Vital Signs: Conclusion

Ease and Effort

We have run many tests. Our findings are generally discouraging. Being full of dismay and despair or being empty of concern all make entertainment appealing. Entertainment takes your time and money and gives you rest. There are a great many things of which to be conscious. Entertainment often pushes out the more demanding, more unpleasant (and yet ultimately beneficial) possibilities. It is easier to be bored than to be imaginative. It is easier to be distracted than to be anxious. It is easier to be despairing than to be hopeful. It is easier to be tired than to be active. Entertainment subsidizes these weaknesses.

Giving in to our desire for ease is not always good for us! At times, we undermine our own interests this way. A person suffering from the onset of hypothermia supposes he will warm up if only he would lie down. He curls up in the snow and first feels relieved (Yes, this is better. The wind cannot chap me here.), then numb (I do not feel cold; I must be comfortable.), then nothing at all. In this instance, listening to our desires has a deadly consequence. The outcome of our love of entertainment is not deadly, but it is certainly dire.

I anticipate as we draw our examination to a close, you may be tempted to seek a second opinion. You may disagree with my approach and may be critical of my findings. It seems I have a bias towards personal expenditure. The imagination takes effort. Self-reflection takes effort. Preservation requires effort. Surrender is effortless and I belittled it. It would seem I am generally prescribing a regime of exercise.

"What is laudable about effort?" you wonder. "Is not effortlessness the sign of grace? Peace and repose, to be unsettled--are these not goals in everyone's heart? You make it seem despicable to rest. But where you see an idler, I see a victor—one who has earned repose through winning the daily battle of endurance."

My critic, you make a good point. Peace and rest are our homes, where we long to return to after embarking into the world. You make a good point about needing rest, but has your victor earned absolute rest? To be contented with a full stomach and empty head: is this the peace you seek? I ask you: is the daily battle of endurance people wage with the world the only battle they are involved in? Does not belligerence describe a great many of the relationships a person has, not on a specific day to day basis, but viewed minute by minute and year by year? Opposition is everywhere. We war with our world, our peers, and ourselves. Life contains struggles for more than bodily continuance. There are other conflicts in which we are engaged. Why, after winning the battle for bodily sustenance, do you refuse to fight for the rest of today?

Toiling is essential to life. It defines our adult day-to-day existence. Work is a process of emptying ourselves in order to be filled again--filled with food, clothing, and shelter. But is that all we are working for? Are those the only cavities created by living? Does not this frustrating world, these frustrating contemporaries, and our frustrating selves leech us daily of more than just our blood and sweat? Do not intangible substances seep out of us as well? Do we not drip hopes and dreams, ideals and aspirations? What are we putting in their place? Is the trade a fair one? Are we getting something in return worth as much as our limited time and lessening bodies?

I grant exertion appears unseemly. Many long for the white rather than the blue collar. "Labor is so beastly. Oxen must push and plod. Are we to lower ourselves to the level of oxen? No. If we can earn the fruits of toil without struggling, then we will. If we can consume the fruits of toil in leisure and repose, then we will. Life will be devoid of strife altogether and will, therefore, be completely noble," the critic observes.

My critic makes another good point. Clean fingers present nicely. I must inquire though: is a drain noble? I know it sounds absurd, but I am not jesting. You look at the ox and find offense. Must you not look at the drain and find inspiration? It takes and takes and takes without any effort at all. It is more automatic than automatic. There are no moving parts. It need only be still and wait for others to pour into it. It does its job by doing nothing. It does nothing, tries nothing, and wills nothing--it only receives. Is this object not your idol? Is this not the god of your freedom, that which does nothing but exists to be served, to having everything done to it?

Please consider this: if we know our lives here are coming to an end, should not we want to make the best of them? Can we honestly tell ourselves on our last day we have made the best of our lives when we spent them one third in rest, one third in doing something we must to live the next day, and one third in doing nothing at all--in having something done to you by entertainers and their bankrollers? Is this the reward you seek for your labor: the liberty to be amused? Your individuality is born out of the distinct uniqueness of your experience. In freedom, you seek experience and shape yourself. Judging from what you seek, you want to make yourself nothing more than a vessel for the tepid pleasure of being entertained. How does that sit with you? Does it churn your stomach as it does mine?

I submit to you that we desperately need to imagine! I submit to you that we desperately need to act for ourselves and know what and who we are! Do these duties for yourself in a way that does not neglect others. Do these duties for others in a way that does not neglect yourself. Thereby, you will guarantee your commitment to communion with them. To give to yourself without concern for others is a subtle suicide. To give to others without concern for yourself is a misguided martyrdom. One can only rightly empty oneself, to will to become nothing, for that which is everything. No human or grouping of humans can ever be everything for another human. At most, he, she, or they can only be everything worthwhile for another, not what can be of utmost worth for all. The distance between the two cannot be traversed.

