The human experience is extremely complex, this is not news to anyone. Not only are we confronted with pressing and perplexing issues of day-to-day life, but we are also attempting to address much larger, long-term problems, whether we are aware of it or not.
However you want to frame these big problems—intergenerational trauma, existential injustice, or evolutionary growing pains—their true significance is not always obvious to those of us that are caught up in the daily rat-race of survival and “success.”
In fact, most humans don’t even begin to become aware of what really matters in life until they reach a certain level of “success,” in the conventional, materialistic, sense. Often it is not until we achieve our short/medium-term goals, with career, relationships, family, etc., that we finally turn our attention to these more enduring issues of the human condition. Some never do.
This is why people usually become more religious as they get older. It is not simply that they are getting closer to death (although that does tend to put things in perspective). We usually postpone the heavy, timeless problems until we’ve crossed over into middle age because then we’ve already accomplished our youthful goals and, often, realized they weren’t as satisfying as we had hoped.
Religion is how we have approached these deeper aspects of our continuing development, traditionally. But the overly symbolic, and collective, nature of this approach is often distasteful to those of us that grew up immersed in it.
The hyper-rational, individualistic modern mind craves specificity, certainty, and personal choice, and therefore resists the sweeping ambiguity of traditional spirituality.
Traditional belief systems are still very useful, for many people, because they represent patterns of human development over immense time periods. But they can also be restrictive and outdated, in their specific doctrines. And their emphasis on blind faith can be easily exploited for nefarious purposes.
An alternative to this kind of extravagant faith is a deep knowledge of the practical implications of the fundamental beliefs involved, and a broad understanding of the larger patterns within religions, and between them.
Siddhartha Gautama Buddha, for example, provides us with a prime example of the man who had everything, and gave it all up in favor of spiritual development. Legend has it that the once-decedent South Asian prince walked away from his regal status, and everything that it entailed, to pursue a life of quiet contemplation, after seeing a dead body on the side of the road.
Momento Mori—remember you must die— is a core tenet of stoicism, likewise, for the heightened perspective that such a prospect provides. And Seneca the Younger, one of the more renowned (and wealthy) stoics recommended a regular practice of voluntary poverty to understand it is not all bad.
“That poverty is no disaster is understood by everyone who has not yet succumbed to the madness of greed and luxury that turns everything topsy-turvy.”
—Seneca
Friedreich Nietzsche, maybe the most important philosopher of the modern era, also extoled “blessed moderate poverty” proclaiming “he who possesseth little is that much less possessed.” And through one of his most recent (fictional) incarnations as Tyler Durden, that: “it is only when we lose everything that we are free to become anything.”
Jesus Christ, perhaps, said it best with His famous quip that it is “easier for a camel to walk through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.” And He certainly demonstrated the value of spiritual development with His rejection of material comfort in His life, and, of course, His death.
Any and all philosophy, in essence, can be understood through the acknowledgement of impending death, and the contribution that its acceptance brings to a fulfilling life. The father of Western philosophy himself, Socrates, defined philosophy as the “preparation for dying, and death” according to Plato.
The Big Problem
As we look around at the immense distress and dysfunction that permeates modern life it is impossible not to ask ourselves: what the hell went wrong? How could such a safe and prosperous society prove to be so deeply unsatisfying? Or, to put it more succinctly: is this it?”
It is becoming increasingly obvious that something critical to human flourishing is missing in the modern world. It is now undeniably evident that very few of us are ever truly satisfied with our world, despite the material comfort and security that defines it. Or, from a certain philosophical perspective, because of it.
Perhaps you are familiar with the hierarchy of needs first proposed by the American psychologist Abraham Maslow in 1943. Maslow’s hierarchy of needs provides a basic framework of what a “successful” human life involves. At the base are the concrete physiological requirements: food, water, shelter, etc. Working up the pyramid we have social, and sexual, criteria. And at the top we find the psycho-spiritual elements of “self-actualization” and “transcendence” that are much more difficult to define.
These upper levels are ideally what we engage as we become older and more established in life. As we mature and achieve our materialistic goals, we find enough of our basic needs met to turn our attention on the bigger, ‘higher,’ questions of existence. Death being chief among them.
