I think that whether we like it or not, disconnect is the fundamental theme of our lives. We are undeniably disconnected, and at certain points in our lifetime (sometimes happy, usually sad) we briefly reconnect and it is a deeply emotional experience.
Tonight I saw a girl no older than myself full-on dead in the street. I’m listening to the sirens rushing towards her as I write this.
I don’t know what we’re disconnected from. I could venture a guess, but I’m still trying to feel it out. Standing in complete darkness, tracing the contours of the thought.
A moment many of us reconnect is when someone close to us dies, and/or we are close to death. Faced with the stark reality of how fragile life is, we are reminded to cherish every moment with those we love, because there is a chance we could never see them again.
Cliché right? Why is that?
It’s a powerful universal feeling, and people always express it under the circumstances. But inevitably the disconnect returns, and there is nothing you can do to prevent it. Raising the original question:
What are we disconnected from? And if the disconnect returns swiftly, even after the most striking moments, how is it affecting the way we live?
March 30, 2008 at 12:14 am |
I believe we are disconnected from the divine existing in us. Spinoza referred to the emptiness in us as our”horror vacui,” our horrendous fear of vacancy.
We like to occupy–fill up–every empty time and space. We want to be occupied. And if we are not occupied, we easily become preoccupied; that is, we fill the empty spaces before we have even reached them.
It is very hard to allow emptiness to exist in our lives. Emptiness requires a willingness not to be in control, a willingness to let something new and unexpected happen. It requires trust, surrender, and openness to guidance. God wants to dwell in our emptiness.
All human beings are alone. Each of us is unique, and our aloneness is the other side of our uniqueness. The question is whether we let our aloneness become loneliness or whether we allow it to lead us into solitude. Loneliness is painful; solitude is peaceful. Loneliness makes us cling to others in desperation; solitude allows us to respect others in their uniqueness and create community.
In solitude our hears can grow in love, which we can share in community– where we connect.
H.N.
March 30, 2008 at 9:48 pm |
holy fuck
March 31, 2008 at 4:25 am |
H.N.,
You have given me a lot to think on and I want to thank you for your amazing comment. I wish I could respond with equal thought and care but it’s going to take me more than a passing moment to think everything over.
Questions about your statement: “God wants to dwell in our emptiness.”
- Is this stated from a perspective believing in God?
- If so, is God dwelling in our emptiness a good thing? You say, “It is very hard to allow emptiness to exist in our lives. Emptiness requires a willingness not to be in control, a willingness to let something new and unexpected happen … God wants to dwell in our emptiness.” Judging from this I would assume your answer is no, but…
- If your definition of God is non-traditional the above question becomes more complex. As Alan Watts said, “The religious idea of God cannot do full duty for the metaphysical infinity.”
- If we are disconnected from the divine within us, and God (the divine) wants to dwell in our emptiness, in our disconnection are we preventing ourselves from dwelling in our solitude? (Does that make us God, as Watts, also believed?) If that is your understanding of the problem, I follow what you’re saying, but I want to be sure.
March 31, 2008 at 4:45 pm |
Two things. First of all, from a deistic perspective, the characterization DP refers to of the almighty as a stop-gap who fills holes that our earthbound existence can’t is a pretty depressing one. If you believe in God, surely this is not his role.
Secondly, as this entry suggests, the disconnect, if you want to put it that way (it’s notoriously difficult to quantify these kinds of things in an imperfect language like this one), is a not only a part of life but a necessary part. In the same way that a truth that stands unopposed is a dead dogma, a saturated existence, while it may seem complete, is actually somehow missing something; it precludes moments like the one that sparked this discussion here. We need our sense of disconnect for context when things like these happen in our lives in order to give them any real meaning at all.
March 31, 2008 at 5:04 pm |
My belief? My experience?
I believe in God yet struggle to find that connection on a regular basis – through fault of my own.
Only in solitude can we slowly unmask the illusion of our possessiveness and discover in the center of our own self that we are not what we can conquer, but what is given to us.
In solitude we can listen to and connect with the divine.
In solitude we discover that being is more important than having, and that we are worth more than the results of our efforts.
In solitude we recognize that the love we express is part of a greater love. In solitude we become aware that our worth is not the same as our usefulness.
“… in our disconnection are we preventing ourselves from dwelling in our solitude?”
I believe so. Since the connection is only possible in that lonely place, our not going there in the first place prevents us from connecting with the divine residing there.
Going there and periodically dwelling there does not make us God but will help us connect with the divine within us.
Defining God? Too grand a task for me!
My experience and understanding of God? Traditional it is not.
It is continuously shaped – whenever I retreat to that lonely place and come to realize that God is already there, waiting for me.
H.N.
April 2, 2008 at 4:55 am |
JD you are correct, but I don’t think you’re fully right.
While we can never completely shed disconnect, and it does provide context, you have made me realize that it is the level of disconnect I’m exploring.
A saturated existence definitely seems like a “be careful what you wish for” scenario, but are we more disconnected than we should be?
I would argue the answer is yes.
April 4, 2008 at 12:26 am |
Some insight from Catherine Keller:
“Alan Watts said one of the prime hallucinations of Western culture–and I would add of the paradigm of dominance–is the belief that who you are is a skin-encapsulated ego. And just as the skin defends you from the dangers of the physical world, the ego defends you from the dangers of the psychic world. That leads to what I have termed the separative self. The etymology of the word separate is very revealing. It comes from the combination of the Latin for “self,” se, meaning “on one’s own,” and parare, “to prepare.” For this culture it is separation which prepares the way for selfhood.
There are many problems with the belief that separation prepares the way for self-hood, not the least of which is that it doesn’t match reality. We know that on a physical level one is not ‘one one’s own,’ that we have to breathe, eat, excrete, and that even on a molecular scale our boundaries are permeable. The same is true physically. Life feeds off life, Whitehead says, and if we cut ourselves off from the way we psychically feed each other, the texture of our lives becomes very thin and flat. When we live in a state of defense, there is no moment-to-moment feeding from the richness of the endless relations in which we exist.”