Wealth and entertainment are to be consumed. In a culture that primarily defines its constituents as consumers, is it surprising there is so little to be said in favor of giving and creating? Could there be a better treatment for this disease around us than to try to construct something that neither seeks profits nor keeps others from acting? Construction is difficult, but it is fulfilling.

I have no issue with a movement towards the external. I am not suggesting the self is a bottomless wellspring of originality and purpose. To look outside of oneself is at times needful, at times delusional, and at times salvational. The problem is with the intention behind this outward-seeking. Boredom, lethargy, and anxiety are organic consequences of being human. Entertainment seeks to relieve us from kinds of suffering, but suffering is often needed. It is dangerous for people to be numb. Without pain, they do not understand the consequences of their actions and the truth of their being. Pain is a communication about bodily conditions that are more worthwhile than the cessation of pain is. The same is true of interior suffering. If it is educational, it can be empowering. Suffering can inspire a person to become more human, to be more of what she is and identify less with what she is not.

My questions are harsh, but perhaps they do not apply to you. I do not intend to be cruel or unsympathetic. I do not deny for a moment that all people who dare to exert themselves need to rest—even regularly. Rest is earned. But you who have not tried to exert yourself, why do I always find you napping? "I am exhausted," you say. You do not know the half of it! Lack of activity can make one tired just as activity will. A paraplegic, if he miraculously could feel his legs again, would know them to be tired. Is it not the same with you? Is not your exhaustion from inactivity rather than activity? Does not atrophy describe your condition? When have you last taken your death seriously and, as a result, truly tried to live for something serious or die to something worthless? Day after day you are closer to the end. Would it frighten you more if I told you that you are daily closer to being forgotten by the world? Still, you who have not worked are taking a vacation. What a perilous existence!

One does not treat cancer, but treats the cancer patient. I do not feign to have a regime for us all. But you, my reader and my patient, I cannot see inside you. You must examine yourself in light of these findings. I leave you with a final question: are you sick?

Growth: The Psychology of A Lullaby

Allow me to take inventory now that we have traveled so far. We have observed that childhood and adulthood are opposed when viewed as temporal phenomena. A person of thirty is no longer a child in the sense that he has become too much, had too many opportunities to be considered a child. Yet, if we reflect upon ourselves we noted that childhood and adulthood are less definitively related. Neither memories nor dreams entail compatibility or opposition between being a child and being an adult. In this light, childhood and adulthood behave like qualitative states of being. Qualities are always more elusive than quantities and their definitions tend to be suspect. Much thought needs to be exerted to distinguish qualities. One never knows them for certain, but rather gets a taste for them.

Being obligated to meditate further on aging as a quality, let us try to differentiate further. What are some of the commonplace understandings of our subject? A child is ignorant, prone to self-gratification, and free from responsibility. An adult is rational, prone to self-sacrifice, and burdened by duties. Children are dreamers. Adults are realists. A child will cry when he does not get his way. An adult has learned to control his emotions in disagreeable circumstances. Children are clumsy. Adults are careful. A child is helpless. An adult is autonomous. A child needs help even to go to sleep. An adult can go to sleep on her own.

Is there no common ground amongst the prejudices? Why is it that when we looked at a given man's life we saw subtle transitions but when we consider conventional wisdom all we see are contrasts once more? Could it be that conventional wisdom is propounded by adults, a party interested in its own image?

From our list, it appears that childhood is inferior to adulthood. What could a child have that is superior to her older counterpart? I must interject and suggest that the child has a great gift in innocence. The pride in adults thinks it is better to be credited than to be blameless. They (and I with them) need to admit that it is always better to be blameless than to be blamed and often better to be blameless than to be credited.

To be innocent, one must not have done something. Children are innocent for at least two reasons: (1) they do not do the same sort of things adults do and (2) they do not know as much as adults do. With increased autonomy comes greater trust--trust in personal and professional relationships. Children, being largely dependent, are saved from the opportunity to do wrong. With increased autonomy comes greater awareness--awareness of morals and mortals (i.e., one's contemporaries). Children, being largely dependent, are saved from the knowledge of doing wrong. It is the childishness of children, so frequently used to disparage adults, that allows them to be so innocent. It is the maturity of adults, so frequently used to commend children, that allows them to be so often guilty.

Childhood has its weaknesses and dangers. Conventional wisdom speaks to those. It is a different sort of dangerous to get older though, and yet we must get older.