The fact that we all die, no matter how well we’ve established our material circumstances, throws all of that expensive establishment in a very different light. Are we all really working our asses off day to day just to watch everything that we’ve worked for be slowly ripped away from us as we succumb to the degradations of time?
This is a big problem. Fortunately for us, it is not a new problem. It is the defining dilemma of the human experience from the very first moment that we adapted the ability to imagine the future and make predictions. And, as such, we have developed symbolic traditions and belief systems to address it.
Unfortunately, we have also developed the rational and materialistic aspects of ourselves to the extent that said symbols and beliefs now appear unbearably quaint, and misguided. So our rational-material abundance slowly begins to feel like a cast, or better yet, a coffin, from which the living spirit of humanity will never be free.
Ultimately, there is no amount of rational-materialism that can contain the enormity of the human spirit, however. It will surge and burst through even the slightest crack in the superficial cocoon that we spin for ourselves. Which, of course, has always been the case. And is why the species has taken to methodically carving a way out, especially over these last 2,000 years or so.
Before we move on to this fairly recent development, however, let’s take a moment to define what we mean by “spirit.” It turns out that the ability to imagine the future is not always pleasant, as we have already established. We are able to envision our own mortality, with all of the darkness and distress that entails. But if we can summon the courage to look a little further past our inevitable demise, then we are able to catch sight of something that makes all the painful uncertainty worthwhile: our ultimate potential.
So when we speak of the human spirit we are speaking of the collective potential that can’t be seen with Earthly eyes, as it has not yet manifested materially. Out of the nearly infinite possible permutations/configurations of human consciousness there are a select few that are more than likely. And out of those there are even fewer that transform the species almost beyond recognition. Those are only possible, obviously, at the expense of the others. Our current one included.
“Spirit is the life that itself cuts into life: with its own torment it increases its own knowledge. Did you already know that?”
—Nietzsche
Potential is the reward for a sacrifice of (materialistic) security. It is the collective adaptivity that keeps the species improving. It is counter-intuitive, and inevitable. And it always starts at the level of the individual.
An interesting observation here is that humanity is constantly in flux, despite the apparent option to “cash out” and settle into a (relatively) stable state for perpetuity. This option is tempting, no doubt, but ultimately unrealistic for a species that is defined by curiosity and creation.
Our deepest instincts, besides those for short-term survival, have evolved to drive us on to higher and higher states of complexity. Which is to say, for better or worse, that they are inherently contradictory.
Our innate desires and intuitions have evolved through competing imperatives, from our very origins. Specifically, as a result of our omnivorous diet. But more generally, and adaptively, in the way that we’ve balanced our instincts for survival, sex, and freedom.
As omnivorous mammals we’ve had to evolve around the central dichotomy of scraping by on consistent, accessible, forms of subsistence, versus gambling on the discovery of large caloric windfalls. This fundamental divergence of survival strategies has shaped our development from the very beginning and has come to be known by evolutionary psychologists as the “omnivore’s dilemma.”
This deep divergence is most easily viewed through the evolutionary lens, and it is best expressed through the controlled chaos of humankind at large. It is a universal paradox with significance beyond our fleeting species, objectively, and it is best captured through our religious traditions, subjectively.
“Man is a thing to be surpassed.”
—Nietzsche
No species survives forever, no matter how effective their strategies. Just as every individual member of every distinct species must eventually confront their personal mortality, so too each species as a whole will eventually face extinction.
What’s so special about ours is that we can apply our unique powers of prediction to anticipate this unavoidable eventuality well before it appears. It is this anticipation of our own inevitable demise that sets us apart and enables us to overlook and transcend the demands and desires of the material moment.
This ‘spiritual’ transcendence allows us to make priorities, and decisions, that will outlast the fluctuating impulses of momentary pleasure. In other words: delayed-gratification. This transcendence is not, itself, entirely counter-instinctual or unpleasurable. Pursuing “higher” states of existence is not simply a matter of self-denial, it is the denial of certain aspects of ourselves in favor of other attributes that are (likely) more rewarding. Like individual autonomy.
We will circle back to this critical distinction shortly, for now let us be content to say that we are not prioritizing based on the infantile conception of “good vs evil.” A more accurate assessment of our efforts would be “conscious vs unconscious,” but that will require more explanation. For now let’s just say “new vs old.”
