There is a discussion going on at the Wall Street Journal as to whether or not religion is necessary. Something to that effect. With 10,000 comments there seems little point in adding my two cents there. Still, an interesting topic.
The following will be a bit stream of consciousness, since I have a three dimensional, textured thought pattern that I am trying to import over to a linear, two dimensional format.
Let me put it this way: Goodness is the fruit we desire. It is the capacity to interact optimally with our world, our “selves” (as if consciousness were truly severable), and with others. It is a way of optimizing experience, life as it is lived, motion as it is moved (?), speech as it is spoken. The whole enchilada. The bigger sum than you could ever conceive.
This fruit exists on a bush, or a tree, or a vine. It emerges from a latent order, a latent support, latent sources of nourishment, none of which resemble outwardly the fruit itself, but whose existence enable the emergence, the fruition, the granting of continued life that the fruit represents.
What is a fruit? Is it not symbolic of renewed life? Do actual fruits not contain the seeds that enable the spread of whatever plant gives rise to them? Can we not imagine some of these seeds will give rise to life that continues even when the tree that gave birth to them is no more?
Look at an orchard. There is a lot of life in there. The trees are in rows, often, but that order is nothing compared to the order which enables water and soil nutrients to be turned into life, and then the renewed life that, say, apples represent. Every apple that blossoms, then weighs down a bough, is a child that, given the chance, can have more children. It exists in a complex harmony that is no less rich because death is always an option.
Religion, to me, is the idea behind the orchard. It is the latent idea, the one hidden. We see the life. We see the fruits to which that life leads. But real, true religion is the possibility of all of these. It is the possibility of informational complexity, of rich diversity, of INTELLIGENCE.
As I see it, families have emotional tones. They have rich patterns that, were one sufficiently perceptive, have all the rhythmic complexity of a classical Indian tabla performance. We all of us move as oceans, back and forth. We have our waves, the winds act on us. We have tides and sun.
What I am seeking in the notion of Goodness is all of this. I have given a simple name to the very surface of the sea, and indicated what I think might be below the surface, but of which I am not entirely sure.
Certainly, I have applied logic to the issue. I have thought long and hard about it. Logic is a sort of boat that allows you to connect with the ocean, but it is important to remember that it also separates you from the water.
Sometimes I feel that in poetry alone can one be rational. I am no anti-rationalist, and I see readily enough the atrocities and horrors that come from taking no heed, accepting no responsibility, and from living as one pleases. This is not what I am advocating.
Do not stop short of reason: travel through it, to the other side, and becomes so accustomed to its dictates that you can travel back and forth from A to F spontaneously, gently, without force or violence.
Few thoughts. I am content with this, even if it appears nonsensical, and may not appear to even address the topic. Put a dunce cap on me and sit me in the corner. I’ll still be happy.