On Necessity in General

I do agree that I am necessary to the extent that the collection of particles and immeasurable pieces, which have yet to be found, collapsed together to form my spatial tangence in the way that achieves what they (the particles) intend. The specific collection of mass and motion that is “me” is here right now -being- | so, yes. “I” am not replaceable. However, I am placed here. And I can be moved from here. 

I’m in a system that runs on my position and through positioning me, that is connected to quadrillions upon quadrillions of other positioned placements. My awareness of and subsequent interactivity with this is a phenomenon, as many organisms can’t, at least from our perspective, understand the vastness and acuteness of everything. They just are. I have to reason then that awareness, consciousness, or spirit has a purpose. Is it an elevated response to the inward motion of all things? Is it a separate entity sent from beyond tangibility to inhabit these cardboard shipment containers we deem bodies? Is it randomness? Chaos? Just a chance reaction of chemical interactions that have made a very small part of a massive universe able to observe and actuate itself? The expression of a God who created an evolving version of himself that will come to completion in self-awareness at some inconceivable point in the future?

All fascinating speculations to me, but what really gets me thinking is how my necessity right now in space and time depends little to nothing on my contribution actuated through this state of awareness. Yes, we made societies and cities and art and science. We have religions and ideals and philosophies and social media. We have balance and greed. We have fairness and murder. We have awareness. And my existence -is- because of the current ordering of particles commanding particles we call “humanity.” So awareness begot awareness. But awareness didn’t become aware from nothing. And nothing didn’t form something. It’s a continuous trade off of intentions with tendencies; on a cosmic scale! Galaxies forming constantly from motion throughout the expanse. Entire solar systems and galaxies contracting from space into blackholes where matter is compacted into ultimate density.

The world builds itself without us touching it. If our species died, the world would use the tools of itself to turn us back into it, which is all we’ve been all along — some combination of elements that have assembled into this complex organism allowing us to manipulate the world as we see fit in a much shorter span of time and with more expanded intention than what the universe does to us through tendency... and some small hint of intention.

I can’t get past it. That idea that everything is intentional. There are, however, cosmic forces that move at much more rapid speeds of particle destabilization than what we can enact. Our skills in disassembly, organization and reassembly of elements and particles into new forms measures as nothing compared to the potential force that a small chunk of space debris contains were it to enter our planet’s atmosphere and make impact with the surface. And then there are super novas and the like. And then there is the microwave spectrum. Forces we can’t even see and predict that could end us in a nanosecond. Fascinating.

Yet, here we are. Inside the big bubble of earth’s protective atmosphere, shielding us every moment from unending assaults by the cosmos. Protecting us out of an evolutionary and survival of the fittest interest, perhaps? Or, mayhaps, let us reason that a God set this up in such a way. Definitely plausible. All things point toward a being of infinite power making a system that would work in the way I’ve laid out here. I won’t get into that right now though. This one isn’t about God. Well, unless you’re of the persuasion that everything is through and from and for and about God. Then this whole argument works in your favor. I’m not attempting to talk about God though because it doesn’t matter. Unless you believe it does. Then it matters a ton. Except that it doesn’t.

Agh!! Look what you’ve made me do! I won’t go into that right now. I must resist. This blog post has gone on long enough.

Let me end by saying that I believe there is a struggle between intention and tendency and that struggle is an intersection on which awareness persists unto necessity. There. That should wrap it up nicely.

I Don't Believe?

Dear People In General,

This really has been a conquest up 'til now, hasn't it? I mean, life and the endless strivings. I guess I'm referencing all of them. Like, all of the fights for survival for all of time. Since a beginning or a conceptualization of conscious awareness and feeling within humanity. It's been a struggle to figure it all out and to know ourselves and to grasp the reason for it all, hasn't it?

I'm a very melancholy and sentimental type of person. I always have been. I feel intense waves of emotional singularity with seasons and spaces that may echo meaningful experiences from my past. The depth at which I connect with movements and movers had always inspired the need in my mind to appropriate effort to meaning and meaning back again to effort. In my perspective this was the circle; this was the balancing act.

This was the "moderation in all things" I strove to emulate, if only inside my own brain.

However, one course in my endeavors took precedence above all the others. Every course had some sort of value to present as beneficial to my state, to my existence. Every task my hand discovered needing, my heart discovered it chrono-dependent.

