wayneholland.org

 

ABOUT ME

March 10, 2007

 

I'm not altogether sure, but I think I might be a nihilist.

The following definition of nihilism is copied and pasted directly from the Wikipedia:

Nihilism is a philosophical position, often associated with Friedrich Nietzsche (though he considered it something to be overcome), which argues that the world, and especially past and current human existence, is without objective meaning, purpose, comprehensible truth, or essential value. Nihilists generally assert some or all of the following: there is no reasonable proof of the existence of a higher ruler or creator, a "true morality" is unknown, and secular ethics are impossible; therefore, life has no truth, and no action is known to be preferable to any other.

I must admit (except for that part about no action being preferable to any other), I have a difficult time arguing with this. Because of my upbringing, there is no doubt that it's a somewhat bitter pill to swallow, but swallow it I must if I'm going to be totally honest with myself.

And I see no reason to be anything but totally honest with me. I mean, after all, who would I be kidding?

There is, however, another side of me that is very much attracted to the complete lack of meaning in the human condition, indeed the universe in general.

I sense it in the underlying current of meaning that nearly everyone embraces. If there is meaning, you see, it very strongly suggests that there really isn't any!

Think about it. How could there be meaning (real meaning) if there is some kind of underlying meaning (some pre-arranged, predestined plan or order devised or engineered by a Supreme Intelligence)?

It would be the same as if I had met a startlingly attractive woman, joyously had my way with her, only to discover (at about the time that I was ready to convince myself that I was some kind of Romeo) that my so-called friends had put her up to it.

However enjoyable my time with the babe might have been, the realization that I had nothing to do with its occurrence, would have the effect of infusing a form of sheer hollowness into the experience. In other words, it would ultimately be reduced to an event completely devoid of true personal meaning. The utter joy of learning that I was Cassanova would be ruefully (and woefully) replaced with the sober emptiness of discovering that I was little more than a hapless unwitting fool.

From where I'm standing now, at this particular juncture of my life, the only real meaning that may be discovered lies hiding in the complete absence of any socially-contrived significance, such as may be found in popular belief systems, the ones so fervently (and neurotically) touted by the world's organized religions. (Could there truly be such a thing as an organized religion?)