Blueprint for a Just and Creative Society: Part 1

I like Coke. It is important for me to have brand loyalty to Coke. In 50 years, I can't imagine drinking Pepsi for the life of me. Whether or not I drink Coke or Pepsi is essential to my identity as a person.

Whether I vote Republican or Democrat in the next election, however, is not at all essential to my identity. I could switch sides between Republican and Democrat as the wind blows with no remorse. In fact, the very idea of becoming loyal to the Republicans or Democrats in principle sickens me. I don't think I would be doing my duty to America if I picked sides in that debate.

Now you may think all of the above absurd, but there are very important reasons for these things, which are essential to building a just and creative society. Since the second paragraph is probably more controversial than the first, I'll speak to it first.

There is a man in Idaho by the name of Tom Trail. He's a Republican State congressman in the House representing Latah County, and he's been reelected year after year without fail. Now you may think that, for Idaho, this is to be expected. And condemned. After all, Republicans are consistently wrong on just about every issue. And on many issues, they are so off the deep end in the "wrong" territory that voting for any Republican in any election must be seen as morally reproachable. For the most part, I agree. I wouldn't have voted for Romney if my life depended on it.

But Tom Trail is different. He is a truly compassionate man. He voted against all of the anti-woman legislation, and all of the anti-education legislation. When I was working for my college newspaper, I found him to be the most approachable legislator in Idaho. It may put things in perspective to know that Latah county is, for Idaho, a heavily Democratic county. Obama carried Latah county in the 2008 election. Many of our state congresspeople are Democrats. The fact that a Republican keeps getting elected in a Democratic county year after year is significant.

Our district also elected Walt Whitman to the United States House. He's a Democrat. Now he voted along the party line on every single issue during Obama's first term, when voting along party lines was actually important. The only problem was, he voted along the Republican party line, and against the Democrats. On Every. Single. Issue.

Naturally, it would make me as sick to my stomach to vote for Walt Whitman again as it would to not vote for Tom Trail. Of course, you would probably say that these particular people are the exception and not the rule. You'd be right. But what I'm getting at is this. The fact that Walt Whitman is a member of the Democratic party, or that Tom Trail is a Republican, is a completely ephemeral thing that does not, and should not, carry any significance. I know, there are systemic problems with the Republican party. But even so, there is a possibility that the Republicans will get things right on an issue or two. And that the Democrats will get things wrong. In these instances, it would be immoral to vote Democrat, and moral to vote Republican. In these instances, party loyalty should be instantly ditched.

Why is this so? Because political parties, by their very nature, do stuff that is important. (Or, at least, they should.) This is a key point. On any issue that is important, we must always try to take the position that is ethically right. Loyalty, in this case, must be ephemeral. If we see an issue as fundamentally important, like whether or not women in Pakistan should get an education, getting the issue right is more important than loyalty. Thus, if my friends start to believe that women are inferior and should be ordered around by the government, I should ditch my friends, not my position on the issue.

Contrast this to the Pepsi / Coke debate. It is not at all important that I get my position in issues correct. For instance, if Coke, for whatever reason, decides to add a lemony flavor, my position on the lemon vs. straight Coke debate is ephemeral.

But it goes even deeper than that. I would argue that just as it is our duty to America not to take sides in the Republican / Democrat debate, it is our duty to America to definitely pick sides in the Pepsi / Coke debate. It is our duty to decide whether we will drink Pepsi or Coke, and stick with that decision, probably for the rest of our lives! Besides the obvious issue of the morality of the company, there is a caveat of course: if the cola debate isn't important to us, then there is no need to pick sides. But I will nevertheless argue that we should pick sides in some similar debate, such as debates among the various sporting teams (not my cup of tea), or the Apple / Google debate (though we should ditch Microsoft, for moral reasons), and so on.

I'm not just saying this to be weird; there is a reason for this. And it gets to the topic of this post. Brand loyalty among unimportant things is important, because it is essentially creative. Developing sincere (though not excessively violent) conflict over things that aren't important gives our society the groundwork necessary to build a better future.

Conflict can act as a scrying tool to figure out what is important. I like Coke, as I've said before, because it is a cultural ambassador of America around the world, and because of the connection with Andy Warhol. There may be other legitimate reasons to like Pepsi, but this is why I've chosen Coke. Now if I get in a heated shouting match with someone who likes Pepsi (an experience I truly wish to have someday), I'm sure these reasons will come to light. And because of the shouting match, and because this shouting match is heated, we will do serious cultural work determining what values are important to us as Americans. Coke supports the troops (or says they do). Pepsi may, one day, decide to support the Dalai Lama, who is against all war. In this hypothetical shouting match, the Pepsi guy will probably say, "You goddamned lousy hypocrite, you're a Tibetan Buddhist but you're buying Coke when Pepsi gives money to the Dalai Lama, and Coke funds military people?? Whose side are you on?" At which point I'd hang my head in shame and donate a few bucks to the Tibetan Government in Exile. Then buy another Coke.

