Happiness and Living Openly

            Are you happy? I have heard this common query throughout my life. I have been asked it and have asked it. At times happiness has eluded me but, for the most part, I have enjoyed a happy and fulfilled life. While happiness is a complex phenomenon, there are some principles that have proved very helpful over the years: striving to live to my full potential, maintaining my independence, continuing to grow, and being authentic in my relationships. Of these, living authentically and openly has been the most challenging and most valuable to me. Only through living openly have I come to feel the deep sense that I really matter.

            Many people have explored how to attain happiness. The idea of happiness being an end goal first emerged a couple thousand years ago among the Epicurean philosophers around the Mediterranean. Even still, happiness has only held a marginal place of consideration until recent centuries. The real breakthrough for happiness came about during the Enlightenment era when those American founding fathers enshrined the idea: the Declaration of Independence declares the pursuit of happiness one of those inalienable human rights. Today we find it difficult to imagine a person who does not want to be happy.

            In its simplest terms happiness can be described as a state of satisfaction: those moments or periods when we have satiated our desires and appetites. If we adopt this simple formula we need to either manage our desires or do whatever is necessary to satisfy them. In order to be happy, of course, we face practical limits on what we can do to pursue the things we want. For example, I may desire to go to the moon. In such a case it may be wiser to temper my wants or align all my energy and abilities in the pursuit of this goal. Yet even here, other desires would necessarily be sacrificed or managed in order to achieve this end. There are limits to what one can do with desires. Every four or five hours I have a strong urge to eat food (usually the fatty and sugary type). While I can moderate and cultivate better tastes, in the end, I need to eat and eliminating this desire would not make me happy. 

            As such, I see a lot of benefit in looking at this thing called desire. Where do desires come from? Obviously, many are physiological and rooted in our social biology, others emerge culturally. From our earliest years we are taught according to various ideals and social scripts what to want. We attend church meetings or watch movies that instruct us and direct us in what we ought to desire. These desirables come in the forms of things, activities, people, and even the type of people we should be. These pressures impose limits on us and leave us a few options. We can naively cave to whatever pressure or desire is foremost, or we can choose to engage them more consciously. We possess the capacity to choose among the various desires and select those that matter the most. We can cultivate and enlarge those appetites that, if satisfied, produce the most opportunities for a satisfied state over the long term. Every desire we experience cannot be satisfied and every desire is not equal.

            For me, the desire to make a difference in the world for good is such a multiplier of happiness. To make a difference by equipping a student with some of the skills necessary to choose what he or she will do with their life makes me feel a sense that I matter. I value the ability to choose and pursue my own direction in life. I expand that effectively by making that value possible in the lives of others. Through seeing my efforts change the world around me, even subtly, I establish that I matter. This quality of mattering has emerged as a significant part of my happy life.

            Mattering requires authenticity and open living. If I hide myself, withhold those parts of myself that are unique, withdraw from speaking or acting in accordance with what I know, value, or believe in, then, I am conforming with the norms or the day and betraying who I authentically am. I am following a faceless social script amalgamated from all the desires and appetites popularized among the mediocre. Or, I am appeasing the desires of those in power to play a game of politics in which my authenticity is sacrificed in order to achieve some political aim, maintain my own security or curry affection. Either way, those desires closest to the man I am cannot be abandoned without cost to my happy state. Going with the flow removes all those things that make me unique and make it so I cannot make a real difference in the world.

            I did not acquire this insight into the connection between open living and happiness easily. I grew up in devout Mormon household and was taught that happiness comes from being obedient to God’s plan of happiness. Through keeping His commandments and conforming to the program of the church I would be happy both here and in the afterlife. As I grew up, married, and pursued this program, I experienced a measure of happiness. Loved ones and acquaintances rewarded me for my conformity. Eventually though, my desire to know the truth concerning this plan, independent of the authority figures who taught it, propelled me into a world full of critical thinking and questioning. I came to a point that what I knew about the universe differed radically from the community of my youth. I could not square the plan of happiness I had received with what I had come to know. Fearing rejection, the loss of security and affection, I hid the values that mattered the most to me. Doing so I lost even the measure of happiness I had known prior to my questioning. Eventually, I reached a point I could no longer remain hidden and quiet. When I came out to those closest to me, I felt a surge of happiness that overwhelmed all the trepidation connected with that act. I have marveled at that because I did not anticipate or imagine that opening up in such a manner would be so satisfying and fulfilling. I realized that ceasing to hide opened up the possibility for what I knew to make a difference in the world. I found myself authentically present among those I loved. Since that time, I have striven for ways to live more openly and my happiness has correspondingly deepened.  

