Some years ago, towards the end of several years of study and thought, I sketched a brief framework for personal growth, a Maslovian-like hierarchy of steps. Taken together, they seemed to me the fundamental elements to a sense of well-being and contentment. Admittedly, they were my own projection onto others, but that’s another topic.
My subject here is the last of those steps: Seek the divine. My sense was (and yes, still is) that we each need and benefit from a sense of connection to the underlying mystery and wonder of existence. How one defines that, or finds that connection, is up to the individual. Anything more on my part would seem presumptuous.
Apart from my own experience, I derived this idea from the universal thread of religion throughout mankind’s cultural history. It’s as though it’s in our DNA, a ubiquitous inclination to connect with a plane, a transcendence (for want of a better word) beyond our sensibilities. Signs are everywhere, from the earliest archeological digs of human settlements through the fabric of mystical practices across history and cultures, and into modern religions. It seemed to me that, if this inclination is so ubiquitous, we are remiss not to honestly explore how it plays out in our own psyches.
My immediate problem arises from my the recent discussions with the atheist community, in particular some who are sticklers for the use of words. Let’s call them etymological purists. I’m told I can’t use the term “the divine” in this context because it derives from the concept of God or gods (Latin, divus, I believe) and connotes deity. Thus, it would have no meaning for atheists and be exclusionary. Never mind that language and word usage have evolved since our first utterances, and many words we use today have no practical bearing on their origins.
But I believe it’s exactly the term to express my intent and, in my intention, it means what I say it does. If I am coining a new usage, so be it. It’s up to such readers to let go of their rigidity and embrace the broader context. Blindly clinging to rigid perspectives on any issue can in itself be a barrier to honest self-examination.
Everyone who has made a serious study of philosophy is an etymological purist in your sense. The preeminent philosopher in this vein is, of course, Socrates, whose consuming lifelong project was to formulate precise definitions of those terms which are most relevant to an elevated human existence. He was willing both to live and to die for this enterprise and in so doing, bequeathed to all mankind a priceless legacy of meticulous, that is, responsible analysis of terms. Philosophers routinely define terms for their own purposes—a perfectly legitimate activity. But if they wish to employ those terms in public discourse, they had better make sure those terms are carefully defined. It is an equally legitimate activity to analyze and find fault with a thinker’s self-chosen definitions. But why would anyone wish to employ terms relating to the highest subjects—the meaning of life—without having thought through those terms and their definitions beforehand? Why would any serious thinker not attempt to anticipate objections and meet them preemptively? All carefully trained scientists do this preemptive work as a matter of course, thereby displaying the lineage science derives from its origin in natural philosophy.
On a lighter note, I’m tempted to just say, “Seek the transcendence” just doesn’t have the same panache as “Seek the Divine.” But of course, your thoughtful reply merits a thoughtful response.
Problem is, I’m not sure where to begin, because I’m not sure if you are agreeing with me or not. I think you are just commenting, while at the same time saying that, what ever the terms I choose to employ, I should consider them carefully. If so, I agree. You and I already know my lack of grounding in philosophy, but I am preeminent in insisting that all parties engaging in a discussion should agree on terms. I am certain that a primary element in our current breakdown of civil discourse is lack of a common agreement as to the meaning of words. It’s why we so often talk at cross-purposes about things we might actually agree on. And sometimes, I’m sure you will agree, individuals will throw the etymological argument at you rather than try to listen and understand what you are trying to say.
That said, I’m in a bind, because the very concept I’m trying to reference in using “the divine” has long been understood to be ineffable. That term (i.e. ineffable) is usually employed in reference to the concept of God, as in the monotheistic religions. But I’m trying to reference simply the “mystery and wonder” I note in the original post. That can mean whatever one chooses, but it is a plane or dimension the human species has long trying to access, finding perhaps the most success in mysticism. Maybe you have an suggestion as to terminology here? (But it has to be poetic, else it loses it’s appeal! :))
It’s a cravat, child, and a beautiful one, as you say. It’s a present from the White King and Queen. There now!’
`Is it really?’ said Alice, quite pleased to find that she had chosen a good subject, after all.
`They gave it me,’ Humpty Dumpty continued thoughtfully, as he crossed one knee over the other and clasped his hands round it, `they gave it me — for an un-birthday present.’
`I beg your pardon?’ Alice said with a puzzled air.
`I’m not offended,’ said Humpty Dumpty.
`I mean, what is and un-birthday present?’
`A present given when it isn’t your birthday, of course.’
Alice considered a little. `I like birthday presents best,’ she said at last.
`You don’t know what you’re talking about!’ cried Humpty Dumpty. `How many days are there in a year?’
`Three hundred and sixty-five,’ said Alice.
`And how many birthdays have you?’
`One.’
`And if you take one from three hundred and sixty-five, what remains?’
`Three hundred and sixty-four, of course.’
Humpty Dumpty looked doubtful. `I’d rather see that done on paper,’ he said.
Alice couldn’t help smiling as she took out her memorandum- book, and worked the sum for him:
365
1
___
364
___
Humpty Dumpty took the book, and looked at it carefully. `That seems to be done right — ‘ he began.
`You’re holding it upside down!’ Alice interrupted.
`To be sure I was!’ Humpty Dumpty said gaily, as she turned it round for him. `I thought it looked a little queer. As I was saying, that seems to be done right — though I haven’t time to look it over thoroughly just now — and that shows that there are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents — ‘
`Certainly,’ said Alice.
`And only one for birthday presents, you know. There’s glory for you!’
`I don’t know what you mean by “glory,”‘ Alice said.
Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. `Of course you don’t — till I tell you. I meant “there’s a nice knock-down argument for you!”‘
`But “glory” doesn’t mean “a nice knock-down argument,”‘ Alice objected.
`When I use a word,’ Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, `it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.’
`The question is,’ said Alice, `whether you can make words mean so many different things.’
`The question is,’ said Humpty Dumpty, `which is to be master – – that’s all.’
What’s left to say here? Thanks for the smile.