I Think We're Missing the Point...

DISCLAIMER: I write on this subject very much unwillingly. It's not that I feel it doesn't need to be discussed, I just find how big of a deal we make of things like this sort of disconcerting...

"We need more gun control! People like this should not be able to get their hands on guns!"
"Are you dumb?? We need more responsible, trained people to be able to protect us!"

I have seen these two arguments so many times, it makes me sick. My problem with them is that they seem to be a solution after the problem has already happened. I am a firm advocate of better mental health institutions as the solution to these kind of problems.
But that's not really what I want to talk about. I want to talk about our reaction to things like the shooting at Newtown, which is equal parts touching and sort of depressing. On one hand, you see people drawn together. Everyone feels for these people, and I think it helps many people transcend differences to recognize that we all hurt, that we all are human. And I view that as an extremely positive thing. I think we're too willing to nitpick over all the little ways we're different, which just breeds resentment.
On the other hand, we seem to split ourselves up. The above conversation is the most prevalent example of this. Instead of any sort of compassion towards the people affected, the two people in the conversation above simply point the blame finger everywhere but themselves.
That's the worst part about our political atmosphere now. It is everyone and everything's fault except your or your party's. Even conservatives, who consistently emphasize personal responsibility (an ideal I'm not opposed to), seem to take every available opportunity to point the finger at Democrats, and Democrats do likewise. Now I understand that that's kind of the point of our political system, but still this really seems to not be the right time to do it...

A bit of Juxtaposition

As recommended by his comment on one of my blogs, I read through a blog of Mr. Tallman's, and watched Jim Valvano's speech at the 1993 ESPY awards (Even if you don't like sports at all, watch this. It's absolutely worth it). One part of his speech specifically stood out to me: his advice that everyone should laugh, think and cry everyday. I found this to be very profound advice that really shatters a lot of the stereotypical idea of what we are supposed to be as males.

Immediately after viewing this video, I saw a post on Facebook that I found to be very interesting in light of that advice. A male (whose identity I will attempt to conceal) posted something along the lines of:

"The best way to prevent yourself from crying while peeling onions is to chew gum. The best way to prevent yourself from crying the rest of the time is to stop being such a little bitch."

This struck me as such a perfect example of how we as males have somehow missed the point of Jimmy's advice entirely. How somehow, males have not been able to shake this useless, detrimental idea that emotion is weakness, that somehow crying or displaying any sort of sadness means that you've failed as a member of the male gender.
This idea disappoints me. As someone who grew up with two sisters, I feel that I have found that displaying my emotions comes somewhat easy to me. If I feign stoicism, it's because I don't like making a scene, not because I'm afraid to admit that I hurt. And it hasn't hurt me one bit. I am a well-adjusted, intelligent, confident young male who is very secure of my place in the world and in the gender of male.
As someone who's a pretty terrible actor, I've never really understood the appeal of faking who you are, and this carries through to emotions. If you hurt, that's fine. No one's life is perfect and no one is infinitely strong. So go ahead, laugh, think and cry. I guarantee that it will make your life that much better.

Oh the Irony...

Perhaps one of Buddhism's most famous doctrines is The Middle Way. It is the overarching rule Buddha gives for how to reach Nirvana, and has drawn parallels to Aristotle's idea of the Golden Mean. 

It's ironic then, that the two school of Buddhism that arose after Buddha's death have been so unable to find a way to reconcile their differences. 

The differences between the two schools come down to their answers to three fundamental questions: 

1. Are people independent or interdependent.  

2. Is the universe inherently helpful to humans, indifferent to humans or hostile to humans? 

3. What is the best part of the human heart, its head or its heart? Essentially, which is more human: reason or emotion? 

The two schools of Buddhism split mostly along these questions, with Mahayana Buddhists answering interdependent, inherently helpful because of a divine being watching over them and the heart, respectively. Theravada Buddhism, on the other hand, answers independent, indifferent and the head, respectively. 

The problem I have with this is that, often the different answers to these questions are not irreconcilable. Humanity is rather complex, and so often I find that there can be two answers to these questions. Perhaps independence and interdependence are equally important. The second question is a bit trickier, but it does provide its own middle ground: indifference. And finally, perhaps the head and the heart are both equally human. I see no reason why these two schools have to be hostile to each other when both sides have equally valid points. It seems that if they both truly believed in The Middle Way, they would find some way to split the differences between the two. Personally, I find that my answers to these questions fit in the middle of the two schools. So where would I belong?

An Epiphany (or two)

Today, I had a bit of an epiphany as to why I enjoy Language and Composition so much, as well as a bit of an insight into what the true nature of the class is.
After discussing our soliloquies, John Colpoys, Brendan Caulfield and I had a discussion on theater. We moved from discussing which plays in general we liked best to discussing which recent Festival one-act by BC High we enjoyed the best. John claimed that the "strongest" one-act that we had sent to Festival (colloquially referred to as "festi") was "A Lesson Before Dying", my freshman year. Having not seen it, I couldn't disprove his claim, however what I objected to was his claim that "The Kentucky Cycle" (my sophomore year) was not as strong because it was too dark. But John, I said, isn't "too dark" just a personal opinion or taste? His reply was that, yes it was, but wasn't the whole thing just opinion?
And this is where my minor epiphany came. My objection to John was purely based in language, our ensuing debate was pretty much entirely about language (a little bit of subjectivity vs. objectivity too) and I realized that the point of this class was to help us understand and analyze language. It's basically all semantics, and I love it.
I didn't object to John believing that "The Kentucky Cycle" was too dark; he's perfectly entitled to that opinion. What I objected to was the implication, which was couched in his language, that "too dark" was somehow a characteristic that could be objectively judged, that it was somehow a characteristic that justified his belief that it wasn't as "strong" as "A Lesson Before Dying". But if, as John correctly pointed out, the whole idea of judgement is subjective, what makes this particular subjective opinion invalid?
Well I have an idea about that. Subjectivity and objectivity, like most things on this world, are not black and white. They are gray. It is possible for one opinion to be more right than another opinion. If this sounds ridiculous to you, let me give you a very politically charged example: A leading environmental scientist claims that moving to alternative forms of energy would be very beneficial in the long run. A conservative pundit claims that global warming is a hoax and alternative energy sources a sham. Whose opinion is more valid? Well, the scientist's. As their has more experience and knowledge in the area of alternative energy and global warming, their opinion carries more weight than a pundit who is working off of nothing but his own knowledge, which presumably is not specialized in global warming.
But John is perfectly knowledgeable about theater, why is his opinion invalid?
Well, there are also, in a way, types of opinions. There are opinions that are based in observation or interpretation of facts (I thought that actor did a very good job portraying that character) and there are opinions based on personal taste (I don't like dark plays). If one wants to make any sort of decision resembling objectivity, one must rely on the first type of opinion rather than the second because it is based more in  fact than the second, which is based entirely on personal preference.