On Curiosity

As I feel my mind stagnating in routine and sitting passively during conversations, I find myself wishing I were more curious, more mentally active, able to find new and better ways of doing things and to stir stilted conversation into lively discussions.

We’ve likely all heard the benefits of retaining a child-like curiosity through adulthood: greater mental agility, greater observational and problem-solving skills, greater creativity and productivity, more innovation and dialog, improved health, more satisfaction with life, etc.  It motivates science and leads us down new and useful paths.  As Samuel Johnson wrote, “Curiosity is one of the most permanent and certain characteristics of a vigorous intellect.”

On the other hand, curiosity can also be imprudent in some circumstances.  For example, exploring dangerous places or dangerous materials, especially without caution and safeguards, may not be worth the risk.  (“Curiosity killed the cat,” after all.).  In the same way, exploring people’s secrets unnecessarily or pestering others with unwelcome questions can endanger a relationship, and being curious about evil—and particularly, entertaining thoughts that evil might be good—leads to a skewed view of morality, which becomes manifest in one’s actions.  Curiosity also becomes a problem when it lacks a purpose beyond self-interest.  As author Oliver Goldsmith put it, “A man who leaves home to mend himself and others is a philosopher; but he who goes from country to country, guided by the blind impulse of curiosity, is a vagabond.”

Put those two perspectives together, however, and we must still conclude that curiosity, in moderation, is vital—for an individual’s health and happiness, and for society’s betterment.  The question then becomes, how does one cultivate healthy curiosity?  Of course, the foundation of curiosity is asking questions.  What a simple solution, right?  Just ask more questions.  

Wrong.  An incurious person can’t even conceive the questions they could be asking!  These are the type of people who, if they notice a bridge is in an inconvenient place, they won’t think of asking “why was it built there?” or “what would it take to build a more convenient bridge?”  They stop at thinking, “How annoying.  I wish someone had thought to build over there.”

As if this habit of thinking were not difficult enough to overcome, an incurious person is easily derailed by a challenge.  Their curiosity may surface when they wonder if a translator captured an author’s meaning correctly or how to best remix separated coconut oil, but looking it up right away means they have to stop their activity or go to another room to go do it, and well, that’s just too much to ask.  Later, they tell themselves—but later never comes.  Or if it does, when their initial search turns up nothing—or just as bad, an intimidatingly long text—they decide the answer’s not worth the effort of searching further or reading on.  The same sort of thing happens in conversation when they’re halted by another person’s shyness or standoffishness.  

It would not be surprising if such fruitless (and admittedly half-hearted) efforts reinforce the person’s aversion to making future attempts to satisfy their mild curiosity; so much effort for so little gain, and there are always more pressing questions.  Those, we tell ourselves, we’ll research or ask when we have the need.  ...But will we?

Considering these obstacles, the advice “ask more questions” does little good without first changing the way a person thinks—from passive to active, from accepting what’s in front of them to wondering about what’s not, from a defeatist and timid point of view to an optimistic and persevering point of view.

To my mind, curiosity goes beyond idly trying a new recipe, visiting a museum, or pausing to examine a plant beside the sidewalk—though those actions can temporarily boost one’s overall curiosity, and that’s the sort of thing that most websites seem to recommend as a remedy to indifference and mental sluggishness.  

True curiosity, however, is having an innate, deep, and persistent interest in the things and people around us.  It’s seeing the obvious and immediately really wanting to know what’s not obvious, creating hypotheses and taking steps to test them until the truth can be confirmed.  It’s challenging the norm by wondering if it’s is right and good, and considering what might make it better.  Curiosity draws one beyond one’s usual comfort zone, sure, but its inherent strength renders comfort or complications insignificant in the desire to learn and understand (though we hope one heeds courtesy and caution).

Passion, of course, provides people with a natural curiosity about the object of that passion—and the reverse is also true: showing curiosity (natural or intentional) by exploring and trying to understand something or someone will make it more compelling, which cycles around again to increase one’s curiosity.  Interests naturally vary between individuals, but due to this connection between passion and curious investigation, an honest attempt to examine and contemplate an uninspiring subject or person often has the effect of rendering it less odious.  

