Clarity

Clarity is a lie.

We search for it and we strive for it, but we know, deep down, true clarity will never be achieved. In fact, the more we search for clarity, the more elusive it becomes. Clarity cannot be achieved for a few reasons. For any issue, there are infinite observations that we do not have the time or ability to make. Additionally, there is the error term from the unpredictable world and our imperfect mind that can be so encompassing that many of our choices become pure gambles.

Philosophers have known it for millennia. Socrates said, “The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.” Physicists have found natural barriers (i.e. the Heisenberg uncertainty principle). Economists have whatever is on the other hand. We all have regret and wonder about the road not taken. Not to mention, we have a tendency to see greener grass on other sides of fences.

Still, every so often, I run into people who claim they have clarity. They come in many forms. There’s the businessman who claims he knows how to make money and which way the market is going. There’s the politician who is certain they can fix society with a law. There’s the born-again who claims they have found bliss in an unapparent higher power. There’s the lover who thinks that his spouse, parent or child are the greatest ever. The one I deal with the most, as of late, is the person that claims they love and are perfectly suited for their vocation.

When we meet these charlatans that peddle clarity, we role our eyes. Are they trying to fool us into thinking they have insight or are they trying to fool themselves? How on earth, when the fog is so incredibly thick, can they claim they can see for miles? The world is so vast with so many opportunities, perspectives and choices. How can they claim they have chosen correctly?

We assume they are either tricksters, deluded, naïve or arrogant. And we are right, they are. Still, they anger us. They remind us how frustrating the world is and, because of our lack of clarity, a small part of us wonders if they are right.

But we should remember that lack of clarity is not solely a curse. Lack of clarity also leads to possibilities. The future is unknown and so we experience wonderful and exciting things like hope and anticipation. The world is still puzzle to be solved with things to learn every day. The open-mind accepts that it does not know everything, but it is willing to try. In fact, a supposedly clear world can only come from a narrow mind that arrogantly thinks that it has already reviewed every possibility.

Sequoyah

The Cherokee had no writing system until Europeans arrived in America. Yet, the Cherokee did not get their writing from the Europeans exactly. There was a Cherokee named Sequoyah who observed Europeans using writing. He then went home and developed a written language for his tribe. It caught on and now is widely used among them.

Sequoyah had no idea how writing worked. In fact, what he developed is quite different from how Western written languages work. We use letters and combinations of letters for each sound we make. Sequoyah developed an 85 character alphabet for each syllable. Its different, but it functions.

What is interesting about Sequoyah is that his invention of written language breaks down ideas we have about learning and development. When we learn about a language, techniche, religion, philosophy or anything really, history comes with it. Often we learn the evolution of where that idea came from and how it developed over time. For instance, we learn that the Egyptians first came up with beer and then that practice spread through world cultural like a rash. If any culture happened to have beer, it must have meant they had Egyptian influence. An Egyptian must have taught that non-Egyptian how to brew.

Sequoyah teaches us that people can spontaneous come up with practices through mere aspiration and not solely through being taught. The difference is subtle, but important.

There once was a time when man had no language. Then, a few cavemen started grunting at each other. Does this mean that all language is derived from this first group? No, a rival tribe could have seen them grunt, gone home and tried doing it themselves. They could have invented a completely different language with different syntax that is unrelated. The idea of language can be spread without the practice of language.

This can apply to a number of things. A person can see a weapon, a farming tool, a boat, a dance or a painting. They can realize it is possible to create those things and can go home and do it. Sure, it’s more difficult to do something on one’s own, but it is possible.

This is relevant in that we do not necessarily need to learn from teachers. To be a good writer, musician or painter, one doesn’t need to mimic the greats. We can find our own paths that may, just may, be better or more interesting than the commonly known method.

Being Important

I went to a wedding last weekend up in New York and saw an old friend who flew in from Japan. Since I last saw him, he had become an ultra-devoted Buddhist. He explained to me that his life was completing a seven-year Buddhist cycle.

Seven years ago, because of his interest in hip-hop, he came to New York. There, he became quite depressed and tried to kill himself. He went home to Japan and was institutionalized. He did some low-stress jobs for a while and then decided to take a trip to South-East Asia. I met him in Laos about five and a half years ago. I had planned on moving to Tokyo with my friend, the future groom of the above-mentioned wedding, in a few months so we exchanged information. When the future groom and I arrived in Japan, I contacted my Japanese friend and we hung out quite a bit. He took us to several of his rap shows in west Tokyo. Later on, he met my landlady who offered him a place to stay in one of her apartments in south Tokyo. The future groom and I left Japan, but my Japanese friend stayed in south Tokyo and made several important connections there. These connections eventually led in him getting a music contract with Universal.

So, as he explained to me, the events of the past seven years (New York, hip-hop, his career, south-Tokyo, the groom, Buddhism and me) were coming together and a new cycle was about to begin.

Of course, I think this is all a big load of crap. Anyone can look at their life and imagine patterns and anyone can play a game of “what if” and look at moments of their life as pivotal. Yes, yes, if we hadn’t done things exactly as we had, they would have been different. Amazement in this self-evident statement presupposes that alternate outcomes would not have been better or that life does not have a stabilizing effect.

What is more interesting is that I am considered important by someone for not really doing much.

Many of us try to be important. We try to get jobs that affect the world and produce change. Ultimately, though, nearly all of us feel that we do not make a different. Teachers wonder if their students learn anything or if their knowledge will help their lives. Beauocrats feel like mere cogs. Aid workers feel impotant compared to greater forces. We know that if we died, our jobs would probably continue on without us. A different doctor would do the transplant. A different mason would lay the brick. A different middle-man would push the paper.

Where we really make a difference is in our personal life. Our parents, siblings, old friends and microorganisms that live off of us would notice we were gone and we would not be replaceable. They would carry the weight of our absence forever. To them we are important.

The importance that we strive for every day, we never really achieve. Conversely, the importance that we are born into or come upon by accident through our day-to-day activities is so incredibly heavy and lasting.