Mind

I would have to say that one of the most strikingly bizarre words that we use in the English language is ‘Mind.’ For one cannot go a whole day, or at least it would seem, to witness the term used in a variety of forms. “Are you out of your mind?” Is one example that represents its noun form. While, “do you mind?” Demonstrates the verb form. And yet, I am still confused as to what the word ‘Mind’ means. Oh sure, dictionaries and etymological entries presumably provide ample definitions and origins of the word, but upon a less cursory inspection, one will find all of these unsatisfactory. When used in the first sense it conjures up an image of some 1950’s sci-fi film with bulbous headed humanoid aliens using their super cerebral powers to control the thoughts of their victims. In the latter sense, however, one is tempted to think of a Victorian gentleman, wearing white gloves and a top hat, in mid conversation with an equally elegant audience of upper crust acquaintances saying something to the effect of “if you don’t mind my saying.” In short, the connotative meaning is no less enigmatic than the denotative one. If we cannot agree on a clearer definition and usage of the term ‘mind’ why then do we evaluate the quality of it so frequently? With a preoccupation on IQ tests and academic achievement, we think that Mind, whatever it is or does, can somehow be assessed by quality and quantity. Some minds are ‘bigger’ than others, storing warehouses of information in them. Others are valued by their speed and agility; almost like a cheetah or falcon. The ‘more’ they can store, or the quicker they can access information, they better they are. Popular TV shows depict ‘brainy’ figures of mental superiority confounding the ‘average’ or ‘substandard’ mind with physics’ data and mathematical formulas with the effect that their minds are somehow better than others. And aside from the fact that we cannot ‘count’ the items in a mind, or stand next to the track where minds race and measure their quickness with a stopwatch, we are confident that we have some legitimate means of appraising minds. And yet, all of this fails to address mind in the second sense; as in a verb. A towering intellectual will no doubt be proud of his or her capabilities. But what if others were to ‘mind’ the way he or she acted in public or in private? And even more, what of those that were ‘mindful’ of his or her misbehavior? Is it not possible that those renouncing the intellectual’s conduct be somehow his or her intellectual inferior? Wouldn’t this present the puzzling dilemma of an inferior being at the same time one’s superior? After all, Heracles once fooled the great Atlas, possessing the intellect of a titan, into taking the burden of the world back as to adjust his garment. And Zeus’ infidelity was condemned for centuries by mortal men whose noggins could hardly contain an infinitesimal fraction of the knowledge of a god. Here is a suggestion, and a humble one at that. I propose that we approach the term with the same sense of syntactic apathy as we do with terms like ‘Love’ or ‘Beauty.’ We always accept the more liberal interpretation of these words and their meaning, and so why can’t we do the same with ‘Mind?’ Certainly we could hold out for a definitive and precise sense of the term, but it would seem we would end up in a Platonic cave listening to lectures by a two and a half thousand year old echo of speeches by Socrates. For just as ‘Love’ is nothing more than the affection and passions we have which translate into personal commitments to others and Life matters themselves (and ‘Beauty’ being in the eye of the proverbial beholder), then I see no reason we cannot be content with what ‘Mind’ in general is considered; that which brings things to, and maintains for us, the knowledge we have-tacitly or otherwise; an immeasurable non-quantifiable knowledge only qualified by the conscious awareness of the reality surrounding a person. That is my opinion; that is, if you don’t mind my saying so.

Grammar

Also, I would like to make a note on grammar. I get this a lot, whether it is due to my own atrocious grammatical habits or not. But it usually comes from the same individuals. And yet, they have so few original ideas, although they follow the arbitrary and quite frankly ambiguous at times rules of grammar to a 'T.' An idea or a thought is not necessarily clarified by grammar. And at times if one is too busy focusing on 'how' they express themselves or a thought that has come to them, the very framework of language that they worship like some silly god with a fruit headdress, the content they compose suffers greatly. It would be like worrying about the soundness of a container so much so that the ingredients one puts in the punch is just grabbed willy-nilly while the conjurer is looking over the pitcher with the greatest of care. I don't know about you, but if my container leaks a little, it is far better than too much sugar or some accidental ingredient, such as salt or oregano, thrown in which will ruin the beverage altogether. And so, to the grammar nazis that elevate themselves to some educational god-like status or some pedagogical linguistic, I say focus more on what you put in the paragraph or sentence more than how the sentence is structured based on some rules that emerge spontaneously.

We read to know that we are not alone

I wonder why I write, or what the point in writing is. Can I call myself a writer? What can I call myself? By my name, the one my parents named me before getting to know 'who' I was? It was a loaded name, stuffed with their own hopes, dreams and vicarious aspirations for a baby. I really don't know. I am reminded of the movie 'Shadowlands' the story of the great author (back in a time when far more people read I would suspect) C. S. Lewis. In the film, which no doubt is a dramatization and certainly does not retell the literal event I am referring to, one of Lewis' regularly tardy pupils in college tells the story of his father and his view on reading. He stated that 'we read to know that we are not alone.' Again I am sure this did not come from the mind of Lewis or one of his actual pupils. And perhaps I am too hard on screenwriters whom I regard as not even third rate writers. But in this case, the writer hit a very deep and profound vein of truth or at least of pondering. But is it true? I don't know. But if it were, I would like to know the company we are keeping and on what basis we are 'knowing' we are not alone.