Anticipation of endings

Arun Kumar

Pixabay

 

“We are always thinking about the future to have a better past and miss out on the present.” - Unknown

As I write this post, my thoughts drift to the Island of Endings. It is just like when meditating, the mind manages to stay focused on three breaths, and before I know, finds itself in a different space and time. The tricks my monkey mind has up its sleeve!

Endings. They are to have something today that will not be there tomorrow.

Somewhere along the journey that connects today with tomorrow, I pass through a door, and as I do, it closes behind me. Something I was carrying in today gets left behind.

One journey continues, another ends.

It happens all the time and if you think that by now, I know the drill, well, think again. Often, endings still catch me by surprise. When endings happen, a range of emotions could surface. It is hard to tell which one it will be the next time.

The end of a week of vacation in Paris. It is the last evening and there is an ache of leaving something behind. An ache of not quite knowing if this will be the final farewell or someday, I will return again.

The end of a stormy night and there is a sense of relief the next morning. The night after Voldemort is finally done and over with, everyone in Hogwarts sits on the floor and leans their head on the shoulders of whoever is sitting next to them and closes their eyes. Among the ruins of the castle, the morning rays of the sun shimmer through the stained-glass windows and play with the wisps of drifting smoke.

The end of a game of soccer, a country wins the grand finale of the world cup, but another loses. In one, people are joyous and there is a celebration in the streets, while in the other, they feel somber and think, damn it, we were so close.

I can think of many more emotions that are triggered by endings. There is one that stands out and is not even related to endings per se. This particular emotion is triggered by the thought of endings and what is to follow. Or more precisely, what is not going to follow.

The anticipation of endings could also bring the emotion of fear as I visualize myself confronting the emptiness in tomorrow.

A feeling the anticipation generates is a fear of emptiness that will greet me beyond the door that I will pass through. The fear of how I am going to spend the day. The fear that when I climb in the bed at the end of the day, would I say to myself that it was a day well spent? And as I pull the covers and start to drift into sleep, will I look forward to the next day, and perhaps, would love to repeat what was today?

The anticipation of endings triggers a vision that I am closing a door behind and taking a step forward confident that it will meet the ground.  Only at the last moment, I realize that I am standing on the edge of a cliff. I am going to tumble down the precipice.

You know the feeling when you skip a step while climbing down the stairs. The heart skips a beat and there is an emptiness in the pit of the stomach.

I search the web and see if there is a phobia associated with the anticipation of endings. No such luck. I am just going to call it “Finistophobia.”

Finistophobia: noun, finis-to-pho-bia; emotion of fear generated by anticipation of endings often followed by a sense of emptiness. A condition often felt prior to endings. Etymology: From finis in Latin + phobia from ancient Greek. Earliest documented use: 2022.

Back to my imaginary trip to the Island of Endings and how my thoughts drifted to its shores.

I anticipate finishing this post in a couple of days. There are a few more ideas lined up that I can work on. Even with this luxury already in hand, as I anticipate ending this post, the fear that the well of ideas will run dry begins to nag.

Reacting to that fear, what do I do? Instead of working on finishing the post, my attention shifts to the urgent need for collecting and making a list of ideas for posts to write in the future.

I find that I am no longer mindful of the present but thinking about what I am going to do tomorrow, so when tomorrow gets here, there will be something there to welcome me and wanting to be done.

And you can well imagine what happens when that moment comes tomorrow.

Can’t you? Well, I repeat the same.

The fear of emptiness in tomorrow makes me miss out on living in the present.

I am no longer focused on what I am writing now. I am thinking about what I will be writing next. The reaction to anticipating of endings becomes what I generally do – not be mindful. Not being engaged in what I am doing now but thinking about what I will be doing in the next moment.

Did I not read somewhere that mindfulness was not a conducive trait for our ancestors to have? A hominoid lost in the present did not have much of a chance of survival. In the conditions of scarcity, to survive, I am better off if I were to look ahead and bury some nuts before the winter arrives. In modern times, I am better off if I have a few “to do” lists up my sleeve.