To explain, I knew the value of money. I knew, having reasoned from a very undeveloped age, that the love of money was what attributed evil to the middleman of our decadent value system. The value maintained itself separately, though, and a mechanism of time and motion would ascertain for me in it's own specularity the exact moments of chance and significance of allowance. Simply put, money would do its part as I did my part (which I really, really sucked at for a very long portion of my life and, from such suckery, am still feeling shockwaves).

So it had value - realized or unrealized. I hated it. I hated the needlessness of it all. The lack of conductive thinking that made this mere conduit something relied on by society for every menial implementation of thought in action. This routine of necessity also awaked inside me a hope in it's gears. It had value despite it's worthlessness. It could be useful in the time and space that it becomes so, and if not, oh well! Conjuring currency is not the fight of immortal significance. It's simply a course that benefits me in senses of temporality. Nothing good or bad will be the ultimate outcome of it's acuity or obscurity. There was a meaningful value beyond all the little worthless blights that added to the stain of us. The canvas had a shadow of the environment within which labor was applied to it's surface. There was and is a Beyond. These empty routines aren't ends that make an end. These are ends usher the over.

Sex was a motivation. I was internally and covertly vexed that it held only a momentary and insatiably redundant purpose: to make to make. Yet it motivated me. There was a woman out there in the feral wild who would find me as I found her and our love would be impenetrable and intertwined in sweet, eternal, mortal satisfactions and a gradual unification of sacrificial living. It would happen to me as it's purposes of pleasure and reproduction were realized in a time and space that aligned beside my reality.

And then we'd have incredibly intimate and mentally stimulating sex. Mainly that: we'd make babies like few had before us. Because I could think and understand and feel and I knew she was mine like she knew I was hers. It was the ultimate goal. Perhaps it remains of top importance, only in a very different light. As I was saying though, sex was a motivator, not a truly meaningful institution. It had purpose, value, but was meaningless. I hated that it was meaningless. I hated that it couldn't fulfill me. What was it worth if it wasn't absolutely visionary?

So I fought time and space for it.

I took it. I found shortcuts and I claimed little satisfactions. These triumphs mixed with the response of social undertones tore me to pieces. I knew there was a more perfect satisfaction. I pushed for it. I fought the wild. I found the beauty and took from her. Out of balance with what I had preemptively obtained, I felt the pressure to abandon and reset myself. I searched again and found multiple desirables who were nonreciprocal.

I went from one crush to the next. I was the classic, jaded dude, thinking this might finally be the one who notices what magic we could be. Rejection hit me hard again and again and I decided I didn't care.

I had one thing I knew.

The one underlying reality and single course that I viewed without the filter of moderation was Christ and nothing more or less. What was the value of everything else that comes in, around and after or before? That was my one overarching theme that sounded distinctly in this internal war by which all things were made meaningless with a certainty of value. The contradictions inside me found resolution in knowing an absolute end to the ends. An over to the game. A finality to the narrative.

The resolution comes at the end of the world, so whatever will be will be.

Whatever wealth is enough.

I make love to make love and love makes to make.

These are the redundancies. These are meaningless, but purposeful. These are the circles and they go on and on. They round up to mere shadows of the originator, as imprints of the steps that were taken, as images on a canvas in a much larger room in an endless expanse. They were placed into existence for perfection's sake by the Creator and are now meaningless because of our inadequacy. We trudge onward through these cycles to find ourselves face to face with either a glorious new home or a flaming vortex of soul destroying torment forever.

Holy hot damnation. What did I just type?

Well, here now unfolds my confession; I have dreamed to doubt my entire life. Yes, I fantasize about the very act of doubting. The notion of throwing my claim to faith into the winds of self-interest and indifference has tempted the stern of this vessel since I first learned that hell was for people to be burnt in forever and ever. When I learned that heaven is golden and glass, pure and brilliant, and our constant activity will be singing "Holy, Holy, Holy," forever and ever, I was, frankly, disappointed.

But I couldn't tell anyone.

And it's not anyone's fault that I couldn't. It's my fault. I knew what it would mean to some in my circle of Christianity if I had admitted out loud that all those shouts of "holy" sounded painfully boring and repetitive. That all my present shouts of "holy" were laced with a plea to the one I shouted for to prove Himself.

