I cannot fathom the idea that some people do not ever feel enchanted by the world, much less experience daily enchantment. Today, I climbed to the top of one of the highest natural points in San Francisco, and looked down upon the city—the various neighborhoods, the unique architecture of every skyscraper, Golden Gate Park, the power lines and cell towers atop hills, the crimson towers of the Golden Gate bridge, the brilliant ocean and the expansive blue sky thinly painted with swirling clouds. Gazing out upon this vista, I could not help but feel a speechless sense of enchantment, “that energizing and unsettling sense of the great and incredible fact of existence” (Bennett 159). Today, I was awed by the power of music and amazed at how easily a bike can be balanced on two thin tires. I could have stayed all day in the Chinese restaurant I ate at just to watch others eating and interacting. I was inspired by the twisting and spiraling of tree trunks atop the hill I climbed, got to watch a golden retriever pant his way up the hill, and experienced the best moment of my day when a goofy man in a funny hat crossed through an intersection on his scooter. What I am trying to say is, the possibility of enchantment is everywhere, and all we must do is be open to experiencing it.
Perhaps it is fairly easy to find enchantment in a beautiful hilltop view of San Francisco and the Pacific Ocean, where one is distanced from life and sees a beautiful mask but cannot discern the disturbing details, but how do we discover enchantment when we return to the thick of society and daily face its ugly issues? Through my work at the needle exchange, I have discovered that it is not only possible to discover enchantment, but that the possibility for enchantment is just as great in places like these as it is anywhere else in society. I am working with the outcasts of society: drug users, ex-prisoners, people who cannot afford medical insurance, people who have Hepatitis C, HIV, and AIDS. My work involves waiting around for several hours, and every once in a while calculating some simple addition and putting some various sized needles into a brown paper bag. To anyone who hasn’t experienced it, this job seems depressing, mind-numbing, and the largest discourager of enchantment. Yet, I have met some of the most interesting people, and every time I work at the needle exchange, I have some experience, however small, that I have never had before. My interactions with the people who come to the needle exchange have led to many moments of enchantment, and I have realized that enchantment does not just occur in the presence of a pretty sunset or happy situation, but “enchantment does coexist with despair” (Bennett 159). “To be enchanted is, in the moment of its activation, to assent wholeheartedly to life—not to this or that particular condition or aspect of it but to the experience of living itself” (Bennett 160). Every human (and animal, organism, and object’s) life is interesting and beautiful in the sense that it has never been lived before, and thus every life is worthy of enchantment and wonder.
Enchantment is everywhere, and the simple realization of this fact is all it takes to cultivate an appreciation of life, others, and the world we live in. “The modern story of disenchantment leaves out important things, and it neglects crucial sources of ethical generosity in doing so. Without modes of enchantment, we might not have the energy and inspiration to enact ecological projects, or to contest ugly and unjust modes of commercialization, or to respond generously to humans and nonhumans that challenge our settled identities. These enchantments are already in and around us” (Bennett 174). Enchantment inspires me to continue my work at the needle exchange, even though I have already completed my required hours. The needle exchange is proof that we live in “a turbulent and unjust world,” but “the more aware of wonder one is—and the more one learns to cultivate it—the more one might be able to respond gracefully and generously to the painful challenges posed by our condition as finite [and imperfect] beings” (Bennett 160). Humans can no longer passively witness suffering and blame their non-action on the idea of a pointless and disenchanted world. Disenchantment is figment of the mind that can be easily cured, and we must instead cultivate wonder and a profound attachment to life that will inspire us to activate positive societal reform, no matter how small the scale.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Engaging Enchantment
I have never been able to agree with the modern worldview that the world is disenchanted and life is devoid of any meaning and purpose, but perhaps my love of life is a little excessive. I can find amazement in the simple act of brushing one’s teeth. I am not religious, I do not believe there is life after death, but I find the world we live in and the creative ability of human beings (and all other organisms) so beautiful that I am sometimes moved to tears of joy. I am no Pollyanna, and I am by no means bursting with joy all the time, but I firmly believe that beautiful details abound in the everyday, and if we take note of them, we will find “reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts” (as Rachel Carson once spoke).
“To be enchanted is to be struck and shaken by the extraordinary that lives among the familiar and the everyday” (Bennet 4). My work at the needle exchange is not difficult, and is many times boring and slow-going, but when someone comes in to exchange and we meet and converse, I am sometimes overcome with the simple joy of discovery and interaction that makes my work satisfying and worthwhile. For instance, a couple of weeks ago, a lady came in with her three-year-old some, and I watched him and played with him for a few minutes outside while his mother exchanged needles. While he was showing me his toy cars and demonstrating how they work, I suddenly experienced and inexplicable feeling of content. I felt confirmation that my work, however miniscule, was necessary and helpful to my life and to others.