In order not to have a feeling of emptiness tomorrow, I become a collector of ideas and want to nestle in the safety of their warmth.

I am beginning to think that what will appease the fear of emptiness is to have a long list of ideas that will last beyond my last breath. If I had that list, I can be writing in peace.

Perhaps, an urge to make a list and preempt the fear of emptiness finds a nudge from the old instinct that my survival depends on planning for tomorrow.

Will it not be wonderful to have a list of ideas that will last forever even though I will not? I have been told over and over to save enough money to last beyond my lifespan so why not have a list of engaging ideas to do the same? To have a happy fourth phase of life, I need to start early on saving money and making a list of ideas to live by. I can even include the unspent ideas in my will and donate it to the Charity of Ideas.

Now if you will excuse me, this post is coming to an end and time for me to calm my fears of endings. I need to pull out my list for future posts and feel safe.

Ciao, and may you be free of finistophobia. May you be free of the fear of endings and the feeling of emptiness tomorrow.

Measures and Yardsticks and the tale of an Elephant and Blind Men

Arun Kumar

pixabay

 

You and I, taking an afternoon walk in the woods. It is an unusually cool day for the month of June, and it feels wonderful to be out on the trail stealing leisurely moments away from life. Inhale a deep breath and everything around seems to hold promises of wonders that are lurking in the shadows to surprise us.

It is a slow afternoon, and nothing is reaching for our attention for the next few hours. A sense of freedom and peace and the moment feels perfect for contemplative bantering. No surprise, we find ourselves engaged in a discussion about how one would measure whether two lives lived differently are equally worthy.

The discussion drifts towards a hypothetical scenario of two individuals. The first one, and we call them X, spends most of their time watching TV or scrolling through various social feeds on the internet.

The curious thing about X is that they are content and at peace with themselves. Moreover, when X calls it a day, they look forward to getting up the next morning and watching the next episodes of the Wheel of Fortune followed by an episode of the Mahabharat.

Then there is Y who is inquisitive, a learner, an individual with a growth mindset. Y spends their time dreaming about the curvature of space and time and how to reduce it to a simple set of equations.

One morning, Y wakes up shouting ‘Eureka, I now know the equation that can explain the curvature of space and time, and in the bargain, can also explain why the apple falls from the tree.’

Y is also content and is at peace and cannot wait to live another day filled with learning and dabbling in the theory that one day will also explain all human emotions – love, hate, smile, tears.

The discussion we are engaged in is whether the lives of X and Y are equally worthy?

At a personal level both X and Y are content and feel at peace. In their own ways, both have reasons to look forward to getting out of the bed the next morning. Both have a spring in the step (even though, affectionately, everyone calls X, who does not use their legs often, a couch potato).

And so, I say to you, a tad bit emphatically, that both X and Y have reached the goals they seek. Both have attained what so many frameworks for having a happy and equanimous life are built from – Stoicism, Buddhism, Taoism. Then there are religions that also promise the same.

And therefore, I argue that the lives of both X and Y are equally worthy. Feeling a bit smug, Quod Erat Demonstrandum (QED), I say.

Not so fast, you reply. Mx. Y is going to leave something behind while Mx. X will be forgotten even before the last eulogy is read. The advances in the knowledge Y made will forever be the building blocks of understanding the universe for eons to come. Clearly, from the perspective of human civilization and our quest to understand the workings of things around us, you argue, the  life of Y is more worthy than that of X.

As we walk along, occasionally stopping to look around and smell the lightness in the air, we start talking about whose perspective is ‘right’. It feels like we are heading towards yet another stalemate that philosophical discussion often becomes.

But then, we get hit on the head by couple of falling apples and realize that…

…we both are right.  

The difference between our positions is the measures and yardsticks each of us is using. As it often happens, within the narrowness of our visions we both are correct. The answers depend on the perspective from which we the world.

It is the old story of an elephant and five blind men again.

Measures and Yardsticks. It is easy to forget that answers depend on them. Sometimes, in our lives, we struggle to find measures and yardsticks to even know which direction we are heading. Without a GPS for the soul, we wander around.

