Search for a Pulse

It seems like anyone who takes his life seriously would have to, at some point, ponder some pretty heavy questions.

  1)      Does God exist?
  2)      If so, what’s He like and what does He want from me?
  3)      Can we prove G-d’s existence?
  4)      Would I want to?
  5)      Do I need to?
  6)      Does Justin Bieber have a middle name? If so, what is it and what does he want from me?

Is it cold in here? Did I forget to get dressed again?

I use to think that I took life seriously. I mean, I cared about my life. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be “successful”. I did, in fact, ponder many of the questions above (Justin Bieber wasn’t famous at the time), although, perhaps, not so deeply. But if one were to ponder these questions deeply, how would the answers affect his life?

If one were to divert all his energies to a new way of life, a new career, new friends, and, most importantly…a new belief system, one would think that he (or she) would have spent some serious time soul-searching. I get the feeling that this is generally not the case. We will, of course, have to ask why not, but that will come later.

I can pinpoint the day when my worldview, or weltanschauung (for crusty, old German philosophers) shifted. And by shifted I mean fell off the precipice. My late teens and early twenties were always underscored by a force, growing in strength and pitch, of disturbance and disorder. I always felt like life was missing that essential ingredient, simply put, meaning. I always struggled to understand why anything I was doing held particular significance or why it was so important for me to do it.

The best answer I could come up with, and I think it is the best answer most of us come up with, is that I did what I did because it was enjoyable. It seemed like I was good at what I did and it made me happy, at least relatively.  Yet, below the surface was the scratch, the nagging sowhat that lurked below. Sowhat. Sowhat. What have done to contribute to this world? How have you helped society? Why should anybody care, especially you?

It is astounding that we get so focused on doing something with our lives that we sometimes lose track of what it is or why we do it. More so, the many deeply held ideals we once had of saving the world get trampled underfoot of our degrees and jobs and company picnics (with free T-shirts!).  Surely we all feel the scratch, the "sowhat" scratch, but most of us ignore it, probably because we don’t know the answer.

A Nagging "Sowhat"

So, at that juncture of my life, I was certainly a walking target. A festering, open sore of confusion and anger. A microcosm of anarchy. A boiling cauldron of poetic metaphors to be applied liberally to a blog. In other terms, I was 22. I was successful. I was popular. I was driven. I just had no clue where I was being driven to. And that was the hardest part. Feeling like something wasn’t quite right but feeling like I had no control over my direction.

So when someone gave me an opportunity to eject, I took it.

My first encounter with a Golden Ticket holder was on a coast to coast flight.

(Metaphor definition: A Golden Ticket is an unknown opportunity. It’s a gateway to something foreign and exciting. It’s a train in a different direction.)

His timing was right on. I had just attended my brother’s wedding and was deep in a world of thought. Among the many elusive goals of a boiling cauldron are finding a soul mate and building a home. It’s establishing a good name for yourself and a having a meaningful career. It’s killing the “sowhat”. I knew I wanted all that, just like others, like my brother, seemed to have gotten them. But how could I get there? Why were the doors locked in front of me? My brother’s path was his own, too foreign and awkward for me. My circle of friends was certainly not focused on those goals. I was open to hearing new ideas.

A slick young feller sat down next to me. He double checked his plane ticket. He looked up at me and smiled. His smile was packed with information. Thoughts, plans, premonitions. I had no access to them. We began a conversation, some topics new, some I’d thought about before and kept generally agreeing that the way things are going in this world could really use some improvement. The world is crazy, check. We don’t know how to stop it, check. We don’t want to be crazy, check.

Then he did something no one had ever attempted. He offered me a Golden Ticket, a golden chance to make my way. But like Charlie, it meant leaving my parents and my aging grandparents behind. I shunned it. It was too bright to behold. Besides, I had a full weekend planned. One that was sure to be a great time. I shoved the Golden Ticket back into his hand. He smiled that smile again and promised to be in touch. I felt something brush up against my life.

I had unwittingly crossed into new territory. The Golden Ticket holder from the plane sensed a kinship with me. He slipped my name to a local GTH who wasted no time in scheduling a meeting with me. I’m not one to play with fire, but I’m not one to deny destiny either. If I could just get a glimpse in the factory without walking through the door maybe I could learn enough about myself to change this world in the way I wanted without taking any risks, without leaving the comfort of my own world.

Outside the Happiness Factory (I though it'd be more colorful)

Providence arranged the perfect meeting. Me and this new GTH had some serious free time without interruption. We met for 2 hours, and at the end I was offered that Golden Ticket again. This time, I couldn’t resist it. This time it’s sheen was intoxicating. I had to know what was behind those doors. I had no plans for a while. I had everything to gain and nothing to lose, because, let’s face it, what does your average 22 year old have to lose already?