In a disenchanted world, my work would remain meaningless, because the modern world is “a place of dearth and alienation” (Bennet 3). But these experiences of joy and love (for people who are essentially strangers) prove otherwise; our world is not completely disenchanted because joy provides meaning to life, and resultantly propels ethics. As Bennet points out, “joy enhances the prospect of ethical engagement,” and “one of the tasks proper to ethics is to ‘en-joy’ the world” (13).
Life is certainly not hunky-dory all of the time, but the moments and details of beauty and joy within it make the world not only worth living in, but worth striving to make better through our interactions with others. “I pursue a life with moments of enchantment rather than an enchanted way of life,” and I find moments of enchantment in my work at the Marin AIDS Project. If we work from the assumption that the world is disenchanted, we will most likely find that it is. Instead, we create our own reality, and there is no reason why we cannot live lives of significance, happiness, and ethical engagement. As Barry Green, author of The Inner Game of Music so perfectly said, “It is our state of consciousness, the way we perceive the world, that determines the kind of experiences we will have.”
“To be enchanted is to be struck and shaken by the extraordinary that lives among the familiar and the everyday” (Bennet 4). My work at the needle exchange is not difficult, and is many times boring and slow-going, but when someone comes in to exchange and we meet and converse, I am sometimes overcome with the simple joy of discovery and interaction that makes my work satisfying and worthwhile. For instance, a couple of weeks ago, a lady came in with her three-year-old some, and I watched him and played with him for a few minutes outside while his mother exchanged needles. While he was showing me his toy cars and demonstrating how they work, I suddenly experienced and inexplicable feeling of content. I felt confirmation that my work, however miniscule, was necessary and helpful to my life and to others.
In a disenchanted world, my work would remain meaningless, because the modern world is “a place of dearth and alienation” (Bennet 3). But these experiences of joy and love (for people who are essentially strangers) prove otherwise; our world is not completely disenchanted because joy provides meaning to life, and resultantly propels ethics. As Bennet points out, “joy enhances the prospect of ethical engagement,” and “one of the tasks proper to ethics is to ‘en-joy’ the world” (13).
Life is certainly not hunky-dory all of the time, but the moments and details of beauty and joy within it make the world not only worth living in, but worth striving to make better through our interactions with others. “I pursue a life with moments of enchantment rather than an enchanted way of life,” and I find moments of enchantment in my work at the Marin AIDS Project. If we work from the assumption that the world is disenchanted, we will most likely find that it is. Instead, we create our own reality, and there is no reason why we cannot live lives of significance, happiness, and ethical engagement. As Barry Green, author of The Inner Game of Music so perfectly said, “It is our state of consciousness, the way we perceive the world, that determines the kind of experiences we will have.”
A Little San Quentin Kindness
Early this Sunday morning I took the 70 bus into San Francisco for the day. As it happened, most of my fellow bus riders had just been released on parole from San Quentin, and were traveling back to wherever home was for each of them. If I had been in this situation at an earlier time in my life, I might have been a lot more nervous than I actually was. I would most likely have stereotyped the barely ex-inmates as dangerous untouchables and then tried to slump into a corner and disappear from notice. However, I am not now much more experienced and knowledgeable, and when one of the men asked to sit with me, I didn’t even hesitate when I said “yes.” We actually had a very interesting conversation: his girlfriend lives in Michigan, and his child was being christened that day. When my stop arrived, all the men in gray sweats thanked me for good conversation and wished me a wonderful day. Somehow I felt I should have been the one thanking them for talking to me.
Before I worked at the needle exchange, I thought IV drug users were all scary, dirty, despicable people whom I had no reason to associate with. Now, I see them simply as fellow human beings, as people I can learn from, as people seeking conversation and warmth, as people not unlike myself. “Conversation doesn’t have to lead to consensus about anything, especially values; it’s enough that it helps people get used to one another” (Appiah 85). After my conversations thus far with drug users that come to the needle exchange, the ignorant discomfort I used to feel around these people has disappeared.
We see any stranger through the lens of stereotypes and our immediate judgments, without having any clue as to the actual reality of the stranger. The only way we can overcome these boundaries of ignorance we build between ourselves and others is through conversation. Once we recognize “the commonality of simply being human, […] we can learn from one another, or we can simply be intrigued by alternative way of thinking, feeling, and acting” (Appiah 97). Once we engage in conversation, strangers become “particular strangers” and we can always find some commonality that grants us a feeling of shared identity (Appiah 98). Most of the San Quentin men were IV drug users, and we all spoke for a while about drugs (and how to use them safely). I do not personally use drugs, and I may not have agreed with the values of these men, but I felt familiar with the subjects we discussed, and thus walked away with a feeling of “warmth [from] shared identity” that put me in a good mood for the rest of the day. I completely agree with Appiah; conversations is the most effective and necessary method for reducing ignorance and enlarging understanding.