One day we wake up and start to wonder what is the meaning and purpose of our life? Somewhere along the passing hours of a night, our perspectives shift, and the morning sky just does not look the same.

We had also forgotten that Y also taught us that all things are relative. The colors we see depend on our frame of reference.

Measures and Yardsticks. One measure of me is height and the yardstick is a meter. Another measure of me is sharpness of vision and the yardstick is 20/20. Based on each, I could reach two different conclusions about myself.

I am measuring X and Y by the sense of equanimity they have. The yardstick is how much they looks forward to getting out the bed in the morning and the spring in one’s step.

You are measuring X and Y by how productive they are. The yardstick is what they are going to leave behind. The yardstick is the legacy.

It is the inner peace vs. productivity and springiness vs. legacy.

We wonder if we can come up with another measure and a yardstick that will say that life of X was more worthy than that of Y. Think of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Think of the Cold Wars and threats for nuclear winters (and roaches ruling the world), and in some weird way, for a fleeting moment, the life of X may feel like the more worthy.

Our walk is coming to an end. The sun is descending towards the horizon, and it is time to get back home and think about dinner. We take one last glance at the green trees around us and look forward to coming back again and continue our musings on life, its wonders, its pains, and of promises it can hold.

Ciao.

Oh, did I forget to tell you that Y was the child of X? How silly of me not to have mentioned that Y would not have existed without our beloved couch potato, the Mx. X. Does that change the answer in any way?

Utopia, a dystopia in sheep’s clothing

 Arun Kumar

SarahRichterArt

 

On a lazy summer afternoon, I am wondering if utopia is even feasible? Or it is what we think of it that is just a dream.

Is uniformity or equality an impossible trait to find? Is there a fundamental force that makes them a shimmering mirage? A mysterious fifth force that has shaped everything from the beginning of time, through the entirety of evolution on the Earth and throughout the history of human civilization.

Around us, non-uniformity is a rule and not an exception. There is an invisible force field that constantly nudges and makes all things unique.

The telltale signs of the fifth force are all around. On my walks along the wooded trails, some trees reach loftier heights than others.

In the night sky, some stars shine brighter than others. They are not like the streetlights that stretch along a long road and the ones farther are dimmer. Stars have different sizes and the candles burning in their bellies are different.

Galaxies that dot the darkness of vast measures of space are of different shapes and sizes.

At the other extreme, looking through a microscope no two snowflakes are alike. Or I have been told.

Identical twins with the same DNA grow to become unique personalities. Same genes, but the ones that get expressed are different.

Maybe it is only at the level of two hydrogen atoms that are identical, while objects built from them are not.

In everything that surrounds me, non-uniformity rules. At the bottom, right corner of the canvas of every creation, there is a small signature of its creator, the fifth force.

Non-uniformity (and inequality) has plagued human society from its beginning and has been responsible for unfathomable brutalities and suffering. The study of history, perhaps, is a narrative of the consequences of non-uniformity.

Human suffering that has resulted from non-uniformity has led us to dream of utopian worlds, of utopian societies.

On a lazy summer afternoon, I am wondering if utopia is even feasible? Or it is what we think of it that is just a dream.

The fundamental reason that inevitably leads to differences between things all around us is the role randomness plays in shaping everything. Take the example of trees on the trail I often walk along.

I am sure that differences in the height are not as much due to innate differences between the seeds. It is just that during their nascent years, some seedlings had a bit of a clearer view of blue sky and few more rays of sunshine to soak in. Given that slight of an advantage that seedling grew a little bit taller. In its later years, that little advantage amplified, and that lucky seedling reached loftier heights.

The seedlings that grew under the shade tried to keep up, but eventually lost the race. Basically, the same reasoning explains the differences we see all around.

Small random perturbations giving a small initial advantage, through positive feedback, inevitably grow to become much larger differences.

Uniformity being impossible has played such havoc through the history of human civilization that out of tiredness of seeing the brutalities of wars and watching the unnecessary suffering that is all around, has led us to the dreams of utopia.

Utopia. The place where everyone walks around wearing a toga holding a book in their hands while having intellectually invigorating debates about whether Stoicism or Buddhism are merely two branches that are conjoined at the base.

