WHAT THE #%@! - 2

Etymology is the study of the history of words. The ‘logy’ part of etymology is easy enough meaning ‘the study of’’. The ‘etym’ part traces back to Old French, through Greek and Latin, even  to Sanskrit, associated with, ‘in the true sense’. But do you think, for a second that primitive, modern humans (Is that an oxymoron or what?) back when humans were new to the planet, making them primitive in a relative sense but modern in that they were fully human, not human-like, but having all of their fingers and toes, able to imagine, to make up stories and speak, big brain, invent and use tools, etc.; do you think they sat around mumbling, sounding out new words so they could embellish their story with adjectives and adverbs that were more precise, more eloquent than the ones they had? (How’s that for a run-on sentence?) I don’t think they did. But I appreciate a big vocabulary. As much as I struggle with grammar I know, without grammar, trying to get the story down on paper would only yield more cave paintings and petroglyphs. And I thought it would be easy, throw some words at the page and call my publisher. Just when you think it’s making sense you realize that language has its limits and communication, even with the best of words, can be muddy and vague; that apparent compliment is actually an insult. 

I need all those words to think about Human History, how we evolved, really long time spans; what about us is remarkable and what is not. An old Greek philosopher, Epictetus, made the observation, “There is neither good nor evil but believing makes it so.” That wonderful, logical, emotional, creative brain is likewise dedicated to some pretty dreadful propositions. Before mankind unleashed our collective brain power there was no good, no evil, nothing beautiful, nothing righteous. Those kinds of ideals don’t surface until after we create the story. Without humans there is neither good nor evil, like the sound of a tree falling in the forest. We’ve been able to agree, for the most part, on etymology, about what words mean. But the stories (beliefs) we come up with, they keep us at odds with each other even though we have the capacity (but not the will) to live together peacefully and pursue common cause. 

The English language, like DNA, is comprised of only a few fundamental components. But by rearranging those letters and spaces, our language has mushroomed and it just keeps growing. New words are added every year but even as other words go out of style, they are never retired. They stay on the books, available on the chance that an eager etymologist might need to check their pedigree. I get hung up on lots of words, my short list could be a dozen deep. But right now with the Human Story in mind, the word for the day is ‘Narcissism.” It is a uniquely human attribute. To be so fixated by the image and the idea of ‘Self’ that you ca not disengage from it; no other creature has the brain power to love the self so profoundly. At that, when we recognize it in someone else it is not a good thing, rather a character flaw. But when narcissism runs deep in the course of human nature, in all people, all the time, we (collectively) revel in it. It feels too good so (by our nature) we require a failsafe, some justification for our narcissistic indulgence. Prejudice and the ‘Common Sense’ fallacy may have served us well since we came down out of the trees but civilization is moving on. We need a rational, objective way of seeing self. It seems to me, the bridge between the two has been manifest in a  mythical deity and Faith based religion. We are so special, so beautiful, near perfect because God made us in his image. With that caveat in place, humans embrace narcissism under another name.

But“What The #%@!” what do I know? I am just  a low level doubter, disappointed that my kind is no better than our wars and our deceit. Sometimes we feed thee hungry or donate to the SPCA but it’s as much penance as it is good will. Still, bettering our nature is like good and evil, at the end of the day it is whatever I’ve been programmed to believe. Epictetus’s revelation has faded from most of our memories but I’m afraid he was right. Somehow I’ve dodged the bullet, I have no pride at all. I’m a dirty, rotten scoundrel but I’m beautiful. Seriously, the only reason for me to be here is simply to pass my genetics on to another generation. Life at all levels, all species; it just seeks after itself. If I am content with my condition and have enjoyed the ride then I’m a lucky man. I’m a high functioning animal, no better - no worse than any other animal but I have a kick-ass brain. I can connect dots, make up stories that inform and entertain. In that endeavor the only eternal truth I can speak to is that life is after all, pretty good.