            Living one’s life in such a way that makes a difference in the world is not easy. Open living with authenticity and integrity comes with risk: the risk of engagement. When we engage with the world and society authentically we risk our sense of self. We do open ourselves to make change, but we also risk being changed or rendered irrelevant. We even confront the possibility of outright rejection. Most importantly we face the question: Can I make a difference? We expose our dearest values, hopes, and dreams to others. Perhaps we should be careful. We should employ strategies and wisdom in managing the time, place, and manner in which we live openly. In my experience, it is a risk worth taking because it is a process I have grown into and have derived much happiness from. We are enriched by open engagement. The values we hold are refined by honest interaction with the community and society in which we live. Our country and world is made a better place by our honest contribution. Being as forthcoming as possible, being fully present honestly and authentically we find happiness and extend that happiness to others.

Pearls of Great Price

         One of the fastest growing religious demographics in the United States at the moment is the unchurched: a mass of disaffected former believers who are leaving organized religion.  While this trend is often portrayed as simple disillusionment on the part of the unbeliever or a failure of institutional religions to maintain relevance, for me, it was a choice I had to make between competing values. It was a difficult and painful choice that took me out of the faith of my childhood but eventually brought me into a much fuller and happier world. The parable of the “Pearl of Great Price” illustrates the nature of this choice rather well. 

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: Who, when he found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it.”

                                                                                                   --Matthew 13:45-46, King James Version

For centuries, Christians have understood this parable as an expression for the great value of the kingdom of heaven: worth sacrificing all you have in order to have it. This parable also implies that if you are not willing to stake all you have and your entire future on it, you are not worthy of it. The Mormon community, the faith of my upbringing, extends the parable’s interpretation a bit further. The “one pearl of great price” stands for the restoration of the gospel, the institutional church itself. Many a believing Mormon has invoked the narrative of sacrificing the goods of former churches, careers, hobbies, friendships and even family relationships in order to embrace membership in the restored, true church. They sold pearls they already possessed so that they could have the “one pearl of great price.” This parable illustrates my own experience well too, but in a different way: I discovered some pearls of such value that I sold the “one pearl of great price” in order to have these valuable pearls. The “one pearl of great price” claims to contain all other pearls. I discovered that the church actually hindered my pursuit of the ideals and values I hold to be of greatest worth: truth, justice, excellence, and possibility. Like the merchant in the parable, I too am willing to stake all I have and my entire future on these values.

                Truth—Growing up in the church I often heard the refrain: “I know this church is true.” I had even stated, as so many others, “I am grateful to have the truth” with the implication that others were not so fortunate. Of course this truth that I referred to was a special knowledge of the plan of salvation, the need for saving rituals, and an institution authorized by God himself to perform them. This truth also includes all of the teachings and guidance that church leaders provide through talks and scriptures like the Book of Mormon. This truth of my upbringing was very exclusive to this unique institution.

                As I grew, I discovered that truth is illuminating. As my understanding of truth grew, it improved my experience and journey in life. Like a good map, truth enables me to make effective choices, anticipate difficulties, and find long-term solutions to society’s greatest problems. Truth came to be something rather independent of the exclusive truth the church provided.

                In fact, I came to understand that the validity of the church’s truth depends heavily on careful omissions and perpetuated ignorance of historical facts. Volumes of historical documents that contradict institutional truth claims fail to make it into the historical stories told in church. This is not accidental. In a famous talk given to church education instructors, Boyd K. Packer stated that “Some things that are true are not very useful.” The context of this statement bears out the understanding that historical truths should be included in instruction only if they are “worthy or faith promoting.” In this talk he excoriates those who have an “exaggerated loyalty to the theory that everything must be told.”¹ Within the church an institutional truth-claim trumps truths rooted in the use of reason, evidence, and critical thinking conducted among individuals engaged in open inquiry. The contrast between the church’s exclusive truth and my discovery of the value of truth clashed heavily. Truth must be embraced because it is true, not because it serves the interests of an organization. Truth became a pearl of great price. One of such value to me, I sold the “one pearl of great price” in order to obtain it.

