Free Will and Free Won't.

Free will is an illusion? I disagree.

But proponents of that statement are not without any support. And there is definitely some truth in it. It is said that man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains (Rousseau). Indeed he is. The chains are everywhere. The institution of marriage is one. When you marry, you are committed. The pun is deliberate but no less true. The marital vows set the boundaries for the couple. Once you say "I do", you are saying "I won't" to a lot of things or activities. Your freedom is curbed to some extent (or less free). And to compound matters, the commitment is for a lifetime. Some call it a life sentence and others call it growth.

The point is that you have restricted your choices and in a strict sense, you can't do otherwise as you would have done if you were still a swinging bachelor or spinster. In other words, your will is not as free as you would like it or want it to be. All choices, whether consciously or unconsciously, would be made to abide by or honor the marriage vows. Unless you live in subterfuge, secretly two-timing, and betraying your vows, you have made your choice and you have to live with it till death or divorce do you part.

The chains are also in your genetic makeup. Although genes are not destiny, the bad ones can be a real pain in the derrière. And when they are mixed up with an environment of deprivation, the nature-nurture cocktail can really screw your life up. Those who happen to draw the short end of the ovarian lottery will live a life with much mental, emotional, psychological and socioeconomic constraint. Think psychopaths and sociopaths and I think you get the drift.

Then, the chains can also be cultural. This is evident in certain religiously oppressive countries where women are treated like chattels, married off before puberty and subjected to genital mutilation. The girls in these countries are generally uneducated and the tragedy is that they will never know what true freedom is when they are confined against their will within the external environment of control, manipulation and oppression. 


Lastly, the chains can be a certain sexual addiction. Some people I know have compulsive urges that they cannot control. I have dealt with some of them who are addicted to hardcore porn, taking up-skirt videos and sniffing undies. Of course there are other addictions with a psychological cause but you get the point. For them, their world is narrower than the world of a normal, well functioning individual. And with a narrower world comes a narrower range of self-directed choices.

So the debate will go on just like that Titanic song about free will but in my view the free-will deniers are misconceived in this debate. You see, I can't imagine the total absence of free will in the same way that I can't imagine the total reign of free will where we are absolutely conscious of the ins and outs of our surrounding and are therefore in complete control of the choices we make. Both extremes are illusional.

I think the practical concept of free will is not an either-or option, and you don't need to be fully conscious of your choices to be deemed to be exercising them. Anyway, we are never fully conscious of how our lunch is digested or the number of hours it takes. We are also hardly aware of how our wound heals. And when we are asleep, our dreams and nightmares are definitely not tethered to our conscious self as they exhilarate or torment us in our waking hours.

Further, there are just too many ideas, thoughts and actions that take us by surprise and we’d be disingenuous to say that we knew they were coming. Or that we consciously bring them into existence. In fact, you can ask any athlete, artist and orator and they will be hard-pressed to map out a step-by-step break down of their physical, artistic and oratorical brilliance, which are clearly more unplanned and spontaneous than are meticulously directed. 

Come to think about it, writer’s block are often the result of thinking too much – as novelist Anne Lamott put it, “Your unconscious can’t work when you are breathing down its neck.” The truth is, you can’t be creative by command. Creativity is not like laying an egg via constipated force. It comes naturally, mostly unthinking, and often unexpected. And “if sanity lies between rigidity and chaos”, then creativity lies between the unconscious and the conscious.

So free will is a matter of degree and not absolute. Some of us have more choices (that is, consider a well-educated university graduate who comes from a wealthy home living in a first world economy) and some have lesser (consider the same young lady who is a mother of nine when she married at nine to a man forty years older, unschooled, and living from hand to mouth to make ends meet). 


In the end, I choose to look at free will from another angle. Considering that I sometimes entertain curious thoughts and strange ideas from unknown origins, I see my freedom of choice as more about exercising "free-won't" than free-will. Yes, it is about sieving through ideas and consciously rejecting them for their less-than-desirable content. I am therefore my own filter and I see myself metaphorically as a conscious hands digging into the stream of the unconscious and throwing ideas I find repellant or offensive out of that flowing stream.