Let me elaborate on that.

Here's the actual thought process that I remember so clearly while coming to terms with this newly discovered future reality for my second life. Since my two choices were: A. hot, white flames licking my everlasting, melting skin while small, writhing worm-like monstrosities devoured the epidermis of my eternal body as I screamed in the blackest, coldest, hottest darkness forever and ever, or: B. God's presence wrapping me in light and warmth and love, and living in a place of joy and peace without sadness or regrets, walking on golden streets and swimming in a sea that looks like glass, singing, "Holy, Holy, Holy," I chose the latter.

I figured it'd be something I would come to enjoy. Eventually I'll just get in there and do it with the team! It's an acquired taste and will be my favorite thing to participate in someday, right? There were several other ideas with which I attempted to convince myself. I tried to apply imaginative narratives to the whole afterlife thing, since it was all very underdeveloped in scripture. Then again, I didn't need to know what it would be like. I just needed to trust and live out my life. God clothes the flowers.

When it came down to it, the greatest freedom of Christianity was that I didn't even need to believe! I didn't need to strive to prove my allegiance. I only needed to accept the gift that was available. And I did.

I sang about it. I sang for Truth. I sang for glory to God. I gave myself over to a belief, a faith, because it was true.

God is Truth. Truth comes from God and is God, so the very act of believing isn't something I have to even try to do because it sustains itself in Truth, rather than a truth being sustained by my belief.

So, it's self-evident then. By the very nature of this Truth, it has to convince any would be believer, because it is not my Belief that is true, but a Truth that compels my belief. Anyone who doesn't believe is in such a state because Truth hasn't been revealed. If it was revealed, I would either gladly believe or scornfully reject it.

Since I didn't lean either direction, I gradually became aware that I didn't actually believe.

This realization brought me to a point; some call it a crossroads. The decision to turn onto the selected route didn't occur in an instant. Just as it requires checking back and forth before proceeding through a 4-way stop intersection, I checked. I looked for the real God. I observed all of these proofs that emanate from themselves. They created truth. The Creator made our awareness. So it must be there. Waiting to be revealed. So... where?

Can I reveal it?

No.

It reveals itself at the right time. To claim belief before being convinced of it, by it, is to stand in my own attempt to myself pull back the curtain that was not mine to touch. I'd rather count myself a fool who says there is no God than to attempt deceit of the same. The fool is the more acceptable reprobate than the one who lies of such convictions of faith.

Add on whatever other philosophical one-liners you can think up and you got a nice little finale here! Because that's about it. That's where I'm at. I haven't finalized anything. As I said in the previous post this past summer, there are no answers. And that's good enough.

Indefinitely?

Yes.

Absolutely?

No.

Nothing is absolute.

Let's just leave it at that: I don't believe in God.

It's not like I don't want to.

Yeah. I'm shrugging the blame. It's not my fault. I am at fault for many errors I have made, but redemption, it seems, is fully dependent on revelation.

So, come on. It doesn't really matter if I don't believe. If I'm predestined for that path, I'll come around to it wholly due to its own nature. I'm more intrinsically bound to the search for truth than ever before. I don't know if I'll find it. I've made peace with that.

Now, to the refinement (...still shamelessly optimistic toward it all...)!

Andrew R. M. Hanson

Survive? Thrive? Die? Ask?

Firstly, allow me to say, and perhaps this goes without saying, but I declare nonetheless, I have changed immensely.

Secondly, the first two paragraphs after these first four are copied and modified from a comment I had posted two years ago today on a Facebook post that was about what I no longer recall. The rest is the extension of my thoughts on optimism and its significance and purpose (a word used very lightly) within the reality I understand from a modified perspective two years later.

With no further qualifications and rambled wordage, please tread cautiously forward. Thinking hurts: especially in such a scattered blabbering into which you are about to tread.

“It is better to tread sod in an unexplored territory of a ferocious beast than into the mind of a wannabe philosopher in free fall.” - Me.