See, just because I've taken sides in the Coke / Pepsi debate doesn't mean I have to forget about every other debate. If Pepsi comes out with a solemn, principled stance that they will absolutely not support the Republican anti-woman agenda, and will even give money to reverse it, I will solemnly salute the Pepsi guy as one culture warrior to another and go home to lick my wounds. In fact, that issue is so important to me that I may even buy a Pepsi out of respect. But as long as Coke does not decide to take a morally reprehensible political stance in an issue of importance, I see no principled reason to switch to Pepsi. I can always donate a couple extra bucks to women's groups, or whatever. And then I could write a letter to Coke, or start an online petition. But I'll be drinking Coke while I do it.

The principle at play here is the one of generative conflict (or generative violence if you wish). Every unimportant brand has a constellation of qualities that, if you look deeply at them, present a concrete vision of morality. Other brands have other constellations of other qualities involving the issues of importance. The act of picking a side represents a moral act, because what you are doing is declaring the important things to be important. On the other hand, the act of not picking a side, or rejecting both, is an immoral act, because you are rejecting the idea that these things are important at all. The act of picking both sides doesn't help things, because the identity of you as a person cannot coalesce around something that isn't cohesive.

Let me explain that last point. We as humans are really not multi-taskers. We cannot do two things at once, because we have a single body. And we shouldn't give our body up, because having a cohesive identity allows us to relate to others, which is important should something bad happen. In the West we like to say that when someone is badly hurt, it hurts all of us. In a sense, this is true. However, I tend to think that this isn't exactly the right way of looking at it. It is much worse when something bad happens to someone else if it doesn't hurt us than if it hurts all of us. If it hurts all of us, there is necessarily no one to help us. And if there is no one to help us, we have no responsibility to try and fix the situation. We might as well just let it go. But if it hurts someone else and doesn't hurt us, we have a grave responsibility to act. Conversely, the other person has the responsibility to get help. In this way, there is a possibility that things will get better for everyone.

If nothing bad happens, then we still may as well retain our cohesive identity. We can just go on merrily drinking Coke or Pepsi for the rest of our days without worry. There's no problem at all. And when a bad thing happens to someone, then we're prepared to help.

I'm not saying that we should cling to our identities. We don't want to become high school jocks, always talking about what sport is best, then beating up people who don't think sports are important. We should all have a sense of camaraderie about these things. But I don't think it's a bad thing to have an identity, and to define our identity in such a way as I've described. And in so doing, having some healthy conflict about it is definitely beneficial. There is a difference between fighting and debating, even if the debate is impassioned.

Coke and Pepsi, as brands, offer us a way to form an identity. When we talk about important things, on the other hand, it's better not to form an identity. It's better to just be a good human being and do the right thing. Thus it is precisely because the choice between Coke and Pepsi is not important that actually making the choice is important. The Coke / Pepsi debate, and others like it, are therefore the only debates worth taking sides in.

A Short Philosophical Examination of Love and Crushes

This topic is one that is of central importance to me. I remember one time, in a spiritually turbulent state, I ran away from my home town of Moscow, Idaho. In the midst of all the confusion and pain, I got a moment of beauty. I was treated to a twenty-first birthday dinner, desert, and drinks by two lovely ladies, who had only just met me a day or two earlier.

One of the ladies told me, "A lot of people come to this town and want to teach me something. Do you have anything you'd like to teach me?" Politely, I asked her, "Is there anything you'd like to learn about?" And she said, "Teach me about crushes."

A lot of the insight I believe I've gained into the idea of crushes, and of love, was expressed in that conversation. And at that particularly turbulent time in my life, the importance of insight into these things can't be understated.

The first thing I said was that there is a fundamental distinction between love and crushes. The two are not really the same. In other words, you can relate to the object of your affection as having a crush on her but not loving her, as loving her but not having a crush on her, as having a crush on her and loving her at the same time, or as neither having a crush on her nor loving her. (Note, I'm going to exhibit a little gender bias here and refer to subjects of affection in the male gender and objects in the female gender, not because I think all women are objects, but simply because I am a male and I'm speaking to my own experience, and can't speak to the experience of women, though I'd bet it's similar.)