If there is any proof of myself playing a pivotal role in the decision making process, it would be saying "no" to the many dubious ideas that bounces off my cerebral quantum space. Resisting temptation is a good example of this. Lust, anger, sloth, greed and pride are part of me and they are uninvited guests who gatecrash whenever the circumstances avail itself. So, by saying "no" to them when they make their unprompted appearances, I come alive to the daily freedom I experience as a responsible individual responding to the deviant triggers of my innermost urges.

Of course, this struggle is tough and relentless as this world becomes more seductive and explicit in its visual diorama of materialism, sexuality and corruption. They will all appeal to my inner-self and beckon me softly like the deadly sirens of Odyssey. But on my part, I shall will myself to exercise "free-won't" to keep them all at bay as I take the next mature step in this freedom journey to take control of the aspect of my life that truly matters and leave the miscellany of the inconsequential to its unconscious devices. Cheerz.

Once saved, always saved.

Philip is an etherist. It is an emerging movement on earth with at least 100,000 recorded members. They do not have a place of gathering and worship like a church, temple or an ashram. Instead, they congregate in cyberspace and on Facebook with the occasional Skype to carry out initiation ceremonies.

Some call etherism a quasi-religion. Others call it a cult. Still others call it a nuisance. Their god is actually a primordial 
energy like the quantum singularity of a black-hole and this original force exists everywhere. It is actually the source of all technology that runs the earth – so the etherists believe. And when they die, the etherists are promised that they will enjoy eternity in a celestial grid that stretches beyond the horizon. There will be no more tears and fears in this heavenly technological bliss that the etherists affectionately call glitteris.


The founder of etherism was a man called Jack Sparrow. He grew up in a Methodist home and was a technology genius by 9 years old. A college dropout, High Priest Sparrow, as he was known to his members, earned his first billion when he sold his software application to a technology supergiant company called Orange. After that, he retired at 19 and started etherism. Its members believe that Sparrow was the elected savior of this world. He was the one who would solve the climate problem and
redeem the earth from her own destruction. Alas, like all self-professed spiritual hyperbola, it was not meant to be. Sparrow died of a heart attack at age 33 and the leadership was passed to his wife, High Priestess Sarah Lee. Now Sarah Lee claims that she is the new savior of the earth. So much for cognitive dissonance.

But our story really begins with Philip and not Sparrow or Sarah Lee. Philip is a die-hard member of etherism. He sold
 everything he had to give to this movement. When Sparrow died, he was inconsolable. Yet, what happens next is going to be mind-boggling for Philip and it starts with an unexpected death...

Philip: Where am I?

Angel: You died...you were electrocuted when you spilled green tea over your lap-top. Your heart stopped.

Philip: What? Just like that? Where is this place then?
 Who are you?

Angel: Welcome to the place of eternal rest. I am your angel guide.

Philip: You mean glitteris?

Angel: This is heaven son.

Philip: Heaven…you mean the Christian’s heaven?

Angel: Yah…the one foretold in the Bible. Recall “in my father’s house there are many mansions”?

Philip: OMG, you mean this is not
 glitteris, the techno-heaven of eternal bliss reserved just for etherists?

Angel: Unless glitteris means heaven son, then yes welcome to glitteris then.

Philip: But…but, I renounced Christianity a long time ago. When I was 22 or 23. So, how is it that I still landed up here? Shouldn’t I be in that fiery place?

Angel: Well, here’s the thing…there’s a policy called “once saved always saved.” And you accepted Him in your youth, right? That's actually forever. You sealed the deal at 17 son.

Philip: That’s strange...I am an etherist. I died an etherist and not a Christian. I should be in glitteris, shouldn't I? You mean to tell me that glitteris doesn't exist?

Angel: Look here son, I don’t know anything about this place call glitteris. You are here now. You need to get onto the program.

Philip: (thinking) Wait, you people believe in free-will right? Choices? Autonomy? Enlighten me on that.

Angel: Oh…here we go again…that free-will shenanigans.

Philip: Yes...free-will. You mean I can’t choose to renounce my belief and accept another? Doesn’t my choice count for anything? Can’t I unsave a save?

Angel: Son, you’re obviously not getting it about the “once saved always saved” thingy. It’s just four simple words. How hard can it be? No theological baggage or philosophical debate here. Read my lips, “ONCE-SAVED-ALWAYS-SAVED”. Understood?