That said, “old” does not equal “evil,” (neither does “unconscious” for that matter). As a matter of fact, we cannot even approach our transcendent potential without acknowledging the ancient inheritance that it is built on. And dusting off these, somewhat archaic artifacts of our collective history is the way that we bring them (back) into consciousness, and then apply intention.
The truth is that we are always changing, whether we acknowledge it or not. Generations are born and adapted, and generations deteriorate and die. In the meantime it is every individual’s right, and obligation, to assign meaning to their existence and contribute to the advancement of the whole. Fortunately, we don’t have to do it alone.
The Last Adaptation
Extinction is certain, as we have already established. What’s not so certain is how. A sweeping plague, a state-sized meteor, an errant solar flare, etc. could all be the kind of thing that snuffs us out for good. Or, much more likely, the current incarnation of intelligent life could be eradicated by the next one, just as we did to our hominid predecessors.
What if we create a new form of intelligence that outgrows and outlives us? Or, perhaps, we ourselves adapt at such a pace that the species becomes unrecognizable in a few generations? Maybe we don’t even need to directly interact with this “higher” form of intelligence for it to profoundly affect us. Maybe it is so powerful that the mere implication of it could radically change the mortal beings implicated. Maybe its effect is so strong that this initial effect begins thousands of years before it actually manifests. Maybe this has already happened?
As soon as you admit that the species is adapting, you are contending with an unavoidable paradox. Considering that “species” is a definition of established criteria, and “adaptation” means an inevitable change to that definition. Perhaps incremental, perhaps cataclysmic. We’ll call this the ‘rationalist’s dilemma.’
Imagine that there is an objective intelligence. Call it what you want: extraterrestrial, artificial, “ubermench…” God. Whatever you call it, assume that it is superhuman. It doesn’t even have to exist yet, the fact that it might eventually is enough for us to take Its perspective. And from this heightened perspective it is impossible not to recognize that the human “species” is not a fixed quantity.
All biological species are adapting, all the time. Humans are just so good at it we get to talk about it as it happens. We have words like “science” and “culture,” for evolution at the collective level, and “education” and “learning” at the individual level. An interesting thing about this personal adaptation is that one of the first things that we learn, no matter the subject, is how little we actually know.
“The only true wisdom is in knowing that you know nothing.”
—Socrates
The defining experience of education is found through unlearning all of the faulty preconceptions that you had going in. Or, in other words, the key to becoming (more) objective is the recognition that you are indeed subjective, and have been all of your life. And this revelation cuts deep.
“The charm of knowledge would be small indeed, were it not that there is so much shame to be overcome on the way to it.”
“Life is that which must overcome itself again and again.”
—Nietzsche
In order to learn and develop as an individual our previous self-conception, or identity, must be recognized and overcome. Our ignorant, idealized self must be sacrificed en route to our highest potential. In fact, this comprehensive ‘self-overcoming’ is the critical element of human evolution. Or “education,” as we’ve come to call it.
The first step toward transcendent knowledge is the sacrifice of our blissful ignorance. And that sacrifice is often painful, as our youthful identities are always deeply entangled with this ignorance. Overcoming this ignorant self-image is so painful, in fact, that it is traditionally associated with actual death.
“If you see a Buddha on the road, kill Him.”
—Siddhartha Guatama Buddha.
This symbolic death is painful, no doubt, but it is not final. And what is “resurrected” as a properly educated human is a much freer, more “enlightened” form of intelligent life. In the same way that our species’ successor on this planet will be no less intelligent, or autonomous, only less human.
Another crucial point is that this kind of “death” is not only desirable, but also inevitable. It’s a kind of identity crisis, brought on by exposure to disconfirming information, in which the idealized self can no longer be rationally supported. Usually around middle age.
At this critical stage of life most people are forced to re-assess who they are. Or, better yet, who they thought they were. Strong, beautiful bodies begin to sag and ache, and sharp minds begin to dull and dread. It is really only excess money that can support an overblown ego through this stage, and even that has diminishing returns.
Seneca had a famous theory of “asymmetry” when it came to quality of life, that underpinned his promotion of voluntary poverty. The basic thesis is that the more that you have, materially, the more you have to lose. And even the slightest step back from your peak lifestyle would be felt as devastating loss. Everyone’s fortunes fluctuate, of course, no matter how fortunate they are, meaning that this kind of devastation is unavoidable, and voluntary inoculation against loss is preferable.
