my favorite examples -- the suburbanite with dandelions growing in his yard. Should he spray toxins on them to make his lawn look like that of most of his neighbors? The details will supply the correct answer. My first response is no, this does not support my mission. Whose joy is increased? Some may be relieved to see he has conformed, but the absence of dandelions is a far cry from art that may move us deeply. And suffering is probably increased because of his actions. Present and future generations may live in a more toxic world; living things will die; and the time and money used could have been put to better use. If, however, our suburbanite stands to be punished substantially for leaving the weeds alone, then the application of toxins may be the lesser evil. Battles must be chosen carefully.
Next, let's look at the person who spends nearly all of his time increasing his wealth. He drives several miles to a job he doesn't believe in, eats fatty food, is constantly rushed and anxious, and collapses into a chair to watch television and consume alcohol at the end of his work day. This person is the average American. He is aware his excessive consumerism is rapidly destroying the habitat of most living things, but feels he has no choice. Does he? If he lived a simpler life, consumed less, spent more quality time with others, used his energy for more fulfilling and beneficial activities, could that increase suffering? His adolescent children would certainly tell you that they suffer more when he can no longer send them to private school and buy them expensive clothes. If enough people behaved in a similar fashion, the retailers would lose money. Some would go out of business -- in an ultra-competetive society some might even die of starvation. But ultimately, this scaling back is the only hope we have. The key is, our lifestyles are not sustainable. Not only will future generations not enjoy our present level of luxury, the may suffer greatly due to the lack of the most basic necessities for survival. This lifestyle causes suffering on the most massive scale.
So here is our spiritual mission. Each action that we undertake for the short term, for the long term, matters in the most profound way.
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