                Justice—Growing up in the church I embraced a strong faith in a Jesus Christ who will answer the claims of justice with his atoning sacrifice. He will right the injustices committed here in mortality at the final day. This particular hope in the ultimate judgment comforted me greatly. The church held an exclusive claim on this as Christ himself directs the church through revelation to his prophets, seers, and revelators. Christ guides them on how the church should proceed in this unjust world to make it a better place. My expectations were great as were the church’s claims.

                The ideal of justice demands that each individual receive the opportunities, rights, liberties, and responsibilities due to them as human beings. These aspects of human life should never be denied an individual based on who he or she is. Whether black or white, male or female, or even heterosexual or homosexual each member of our society deserves to have full participation in the community. These opportunities, rights, liberties, and responsibilities are the greatest fruit of a liberal democracy. It is the grossest injustice to deny them to anyone based on ignorance or prejudice, whether racist or homophobic.

                This pearl of great price clashes with the teachings and actions of a church that has actively excluded entire classes of its membership from full participation based on nothing more than race, gender, or sexual orientation. The church has a long history of denying the priesthood to those of African descent and women. Those with African heritage can now hold the priesthood but the historical wrong has never been officially acknowledged by the institution. The church has actively fought against homosexuals having full civil rights. It has expended much money and time opposing efforts to make gay marriage state recognized. The church also sustains its leadership within an authoritarian hierarchy that places them beyond criticism or institutional accountability to the rest of the membership. These injustices are not marginal aberrations of an otherwise well intentioned organization. They are central to the very structure of the organization. These stark clashes against the pearl of justice presented me with a choice: obtain this pearl of great price or continue to support an unjust institution. I sold the “one pearl of great price.”

                Excellence—Growing up in the church I was taught that I should strive to perfect myself. I was taught that I was a god in embryo and that Christ commanded me to be perfect even as He was perfect. The purpose of existence was to grow into this perfected being, free of flaws. Of course, I was not expected to achieve this state here in this world.  It was clearly communicated to me that this would not be realized until some point in the next life. Moreover, I was also taught that I would not be able to accomplish this on my own. The atonement of Christ would make up for my inadequate efforts.

                The pursuit of excellence demands that one become the best that they can be. Striving to achieve excellence requires a great deal of effort from an individual and organization but never expects one to go beyond one’s capacity. In fact, the ideal of excellence is rooted in the very essential nature of one’s being and no more. A fighter who strives after excellence never expects himself to be able to sprout wings and fly. This ideal flourishes in the seedbed of the real.

                By placing human potential beyond this world the realization of this kind of excellence is also placed in some after life. If humankind are gods in embryo then their ultimate potential is a state of being that is all powerful, perfectly good, and all knowing. I have discovered that to strive after excellence under such a presupposition fatigues the imagination and disheartens the most courageous because there is never the payoff of achieving it in any real way here. Moreover, the ultimate realization of this ideal relies on the intercession of one Jesus Christ. The pearl of excellence rests on the effort and hard work of the one who strives after it. The teaching that we are gods in embryo makes us infants in this world and undermines the pursuit of excellence as an ideal in and of itself.

                An inaccurate understanding of human sexuality also impedes the pursuit of excellence by inducing one to misapply valuable energy in futile efforts. The church taught me that I could control my sexuality by first controlling my thoughts. If I failed to control my thoughts I could succumbed to serious sin and failure. Church leaders told me that my mind was like a stage. I must control what appears on the stage. If I didn’t and allowed some sexual thought in my mind it could start my sexual drive like a factory that once it gets started is nearly impossible to shut down. So, much effort should be expended to keep these thoughts out and the sexual factory idle. What I discovered was that human sexuality is far too instinctual for either of these metaphors to work. Such drives emerge and are in play before we are consciously aware of them. To seek to prevent these sexual thoughts from coming into being is as absurd as trying to stop the incoming tide with a picket fence. I wasted much energy and effort trying to achieve an impossible state of mind.

