The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters

 

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Between 1793 and 1798, the Spanish artist Francisco José de Goya y Lucientes, Goya for short, was middle-aged, deaf, and weakened by serious illness. During that time, he produced what many regard as his most important work.

For Goya, his imagination came to life, as it were, during this period of failing health. As English essayist Joseph Addison put it, “suffering has a tendency to unlock the darker parts of the human mind.” Of course, it can also be said that it has the potential to unlock the lighter parts as well.

Goya’s drawings were heavily satirical and often dealt with vice, falsehood, superstition, and fear. The subjects: power-hungry politicians and clergy engaged in illicit activities, shrouded in the darkness of night.

While Goya was busy producing these drawings at the dawn of the 19th century, his concern for the human condition and his critique of the society of his time seem in lock-step with conditions in the 21st century that exist today.

In one of his drawings, a man sleeps in a seated position with his head and arms resting on a platform. Bats and owls threaten from all sides, the most prominent of which stares out of the drawing at the viewer. The words, “el sueño de la razon produce monstruos” — The sleep of reason produces monsters — are written across the front of the platform.

History books refer to the period from 1685 until 1815 as the Age of Reason or Enlightenment. The collective of human knowledge exploded during this period.

Of course, the proliferation of new discoveries didn’t magically slow down in 1815. I’m writing this article using technology that couldn’t have been described in the language of 1815, and the creation of new technologies and new ways of understanding the world are increasing at such a pace that no single person can maintain a grasp on it.

It’s paradoxical, in a very real way, that the exponential advancement of technology has not been accompanied by a proportionate increase of any kind in individual or group critical thinking.

The stupidity that often accompanies group think is nothing new. As one of my favorite websites (despair.com) puts it, “Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups.”

Galileo, now regarded as the father of science, was repeatedly censured and confined to prison for large portions of his life by the Spanish Inquisition because of his “radical ideas.” The European precursor to the Salem Witch Trials resulted in more than 50,000 people being wrongfully executed because their views and practices didn’t align with the predominant religious practices of the region.

Fearmongering and bigotry have perhaps been around since the dawn of humanity. They may change clothes with each generation but the message is always the same: Be tolerant and accepting of others and their ideals, as long as they think like you and embrace your ideals.

Goya’s prescient commentary and the enduring nature of human folly make it clear that the basis of his critique remains relevant today, perhaps even more so than when he was alive. Our rapid technological advancements have created an illusion of progress, yet the fundamental flaws in our collective reasoning persist. Goya used his art to cast light on the absurdities and dangers of his time, and we have to recognize that our modern society, despite its advancements, is still susceptible to the same traps of fear, ignorance, intolerance, and avarice that existed more than 200 years ago.

Navigating in this complex world requires that we cultivate real open-mindedness. This means actively listening to, understanding, and appreciating different perspectives, rather than dismissing them or even railing against them.

It’s hard to recognize our own biases and even harder to work at overcoming them, fostering within ourselves and around us an environment where diverse ideas can be shared and debated with mutual respect and civility. That, I think, was the idea of the Enlightenment: to create a safely-guarded space against the metaphorical monsters that Goya warned us about — the dangers that arise when reason is abandoned.

To progress as individuals and societies, we have to be less judgmental and more willing to engage in civil discourse. Embracing reason and empathy will counteract the divisiveness and ignorance that undermine societies. Goya was right: the sleep of reason does produce monsters. Our vigilance, critical thinking, and compassion for each other will keep those monsters at bay.

What Is a Liahona?

 I love reading.

When I was young, I read everything I could get my hands on. In my pre-teen years, that meant a lot of Tom Swift and Hardy Boys. Later, JRR Tolkien, Madeleine L’Engle, and Michael Crichton dominated my book case.

When college came, I spent far less time in leisure reading and a lot more time studying textbooks and scholarly articles.

In my late twenties, I started reading a lot of business books and religious texts. Now, my shelves are adorned by books from John C. Maxwell, Seth Godin, Daniel H. Pink, Malcolm Gladwell, Jim Collins, Simon Sinek, and Carol S. Dweck.

Religious texts, however, are my favorite. I belong to a prominent Christian faith, but love to learn what other religions — Christian or otherwise — espouse. Nearly everywhere we look, truth can be found; not the kind of morally relativistic truth being pushed by Fox and CNN, but real, universal truth.

