[Kirism is a contemporary philosophy of life that I’ve developed over the last several decades. It is psychological, philosophical, and existential and takes into account human nature, the human predicament, our contemporary understanding of the world, and our pressing individual and species-wide challenges. I hope that you’ll enjoy learning more about it. In the first four posts of the series, we’ll look at the idea of absurd rebellion: what that is and why a Kirist adopts that attitude. This is the third of those four posts. To learn more about Kirism, please take a look at Lighting the Way, in which Kirism is introduced. To be in touch with me about Kirism, please drop me an email to [email protected].]
What are you rebelling against? The universe deeming you trivial. Yes, it has done that to you. But you say, “I am something, in my human way, and when it comes to speaking up, pointing a finger, and of all that, I will make my presence known.”
What are you rebelling against? The hypnotic trance that afflicts all of us, causing us to sit there, watching yet another episode of a beautifully crafted television show about nothing. We rebel by snapping our fingers and waking up.
What are you rebelling against? The mountains of humbug piled in every corner of the kingdom, where deodorant is sold to make poverty smell good and holes in the ozone layer are called windows on the universe. We rebel against liars.
What are you rebelling against? You rebel against the inertia produced by living, the inertia that makes sitting on the couch seem like your next best option. You heroically create your own momentum to fight the terrible weight of inertia.
What are you rebelling against? You rebel against meanness, even if you are feeling mean yourself, because you know that meanness wounds and that you are not here to do harm or let others do harm. You take a stand against meanness.
What are you rebelling against? You rebel against your own modesty and your own meekness, qualities drilled into you by your family and your society. You roar like a lion even if you have been trained to squeak like a mouse.
What are you rebelling against? You rebel against your own disinclination to rebel. How comical that you are in mortal combat with yourself about rebelling! Imagine a squirrel fighting with itself about whether or not to crack open a nut.
Squirrels are not built that way. No squirrel can find itself in so absurd a situation as we find ourselves. We find ourselves built with the good sense to avoid conflict and the good sense to invite conflict for the sake of righteousness. How trying!
How are you rebelling? By speaking up rather than keeping silent. Your vocal chords are instruments of goodness. You are that child who says, in a small voice but one so distinct that everyone can hear him, “Look, the Emperor has no clothes!”
How are you rebelling? By navigating your personal way through the mine fields of custom and ordinariness, building what you need as you go, creating the tools, the methods, the systems, the visions, the world of you.
How are you rebelling? By announcing, “I will not buy religions and philosophies that do not speak to me and that do not make sense to me. That a billion people believe something signifies nothing. Not a billion or a trillion. It has to make sense to me!”
And then there are all the quiet rebellions. You want to party. Nothing in the universe can stop you. There is no one to keep you from your drugs, your sex, your fun. Why not party? Still, you sigh and stay home. Absurd rebellion looks like this.
Everyone is saying that your son should be medicated for his high spirits. They are cocksure and certain. You disagree. You say, maybe in a shout or maybe very quietly, “No, thanks. I’m not buying what you’re selling.” Your rebellion spares him.
You tiptoe to the mirror and carefully look. “Oh,” you say, “I think I need to upgrade myself here. Oh, and also there. I must calm myself. And lose that weight. And shed that guilt. And smile more. And roar more. And feel more devoted. I see!”
You quietly make those changes, some earthshaking, some painstaking, some as bite-sized as getting on your walking shoes and walking to work, even though you could manage fifteen or twenty more minutes of work time if you didn’t.
Surely it is absurd to walk to work when there is so much to do there and you are so far behind. Nevertheless, you calmly rebel against the pull to rush like a maniac. You stroll to work, feeling the sun on your face, falling behind but also getting ahead.
Most crucially, you quietly rebel in the service of the good. That is your understanding of how you want to live your life: on the side of the good. You acknowledge the absurd difficulty and amazing complexity of right action and nevertheless vote for it.
You quietly rebel in the service of what ought to be. You look at what is and say, “It ought to be thus.” You muse on betterment and listen to your soft musings. Maybe you move the species forward or maybe you just proceed like an inchworm.
You quietly rebel in the direction of an improved, upgraded you. You look in the mirror and you say, “I could be better, and here’s how.” Softly, softly, walking on tiptoes, you discard a vice, act with love, refuse to shout, or calm your nerves a little.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: iStock