Aside from studying (which if forced or fruitless can have the opposite effect of killing curiosity), are there other practical, concrete steps one can take to develop spontaneous interest, passion, and curiosity—to develop an insatiably inquiring mind?  I believe so, but regrettably, it requires an effort to make the first steps and then continuing persistence in the face of the inevitable obstacles until it becomes second-nature.  I’m a long way off from that, but wouldn't it be worth the effort?

First, the common-sense advice: keep stagnation at bay by creating, playing, praying, reading mysteries, breaking routines, building knowledge, bonding with loved ones, looking for the unfamiliar or unexpected in the mundane, and paying attention to “intricacies and sensations” while doing routine tasks.  And of course, maintaining a deep faith naturally inspires a greater interest in and curiosity about people and God’s creation.

In addition, Todd Kashdan, in an article in Experience L!fe, recommends playing 20 questions, acting the tourist in your own town, exploring yourself and revisiting your childhood passions, making new friends, trying something iffy (such as a food you haven’t tried in years but used to hate), engaging in uncertain activities—where the outcome is unknown, such as sports or making up a recipe on the spot, and searching for new ideas and perspectives.  The article makes other suggestions designed not exactly to stimulate curiosity, but to generally engage the mind, such as turning dull tasks into a game, or ameliorating hated tasks by finding three unexpected things in it.  In other words, if you make yourself a challenge, you’ll overcome boredom, and if you look for something notable, you’ll find it.

There’s much more I’d like to explore on this topic—namely, how to conceive good questions, especially in conversation—but I’ll leave you with these ideas to percolate and will address this again in a future post.  

On Aurelius and God

A friend recently posted the following quote on Facebook, which got me thinking:

Aurelius’ theory is laid out rather logically, but a few moments’ consideration reveals some underlying assumptions that cast doubt on his conclusion.

First, virtue or goodness, unless defined by a sole authority, is a moving target; one’s culture, upbringing, and personal perspectives affect what an individual perceives as most “virtuous.”  For example, in a dilemma, is it more virtuous to do what is better for one’s family or for one’s country?  Is it more virtuous to lie to keep the peace or to never lie at all?  Is it more virtuous to tolerate rude people or to encourage them toward more considerate behavior?  Is it ever virtuous to kill to save one or more lives?  Is collaboration virtuous, or is it plagiarism and immoral—or is it amoral?  Is it more virtuous to obey the law or to obey one’s conscience or one’s God?  A person can find many such situations—some small, some large—and the answer will vary according to the individual asked.

Would any decent judge allow the one on trial to define what is good or virtuous?  Of course not!  Would a judge write off a defendant’s crimes if that person did his or her best otherwise?  That wouldn’t be fair!  Humans are masters at justifying all manner of atrocities, from a childish prank to genocide.  Thus, regarding Aurelius’s first premise, presuming there is a God, and presuming that Being is just, won’t that same justice require Him to judge a person as welcome or not according to one unchanging standard—not an individual’s best effort or a fuzzy definition of “a good life”?  

Following this line of thought, still working under the assumption of the existence of a just God or gods, we’re left wondering what Heaven’s unchanging standard is.  The world’s gods and pantheons each have their own, often conflicting, standards for human conduct and virtue.  Obviously, a person can’t follow them all.  Moreover, many faiths state that a person’s eternal welcome depends not on (or not solely on) virtue, but on whether that person welcomed and was devoted to God in his or her mortal life.

Considering all this, it seems clear that Aurelius’ first premise, and thus his conclusion, are unsound, based on assumptions about the character of the gods and Man’s understanding of “virtue.”  Only in a few faiths (e.g. the Greco-Roman pantheon) would Aurelius’ gamble on living a good life pay off in all potential outcomes.  In others faiths, such as Christianity, Judaism, and Islam (and others I don’t know well enough to include with certainty), choosing to live a virtuous life without devotion to God is the same as rejecting God and rejecting eternal safety. 

Since all people must choose to worship something or nothing, I reckon a person gambles a lot if they follow Aurelius’s advice.  After death, should that person discover God is real and just and judges according to faith, that person would fail the test of following Him.  Thus, each person must consider and choose whom to worship (or not) wisely lest God does exist and He someday says to us, “Why did you give up seeking me?  Why did you reject me?  Now I must honor your decision; you are not welcome in Heaven with me.” 