Before I worked at the needle exchange, I thought IV drug users were all scary, dirty, despicable people whom I had no reason to associate with. Now, I see them simply as fellow human beings, as people I can learn from, as people seeking conversation and warmth, as people not unlike myself. “Conversation doesn’t have to lead to consensus about anything, especially values; it’s enough that it helps people get used to one another” (Appiah 85). After my conversations thus far with drug users that come to the needle exchange, the ignorant discomfort I used to feel around these people has disappeared.
We see any stranger through the lens of stereotypes and our immediate judgments, without having any clue as to the actual reality of the stranger. The only way we can overcome these boundaries of ignorance we build between ourselves and others is through conversation. Once we recognize “the commonality of simply being human, […] we can learn from one another, or we can simply be intrigued by alternative way of thinking, feeling, and acting” (Appiah 97). Once we engage in conversation, strangers become “particular strangers” and we can always find some commonality that grants us a feeling of shared identity (Appiah 98). Most of the San Quentin men were IV drug users, and we all spoke for a while about drugs (and how to use them safely). I do not personally use drugs, and I may not have agreed with the values of these men, but I felt familiar with the subjects we discussed, and thus walked away with a feeling of “warmth [from] shared identity” that put me in a good mood for the rest of the day. I completely agree with Appiah; conversations is the most effective and necessary method for reducing ignorance and enlarging understanding.
The Authentic Self in Society
Guignon, in describing Harry Frankfurt’s concept of the self, states that “[your identity] is determined by what you identify with: the life defining ideals and projects that make you who you are” (139). If this is the case, then my self is determined by what I stand for (or do not agree with) and by the projects and services I commit to. This service-learning commitment with Marin AIDS Project then may become a life-defining project (if it hasn’t become so already).
Authenticity and enlightenment regarding our identity cannot be achieved solely by retreating into ourselves and away from society, because human beings are social creatures. As Guignon describes Mikhail Bakhtin’s concept of the dialogical self, “The conclusion to draw from the dialogical nature of experience is that we experience the world through a ‘We’ before we experience it through an ‘I’…The dialogical conception of self has the advantage of making social interactions absolutely fundamental to our identity. It lets us see that being human is inextricably being part of a ‘We’” (121). If humans are inextricably part of a “We,” then it is my duty to humanity to interact with and provide aid to society. I feel I am accomplishing this duty (in however controversial a way) through my work with the Marin AIDS Project. I am working at the needle exchange, a program that offers aid to intravenous drug users. We provide clean needles in exchange for dirty ones, thereby reducing the risk and spread of diseases such as HIV and Hepatitis C.
Frankfurt claims that a full-blooded person has “freedom of the will,” whereas someone not fully human is termed a wanton. “A wanton is described as an individual who not only gives in to the pull of various cravings and whims that come over him, but furthermore does not care about what sort of will he has” (137). Of the drug users that I have worked with thus far at Marin AIDS Project, I would most likely describe them as wantons. They are all enslaved to an addiction, but do not have a strong enough desire to overcome their situation. However, I cannot ever assume such a general stereotype; there are always exceptional people who have come through the needle exchange but are now free of their drug addiction. After all, one person can never truly know another after any amount of time, so it is impossible to ever truly judge anyone. Rather, we interact with each other primarily to gain self insight and knowledge and to enrich our own journeys through life.
Authenticity and enlightenment regarding our identity cannot be achieved solely by retreating into ourselves and away from society, because human beings are social creatures. As Guignon describes Mikhail Bakhtin’s concept of the dialogical self, “The conclusion to draw from the dialogical nature of experience is that we experience the world through a ‘We’ before we experience it through an ‘I’…The dialogical conception of self has the advantage of making social interactions absolutely fundamental to our identity. It lets us see that being human is inextricably being part of a ‘We’” (121). If humans are inextricably part of a “We,” then it is my duty to humanity to interact with and provide aid to society. I feel I am accomplishing this duty (in however controversial a way) through my work with the Marin AIDS Project. I am working at the needle exchange, a program that offers aid to intravenous drug users. We provide clean needles in exchange for dirty ones, thereby reducing the risk and spread of diseases such as HIV and Hepatitis C.
Frankfurt claims that a full-blooded person has “freedom of the will,” whereas someone not fully human is termed a wanton. “A wanton is described as an individual who not only gives in to the pull of various cravings and whims that come over him, but furthermore does not care about what sort of will he has” (137). Of the drug users that I have worked with thus far at Marin AIDS Project, I would most likely describe them as wantons. They are all enslaved to an addiction, but do not have a strong enough desire to overcome their situation. However, I cannot ever assume such a general stereotype; there are always exceptional people who have come through the needle exchange but are now free of their drug addiction. After all, one person can never truly know another after any amount of time, so it is impossible to ever truly judge anyone. Rather, we interact with each other primarily to gain self insight and knowledge and to enrich our own journeys through life.
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