A Composite Sense of Reality

---

I realize as I sit in this open airport restaurant after arriving home from my holiday trips, that my friend Jake might appreciate this moment. We would often, summer and winter months alike, make our way down to a Minnesota tavern, to share thoughts on life, love, wisdom and the lacking of all three. I arrived at the San Antonio airport and decided not to leave. In the seat closest to the large floor-to-ceiling windows, I have been here for quite a while: writing and being forgotten in this space. Here, I am no one more than another young kid trying to slink away. In this anonymous space I blend in well.

Recently, I heard a line that has been spinning around in my head nonstop. Percolating slow, and running itself through and through my brain, I haven’t been able to quit it: Roughly, the idea went something like this: Few in history have marked their spaces by their simple being. Treading heavily and carrying a big stick, the way they see the world is much like a mosaic: pieces are placed according to a composite sense of reality. We consistently and nearly completely construct our lives and the worlds in which they move.

I do not think the idea means that we might be capable of controlling everything that happens in our lives. Indeed there is a certitude in the myth of fate. Sometimes, things simply happen to us. Yet, I want to point attention to the way in which we approach our life-choices. The decision processes within them determines how we see our lives: our lives are made up of choices.

I have several friends who claim they have no regrets. Understanding life as an educational process allows for mistakes: if I am easier on myself, allowing for failure, missteps and so on, when one does fail, getting back up is all the easier. I might be placed in that camp, or at least along with those of us who lean toward that outlook of not having regrets. Not because I do not believe everything that I have done in my life is good, right or moral; rather, I am not a fan of the belief that we are born pure and somehow become tainted as we gain experiences or make mistakes. How might individuals learn then through this mentality? Where is the space for growth?

The difference between these mentalities is one of consistently choosing an outlook for life. Undeniably, those friends of mine who see all of life as an enriching progression choose to see life this way. Others, disagree whole-heartedly: asserting that there are experiences, decisions that taint our moral character. To these folk, to say that life is an enriching educational process is different than living a moral life: there are some things that people ought to regret. These mentalities differ in personal perspectives: we choose how we see the world. And often, we forget that we have this power. We consistently, completely construct our lives, and the reality in which they move.

A couple of years back, I knew a girl who was going through intense personal difficulties. Family and drug abuse, relationship difficulties, pregnancy and the economic situation put her in a position that was unique, however, not rare. We had gone out to get a cup of coffee one night. I think it was winter, because I was cold, and the warm of the coffee radiated through the ceramic blue mug. The coffee shop was dark and quiet. A weekday night, it was nearly full of students whispering and studying. It smelled of espresso, of library books, of old furniture cheap coffee shops buy to give off that trendy aura. In all of this, my friend taught me something monumental that night. She told me about her past, about her bouts with drugs, and her decision to keep her child. She, however, was not complaining. She was sharing. And as I walked away that night, I was left with the profound sense that our history may influence and impact us now, but it does not determine our future; it does not control our actions today.

Who and how we are in this world is largely dependent upon our choices. Yet in places like airports, I feel a great sense of anonymity. It gives me the unique opportunity to feel both an insider and an outsider to my own society. Here, identities might be served alongside your coke or cocktail. In a somewhat silly way, when we are put in places where no one knows who we are, the opportunity of acting out another story arises. When encountering a random anyone, it is possible to act as someone completely different. Life narratives are given easily here.

In our lives, those who win and lose and the roles we play in our constructed realities are sometimes given and sometimes we choose. It is this power that I want to draw attention to. We are most certainly not always in control of the things that happen in our lives. Yet how we approach situations: how we react, how we see our emotions, how we choose to live, and how we choose to love for example, structures our relationships.

I recently came across a friend who was extremely angry with her father. She recounted how someone had advised her that she shouldn’t allow her anger to get the best of her; that she shouldn’t let it control her. It sounded like this advice was saying that we are always in control of our emotions.

I think this advice is a bit screwy. Often, our emotions occur because we are genuinely angry: we have been wronged, and we hurt. Yet how we understand this anger, hurt or loss is my point. We choose: Constantly. And acknowledging that we have this power is monumental.

On a previous post, I offered several selections from Terry Eagleton’s The Meaning of Life. We discussed the final chapter of this book for work at this week’s staff meeting. Toward the end of the conversation it was raised that an interesting aspect of Eagleton’s point is that it lies in an individual’s choice: If happiness is a state of mind, might one merely force this mentality? Disregard the realities of our world and simply think happiness?

This is where one might misconstrue Eagleton’s idea: Happiness is most definitely a way of life, of serving the other, of petit mort. Yet this mentality of happiness presumes that one’s economic, social and familial situation is one that isn’t lacking. Eagleton doesn’t mean to assert that we simply wish away the world’s inequalities. The role that choice plays in our lives is powerful. The world’s inequalities are real. Happiness is not found in a material reality. Yet Eagleton’s thesis seems paradoxical with the previous two statements.

This paradox can be resolved by understanding that we can choose to love others, and serve others in the way that Eagleton asks us too. If we are in the position of power to choose to serve others, then we ought to take it. In Eagleton’s currency, the world is then all the richer. Simply changing our mentality does not change the world, and our relationships that operate within it. But acting, and serving, and loving as Eagleton advocates, does. And what follows, then, is Eagleton’s idea of happiness. Incorporated fully by a community, when times become overbearing for us, our community will be the ones to hand us a glass of water, serving us, because they know there will come a time when we might serve then: and do it in happiness.

---