Is there a fundamental reason why our culture feels isolated from each other?
Is it feasible to ascertain the idea that there has been a rudimentary belief instilled in all of us in which we disassociate from our neighbors; the very society we belong to?
Is it possible there is an idea so powerful that we can not ignore it? Does our creed which is imprinted upon us, portray the image of being detached from other people?
Do we think of ourselves in a mechanical sense?
Have you ever heard a child ask, “How was I made?” The look in their eyes reveals the struggle to uncover one of life’s greatest mysteries. They look at you eagerly awaiting an answer.
However, the answer is not what I’m focusing on. What intrigues me is the word choice children use.
The word itself signifies that we are parts. It is a mechanical way of thinking. It insinuates that we are separate from the world around us. Made, implies a feeling of isolation. It portrays the image that we are sequestered from the very world we belong to.
The best example of this is Western Medicine. There is a specialized doctor for every part of our body. Physicians undergo years of education in hopes of mastering one dimension of the body. We have a Cardiologist (heart), an Opthamologist (eye), a Dentist, an Orthopedic Doctor (bones) and they all specialize exclusively in their field. Our bodies are sectioned off and treated as if all of our parts operate independently.
However, we know that in order for our body to function, all of our “parts” must be in correspondence with one another. There isn’t a skeleton walking around the streets. You don’t see eyes floating down the sidewalk unaccompanied by their body. All our “parts” perform in conjunction with the whole of us.
In Eastern culture it’s unheard of for children to ask “how was I made?” Instead, they inquire, “How did I grow?” This indicates that they are aware of something bigger than the mechanical side of life. It implies an understanding that everything must happen together in order for life to be sustained.
I’m fascinated that a single word choice can have such a profound effect on our sense of unity.
Western culture has a knack with picking objects apart. We want to know exactly how things operate. We are very inquisitive and in many cases it’s a prodigious quality. But what happens when we are unable to discern an answer? How small can we make an object before we arrive at a standstill? Why do we continue to dissect things that are meant to operate in harmony? If we isolate the parts of an unabridged item (for example, life) how can we attain insight into how something is cultivated?
Have you ever had a friend who always seemed to know how things function? And when you would ask them how they came up with certain answers, they would reply that they didn’t know, it just made sense. Genius isn’t the knowledge of how things happen, it’s the ability to master something with out knowing.
In this sense we are all genius. We do not know how we live, we just do. We don’t have to concentrate on pumping our blood. We don’t have to understand how we speak or see. It’s not necessary that we have the comprehension of how every “part” of our body functions to be able to live.
The concept of being separate has been instilled in us for many generations. As we grow up we begin to shed the illusion of being a mechanical part. Imagine our culture living their entire lives aware of the connectedness of not only themselves and their peers, but also with the world we are a part of.