You should know that Golden Tickets are powerful. They break down barriers. Would I be ready for whatever poured through? Yeah, why not? I guess I’d better update my parents about my plans. I bet they'll be so excited.

Me: Hey, Dad. I got a Golden Ticket.                                                                                         Dad: Why would you want a thing like that?                                                                               Me: Well, I was sort of hoping to use it, you know, break down barriers, see what pours out.     Dad: You’re a fool, son. You have no idea the kind of power you’re playing with.

Was he right?

Me: Come on, Dad. What could happen already?                                                                     Dad: They’ll brain wash you, son. They’ll change you.

I let my steely gaze meet his. It loses a bit of drama through the mouthpiece of a phone but I employed it regardless.

Me: Maybe my brain needs a good washing.

I meant it. I’m not sure my father realized what a lifetime of television had done to me. I lugged about a massive landfill of useless secular knowledge with me everywhere I went. I was the scourge of “Scene It!” Entire rooms of people trembled at the roll of my die.

Me: (continuing) Besides, I’m not some backwater yokel. I’m an educated, sophisticated, thoughtful young eccentric. No one is going to brainwash me unless I want them to.                                                   

Dad: You’ll pull the entire family apart.                                                                                       Me: Dad! You’re being fatalistic. We’ll be fine.                                                                           Dad: Your mother and I will support you in every decision you make, if it doesn’t kill us first.     Me: (shrugging as I hang up) Parents!

I turned to my friends for encouragement. I wouldn’t say they discouraged me but they certainly were no more optimistic about this Golden Chance than my father was. Was I wrong? Was everyone else right? Why were my friends not jealous of the Golden Ticket I held? Do you believe that other cultures or philosophies could give you greater meaning and connection? Would you ever explore them?

The Search Begins

It seems like some people are willing to try anything, no matter how extreme, as long as it’s not for good. Say, a year.

Lately, a whole new genre has popped up in the book and blog world around the one year life-altering experiment. They range from the extreme to the mundane. One fellow “unplugged” for a year to understand how constant internet accessibility was affecting his life. There was a professor who went back and became a freshman for a year to better appreciate the student perspective. Then there was the lady who spent a year cooking her way through Julia Childs’ magnum opus, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, later to become the motion picture Julie and Julia. There’s Eat, Drink, Pray, and another dozen books that go: I got sick and tired of my dead end job so I went off for a Year of Travel and ignored social mores books. One woman wrote about her year of celibacy, another about her year of the exact opposite. One woman wrote about her year of dressing modestly. Finally, two books, one by a man, the other by a woman, about a year of biblical living.

The message is clear - we love the adventure and experiment of life. Somehow or other, however, most of us get trapped in the mire of daily living and we somehow become too busy, scared, or lame-o to go and do something crazy. Alternatively, who has a year to drop everything and go hang out in Tibet? 

Okay, I guess he does

Yet we know that there’s that remote possibility of some life altering experience beckoning us from greener pastures.

Perhaps we would prefer the comfort of our lay-z-boy, living vicariously (in a reclining position) through the world of these brave (and, we tell ourselves, eccentric or mentally unwell) individuals. Our hope – a taste of the exotic, and perhaps we’ll even learn some amazing, hidden secrets about all mankind which we may have never unearthed in our day to day life of office drudgery living in Delaware (until someone writes Drudgery: My Year of Living in Delaware).

Yipee!

The biggest question we have to ask ourselves is: What happened when the book ended? Did they glean any great lessons from their year? Did those lessons stay with them? We could also ask, why be so extreme? Why not write a book called, “My Life of Living a More Fulfilling Life” where people try all the standard approaches to being more fulfilled, and not just for a year?

The answers are probably obvious. The post-script of each book probably had more to do with the author than the subject, and the subject was probably chosen because it needed to be exciting enough to stay motivated to do it for a year, and more importantly to read about. Or maybe, as the old bumper sticker goes, “If you reach for the stars, at least you may get the moon.” (We won't even discuss the implications of "My other car is a Porsche")

Are we, the hapless reader unwilling to turn our lives upside down for these quests, doomed to mediocrity? Not only can most not afford to be weird for a year, but most of us won’t get book deals. (How bad do we feel for all those people who did crazy things for a year just to get turned down by the publishing houses…”Sorry, Walter. I know you lived with cockroaches for a year, but we just don’t think people really want to hear about it. Frankly, and don’t take this the wrong way, we think you’re a bit gross.”)

Oh, Walter.