                I run marathons competitively. I strive and work intensely to get faster. I put myself through rigorous and, at times, agonizing training sessions in order to improve and reach that potential top speed within me. Dreams and goals motivate me in this process. I set attainable and realistic goals because achieving them from time to time sustains my efforts in the long run. I also follow training programs designed on an accurate understanding of human physiology. These plans help me to apply my efforts at achieving excellence in running in effective ways. I do not waste my limited amount of effort on ineffectual activities. The church’s grand, supernatural ideals of godhood, perfection, and complete control of one’s thoughts make any kind of analogous pursuit of excellence impossible. Because these church teachings have to do with the fundamental nature and character of humanity itself, they actually interfere with the pursuit of excellence as an ideal. Here again, the value of this principle is of such great value that I sold the “one pearl of great price” to fully pursue excellence.

                Possibility—Growing up in the church I was taught that there was one plan for salvation, a plan of happiness for life and eternity. I was taught that this was a universal plan that was the same for everyone. To deviate from this prescribed program was a sin and would lead to unhappiness. The misery of disobeying would come in this life as well as continue into the next. The church presented this program as the great possibility of humanity. In fact, it is the only possibility for meaningful, lasting happiness and fulfillment.

                The value of possibility is that it radiates out in all directions. This pearl frees us to honor and acknowledge the unique potentiality within each of us. There are innumerable paths to goodness available to us. The happiness enjoyed by humanity comes out of many paths and pursuits. If one truly embraces this value they must acknowledge that a path different from their own is not only legitimate but even good. Possibility unleashes our most powerful and passionate selves. To abridge possibility with social norms and oppressive restrictions kills the best parts of us.

                The church claims to offer the ultimate of all possibilities but, in actuality, offers a strait gate and narrow way. Many members even express sorrow for those who do not have this plan and guidance from the church. I have heard members say that though others without the plan of salvation may seem happy, their true happiness is limited because they are missing the church’s program. Everyone must be baptized. All worthy young men should serve two year missions. Leaders exhort young adults to be busily engaged in getting married and having children. Other goals, dreams, and possibilities are often disparaged and presented as secondary considerations. Ideas, theories, and even personal revelation must align with the plan as interpreted by current leaders. This institutional tyranny is the very antithesis of possibility and, ironically, causes much unhappiness in individuals.

                As I grew, a desire to know and understand the world around me also emerged. Over time I acquired a wonderful set of skills and approaches to knowledge: the ability to think critically, weigh evidence, and analyze. Once I entered adulthood I discovered that the church’s explanations for life and the world did not correlate to what I knew. I saw others around me vocalize similar findings and face everything from outright church discipline to social ostracism from their friends and family. To remain within the church I would have to confine the possibilities of my life to its program or think what I may without ever sharing it openly. I saw before me a life of sitting quietly at the margins with a very limited set of possibilities. A life of possibility cannot thrive in such a setting. I chose this pearl and sold the oppressor.

                I am now at a point in life where I can see the fruit of my decision to go and sell all that I had to buy these pearls has enlarged my soul. I have tasted of the fruit and it is good. I did not resign my membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because it is false or devoid of any good, but because it undermines those values I hold most dear. The church obscures truth, perpetuates injustices, undermines the pursuit of excellence, and limits possibility in spite of any good it does. I cannot with integrity lend any kind of support to or involvement with an institution so diametrically opposed to my values. Selling this “one pearl of great price” was the greatest and most transforming decision I have ever made. I now live with a sense of fullness and completeness that I used to think would only be possible in some afterlife. This I believe.

1. Packer, Boyd K. (1981), "The Mantle Is Far, Far Greater Than the Intellect," BYU Studies 21 (3): 259–277.

Resuscitation

I am at that point in the summer where I confront images of the new school year. Some of these images come in anxiety dreams; others I conjure deliberately. Either way, I am reflecting on how I will approach writing this year. I typically drive my students to write a lot and to explore new approaches to their writing. I encourage them to step out of the staid forms they have used before. In this reflection I can't help but make some observations on my own approaches to writing.

I have engaged in writing sporadically and with little self-examination in recent years. I started this blog to create a forum where I could write prolifically and with attention to the craft. I did not succeed in this effort. I narrowed the topic too stringently and managed my daily life in a way not conducive to writing. Working through the declining years of a troubled marriage, I stretched myself across too many interests and activities to maintain a writer's life. Now that a year has passed since my marriage ended, it is time to resuscitate this blog.

