Hola Everybody,
My laptop is dying… it’s crashing constantly. I might not be able to see through my commitment to post at least one blog a day for whole of the year 2016. For some reason, this commitment has taken on a huge importance for me. I’m compelled to see it through.
My laptop is dying… it’s crashing constantly. I might not be able to see through my commitment to post at least one blog a day for whole of the year 2016. For some reason, this commitment has taken on a huge importance for me. I’m compelled to see it through.
I have two job interviews tomorrow.
Common Sense
Common
sense is what tells us the earth is flat.
-- Stuart Chase, Language in Thought and Action
-- Stuart Chase, Language in Thought and Action
When I first sought
to start blogging, this here was the post that inspired it. Or maybe it was the other way around? I do not remember. In any case, I keep writing -- or better
put -- rewriting it. Whatever, that’s how got the name for this blog, [un]Common
Sense.
Perhaps we can start
here… if this is the [un]Common Sense Blog, then what is common sense?
On January 10, 1776,
an English immigrant published a pamphlet urging the colonists to
question their assumption about something everybody took for granted: the
divine right of the monarchy. According to published reports of the day, many
committed Royalists (those who favored the monarchy) were converted by a single
reading of Thomas Paine’s Common Sense. Paine’s argument must have been
powerful: half a million copies were sold over the next year. Think about this
for a moment: the population of the colonies at the time was probably just over
two million; this man’s pamphlet sold a half a million in one year! And Oprah
didn’t even pick it for her book club.
Because Paine donated
the royalties from his two-shilling pamphlet to the revolution, the United
States Congress awarded him a small pension and a farm in upstate New York
after the war. Yet only a few years later, Paine was branded a traitor for
attempting to further expand the meaning of democracy (remember, initially, the
land of the free was only free for white, propertied men). Ahhhh… the
fickle fate of celebrity: one moment the “father of reason,” the next, outcast!
It seems, my friends, that the more things change the more they stay the same…
So, what is this
thing called common sense? We hear the term all the time: “Common sense
should’ve told you… ” we like to say when shit hits the fan, for example, but
it eludes definition. The term implies that there is a body of information
(“sense”) somewhere that everyone (“common”) knows, but we all would agree that
common sense is as rare as an original thought in our current president-elect’s
head.
We like to speak of
common sense as if it were something immutable -- something that never changes,
something static. However, common sense evolves all the time. For example, 18th
and 19th century Europeans considered bathing unhealthy.
Common sense, right?
Another example of
common sense: tomatoes were considered poisonous until the 18th
century when a man ate one on the courthouse steps in Salem, New Jersey (he
probably bathed regularly too!).
The upshot being that
common sense has more to do with the common
part than with the sense part. As in
the case of the Royalists of colonist America, common sense is often a mass of
unquestioned assumptions dictated by culture and sub-cultures, than by reason.
Still, the prevalent
question of the day seems to be, “What ever happened to common sense?” It’s
more often than not a rhetorical question, not needing an answer -- it is more
of a complaint. We sense that something is missing. Maybe we can say that
common sense is a way of being rather than a body of knowledge. We say someone
has common sense when they possess an attitude -- not thoughts but an ability
to think creatively and with purpose. Perhaps, as author Marilyn Ferguson says, common sense is not what
we know but how we know it.
Which brings us back
to this blog… but I must first digress yet again. In Emile Zola’s Beast of
Man, an engineer and a fireman are quarreling in the locomotive of a
passenger train. In his rage, the fireman has stoked the engine’s fire into an
inferno. They grapple at each other’s throats, each trying to force the other
through the open door. Losing their balance, both fall out and perish. The
train rumbles on at breakneck speed. The passengers, soldiers en route to the
war front, are sleeping or drunkenly, unaware of the impending disaster.
Zola’s story has been
seen as a parable of modern runaway societies. Those supposedly in charge,
embroiled in their own personal dramas, paralyzed with performance anxiety, or
caught up in their ambitions, have left the driver’s seat. Meanwhile we, their
oblivious passengers, are about to pay the price.
Unless we wake up…
There should be more to this posting, but I’m afraid my trusty old laptop will
crash.
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