Maybe it is my personal dream of utopia. A world where everyone is a contemplative Socrates. And of course, it is also a world where dark chocolate with sea salt hangs from the trees.

Can the utopian dream become a reality? Can utopia rise out as a self-organizing principle to becomes ours? Can one day, tired of all the conflicts, we would flip the switch and decide to turn the utopian dream into a reality?

If the present is any example, utopia as a self-organizing principle does not seem possible. There may be some examples in the animal world that I am not aware of. There have been some attempts to form small utopian communes but by and large they have not lasted for long.

Maybe the self-organizing creation of utopia needs a higher level of intelligence than what has so far evolved on the Earth. There has not been enough time.

Utopian societies are common in sci-fi movies and fiction. Their origin and sustainability, however, does not have roots in self-organization.

What generally happens is that the equality, or uniformity in the general population is enforced by everyone needing to take a mind-altering morning pill that keeps human urges in check. The pill is complemented by a group of people that enforce the rules and weed out any signs of non-conformity. The utopia is run by an elite group of human beings and their cohorts.

In this version of utopia, there is a perception of equality, but it is not self-organized. An exogenous force is always present to maintain equality.

A dystopian perspective is a civilization in control of (OF the privileged, or BY the privileged?) the privileged that oversees the distribution of resources and needs a force to keep dissent at bay. The mental image (maybe I am biased by watching the movies) of the dystopian world is a place where the sun no longer shines.

In contrast, utopia is a brightly lit world, a world of eternal sunshine. But underneath the peace, the calm, and the sense of tranquility permeating the air are also innumerable rules, regulations, brain altering chemicals that are required to smooth out inequalities and not let any deviation grow and question the conformity. Or to ask the question, who are we?

The sustainability of both a dystopian and a utopian state require exogenous control. The police state monitors for any deviations and eliminates them before they rise and try to wake masses from their stupor.

From this perspective, utopia is just a gentler version of dystopia. A dystopia in sheep’s clothing.

We know how those movies end. In some isolated corner of the police state, a small departure from the conformity manages to slip through the controls. It grows and manages to take down the purveyors of the pill givers.

One morning, when the city awakens, everyone can feel something is different in the air. Without the pill, gradually its effects wear off. Slowly, everyone wakes up and realizes how beautiful the trees are when each has a different height.

Sounds bad but let us keep the dream of utopia alive. It is a gentler dream to have than wishing for a dystopia. Let us be careful because dreams do come true.

Peace.

 

Related Post:

Is Dystopia a natural state, and Utopia, well, just a dream?

Red Pill or Blue Pill

Sweet revenge of the polar bear

 Arun Kumar

My left hand sometimes does not know what the right hand is doing. Maybe this happens more often than I realize. Why else has the phrase become an idiom? To get a feel of its omnipresence, a few more examples are in order.

Jet-setting climate scientists run around the world to communicate their latest findings about global warming and forget that the contrails left behind and the fuel burned just raised the greenhouse gasses by a fraction. In the evening, they dine on a juicy steak forgetting that environmentally it is much better to be a vegetarian.

In a meeting at work someone will casually throw out the notion that we should not be working in silos and feel smug about the penetrating statement. Suddenly a day out of the wild blue yonder, matrix management becomes a tsunami that washes over us. I get matrixed and my one hour does not know what the next hour will be doing.

And my personal favorite - The time it takes to finish public projects in the United States (e.g., finishing a subway line) is so long that sometimes I wonder if one crew puts things together during the day while another crew tears down two thirds of it during the night. In the twilight of the evening, the two pass each other like ghosts.

There are plenty of other examples scattered around. This particular story of my left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing is about Coca-Cola, the Company, and their product, the Coke.

I myself do not drink Coke. The reason is that being health conscious, my left hand finds the nutritional content of Coke alarming. A 355 ml (or gram) can of Coke has 150 Calories, 14% of Daily Value (DV) of required carbs, all of them coming from 40 grams of sugar from high fructose corn syrup (which is a miracle of human ingenuity, in itself).