“We only lose what we cling to.”
—Buddha
Money can solve most Earthly problems, admittedly, but death is not one. What money can do, certainly, is numb and mask the aging process. But ultimately the slow humiliation of mortality will always rear its ugly head. And as we have already established, the self-overcoming induced by the awareness of impending death is the best impetus for adaptation. Perhaps this is why Christ said that it was so difficult for a rich man to make it to heaven (but not impossible).
And it is not just money that can delay this adaptive process. Pride, often considered the deadliest sin, can also retard personal development. After all, how can you learn anything if you already know everything? The problem, again, is the devastating asymmetry that is produced, as it is (nearly) impossible to live as a human without absorbing new information.
“Do not be over-righteous, neither be over-wise— why destroy yourself?”
—Ecclesiastes 7:16
The flip side of this point is that we are all being destroyed, by time and chance, no matter how cautious we may be.
“I have seen something else under the sun: The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favor to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all.”
—Ecclesiastes 9:11
Our only recourse, therefore, is an acceptance of the inevitability of our destruction, through consistent meditation on mortality. And the conscious decision to live anyway.
“Pain is certain, suffering is optional.”
—Buddha
Counter-intuitively, once we have accepted the worst-of-all-cases, we are capable of embracing the best. We can begin to perceive beyond our petty, superficial, temporary, selves.
“Did you ever say yes to a pleasure? oh my friends, then you also said yes to all pain. all things are linked, entwined, in love with one another.”
—Nietzsche
This state of optimistic innocence is (likely) what Buddha meant by “enlightenment,” what Nietzsche called Amor Fati—love of fate—and what Jesus Christ taught as the “Kingdom of Heaven.”
“God’s kingdom is coming, but not in a way that you will be able to see with your eyes. People will not say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or, ‘There it is!’ because God’s kingdom is within you.”
—Jesus Christ (Luke 17:21)
We all must confront the terror of death, at some point. And our natural instinct is to avoid this confrontation for as long as possible. The counter-intuitive wisdom of humanity’s best and brightest offers a new perspective. And with it, a new potential.
Contemplation of our temporary subjectivity creates a consciousness of the eternal and objective. Not that we will all experience it directly, necessarily, but just that its existence is possible, hypothetically.
Therefore, the consciousness of our unavoidable destruction provides the unexpected opportunity to consider what might survive this physical demise. And with it the gradual awareness that some of that paradoxical potential is ours to pursue.
Denial and diversion from this mortal inevitability does nothing to change it, and only drives the dilemma into the unconscious to wreak havoc in the dark. Acknowledgment and acceptance, however, provides the opportunity to not only find peace and presence, but to become active participants in the natural process.
Once we have consciously accepted our fate as subjective beings our consciousness can then outgrow the childish illusion and expand into the elements of ourselves that are (more) objective. After all, at the end of the day, what else would we be?
This increase in objectivity is the path to active, autonomous, involvement in the continuing education of our intelligent species.
This scientific approach to our own evolution enables a new type of adaptation we might call “artificial selection.” Assuming, of course, we have fully absorbed and internalized the significance of ‘falsifiability.’
Science is a powerful tool in transcending the human (all too human) instincts underpinning much of our restrictive subjectivity, but its principles are, themselves, built on the primally omnivorous instincts of novelty seeking that prevented us from settling into the kind of comfortable and confining niches that define most of our mammalian relatives.
Our most defining feature is this primal, morbid, curiosity, that draws our attention away from the comfort and safety of the moment, through the purging fire of our very extinction, and on to a re-definition of intelligence. What made us human is what guarantees we won’t remain human for long.
The harsh definition of our individual lifespans is the price of our indefinite potential as a species. And it is a potential that we can all tap into, as individuals, if we are capable of paying the price.
This transcendent potential is the ongoing purview of philosophy, stretching back through the eons. And is the ultimate solution to the fleeting subjectivity of life.
Every religious tradition offers insight into how this higher potential is to be approached, and most humans find themselves choosing such an approach once their tragically ethereal nature can no longer be ignored. The obvious questions, at this stage, are dual: why choose only one, and why wait?
“The secret is that only that which can destroy itself is truly alive. Life that just happens in and for itself is not real life; it is real only when it is known.”
― Carl Jung