“I believe in legislation that isn't religious and religion that doesn't involve itself with legislation. Honestly, I believe religion and politics are the two greatest enemies of unity. We can only be united when we accept our humanity. I don't believe there's a fix. Hopefully it comes, but we're all too different. I hope. I truly hope because I'm an unrealistic optimist. I think believing that change could happen is the only thing keeping me sane, whereas believing that change can happen is far more unbelievable to me.

“In an alternate reality bouncing off the infinite cosmos somewhere out there, a universe exists where the right course could be forded. For that reason I believe pretty strongly that alternate realities must exist. At least at the bequest and dissemination of our collectively trailing consciousness. I just have absolutely no idea what the right course is and believe no one else does except for the divine intelligence. And why it doesn't just show up and tell everyone right now what's gonna stop all the killing and backstabbing, I have even less an idea about. But humanity could still work around that impasse. I mean, we could also all blow each other up. - read: optimism.”

Humanity working around the impasse of the guy who made us not introducing himself. Interesting mindspeak. 

I keep on hoping because optimism is the only thing that’s pushed the great processes of all progress, animal or human, forward since the beginning. Life has always been optimistic that the heat death of the universe isn’t the ultimate reality. Look at the formation of molecular structures and the exchange of energy between particles. Look at the forms we can manipulate; our bodies. Look at their intentionality in existence that is without input from us. Feel the reality of your body persisting without your conscious involvement. Look at the optimism. It has either surfaced in a hope for something beyond our current observed setting, or it has trudged forward through all opposition regardless and negligent of an end.

I mean, why keep on if it’s all so small and insignificant? What drives us to survive and why do we have the urge to thrive, above the persistent theme of maintenance in our daily engagements? If this ambition to just be were because of a Being of spiritual significance and existential dominance, there is an end answer that needs to be approached. Such a divine creature would have no motivation to engage us (divinity’s potential expressed) and convince us of its existence and, what’s more, its preeminence. If the being then did enter our perspective, submitting to our feral need for proof of god, we would be extrinsically grateful and captured by the gracious gesture of such a significantly superior thing; the thing from which the essence of what makes us exist is derived. If a living, feeling entity crafted all that is, such a thing is profound beyond our comprehension and doesn’t need to cater to us in any way. It means that there may be some end to things. It means that there is more significance to our experiences than the theory of an inside-out universe that is rubber-banding into a reverse snap cycle over and over again. Which, if true, still offers no explanation for a beginning to processes of any sort. So knowing a creator designed and placed into motion all that exists reveals a destinational significance. However, even a story of the sin-led fall from the auspices of the creator of humankind would not excuse or explain the absence and leading on of this extra dimensional entity in a life of simple existence within a void of limitless potentials that keeps spitting out new souls to claw their way up and accept that they never had any control so that they can have no control to go to the place that they may or may have not been predestined to go.

That’s why optimism is synonymous with the nature of everything.

If you’re still following, I don’t know what’s wrong with you.

Jokes.

What I mean is this. When we realize that everything is burning out and there is no purpose to anything, and that no purpose will be given to everything at the proverbial end of time, the hopeless depression that is sure to follow after such an honest observance of the meaning of everything would certainly drive most to contemplate ending it all right then and there. Or, at the least, said person may no longer put importance on the continuation of any principled religiosities (whether spiritual or secular, it doesn’t matter) and abandon morality as a whole to pursue the basest of pleasures without limit or remorse. We should come to full awareness of the abject frivolity of life and just stop.

So why do we not? I won’t even ponder the neglectful approach toward enlightenment, or the pros and cons thereof, characterized by most of us. I will simply wonder at the constraint and tension that hold us in a pattern of self-preservation; a need for moderation in all things. A reliance on structure and law. A need for “the way things are” ...until they change. A fight and a banner of unity. A fist and a caress.

What is the source of this gravitational well around which these ideas orbit? Who or what is the middle man requiring these oppositions to coalesce?

Why can we see billions of light years into space?

Existence is an expanse of untold realities and we are so caught up in attempting to define our own, insignificant part of it that it truly boggles my mind.

Why? Such a rudimentary, redundant question.

An answer could be very simple to such a generalized and unspecific question: if it is, there is no need to know why it is.