I will implement the very approaches that I teach in the classroom: write copiously and attend to the craft. Like running, I must write regularly and abundantly to improve. Writing to just write isn't enough either. I need to use writing as a vehicle to explore questions and express ideas that I am passionate about. Each week or so, I will turn out some sort of writing whether an essay, a review, or even a narrative. The level of polish will vary as will the success of each work. But, the writing will be done.

In the title Cursor Invictus I have attempted to take the activity of running as a metaphor or a value upon which I can engage life. While I still think there is value in this approach, it is too narrow of a topic and, at best, operates as one virtue on a field of contending values. As an atheist, I take on the task of exploring the rich values available to us as human beings on this pale blue dot. In subsequent posts I will embark on an exploration of the virtues I find most meaningful and intriguing. I will interrogate their limitations and contradictions. I will mine out their beauty and usefulness from lived experience. I will attempt to give form to my own ineffable encounters with the lived world. To engage in value creation.

I had the privilege of having lunch with a visiting friend the other day. Our conversation circled around writing and the obstacles that get in the way: time, perfectionism, anxieties about audience, or even wondering about how our writing might be received. By the time we finished we both agreed that in the end you just have to say, "fuck it" and write!

Random Acts of Kindness in Competition

I have received many random acts of kindness in my life, but none have been more significant than when running. Distance running is a brutal sport that pushes the athlete to his very limits. Whenever I race a distance of twenty-six miles, I exhaust every ounce of energy I have. Yet, athletes face more challenges than just the extremes of a given race. To train at the level necessary to excel in this sport injures many athletes. Running mile after mile, day after day, punishes the legs and body with multiplied effects.

For years, I had attempted to train so that I could complete a marathon, but I always ended up injured. Attempt after attempt, strained hip, knee pain, tendonitis, or simple over-training would sideline me. At last, frustrated and despairing, I joined a running club and met Austin. Austin was a veteran runner who had completed numerous marathons. When I started through the club training program, just as in my attempts before, I injured myself again. This time it was a case of tendonitis in my lower legs. During one of our club training runs, Austin noticed that I was favoring the injured leg. Pulling me aside, he asked me what was wrong. After I described the injury for him, he smiled.

“A simple fix.” His easy instructions worked like a magic wand and I completed my first marathon a few weeks later.

Over a year later, I received yet another random act of kindness while competing in my third marathon. Even though I had undergone surgery just six months earlier, I wanted to run fast enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon. The oldest and most prestigious of distance races in the world, the Boston Marathon only allows runners who have run qualifying times to participate. For me, the time to beat was 3:15. Seventeen miles into the race I felt great and thought I could easily reach my goal time. Then it happened as in nearly every marathon. I felt fatigue and doubt assail me like a wall of bricks blocking my path. My legs all of a sudden felt like lead. I couldn’t imagine running further. I turned a corner and was then running up a slight hill and into the wind. Eight more miles to go! My mind and body screamed, “No more!” I wanted to rest; lie down on the street and sleep. Then another runner came along beside me. He wasn’t alone. Though I was somewhat delirious with fatigue I could see that this group of three or four runners were in a makeshift “V” formation, breaking through the wind.

“Tuck in behind me,” he said.

“Huh?” I wasn’t sure what he meant.

“Tuck in. We will take you in,” he instructed again. I moved over within this group and the struggle disappeared. The wind no longer bothered me in the pocket they created and the fatigue and doubt went away as quickly as it had come. I now knew I just needed to stay with them. They carried me in this fashion until mile twenty-four when I could no longer stay with them. Their gift had been sufficient though. I ended up finishing with a time of 3:00:14; I had smashed the qualifying time standard by almost fifteen minutes. I never saw those guys again but I will never forget their kind act.

Far from unusual, random acts of kindness such as these take place all the time in the sport of long distance running. The most commonly heard phrases in a road race are “Good job!” or “You are doing great!”

In fact, when struggling the last couple of miles in my most recent marathon, a fellow runner next to me said, “I will struggle with you! We can do this!” These random acts of kindness from other runners make each finish and each victory possible.