So if love and crushes are so fundamentally different, in what ways are they different?

For one, love is among the class of things which lasts forever and which can be applied equally to everyone. You can say, truthfully, that you will never stop loving someone. Crushes, on the other hand, are not among that class of things. You cannot say, necessarily, that you will never stop having a crush on someone.

Love is also nonviolent and caring. Crushes, on the other hand, are essentially violent. This is why they're so scary. You feel as though the object of your affection could literally crush you, and that would be perfectly okay, and that if you could just kiss her once, it would be good to go off and die somewhere because your life will be complete because nothing you could possibly experience would ever be even a close approximation to the experience of that kiss.

Love is a nonconceptual thing. It cannot be defined, and therefore cannot be limited in any way. Crushes, on the other hand, are conceptual. In many ways they are the epitome of conceptual thinking. When you have a crush on someone, you conceptualize her to painstaking detail, individually running your mind over every one of her features, everything she ever said, every look she ever gave you, and so on, obsessively, for days upon days. You are extremely attached to the concept of the woman you have a crush on, and this is the essence of what a crush is.

What more can be said about love and crushes? It seems, from the foregoing, that we should strive in every way to adopt the former and avoid the latter. That having a crush on someone is an ethical failure. But this cannot be true, because it is possible to both love and have a crush on someone, and love admits of no intentional ethical failures.

I believe there is a way to ethically have a crush on someone. It involves intimate knowledge of the idea of what a crush is, so one can avoid its pitfalls (anger, tears, frightening behaviors, and so forth). It is perfectly acceptable to be enthralled by the concept of a woman. But, in my opinion, one must have an agnosticism of this concept along with the enthrallment. If you love every minute detail of someone, but remain open to the possibility of details which you do not know—some of which, perhaps, may be frightening or even ugly—then your crush is ethical. And if combined with love, it can even be an enriching and positive experience.

How can something so crushing possibly be enriching and positive? Because crushes have the potential to fundamentally transform the way you see the world. Imagine you are completely enthralled by the concept of a woman. You look at her once and cannot help but skip a breath. You think of any detail of her—the way the carries herself, the way she does her hair, and so on—and are inescapably ravished by the absolute beauty of it. But, you also love the woman, and are willing to accept her for her faults (even if you can't see them yet), willing to withhold violence and even take on violence for her sake, willing to give her what she needs—even when she needs to be free of being a concept, and so forth. And, therefore, you are also willing to be agnostic of her features as a concept, because these features change—and new ones appear, and old ones disappear—and love does not change.

Think of what this implies if you can maintain both the love and the crush, and if the crush never surpasses the love. It means that if some ugly feature of her appears, it may surprise you, but eventually you will be enthralled by it. Suppose you experience paranoia and are into conspiracy theories. Almost always, your crush will inevitably become the center of the conspiracy. You'll think she's a reptilian or something. But you love her, and you still have a crush on her, so inevitably, you become enthralled by the idea that she's a reptilian, and love her all the more for it. And so forth. Any negative feature or character trait that you can possibly think of, if she somehow adopts it in your mind, you eventually become enthralled by it.

Crushes therefore have the power to transform the entire universe from something negative to something positive and worth living for. When combined with love, both the love and the crush can feed off one another, and no matter what negativity you experience, the object of your affection has the power to change it all.

I used to think that the only right way to deal with crushes was to give them up. But this only caused me more pain, because of the emotional sterility of being without crushes, and the humiliation and fear when you inevitably develop another one. The only right way to deal with crushes is, I think, to learn to sincerely love everyone, in case you develop a crush on them.

This attitude is not only desirable, but necessary. Inevitably, you will develop a crush, and if you're not prepared, you'll be completely consumed. It happens all the time: people become emotional wrecks because the person they "loved" (read: "had a crush on") didn't "love" them back. Well, if you love them, in the real sense of the word, it doesn't matter if they "love" you back. Or maybe they marry their crush and end up beating them when they do something they didn't expect. But people who love each other don't hurt each other.

I've had a number of crushes. But I wasn't completely consumed. By any of them. Or, if I was, I recovered. I was lucky. And because of it, my life will never be the same. They are psychicly dangerous things, crushes. They hurt. But learning to navigate the madness can be essentially wholesome. Crushes: ultimately, an experience worth having.

Finding Wonderland

I had a dream one time where a conspiratorial reptilian was harassing me and questioning me, harping on me for quite a long time. Because he was a reptilian, I was completely engaged with him during the confrontation. It was sort of similar to The Scarecrow in Batman Begins, though not quite as frightening in nature.