Sugar is not healthy for our metabolism. The genes we have inherited, and proteins, enzymes, amino acids that make us function, have been optimized through the slow precepts of natural selection. They get jolted by 17 teaspoons of sugar that is in a can of Coke. The 140 years since 1892 when Coke was invented is too short of a time for our metabolism to adjust to the new world reality where the availability of sugar is so much easier than picking berries while on a lookout for snakes.

The easy availability of sugar and our evolutionary conditioning is an explosive combination. The result is obesity and diabetes being epidemic, not to mention the sad history of sugar plantations (with their devastating influence on our history).

The World Health Organization has these cheering numbers to say: “About 422 million people worldwide have diabetes, the majority living in low-and middle-income countries, and 1.5 million deaths are directly attributed to diabetes each year. Both the number of cases and the prevalence of diabetes have been steadily increasing over the past few decades.”

Sugars not only taste fantastic, they have also become a cheap source for required daily intake of calories.

Maybe our addiction to sugars will continue to shape the future trajectory of history and evolution. Can we anticipate 100 generations from now, which faction of humanity will have the upper hand (the hand again!)? The ones who do not have a sweet tooth and have better self-control or the ones stalking the cookie aisles in the grocery stores?

If natural selection has any lessons to offer, then it will favor those with less of a fatal attraction for sugars. But don’t tell Coca-Cola that by promoting their product and hiring the polar bear, they are accelerating their own demise.

What we do not know is that the polar bear has his own agenda.

The sneaky master plan of the polar bear is to ensure that we will drink enough sugar and will not be around for much longer to melt the ice caps and destroy their habitat. The plan is a bit far-fetched, but at least it is a plan for taming runaway global warming. So far, we have none.

Oh well. Back to the story of conflict between my left hand and my right hand.

The right hand! What is it up to?

The right hand wants to have a comfortable retirement, and to have that, it wishes financial stability.

The right hand wants to have a return of 10% on the savings so by compounding, it can double the money every 7 years. To get that kind of average returns, it cannot stuff the money in a pillowcase, and hope for a miracle. Instead, it has to embrace stocks.

Not being a big risk taker or having the wherewithal to spend time on researching individual stocks, the right hand takes the option of investing in the S&P 500 Index fund. Afterall, it has heard that consistently outperforming and timing the markets is highly improbable. The Vanguard S&P 500 Index Fund (VFINX) had an average return of 11.5% since its inception in 1976, so why not?

Investing money in VFINX is a ticket to a comfortable retirement. It may not be enough for buying a yacht and being anchored off the shores of St. Croix, but it will be good enough to live in a house a mile away from the beach and taking walks in the sand every evening.

So, the right hand goes ahead and invests in the VFINX . On crisp fall afternoons, it gazes in the blue sky and daydreams of money growing.  My right hand is just engaged in following its prime directive to ensure a 10% average return on investments.

But guess what, one of the stocks in VFINX, oops, is Coca-Cola.

The left hand, being health conscious, does not touch a can of Coke with a ten-foot pole, the right hand, by investing in  VFINX, wants humanity to consume Coke as much, and as long as possible.

The right hand wants KO to thrive and prosper.

The right hand urges us to listen to the polar bear and enjoy a few bottles of the chilled Coke every day. Please do that, it says, so I can retire comfortably one day with a longer, and a healthier lifespan, while you, oh well, sugars may not be good for your health, they taste so good.

Right hand’s wish for a healthy growth in the KO is at the expense of fellow human beings. Meanwhile the left hand wishes for a longer, healthy lifespan. It is the battle between good and evil, and neither wants to sit down at the table and negotiate.

There may be a way out of my moral conundrum though. Happily, Coke also has many other uses – kill slugs and snails, clean burned pots and pans, remove rust, and so on. They could become its selling point, and even if people stop drinking coke, Coca-Cola could still be a profitable company.  

If that happens, my left and right hands will shake hands together and live in harmony ever after. One of my many inner struggles will end.

Towards my wellbeing, let us raise our glasses, say a toast, and have a refreshing glass of Coke. Oh the irony…