The literature I read and enjoy informs my thoughts which, in turn, inform my actions. You are what you eat, they say. Turns out, you are also what you read. (This isn’t perfunctory reading but reading with the intent of learning. I usually call that studying.)

In my favorite religious text, there is a passage that references something called a Liahona; something like a faith-powered guide or compass. When the people are faithful, the Liahona points the way they should go. When they’re not, they’re lost.

I spent two years in Guatemala as a representative of Jesus Christ. It was nearly twenty-five years ago. Back then, most roads in most cities had no clear naming or numbering convention. So, it was very difficult to find things.

A seasoned lawyer and his untiringly supportive wife led our group of missionaries. He had been in Guatemala for around eighteen months when I arrived there. He had a keen sense of direction though his directions often included references to buildings of a particular color, shape, or size, or a three-legged dog tied to that one Huito tree.

I learned very quickly that if I followed his directions exactly I wouldn’t get lost. If I deviated from those instructions, I would invariably find myself on one-way streets that would take me in the opposite direction I had hoped to go.

Eventually, I learned to navigate the streets of Guatemala City without a map (MapQuest was still being developed). I even figured out how to get around significant roadblocks when heavy rain would wash out river crossings in more far-flung regions.

There are so many loud voices today that — perhaps without saying it out loud — want us to stop thinking for ourselves and accept what they have to say as truth. Drawing a line where moral relativism becomes extreme and where it begins to infringe on the rights of others is a tricky proposition.

It’s in knowing where we stand and what our compass actually is that help protect us from being swayed by harmful voices. Parenthetically, it’s important to be open-minded to all sides of most conversations, but make no mistake that there are people out there who are intent on creating and fomenting societal issues.

Now, consider the Liahona as a metaphor for our internal moral compass. When we’re true to our values and principles, the path ahead is a lot clearer. We’ll still face challenges — that’s just life — but it means that we can face them with more consistency and resolution because we can trust our learned wisdom.

The concept of a Liahona is more relevant now than ever. The world is filled with misinformation and conflicting schools of thought that are shouted rather than discussed with civility. Having a personal guide to navigate through the noise is invaluable.

During my time in Guatemala, I had to rely on more than just physical directions. I needed to trust my own ability to adapt, to understand, and to find new ways of navigating unfamiliar territory. Similarly, in life, we often find ourselves in unfamiliar territory. It’s in these moments that our ‘Liahona’ — whether it be faith, intuition, or moral guidance — becomes crucial. It helps us stay the course when the way forward isn’t always visible.

In today’s society, it’s easy to get lost in the myriad of voices and opinions vying for our attention. This idea of a Liahona teaches us the importance of inner guidance. By cultivating a strong sense of personal integrity and aligning ourselves with real truths, universal truths, we can find our way through the fog of uncertainty. This personal compass, nurtured through reflection, learning, and even faith, can guide us to make decisions that are true to our values, even in the most complex situations.

Is Your Dream Worth the Pain?

 

Photo by Vasily Koloda on Unsplash

My paternal grandfather kept a regular journal. He also held onto things of particular interest to him. Some time after his passing in 2011, my dad was searching through grandpa’s things and found a time-worn piece of paper with a quote scrawled across it in my grandpa’s handwriting:

The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they, while their companions slept, were toiling upward in the night.

It’s one of those quotes that falls into the overuse category among productivity gurus.

For many of them, the mantra is that you won’t get anywhere in life unless you’re burning both ends of the candle with the midnight oil.

There is no question, achieving anything requires effort. Often, to accomplish anything extraordinary requires enormous effort.

Emily Dickinson — the prolific American poet — wrote some 1,800 poems during her 55 years. Nearly all of those poems never saw the light of day, and those that did were often heavily edited; some even published without proper credit. In fact, evidence suggests that only 10 poems and a single letter were published during her lifetime with proper attribution.

It wasn’t until some years after her passing that Emily’s sister Lavinia discovered her work and made it her life’s ambition to get them published.

Lavinia died before that work was complete, but between about 1890 and 1945, most of Emily’s poems were published. In the 80 years since, Emily Dickinson has been recognized as one of the most influential American poets ever.

