“Once the soul awakens, the search begins and you can never go back. From then on, you are inflamed with a special longing that will never again let you linger in the lowlands of complacency and partial fulfillment. The eternal makes you urgent. You are loath to let compromise or the threat of danger hold you back from striving toward the summit of fulfillment.”
― John O’Donohue
What is your soul in search of?
When I was thirteen, my mother thinking to improve both my social skills and physical coordination, signed me up for ballroom dancing lessons. My instruction in waltzes, polkas, and such concluded one evening at a grand soiree complete with live music and refreshments. We instructees were introduced to a panel of judges and shown a tableful of trophies that were to be awarded later that evening to those of us judged worthy. I truly was disappointed not to win a trophy, but not inconsolably so, until, seeing my partner’s trophy, I realized her name already had been engraved on the plate affixed to the wooden base under the small, brass loving cup.
It is said that a man will make his mark in life by the time he is thirty-five years old or not at all. At thirty-five, I had neither money nor prospects. I thought myself—college-educated, an officer, and a gentleman—ready, willing, and able to work and to earn a place in society, but all this was not enough. Instead, I found myself on the outside of life looking in, without tradition or community, without mentor or advocate, and clueless. It was as if I had been set adrift and lost on an endless sea of indifference. It seemed, like so many years before, that other people’s names already had been engraved on all the trophies before I ever got to the dance.
Before those unhappy times, I was a somewhat indifferent churchgoer, mostly an untroubled and unquestioning believer. Starkly faced with the prospects of a dismal present and an indifferent future, I sought to remedy my situation, turning to my minister and others for guidance. Their pathetically inadequate advice, in summary, was that life simply is not fair and that I should learn to embrace suffering. All were stumped to explain, even if I was a sinner fully deserving of God’s retribution, why my wife and two young children should have to suffer as well. So, if God was not simply absent, he was, at best, silent or unfathomable, or, at worst, capricious or cruel.
Ask any man who he is, and after naming himself, more likely than not, he immediately will tell you what he does or where he works. It is as if we adult males come to know and value ourselves principally by our ability to earn a living. We wear our work and accomplishments like badges of meritorious conduct, while unemployment or even underemployment leaves us lacking, tainted with some unspeakable inadequacy or, even worse, with an overwhelming, destructive sense of nonbeing. Take away our ability to work and to provide for our loved ones and ourselves, and we too easily loathe or lose ourselves.
So there I stood bereft of complacent expectations of a middle-class life, left with only the discomforting blandishments of an impotent faith, and essentially lost to myself. I was confused, filled with a bewildering sense of uncertainty, questioning everything that I thought I knew and long had taken for granted. I was frustrated, suffering a paralyzing sense of futility, thinking myself inadequate to the task of living. And I felt abandoned, at a complete loss to understand what I had done to alienate so very many people, either to earn either their outspoken condemnation or their silent indifference. As my misery deepened, confusion became doubt, frustration became despair, and a sense of alienation became feelings of desolation.
If I had otherwise complacently lapsed into a comfortable, middle-class life, I might have remained blissfully ignorant of the human condition, perhaps arrogantly assuming that I was entitled to my good fortune or indifferently dismissing other people’s doubt, despair, or desolation as somehow deserved. Denied the comfort of privilege or prejudice and refusing to surrender to other people’s suffocating indifference, I set out to discover just how I might live. Dissatisfied with the usual wheezes and platitudes, I began to read. Some years and several tens of thousands of pages later, I began to discern an antidote to my doubt, despair, and desolation.
Charlie,
Thank you for sharing your story. You are a gifted writer!
I wanted one more paragraph – what did you read – what did you learn – what did you discern-
how are you now?
Layne
Thank you for asking. The “next” paragraph follows:
I had studied the natural sciences in college years before and, as a consequence, had been exposed to the scientific method and the philosophy of science. Lewis Mumford writes, “To acknowledge the limitations imposed by science, to subordinate the wish to the fact, and to look for order as an emergent in observed relations, rather than as an extraneous scheme imposed upon these relations—these were the great contributions of the new outlook on life.” So I elected to seek naturalistic explanations of how I might come to know and understand myself and my situation and thus how I thus might strive to live.
Please forgive me for this bit of shameless self-promotion, but what I posted earlier is the introduction to the first chapter of a book that I published last year, “Thus Let Me Live: An Essay in Humanism.” There are approximately an additional 600 paragraphs more in the book … if you are interested.
What I found was a way to understand human nature … what I have described as a universal, essential human nature … from which I have assembled a human ecology … which is the basis for considering the moral, civic, and religious virtues … which in turn form the basis for a naturalistic humanism … from which I plot a way forward for my life.
All this is thoroughly documented … with about 150 different books cited throughout the work.
How I am is retired, older, and dealing with the infirmities that plague the years of many of us who survive getting older. I don’t mean to sound morose, my days are sunny enough and I still read and write a bit. I recently read two good books, “Amythia” by Loyal Rue and “A Tolerable Anarchy” by Jedediah Purdy. And currently I am composing a reflection/discussion guide for groups who might be studying ideas similar to what I write about.
Thanks again for asking. Very few people ever do.
Your contribution to this entry in the Daily Compass has enlivened the site, in my opinion. I am a regular contributor, or perhaps, better said, one who uses the site to ruminate upon each question, relating it to my human condition. I would be pleased if more of “us” who know of and use the Daily Compass were in communication with our thoughts. One of our UU fellowship members in our Midwest group is a (plain) humanist and contributes mightily to our forum discussion group as well as to the thinking of our entire group of 40-50 souls.
I expect that my search for SOUL will be never ending. I anticipate that, as long as I am able, I will always be a curious sort who seeks more and more knowledge which I would like to believe I can turn into wisdom. Whether this filters into a soul is uncertain; I feel that there is more to me and to us than just the body and the experiences that my body and my brain endure and enjoy. I hope that somewhere in the mix there is a place for SOUL development. However, I don’t rely on it to pass anywhere after I die, except into the hearts and minds of those whom I have known, either directly or indirectly. I believe there is more to life than the actual so I want to find it if I can.
I would never demean your search for soul. I would like to suggest, however, that you read my book and see whether we both are in search for some semblance of an enduring permanence … you in what you call Soul and I in what I would characterize as an enduring meaning. Just a thought.
I don’t believe “soul” has anything to do with knowledge or mental capacity. I cannot envision it in the frigidity, restriction, and analysis of humanism. It has to do with awareness beyond thought, a soaring of the spirit that cannot be defined.
Ouch! I never meant to offend … as the strong language of your reply seems to suggest. I only attempted to find something in common, your search for a soul and my search for an ideal, each in its own way transcendent and enduring.
On the other hand, I really can’t let such prejudicial language go unanswered. I must say most unequivocally that my humanism is neither frigid (in any sense of the word) nor restrictive (except, perhaps, to eschew anything supernatural).
Perhaps I mistakenly assumed that the purpose of this dialogue was to seek out what we might have in common, not what divides us.
An interesting dialogue is progressing here! As I understand your comment, an enduring permanence would be something that lasts beyond my lifetime. I hope that it is possible. Abraham Lincoln comes to mind; he will live on in the hearts of many (almost) forever, I believe. I can describe that as either his enduring permanence or his SOUL, the presence of all he represented. Perhaps I’ll check out your book some day.
The proximity to God I felt 60 years ago during a Unitarian church service.
Charlie, you were not corresponding with me when you told your life story and answered another’s comment. Therefore you err in thinking I was trying to offend you. I’m sure we have many things in common. If you believe “soul” is derived from a mental rather than a spiritual process, that is one thing we won’t have in common.