Although, perhaps that question and a question presented to it are the key to understanding the purpose that eludes. Why do we ask why? This is what has always strained my eyes in searching through what circulates and what gives me reason to believe there is a beating heart that ignited the mystery. I am so curious about how and why things are the way they are, that I often wonder in parallel, “why why?” It is easy to say, “because it is,” or, “everything can be understood at some point.” It is hard to say, “I do not know if it is possible to know.” That is, essentially, what the question is stating, rather than asking. It’s a rhetorical question of redundancy that is more concerned in honest evaluation of the extent of conscious capability than it is with receiving an answer. It compels one to stop making assumptions in the moment and within circumstance, and begin to wonder.

Wonder.

It’s like we’re in a dream that disallows us to know the waking realities of the greater consciousness. We see a spark and a purpose in the menial tasks of the day in, day out, but we don’t often ask why. It’s even less often that we accept nothing as it is and ask, “why why?” It’s like we are unable to understand what that question means or requires of us. It is easy to respond to this confounding implication with nihilistic reasoning and yield to the compounded monotonies by submitting to meaninglessness. We discount and exclude the question because it is unanswerable.

But it’s there. A sleeping observation of our deepest self. Our self that was before ourself which decided that this assembly of all the parts that make us what we are — should be — and should strive — and should thrive — in the way that we just — do. This is the 1st self that seems to synaptically handle all of my reactions before I react. This self defines my place in existence through means of matter and time. All the functioning parts of who I am push on to survive. They see a purpose, while my waking mind sees chaos. They see potential, while my observation sees loss. They have gathered, while I am reclusive. They are optimistic, while I give in.

So maybe, ultimately, and to tag back to my beginning thoughts on that orbital unification, I am merely giving into optimism. Because there is no purpose. Not any that I can see. But there must be an answer. Because it’s all too typical. But there is not an answer. Because the question doesn’t require one. So the questioning is purposeless, but King Solomon was wrong.

The question endures. It cannot be answered; not by me. Why is any of it? Who is the 1st self defining the 2nd and why is the 2nd hidden? The resolution is not “nothing matters, so nothing matters.” The resolution is also not “everything matters, so everything matters.” We don’t know what the resolution is, or even if there is one. The question is the purpose. But it has no resolution.

If a resolution isn’t necessary, then I don’t need to resolve that a resolution isn’t necessary. I can just exist alongside a circumstantially-contiguous understanding that a finality is indiscernible, so I should exist in the extremes I find my reality stretched between.

Moderation. Kindness. General courtesy. These are signifiers of the question.

So I exist. I exist and breathe out into the existence of everything that surrounds me.

Because there aren’t answers. And we walk ahead toward something undefined. And that’s good enough.

Good. Evil. Us. Dichotomy?

Hey, everyperson!

I haven't written in here for an elapsed period.

Tomorrow is church time! I'm taking the attitude of the Psalmist who said, "I was glad when they said to me, 'let us go to the house of the Lord!'" - Psalm 122:1

We get to sing to God and, in view of all His grand mightiness, that's quite the privilege!

I'm thinking about how many awful things are going on in the world tonight. Truly things to be concerned over and pray about. At the same time, here I am, enjoying casual conversation about the trials of growing older, utilizing a technologically advanced device to communicate with y'all, and planning my future that seems so open from this side of time.

It's easy to think that life is unfair and that I shouldn't be able to enjoy these little things as others suffer so greatly across the sea. Truth is, evil is all around us daily. Hourly.

Every minute.

So is goodness.

I wanna put my focus there. Where life is promising. Where tomorrow has potential and today is called intentional. Where good dims the wrongs that are constantly there. We can't deny the existence of evil and the reign of travesty. But trying to fix it by turning your attention on the problems is to lose sight of the actual solution.

We have to recognize good by partaking of it while we are graced with the evidence of its existence. Then, in the times we don't see the good, we still have known evidence that the room we're in is not the end of our reach.

Some aren't fortunate enough to know good for very long, if at all in their lives. The days are counted out with misfortune touched by misfortune. A life can end in cold, gray desperation, having never seen the meaning of ambition. Though, even there, in final despair, an unexplainable peace that has always existed can invade. A peace that rest comes after the race.

Cherish the good you see. No matter how small. Perhaps more importantly, no matter how big. You're so fortunate. If you're American, you're more than likely extremely well off. Every good thing is a gift from the Father of Lights. When surrounded by darkness, remember the light. When basking in blessings, remember to pray the less fortunate would be so blessed. Above all of that, live your worship, in good and bad. He's always good.