These hands that type were once too small and confusedly operated to communicate through words. God willing, they will someday be too contorted and perhaps confusedly operated to communicate through words again. I pass through this process. We all do. Yet, the hands remain our own and the same. How are they the same? In a distant way, like the first prototypes of technologies relate to today's state of the art? Or intimately like an old pine floor with a new coat of wax on it?

When a baby is displeased, is crying and unsettled, a loving parent takes her up into her arms. She walks with her child, dips her shoulders, and rhythmically rocks her. The baby is lulled by the expectations of the movement and their certain fulfillment. Now the move to the left; now the move to the right. If need be, she whispers sweet shushes and reaffirms serenity with words. The baby knows both only by their calming affect. Now the baby sleeps and the parent is pleased. Finally, the struggling child rests. But--what if the child wanted food? What if the child had soiled herself? What if she was pained by the onset of a fever? The benign, dreamy face masks the original problem.

Can an adult be lulled to sleep? I concede that he or she is often unsettled and would be well-pleased by a lullaby, but it is impossible. An adult is too sophisticated, too self-conscious, to be tricked by the gentle whispers of nonsense. A man or woman cannot easily be taken up into the arms of a loving parent. The cause of distress if far more complex, weighty, and intransigent--in a word, far more adult.

What about alternatives? Is there no way to rock an adult to sleep in a metaphorical way? Have they absolutely outgrown being coddled, or could there be a more sophisticated form? Is there now a different sort of rocking device--a surrogate parent?

A common experience among people transitioning from dependence to independence is persistent doubt. A person develops, matures, grows, physically and mentally, but not without restriction. Diet, gravity, and self-awareness all hinder the process of growth. A young man or women is frequently riddled by self-doubt. An undercurrent surges beneath the placid surface. Is this a good way to make a living? Is this what I was meant to do? Where am I going? An adult is bound to tear up and kick if they reflect much longer on this uncertain state. Somewhere they know there are needs going unmet, but it would be so difficult to meet them. It would be much easier to be distracted. Now our young man or woman wants to be put to sleep, in the disarmed reality of unconsciousness.

Give a person a routine, and he will be calmed. He has his definition; he knows the floor he is at. He thinks of himself as a worker. There is a position on his identification badge that fixes him in place. The rhythm of adulthood mollifies him. A morning cup of coffee is his new pacifier. The bumps along the commute provide the rocking motion. Now the acceleration to gain access to the needed lane; now the deceleration to abide by the traffic light's command. Discomfort slinks back. What is now and pressing upon him is the cold but tight embrace of worldly responsibility. Those questions, which still lack answers, are displaced. The goals are immediate: pack a lunch, check the messages, file the papers, write the letter, clean the area. They are easily completed. Oh grace of grace--how they replenish! The world marches on and the inbox fills and refills. There is no time to consider discomfort--there is work to be done. All the while, the potential elevator drops.

Is there anything more dangerous for an adult than to be lulled when he needs to be awake? It is a state that precipitates a crash.

If a gentle woman were to come upon the worker who is at rest while being so active, addressed him by name, and asked whether he was awake--what would the man answer? "What a silly question--if I could answer, I must be awake. I am surely awake for I can tell you as much." She would then ask the follow up question: who is it that answers thus--the worker or the man? Now she has cornered him. He would pause and furrow his brow. "It has been so long since I recognized the difference, but you ask an apt question. For long ago, when I began this routine--I told myself, "This is what a person must do in an age like ours. I will take up this routine and take up the designation of worker, but it will not be me. No, I will keep myself neatly tucked away. I am tired and distressed. I will let my self rest and the worker in me will take over. I will return upon retirement and be full of energy and ready to address what ails me. Now here I am, frail and tucked in my sheets, and you have awoken me though I thought I was already awake. I was rocked to sleep and lost consciousness of my self in the process. Where is the worker now? Oh dreadful thought--that I was him this whole time!"

The gentle woman would pat him on the head, smooth over his disheveled curls, and explain to him that a person can never really be free from his self. Integrity describes a person's life even if he tries to disintegrate because a person is always the same book even when the chapter changes. The hand grows, but it remains at bottom the same hand.

Now those unanswered questions are free to return. Now he feels anxious. Now the tears begin to well. Woe to him whose elevator of actuality door opens at such a moment!

It would be so easy, so secure, if we could simply be content in being adults. Surely membership in such a group demands respect, both from self and others. Alas, it is not so easy. It is a dangerous group to be a part of.

