A wise man once philosophized about diversion. He stated that the only true path to happiness is immortality. This obviously posed a formidable challenge to humans. He then went on and described our tendency to dive into distractions, to avoid thinking about our ephemerality. This wise man was Blaise Pascal, who died in 1662. If I were to surmise about life in the 17th century, I probably would have assumed it was rather distraction-free. Pascal's example of diversion was a hunt. One would search for a rabbit all day in order to shoot it as a prize, while he would not have accepted the same bloody carcass as a gift if someone had wanted to save him the trouble. Pascal states, "We are not looking for this soft peaceful existence which allows us to think about our unfortunate condition...but the bustle which distracts and amuses us?The reason we prefer the hunt to the kill."
In the 21st century, distraction is ubiquitous. We watch "BCNews" in the Union while walking to class. We listen to iPods during a run in the Commons. While riding an exercise bike in Watson, one is bombarded with a television and radio potpourri while reading US Weekly. Despite our relatively serene environment, the only time I meet silence at Bowdoin is in the Tower elevator. However, the exceedingly awkward nature of elevators generally trumps any lack of distraction I might find there. Almost every waking moment is filled with some sort of diversion.
Professional athletes and Hollywood stars, who have little practical value in society, tend to be the wealthiest. Have you ever asked yourself why? We enjoy saturating our minds in their performances during our free nights and weekends, living vicariously through their often dismal life choices. A week after the fact, three major network news stations were still airing "news" about Anna Nicole's body. Three. Rare is the individual who removes himself during vacations. Rather, most congregate in overcrowded theme parks and tacky beaches, filling their free time with amusement. Pascal's 17th century observation regarding our quest for diversion seems to be alive and accelerated in 21st-century life.
When was the last time you thought? And I do not mean thought about a test, a job offering, a member of the opposite sex, or grades. I mean really thought. The kind of thinking that earns the label "pensee" or "meditation." Pondered life's purpose. Contemplated existence. Why are we here? Generally the only time we think of such things is when a friend or loved one dies, and we take a step back to face the limits of our humanness. We too often take our lives for granted.
The first time I ever thought about any of this was as a result of my friend falling asleep at the wheel and flipping his truck three times on the highway. He miraculously survived. Was it a miracle? How did he not die? Why did he not die? Is there a why? The greatest thinkers are often those who have brushed with death, or to again borrow from Pascal, faced the "horrific punishment" of imprisonment. It happened to Pascal. Dostoevsky stood in front of a firing squad that shot blanks. I do not find it mere coincidence that those who have the most to say to us are those who had their diversion stripped away from them. They were forced to confront the meaning of life at its very core.
Let's try it. Let's try thinking. Turn off the "Saved by the Bell" rerun. Put the Playstation on pause. Tune out life's distractions and think about that which is constantly being distracted. Historically, the results have been wild. Descartes locked himself in a room and came up with a proof for God. Buddhist monasteries located in remote Tibetan mountains remove everyday diversions in order for monks to attain Nirvana. Some of our greatest literature came from those confined to prison: Boethius, Paul, Solzhenitsyn, Frankl, and Mandela. Our packed schedules and distraction-filled lifestyles prevent such thought, and we lose life itself in all the noise. We often think of how we might succeed. We might even go so far as to ask how we can succeed and do good. Rarely ever do we ask why we should. If "the unexamined life is not worth living," let's turn off the iPod sometime; it is probably worth thinking about.
Lockhart is a member of the Class of 2008.