"I don’t know why we live—the gift of life comes to us from I don’t know what source or for what purpose; but I believe we can go on living for the reason that life is the most valuable thing we know anything about and it is therefore presumptively a great mistake to surrender it while there is any left in the cup." Henry James, American writer born in 1843.*
In the 21th century, of course, we have access to scientific information about our source—from whence we come, and we know, too, that purpose—other than raw survival—is a human construct. But both Henry James in his era and we in ours recognize and celebrate the existence of and possibilities for life. We are alive. Keen. Aware. Heir to thousands of years of humanity’s best effort to turn its vitality, or said poetically, its spirit or soul, to its fairest and most decent expression.
But look around. It's not all positive. We are also heir to mean-spirited, nonsense-shaped and contrary designs on human purpose.
We are at such odds about how to spend the gift of life because we are subject to a variety of competing influences and forces. We inherit not only our genes, but our beliefs, too. Indelibly stamped on our mindset by family, peers, region, opportunity and education, our beliefs are as immediate and provocative as our natural instincts, and we justify and defend them with every ounce of certainty that fired-up fervor can muster.
Even those of us who think we're apolitical or "neutral" find ourselves riled by the bitter contentiousness of business-as-usual in government and community.
Sadly, these political and social struggles for the moral high ground have in many cases hidden from us our possibilities for independence, authenticity, solidarity and human kindness.
But we experience their loss: When we fail to enter contemplatively into the elite range of human possibility, when we fail to summon and to express—in word and deed—responsibility, empathy, compassion and nerve, we feel stressed, inauthentic and small, as if we’ve squandered our soul.
Moreover, we sense that when we remain naïve about or just surrender to the forces that can hold us in thrall, we’re not innocent. Parochialism and closed-mindedness are not virtues.
In sum, you and I are committed to a generous way of being that is calm, authentic—deliberatively deep with passion, character and resource, and moderate—attentive to reason, receptivity and harmony.
Unique among animals, human beings do not have to be limited to the narrow range of options afforded by their natural and socially conditioned immediacy. Privileged, autonomous, and grateful for our deliberative gift to sit still and to think things through, we have the means to effectively intervene with sympathetic consideration in the course of fate—humanity's and our own.
We want to live our lives to the fullest and, when they are over, to have spent our spirit on an expansion of the freedom that becomes only those who have conquered the forces of antagonism, timidity and superficiality in service of generosity, security and love.
*The first paragraph quote is taken from Leon Edel’s Henry James: Selected Letters, published in 1987.
Arnold Siegel is the founder of Autonomy and Life and leader of its Retreat Workshops and Advanced Classes.