It is daunting to think of examining the world’s many beliefs and forms of unbelief—to determine whether any are plausible, and then whether the most plausible one merits devoting a lifetime to it—devotion based on faith in something no human can prove or disprove (empirically, at least).  Considering the stakes—eternity—surely it’s worth it to keep searching for Truth our whole lives, not being satisfied with simply living "a good life."  And if found, surely one should follow the Truth to the Source and devote oneself to it. 

Of course, my readers know from my previous posts that I believe the Truth to be Jesus Christ.  I continue to examine that faith and compare it with others, but none have persuaded me against Him. The most persuasive argument against Jesus Christ is actually my own selfishness that doesn’t want to submit to any authority but my own will, and that’s a foolishly short-sighed basis for a decision with such potentially dire—or wonderful—consequences that will last for a literal eternity. 

On Emotional Neutralism (and our new house)

        When we finally bought a house, I expected to feel elated, overwhelmed, eager, and perhaps a bit terrified.  Now that it's actually happened, I certainly feel eager to move in, overwhelmed by the work we must accomplish before we may do so, and if not terrified, at least mildly concerned about our future finances and home maintenance issues.  Elation has yet to come.  Satisfaction, yes.  Pleasure, definitely.  Gratitude, of course.  Euphoria... not so much.  It's as though all the searching and preparation and inspections and waiting boiled that high emotion down to "Okay, that's finally done.  What's next on the agenda?"

our new house

        I don't think my lack of enthusiasm reflects the house's suitability.  The work to be done could understandably have dampened it a bit, but a part of me wonders if something's wrong with me not to have taken just a moment when we received the keys to jump up and down like a little girl presented with her very own pony--performed in some private corner of my mind if not for all the world to see.  But then I ask myself, is there any particular way a person "should" feel in such a circumstance?  I don't feel depressed or disappointed by any means.  Why should I be dissatisfied with neutral emotions?

        This leads me to consider my--and indeed, our culture's--fixation on happiness.  Consider the inclusion of "happiness" in Jefferson's list of Man's inalienable rights, our culture's fixation on the importance of the individual on par with--or sometimes above that of family or community, and the Sixties' attitude of "if it feels good, do it."  These and more have unquestionably trickled down to the latest generations as a sense of entitlement for instant gratification and constant happiness.  An insidious voice within us whispers, "If I'm not happy, life is unfair; something's wrong with me; I must need a change."  The consequences of such thoughts need not be enumerated; we see them all around us, perhaps even in our own lives.
        Attitudes at the other extreme are similarly erroneous--"embrace and seek out pain; it builds character," "if you're happy, you're being selfish," or "it's wrong and worldly to enjoy material pleasures."  Did not God give us the material world to provide for our needs and give us cause to glorify God?  Did not God equip us with emotions?  Did not Solomon write, "There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God, for apart from him who can eat or who can have enjoyment?" (Ecclesiastes 2:24-25 ESV).  Does not the Law boil down into the two great commandments to love God and love our neighbor?  And true love is never begrudging or fully unhappy.  
        I must conclude, then, that happiness is neither evil nor the ultimate Good toward which a person can aspire.  If a person is happy, enjoy it.  If a person is unhappy, this too shall pass.  And if a person is emotionally neutral, why frown because of it?  One need not feel an emotional high to praise God sincerely--whether for the blessings of a comfortable house, nourishment, work, family and friends, one's mental and physical faculties, or God's goodness, all of which He deserves.
        Emotional neutrality strikes me as producing the most sensible, steady, and satisfying enjoyment of life, as well as enabling a person to be the most useful to God and neighbors without the extremes of depression and rejection of God, or of hyper-emotionalism and off-putting behaviors.  So if I feel neutral about this ginormous milestone in our adult life, so what?  I'll take it.

On All Saints' Day

On Christmas, we see Santas and nativities.  On Easter, we see bunnies and crosses.  On Halloween, we see witches and pumpkins...  Wait!  No memorial candles or martyrs?  Whatever happened to celebrating All Hallow’s Eve?  Why doesn’t that Christian celebration have equal footing with the secular or pagan ones?

