Table of contents
PART I: FIRST THINGS
PART II: THE NATURE OF SELF
PART III: THE COURT OF REALITY
Dear Reader,
It is rational to accept things as a whole. We ought to love our sadness as we do happiness, our failure as we do success, our pain as we do health. But this begs a question: whether or not some of those things ought to be concerned with at all.
We know how some historically important values have declined, say, between piety and impiety, or honour and (individual) conscience. Without saying anything of them, it is certain there are many values now that do not deserve the level of concern we allocate them. Hence, if we are to live effectively, a thorough examination (and re-examination) of that which we value most is called for. How can we aim towards living effectively without examining what effectiveness constitutes? That is precisely what this axiom seeks to address.
There are certain popular values that we, in our modernity, have elevated on a pedestal. They cannot be easier to identify, for they are words that are overused nowadays: such as freedom, happiness, success. The question I will pose is: to what extent? Freedom... to what extent? Happiness... to what extent? Success... to what extent? I believe the answer is this: modern man endeavours towards attaining perpetually more than that which he already has, and exponentially more than what he has already been endowed by nature. The consequence is that these ideals escape his locus of control and enslave him.
🪟 13 - Judgement Day
Judgement Day by ReyeD33 (Source)
Our ultimate values do not remain stagnant from birth, for they evolve as we develop. Here is a biography of my own values.
I shall begin from my teenage years, for as I have recounted in a previous axiom, my personality in my childhood years was no more than a set of unconscious reflections of what others approved or disapproved of me. My ultimate, guiding value was none other than the nod of a head or a frowning brow.
As a teenager, my guide of social approval evolved seamlessly into the ideal of prodigious success. In other words, I desired a greater intensity and a wider breadth of approval. Whatever “successful” meant locally (which was in those years as good as universally), I was going to be it. I was going to make a million dollars by the time I turned 25. I was going to become a badminton world champion competing to the thunderous applause of nations. In my childish narcissism, I was terribly convinced that I was going to become successful against all odds and to the astonishment of others. Few things were beyond me.
Over time, as I developed in cognitive capacity, took on more responsibility and life grew in complexity, so too did my values morph. First, I came to realise that the success I idealised was immensely difficult. I possessed the will to take it on, but I had underestimated how much of it was a prerequisite. But most importantly, it dawned on me that the success I idealised was hinged on trivial factors: the social factor, which meant my ideals of success morphed as my social factor morphed. My values were no more than mirrors of others! Little did I know, many years later, I was to find this notion concrete in the sayings of many who have gone before. As Lacan wrote: “Man’s desire is the desire of the Other”. The realisation that I was in pursuit of shiny things led to a sense of unease. In such dissonance, I found my will suspended.
As my delusions of grandeur faded over time, I found myself asking the gravity-defying question: all this... to what end? Certainly, this is a catastrophic question everyone must ask of themselves at some point if they are to sustain their endeavours. It had become all too apparent that my values begged many questions, and that my architecture needed to be mapped out and rebuilt. Why is it that no one seems, finally, content? Why is success always a measure of accolades relative to others? Do I not already have, by a certain measure, everything I desire?
As I asked this, certain ideals began to glare in pettiness and break down, while others began to glow brighter and solidify. Enlightened to the shortsightedness of my valuations, I had begun to evaluate the justness of my pursuits. This was the beginning of the total reconstruction of my guiding ideals. My concerns began to evolve. The question ‘when will I attain my ultimate goal’, had become, ‘what is worthy of my pursuit’?
In seeking answers to my newfound concern, I carefully observed people locked in the most serious of moments. There are moments when values are put on trial. It is those short on time: those laying solemnly on their deathbeds, those facing inevitable death, or in apocalyptic imaginations. These final moments point to a crucial reality of humanity. That is, we value very few things above all else. There exists a set of ultimate values that anyone endowed with common sense can hardly call trivialities. These are matters worthy of ultimate concern, towards which our vision tends to be clouded, obscured by youthful images, desires and distractions. Youthful distractions, that are themselves caused by an illusion of youth: the illusion of time being a nigh-infinite resource.
There is no need to make mention of this ultimate set of values, for I have a feeling what you are picturing is similar to mine. But what you are likely to see is that common values like success (in the manner I have described it) is hardly one of them. That is when I came to the conclusion: some values ought not to be valued, while some others warrant their pedestal. For even if a man on his deathbed managed to accept everything in totality, it would have been much easier on him had his trivialities, now evident, been removed entirely from his concern. If only his concern was allocated instead to that which proved just in the ultimate test of time!
The ultimate test. Of time.
It is a test that lurks perpetually, till all of a sudden, it no longer does.
Picture yourself, in a wave of moments, dropping dead. How would you judge the life you have lived, now that you are at its end?
You may object: but, such a time remains unknown. Should we not make the most out of whatever time we have left? To which I will respond: why must our waking moments be any different to our dying ones? If one, in his final moments, has to endure a drastic change in what he values, it is not unjust to conclude that he has put his commitment in the wrong things.
Certainly, the time of judgement remains unknown. But one can remain prepared for such a test. One can ask of the self, at every waking moment, the ultimate question. And in order to do so, the ultimate question must be an ultimate concern. It can be exercised at all times, simply by asking: Am I putting my commitment in the right things? If the test is due at this very moment, will Judgement find me well-stocked? Does there still remain a semblance of an “I wish I…”?
Our ideals may judge us from day to day, but when the time comes, our ideals themselves will stand up for judgement. Matters worthy of ultimate concern will reveal themselves to be few, obscurations plenty. Let us not find them wanting in the final day.
(Next week, I will write on contentment and the ideal of happiness)
Till next time,
Euwyn