See you tomorrow!

May your way be Lit.

-Andrew R. M. Hanson

Going to the Parthenon

I'm going to the Parthenon.

Hiccups and Fluency

Here I am in Macedonia. I've been living here for a month. Currently I am in Bitola where I've found a huge need for a missionary to come and work next to Pastor Tefik long term. I am working in Veles and travelling abroad. I can't help with the need specifically, but I can help point out the need so that someone will help.

Are you a missionary? Can you work with youth and understand or learn Macedonian? Come quickly to Bitola, MK to help!

I live in the small town of Veles. Small being sixty thousand residents. The people are friendly and welcoming and the streets and buildings tell stories of ancient culture. The love and reverence for each other is something more intimate than what you may find in a common American city. The city operates in hiccups. I realized this as I walked along hiccuping because of the massive amount of food I had just eaten. The portions here are enormous wherever you go. The street traffic consists of people driving cars and people walking. As they weave through the commotion, it's almost as if there's no right of way. I haven't recognized such a thing during any of my two-week visits over the past five and a half years. Sometimes cars stop for pedestrians. Cars many times drive on without giving much heed to anything beside their proposed destination. The traffic carries on a conversation that I don't understand yet, like the language. It is inconsistent to the point that I find no pattern beside that of increased caution in my own steps. Don't wanna get dead on a curb.

I am beginning to understand words that are spoken in conversation. It's as if I'm a genius. As iF. iF. hmmm... That sounds like a good name for a band. Little "i", big "F". Or, perhaps that's too cliche. Well, better jump on that if it's for you. It's the bees knees in band names! Off the rabbit trail, please. Thanks. Macedonian words... That's where I was. The variations on words have me confused in speaking the language yet, but I can understand the roots of words. I'm beginning to understand ownership and past tense and all that jazz. Four months left to become fluent!

Speaking of fluency, Romans 3:23 says, "For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." By this Scripture it's evident that we are all fluent in the same language, believing or not. We have each been apportioned the same grace to give us love we don't deserve. We have each been shown mercy to detain judgement that we do deserve. Each of us have been called and are therefore fluent in the articulation of grace and mercy. The love of God is perfect and unites us all, calling us to be truly reunited in mind, body and spirit as sons and daughters of God. He has given to each person gifts to use that joy would emerge. Let's give the same grace that the Father has given to us to our brothers and sisters when we are grafted into the vine. Merely speaking the same language is not enough to maintain unity. You must understand why we speak the same language. This is so important to truly loving your neighbor. It's because we are all God's creation, valuable and created worthy of eternal life. We have made ourselves unworthy, but God wishes to make our filthiness whiter than snow by the blood and sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

Psalm 139:14 says, "I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."

And further, "How precious to me are your thoughts, oh God! How vast are the sum of them!" David is saying that God's thoughts are for him. The context of this entire chapter is God's fashioning of people, His care and passion for creating humankind.

Moreover, David requests, "Search me, oh God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!" He knows that he is corruptible, but also realizes the value God placed on him. David accepts God's righteousness, despite the terrible things he has done in his flesh.

This is the fluency I'm talking about. Don't look only at the value God has on you, but on the equal value and even distribution of grace for the person next to you. No one can obtain salvation, but God has decided that everyone can. God is worthy of praise. We are worthy of salvation. Not because of what we've done. No, that only makes us unworthy of anything good. We are worthy because of who we are. And we are not anyone other than who God has made us. We attempt to become a mask and deny the identity of God in us. But the mask is not what is behind the facade. We are conceived as sinners and God watches us from that moment, having patience so we will find the opportunity to receive His grace. How great is that grace, that even though we denied the worth God put on us and turned our back on Him, rejecting His truth and love, He is persistent. He calls us His own and desires to call every man and woman the same.

We are fluent in humanity, God's greatest creation.

Andrew R. M. Hanson

Bruno Mars - Grenade

You know what song I hate? That grenade song by Bruno Mars. It's annoying

cuz the man can't man up and get over the rejection. He's so entitled and it makes me sick. Love the music. Hate the message. Just thought I'd share that with the world. Thanks.

-Andrew R. M. Hanson