It may help to understand that All Saint’s Day dates from the early 600s (Wikipedia, “Halloween”), perhaps originating as a Christianized harvest or pagan festival—though not Samhain or Calan Gaeaf, as is commonly supposed, which are first recorded in the 10th century and from which we get a lot of our current Halloween practices of dressing up and extorting treats from others (Wikipedia, “Samhain”).  

The Catholic church still celebrates deceased saints during All Saint’s Day on November first, followed by All Souls' Day on November 2nd.  The former is a Holy Day of Obligation (a day other than Sunday when Catholics must attend mass).  The Eastern church, however, commemorates the saints on the first Sunday after Pentecost, and has done so since the late 800s (Wikipedia, “All Saint’s Day”).  Protestants, if they observe it at all, remember saints both past and present.  
As the United States is peopled with more Protestants and unbelievers than Catholic and Orthodox Christians, perhaps it's no wonder most Americans do not observe All Saint's Day or see advertisements in churches and stores.  Maybe we’d hear of All Saint’s Day more if we were Catholic or lived in a country that had it instituted as a national holiday, but for most, All Saint’s Day seems no more than a footnote in the history books.  A few Christians might buy flowers to put on graves.  The rest either stay at home with the porch light off, visit the local Judgement House, or gear their children or grandchildren up as princesses or superheroes to gather goodies from the neighbors.

It’s hard to say why the secularized pagan elements of Halloween have remained and the Christianized elements have just about disappeared, unlike at Christmas and Easter.  I suspect it may have to do with the way dressing up and collecting candy is a lot more fun than remembering all the loved ones we’ve lost.  

If Christians insist on observing such secular practices, I do wish more would dress up like penguins or Totoro instead of ghouls or criminals.  Why don’t more people decorate their yards with benevolently smiling pumpkins and shiny unicorns instead of scary fake corpses and large spiders?  *Shudder*

Though as for that, should Christians celebrate such a secular—and previous pagan—holiday at all?  Sure, few people still engage in pagan worship on Halloween, but how innocent are the secular practices, really?  Should we urge our brothers and sisters in Christ to celebrate All Saint’s Day instead?  Or would it be better not to celebrate either one?  

Scripture never tells us to remember the dead—nor Christ’s birth nor death, for that matter.  Scripture doesn’t forbid non-biblical celebrations, either.  We like to have things to celebrate and to mix up our routine.  If it’s wrong to celebrate a secular Halloween, is it also wrong to celebrate such events as Thanksgiving and Veteran’s Day and Talk Like a Pirate Day?  If it's wrong to celebrate All Saint's Day, is it also wrong to celebrate Christmas and Easter and Pentecost?

I believe this falls under the “disputable matters” category Paul spoke of in verse one of Romans 14.   He states in verses 5-11, 

“One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind. The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord. The one who eats, eats in honor of the Lord, since he gives thanks to God, while the one who abstains, abstains in honor of the Lord and gives thanks to God.  For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself... we are the Lord's. For to this end Christ died and lived again, that he might be Lord both of the dead and of the living.

“Why do you pass judgment on your brother?  Or you, why do you despise your brother? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God; for it is written ‘every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God’” (ESV).

and later,

“For if your brother is grieved by what you eat, you are no longer walking in love. By what you eat, do not destroy the one for whom Christ died… So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding… [W]hatever does not proceed from faith is sin” (v 15, 19, 23b).

I suppose that the real questions, then, are “Does my style of observing a particular holiday glorify God?”  “Do my actions trouble or edify my brothers and sisters in Christ?" and "Do my actions present outsiders with an accurate view of the Truth?”  

How would you answer?  Put your comments down below.

On House Searching

       Out they go in their suburban camouflage, armed with a realtor and stack of stats, hoping to take a shot at a nice, big one--they're house hunters!


       Yes, my husband and I are embarking on this new experience.  Are we likely to find our perfect dream house in our budget?  Heck, no!  Are we financially ready?  We hope so.  Are we looking forward to a house larger than our current 500 square feet?  Oh, yeah!
       Since we're new to all this, I can't presume to share any words of wisdom for other house buyers--though we've been receive a lot of advice, ourselves.  I can only express our understandably mixed excitement and trepidation:
       I really like the idea of better storage spaces, more and nicer kitchen counters, room for the dining table's full size and for a queen-sized bed, as well as an exercising space where I need not fear damaging the ceiling fans, the furniture, or my limbs.  Imagine!  We could actually entertain more than three people comfortably!

