A Vision

"There is a thing which is often called progress, but which only occurs in dull and stale conditions: it is indeed, not progress, but a sort of galloping plagiarism. To carry the same fashion further and further is not a mark of energy, but a mark of fatigue.

One can fancy that in the fantastic decline of some Chinese civilization one might find things automatically increasing, simply because everybody had forgotten what the things were meant for. Hats might be bigger than umbrellas, because every one had forgotten to wear them. Walking sticks might be taller than lances, because nobody ever thought of taking them out on a walk. The human mind never goes so fast as that except when it has got into a groove.

The converse is also true. All really honest and courageous thought has a tendency to look like truism. For strong thought about a thing is always thought about its original nature; while weak thought is always thought about its most recent developments. The really bold thinker is never afraid of platitude; because platitudes are the great primeval foundations."

― G. K. Chesterton

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Dear Kate,

Let me get a platitude out of you: What is the best version of yourself?

A question a bit too trifle and impertinent, perhaps, for there must be a list of troubles on your mind that you must address by this coming sunset, which will come soon enough, like the next Monday, the next Christmas, the next year, all over again, like last year, last Christmas, last Monday, right before last sunset.

Even my son asked this question, not seriously maybe, but, he was told, a serious one which all successful person should ask oneself and fulfill as one's "destiny."

It is a dangerous question, for if it is asked the wrong way (as I believe it is the way it's stated above), one would necessarily live into and out of endless disappointments and ever deepening frustrations, usually first about people around us (who, in our opinion, are never "the best version" of themselves), and finally inevitably having our "dreams" and "destiny" collapsing on and burying with us.  On even the most superficial reading of life, aging and death would collaborate to guarantee your dusty demise.

More dangerous is to ask the right question: What is your vision of human flourishing?  If you would allow yourself to dream big and ask for anything, everything under the sun and moon and the full weight of your humanity, what would the most flourishing Kate look like?

More dangerous because it's asking for everything that is in you, even, especially, potentially.  And it is asking from you now.

More dangerous because a vision is not a mere version that is dictated by the tyranny of the world's latest trend or the trend of your latest emotion, but a revelation of a true "work in progress"---masterwork!--like a fountain, a geyser that never stops gushing exuberance and ebullience out of the depth that you don't know you have until it is plumbed yet again every new morning to learn of it extent and expanse more wondrous still.

More dangerous because it's asking about also the flourishing of your neighbors, which every adult should realize would necessarily have to do with our own flourishing.  We are asking not only on behalf of ourselves, but that of the entire humanity, redressing what has gone on before us (history), progressing together into a future hope (destiny).  We are asked by our own question to imagine those who have not the luxury (so we think) to ask the question at all: the disabled, dispossessed, disenfranchised, displaced.  We are asked to answer to a call in the deep of our heart but not first from it.

The question, properly asked, is indeed demanding our living out of the most beatified vision of being human.  And what is your vision for yourself, for humanity, for always and ever?

Yours,  Alex