Dickinson poured her heart and soul into her poetry but with no audience in mind, it seems. She accomplished something great with singular focus and unrelenting drive. Did she identify, like so many of the creative minds of the last five hundred years, as one who is compelled, almost as though they don’t have a choice?

I’m not suggesting that we use Ms. Dickinson’s accomplishments as a measuring stick for our own ambitions, but even in the pursuit of a moderately difficult goal, there will always be tradeoffs in accomplishing it.

• For the first-time novelist, there are late nights and early mornings spent laboring over a bright screen in a dark room.
• For the aspiring athlete, it’s long hours training; nursing sore muscles and relentless fatigue.
• For the would-be doctor, it’s days on end with no sleep while completing residencies, making academic contributions, and trying to have some semblance of a life.
• For the parent or parents trying to raise children to be contributing members of society, there are countless hours spent laboring and worrying to help them learn their way.

While laboring toward any difficult goal, there may come a point where we question whether the dream is worth the pain and sacrifice it takes to achieve it.

Sometimes, the answer is no, it’s not worth the pain. When that’s the case, finding the courage to let that thing go can sometimes be nearly as painful as continuing the pursuit.

When the answer is that it is worth the pain, we owe it to ourselves to continue progressing — at whatever speed — toward that objective. When we feel that constant nudging toward something but don’t work for it, we are somehow diminished. As John P. Weiss put it, “Sometimes the music kind of dies in us. And then we disappear into ourselves.”

For each of us, there are times when life is overwhelming. These periods are sometimes brief and sometimes protracted, and it’s important to acknowledge that surviving in those time is, in itself, an incredible accomplishment. Beyond those moments, keep in mind that the most profound triumphs often arise from enduring hardships with resilience. Every step you take, no matter how small, brings you closer to the day when you realize that all the pain and sacrifice are the cornerstones of your success.

We Are Never Finished

There are only two physical macro states in life: asleep and awake. Somewhere between one-sixth and one-third of life is spent sleeping. The rest of the time — between 16 and 20 hours per day — is divided into what we do and experience along the way.

Wake → Eat → Exercise → Work → Family time → Personal time → Sleep.

Repeat.

Those are the “buckets” of general classification for what I do and experience. Like so many, I spend far too much time in the eating and working buckets and far too little in the family time, personal time, and sleeping buckets.

Entropy is a lack of order or predictability; a gradual decline into disorder. Entropy appears to be one of those governing laws of the universe that shows up with relentless force in our everyday lives.

There’s a great line near the beginning of the animated film The Incredibles where Mr. Incredible, while being interviewed, says, “No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again. Sometimes I just want it to stay saved!! You know?! For a little bit.”

Mr. Incredible’s comment is applicable to the world and to our individual lives:

• Weeds take over a green space that isn’t properly maintained.
• Dishes pile up next to sinks.
• Dust falls, layer upon layer, if not wiped away.
• Batteries die in phones when not charged.
• Relationships deteriorate when not cultivated.
• In many instances, without proper care, our bodies give way prematurely to failed health.

Life consists largely of time spent fighting entropy. To maintain a green space, someone has to give it attention: pulling weeds, and applying water and nutrients to help things grow. Unless you order every meal as take-out, there will be at least some dishes to wash. Dust must be removed in order to maintain a clean living space. The elusive charger must be found to keep a phone operational. Relationships need attention. Our bodies need proper fuel, rest, and exercise.

Fighting entropy can be exhausting. Our inability to get things done can be, at least in part, attributed to the disorder of everyday life. It can take a toll on our well-being and routinely disrupts the plans we’ve made.

Despite our best efforts, entropy sneaks in, causing unforeseen setbacks and challenges. It’s a relentless struggle of playing catch-up with the chaos.

So, do we just give up and succumb to the entropic pressures in our lives?

Of course not!

There seems to be something in the nature of humanity that craves order and will fight the chaos to introduce and maintain order wherever possible. Sometimes, we’re better off because of our efforts. Sometimes, perhaps not so much.

Through life’s unending battle against entropy, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed and to question the value of our efforts. Who we are is found in fixing, changing, and fighting the chaos of life. We develop greater fortitude, resilience, and ability to thrive in the face of adversity as we wrestle with disorder. If we let it, the chaos can define us, but determination to confront the chaos head-on is part of what it means to be human. Our resistance to the chaos, no matter how small the effort, is what defines us.