        However, what kind of home is best?  How much of our wish-list should we compromise?  Would it be better to build our own house?  Is home ownership only what we want, or is it also part of God's plan for us?  Is this a good investment, financially?  Will we be wise about choosing a home and taking on a mortgage, or are we getting caught up in materialism and unwise debt?  What's better--an older house with charm but in need of many little repairs, or a newer house in better condition but with fewer charm points?
        At this point, we have more questions than answers.  Whatever happens will be a learning experience, and we trust this school of hard knocks won't knock harder than God will enable us to handle.

On Emotions over Distant Tragedies

I recently watched a video in which a YouTuber discussed her confusion over what she should feel about the Boston bombings. (Link here.  Warning—it contains foul language.)  Like many of us, despite a lack of connections to Boston and to marathoners, she felt empathy and a bit of survivor’s guilt—mixed with self-reproach for feeling happy when she was ignorant of the tragedy and for not feeling worse when she found out.  She concluded by asking her viewers what they thought people should feel in such times.  

This YouTuber’s thoughts echoed ones I’ve had many times, and she’s motivated me to articulate my own perspective:

In a world in which tragedy strikes multiple times a day with or without our knowledge—whether theft, abuse, disease, rape, murder, bombing, natural disaster, or something else—no benefit comes from draining our energy in grief or anger for each with the same intensity and constancy as if each had personally affected us.

That sounds callous, perhaps; an ideal world would never see tragedies, but if it did, surely everyone would empathize completely and rally to support each victim.  That’s not feasible in reality; there are more tragedies than we can know about or feel for or assist with, and not everyone wants help or wants to live selflessly or wants to respect people’s rights to life, liberty, and happiness.

Even without a storm of emotions and without being in a position to help every victim we hear of, we should always recognize tragedies as such and work to prevent them when we can.  Never should we accept them as normal, acceptable, everyday occurrences… and neither should we remain perpetually upset about the state of the world; it will never be perfect until we have “a new heaven and new earth” (Rev. 21:1-8).

Whether we feel emotions such as anger or grief over a tragedy should be a natural response: if the feelings come, fine (within limits; emotion should be tempered with reason); if they don’t, that’s also fine.  A sense that we should feel depressed or outraged, and an attempt to force or sustain negative feelings instead of seeking healing and perspective—that’s useless and even dangerous.  Emotion alone doesn’t help victims nor make us better people; forced emotion—or excessive and misplaced emotion—actually achieves quite the reverse.  It can trap us in cynicism, bitterness, or debilitating depression, preventing us from functioning in life, from working to improve the lives of those we can affect, from appreciating humanity’s virtues, and from seeing how God is using the tragedy to save and strengthen souls.  

Therefore, instead of useless and excessive fury or grief, tragedies should motivate us toward positive actions.  Prayer should always be our first response.  Next, as we’re led or as our respective situations allow, we might volunteer after a catastrophe or send aid.  Tragedies should also increase our vigilance against similar trouble in our own areas, encourage us to support our neighbors and mentor troubled kids—and to evangelize, given the reminder that this short life is the only time people have to make a decision that will affect their eternal home.  Finally, tragedy should also motivate us to reevaluate and improve our own worldview, priorities, faith, and behaviors.

This leads me to another thought—how informed should we stay about tragedies?  What can knowing about very distant tragedies really do for us but depress us?  Well, national and world news have value since we may know people from the reported area, it gives us specific subjects to pray about, and it informs us in case we feel led to send aid—if only a letter of encouragement.  I’ll note, however, that the media tends to latch onto certain big cases like the marathon bombings and to repeat the same details numerous times for viewers or readers who learn about it late.  By contrast, they barely mention other daily tragedies that viewers are in a better position to alleviate: for instance, it latched onto the Ariel Castro case, but pays little attention to the daily human trafficking all across the U.S.. Thus, I’ve concluded that for myself, it’s good to know the highlights but to not obsess over the news and over matters outside my control; I give them to God in prayer and live where and when I am—and I try not to feel guilty over my inability to play Superwoman.