At one point I simply got tired of the whole thing. So I retreated from the world. The reptilian finally realized this and said, "Ah, it's no use. He's lost in Wonderland." He was right.

What is Wonderland?

We always worry about how fast time flies by us. Years become blurs in the past. Days don't even seem to exist. We can't remember if something happened last month, or three months ago. We have this notion that time goes by faster and faster until we reach the inevitable point of our destruction, having accomplished nothing. The only solution, I think, is to go down the rabbit hole.

I think Phillip Dick was right when he wrote about how we have the capacity to change the course of time. He wrote a story about a few punks who took drugs which changed how time flowed. Now, for me, days go by very slowly. They do not fly by. It is better to do things this way, I think. More fulfilling. And I think everyone has the capacity to slow their time down.

See, usually we get caught up in this notion of becoming financially secure. We want security for our jobs, our homes—we don't even want to entertain the possibility that we'll be without a job or without a home. This may be nice, for a while; we may feel we've accomplished something. But the problem begins when time starts to speed up. Which isn't good.

I think we should lose our jobs and our homes. At least, we should put them at risk. Then we should slow time down until it stops. Once we do that, we will have found Wonderland—a shimmering, still and celestial Wonderland where the Queen of Hearts is nowhere to be found. We will have found the place in the universe outside of time and space. It is the only true world of the forms: where every wished-for thing we ever knew is present, for all eternity, right at our fingertips.

Make no mistake, this is not enlightenment. One can live in the world of time and be enlightened. So Wonderland isn't exactly necessary for us. But don't you think it would be kind of nice to slow things down a little bit? Don't you think it would be pleasant for time to cease slipping through our fingers? I tend to think so, and I think that for our culture, finding Wonderland should be a goal.

The world shouldn't be so boring that we want it to pass us by as quickly as possible. Frankly, I think we are all celestial beings, and a little piece of Wonderland, however we get there, is worth finding.

On the Psychiatrist I Love

I've been visited in dreams by a psychiatrist. She is the perfect psychiatrist.

Not only does she not feel obliged to lie to or manipulate me in any way, but she spontaneously feels compassionate for me. She's willing to give me a hug when I feel upset, because she doesn't feel that compassion is a violation of professional boundaries.

She knows exactly what her drugs do and what they don't do. She knows the science behind them, and because she doesn't have an agenda, I trust what she says.

Once, in the middle of the night, I was shuddering in the fetal position crying out, "I feel so helpless. So powerless." Then she arrived and assured me that, even though she was a psychiatrist, she had my best interests in mind. "I can't trust psychiatrists, they just hurt me. What could you possibly do to help?" I said. "Something along the lines of enlightenment within the very object of pain?" She said, with a wry smile, knowing she'd touched on something I'd told her before about what makes me happy.

I was in tears, so she gave me a hug, then pulled out an eyedropper with liquid. "I'm going to give you something," She said. "What will it do?" I asked. "It's a dynamogen. It will give you power," She said. And I suckled the translucent yellow liquid and fell asleep shortly thereafter.

The first time I met her my reaction was completely spontaneous. I was with a group of people—me, a man with a diagnosis and his friend, and her. The man with the diagnosis demonstrated his diagnosis to the psychiatrist, and she took notes. First, he demonstrated the fact that "mental illness" in itself is a fundamentally creative thing and needn't be medicated. After she scribbled a couple things, he went on to show how freedom and dignity are the most important values for those diagnosed. She jotted a couple of notes and he moved on to the next demonstration.

I had a premonition about it, and I took him aside and told him, "I don't think you should do it. It will send the wrong message." He brushed me off. We went to the roof of the dream-building we were in, and I said, again, "Please don't. This is not the right way to send your message." He ignored me again.

On the roof was a pool, and the man went up to the diving board. Desperate now, I tried to stand in between him and the diving board, but he got around me and dove into the water.

The man did many flips and turns, dancing through the water like ballet. Then he approached an obstacle course, where he was to jump over, then under, then over a set of sail boats, which he did perfectly. Finally he approached the edge of the pool, and the edge of the building, thirty stories up, overlooking the city. Without a second of hesitation, he jumped over the edge and plummeted to his death.

We were all a little shaken, especially the psychiatrist. I looked into her eyes, and they seemed distant. So I wrapped my arms around her. A few seconds later I woke up, with a new archetypal friend and supporter.

This woman is no different than a doctor, psychotherapist, hypnotherapist, or massage therapist. There is no special class for her. She does not exist in a plane above and beyond mere mortals. She doesn't run the show. She is an ally. Every day I make my way through the world, I hope I meet more and more people like her. She's the only psychiatrist I trust right now.