I first became aware of this interesting trend of One Yearing from my source for all interesting trends. TED talks. I watched a video by a fellow named AJ Jacobs. He had previously written a book about a year of trying to learn the entire Encyclopedia Britannica. This time he was speaking about his wildly popular book, The Year of Living Biblically. When I heard the title of the book, I said, “Hey, that’s my book! He stole my book.”

I had also been experimenting. I was also deeply curious what it would be like to live a Biblical Life. Look, I was 22 years old and, let’s face it, a bit eccentric. Not that I wanted to be eccentric. I resented the appellement. When I thought of an eccentric I pictured the little tycoon from the Monopoly board with his bushy, white mustache and his monocle jumping out of the board, flapping his arms and winking at people. It was just that the longer I observed my family, my friends, and my superiors looking for some order and sense, the more confusing I found the whole ordeal. Is this the life we were intended to live? Can't we do better than this?

 I would see people living their lives in a flow, naturally grasping the social order and simply enjoying the tides of life, and I would stand agape, sometimes in awe, sometimes in indignation, and wonder how I missed the train. Everyone else seemed to be on it and somehow I didn’t even show up at the station. That would also occasionally happen to me in real life with non-metaphoric trains. The combination of those things landed me in the eccentric camp (where the tents are paisley).

Then one day I went from spectator to participant. In the thick of the crowd I had been handed a ticket for a train heading in the opposite direction. I was young. I was eccentric. I could care less what you thought of me. I got on the train and saw where it would take me. The difference is, unlike Jacobs, my train ride kept going. It wasn’t a one year experiment only to return to life as usual when the calendar was all checked off.  I had found order for the first time in my life. People were still confounding. But at the least I had discovered a system which appeared consistent, idealistic, and noble.

The experiment became my life, or perhaps, my life became an experiment. At first (I only found this out much later) many of my family members thought it was a cute but passing phase in my life. I couldn’t help but wonder the same. Could I really keep at it? Would I want to? When it kept going, they were sure it was a joke of Andy Kauffman-esque proportions. 

Nice hat

Then I got married, and if it was a joke, my wife wasn’t in on it. Slowly, reality set in, this was not a joke (even if I was laughing).

As I listened to Jacobs TED-ding away, summarizing his year, I was disappointed by how simplistic most of his approach to the subject matter was. No person who really cared to tackle a topic as multi-layered as “Biblical Living” would wear a tunic and tout a camel. Obviously he was trying to keep it light to appeal to a broader audience, and perhaps to keep it appealing to himself. Yet here was an intelligent person, someone who found enough appeal in the concept to try it for a year, unwilling to give this experiment real weight. Why did his experiment end and mine didn’t? I don’t have real answers to that question, and I generally prefer appreciating the questions than giving haphazard answers.

10 years ago I embarked on a certain course in life but I remain very sober of the fact that the overwhelming majority of the world views me as a curiosity, something to behold but not to understand. As I got older, and maybe more mature, I began to wonder more and more as to the mechanisms which shape our choices.

In recent years, I’ve begun to think back to my college days and to reflect on how at the time I was disturbed by the societal dissonance on college campuses: well to do, educated young adults espousing the need for humanitarian development, joining social protests of all sorts, and yet treating themselves and their peers on an ethical level generally associated with the worst form of degenerate riff-raff. Did anyone just shrug their shoulders and say, “Yeah. That’s pretty much college”?

It's just tuna water. Go for it, little dude.

Lately, I have had occasion to teach college students on the topics of philosophy and religion, and it has been very eye-opening. I find the following visual very powerful: any land animal that falls into a river will automatically begin to swim against the stream. Why? Because an animal knows that downstream lies uncertainty and possibly danger, and the only way to guarantee your survival is to try to maintain control, and that can only happen by swimming against the stream. So why have we lost that instinct? Why doesn’t your average college student go apoplectic or at least become dismayed when they awaken to the notion that they are living a life which may even be in total juxtaposition to their personal beliefs? How come so many people live a lifetime flowing downstream, never questioning what lies ahead? 

I look at my own place in life as tenuous but stable; as sober but exciting. I’ve spent countless hours mulling over everything from God proofs to human psychology to the Higgs-Boson particle and how they all make us who we are (and why we care, or don’t). I don’t intend to create complete theses or to proselytize. I hope to open pathways to deepen the questions and broaden the topics. I hope to challenge and to stimulate and never to condescend. Maybe we’ll even laugh a bit. The questions are many and difficult, and the answers are never straightforward, but life is an adventure, and I’d love for you to join.

So what is it? What keeps us plowing ahead without questioning? Why is it so hard to change? How can we view other lifestyle's as attractive but not worth changing for? How is it that we all wish to be good people, but end up more focused on other minutiae?