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Our analysis is far from complete. Books could be written on the subject and still the qualitative difference would remain as vague. Qualities are indiscrete, making the study of them at once frustrating and rewarding.

We have made many observations that the audience is free to remember or forget. From within thought, we may peer into growth's essence. We see a process of becoming. Growth is at once an automatic and perilous process. It is automatic like the progression of time; it is perilous like the firing of clay. From within life, we see growth in its existence. We reflect on our selves changing and remaining the same. We recall the centrality of ideals concerning a person's development.

Childhood is not devoid of value nor is adulthood abundant in it. How the two stages are related is neither inscrutable nor obvious. If given time, a child will become an adult. Attention is required along the way lest the child become something less laudable than the ideal of maturity suggests.

Increase by Branding

Gifts begin by the giver; they are perpetuated by the recipient. Life is a gift; love is a gift; truth is a gift; the good is a gift; beauty is a gift. Gifts are a prompting to humility and gratitude because there is a giver that both has and shares what the recipient lack. One shows humility by declaring the previous privation. One shows gratitude by putting the gift to use.

I am born and thereby given the gift of my life. With all gifts, the recipient's appreciation is measured by how much she appropriates it. How does a person appropriate life? By living.

Is it possible for a person who is living to live more? Can life be increased beyond the basic amount supplied by normal bodily function? Often it is said during moments of intense sensation, "I feel so alive!" Does an increase of perception increase living? No, it only garners greater awareness of being alive. Life and consciousness are not the same thing, though the two are often found together. We want here to consider living specifically.

To be alive is a consequence of the body; to feel alive is a consequence of the mind; to live is a consequence of the will. In the existing individual, the three entities commingle and collaborate, but in thought each are distinguishable. To live is to act. Some actions are performed by the body, some by the mind, and some by the will. The act par excellence of the will is choosing. Does a person live more by choosing more?

If a man was placed before a palate, told to choose a color perpetually, and he chose only one color and adhered by his choice thereafter--did he choose less than a man who chose a different color constantly? No--they both always chose. The former man chose in integrate; the latter chose to dissipate.
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The greatest asset a person has is one's life. The greatest risk for a person is to squander one's life. Yet the conditions of life require one to toil and the circumstances of life require one to idle. A person is being drained through time.

Consider: We must sleep. We must eat. We must expend precious energy toiling and we must squander precious time in the tedium of life. We must relieve our bodies of what was once sustenance. How far from noble our lives can be! How it bucks our minds' aspirations!

"Yes, you may enjoy the scenic outlook--but sweat will seep through your pores and your body will ache."

"Yes, you may analyze the inputs of the world into pieces that will equip you for prediction--but you will yawn and your mind will wander."

"Yes, you may align yourself to the truth--but your nose will run and you will see ugliness."

"Yes, you may approach righteousness--but anger will rise up within you and your enthusiasm will wane."


We err when we disavow any truth, be they the truths of our limitations or our deep-seated yearnings. One wants greatness and is not great. What if a person was not complicit? What if a person persists in wanting? What if she accepted her finitude and yet railed against it? Here we find the appropriate response of a recipient: I know my life is tainted and draining, and still I fill myself up all the faster!

If one is depleted by the passing of time, how is one filled? By adding more time? No, that would only be more grist for the time-mill. Only by adding something timeless can one combat the loss of time. Time is a part of life, and so are the other gifts. Life is the bride between the mundane and the lofty. It begins in the circumsribed and ends--for those who believe--int the limitless. One moves along the bridge by opening the other gifts. Love is an act of opening. It requires exercise.

A person lives more by exercising her will more. In so doing, she takes greater responsibility for the aspects of her life within her control. Time and circumstance limit, but the will can replenish because it is in some ways unconditioned (i.e., to the extent that it is not predetermined). Every willful act is like an act of branding--the objects are defined by the owner. The brand remains definitive for the rest of the object's life. In a person's case, the object is her life, the brand is her character, and the owner is the whole person (i.e., the self). When we imagine ourselves ultimately judged, it is our lives and the marks we seared on them that will be admitted to the court. He who lives more--chooses more--is like the man who opts to represent himself. He refuses to leave his fate in the hands of a contemporary. He says, "It has been my life. Let me be the only one under consideration. Then the judge will know that it is I who throws himself at the mercy of the court, that I was not thrown!"

Does an increase in responsibility lead to greater guilt? Could not a man try to absolve himself by washing his hands of his life and say to the prosecution, "It was not my fault. If I did wrong, it was due to the instruction given by another person, other people even--authorities and officials!" Would this hold up in a court?

Every person, by her own free-will, is negligent. Every person, by the gift of her life from another, is innocent.