Philip shakes his head…

Angel: Ok, son, here’s the lowdown. Free-will don't work the way you think it works 
on earth. There are some things that take precedence over free-will here. But there are others that don’t. Take for example, the choice of a movie, a school, an investment, a future wife or even going to war. These things...the man in charge here don't really bother. You people have absolute free-range on them. But when it comes to salvation and heaven, well…he has the final say. He crosses the “t” and dots the “i” so to speak. That’s what
"once saved always saved” means. In other words, his sovereignty reigns supreme. Can we move on?

Philip: Ok. I see. Once I am saved, I am saved. Nothing I do can change that, right? 

Angel: (smiles) Yes, we have a convert here!

Philip: But...wait, in that case, I should expect High Priest Sparrow to be here too. He was a Christian. He was baptized in a Methodist Church. I am sure he said the sinner's prayer too. Where is he? Is he here?

Angel: Mm...

Philip: What?

Angel: Here is where it gets tricky. He’s not here. He didn’t make it.

Philip: Aaah? I don't get it. Once saved always saved remember? You preached it earlier, right?

Angel: It’s actually a little more complicated than that. We have to define “save” here.

Philip: Define save? Save is save. Save means save! The sinner’s prayer. The confession. The forgiveness. I am sure he did all that.


Angel: You really ask a lot don’t you? Well, if you must know…save actually means more than that. Or more accurately, it means nothing like that actually.

Philip: You are not helping my heavenly guide…

Angel: Well, in his book, save is a loaded word. It is all about population control I guess. Or keeping heaven heaven…or else we would have all kinds of weirdos here. You know I heard even Hitler once believed in Him.


Philip: You mean being saved is not just about saying the sinner’s prayer?

Angel: Erm…it’s about election son.

Philip: Election? You mean chosen? Chosen when?

Angel:  Before the creation of time.

Philip: So, he chose us even before there were anything? Isn't this
predestination?

Angel: Whoa, you make it sound like it’s a bad word. Just go with the flow son.

Philip: I see…I was chosen.

Angel: Yes, congrats!

Philip: And Sparrow didn’t make the cut. He was not chosen.

Angel nods.

Philip: You know, if you come to think about it, it really doesn’t matter what we do on earth or in our lifetime then. We are either in or out, chosen or not, and the decision has already been settled long long time ago. And doesn’t this just make his son’s death redundant, inconsequential? This is really a lot to digest.

Angel: Well son, it is much deeper than that and you have an eternity to figure it all out.

Philip: Okay, I think I have a rough idea for now. In a nutshell, what you are telling me is that it is all rigged from the start then.


Angel: Watch it son. You shouldn’t be complaining. You made it right? You're elected. Count your blessing. You should spend one day in the complaints department here. The complaints are endless from the millions and millions who had dedicated their whole life for something that was never meant to be in the first place.

Philip: Mm…I guess you are right then. I should count my blessing. What a game changer! So, what now my guardian angel?

Angel: Enjoy my son. Welcome to your eternal rest and bliss. Your mansion awaits. Let me take you there. It is actually just next to…

Cheerz.

Waking up at 1:34 am and writing about nothing

Here's the funny thing.

I woke up at 1:43 this morning.

I went straight to pee.

I drank two cups of water.

I returned to bed and suddenly felt the urge to write. 

Lying on my bed, and armed with my Samsung Note 2 in both hands, I started tapping the miniature keyboard.

Picture this, two nervous thumbs busy putting words together like stringing beads into a long dangling thread that stretches out to nowhere.

One word at a time, in a thread of uncharted thought, I wrote as if in a deep spell.

Subject matter?

I decided to write about nothing. Yes, you heard me.

I was writing with no aim in mind.

It was a lazy, mindless stroll in the cerebral blank-space of my mind.

Tabula rasa was very much the theme.

I decided to catch the first thought that materializes in my half-groggy head.

Like a retiree on fly fishing, I threw the bait far and wide, and at an angle, and then just before it struck the water surface of impromptu thoughts, I wickedly tarik it back to taunt the fishes to bite the bait.

I was 
literally standing out there on a limb angling for ideas.

Then, just when all seemed too calm and lost, the first thought came in on an innocent swim by and bit the bait. 

My busy thumbs then reeled in the catch and I completed a string of beads about the stillness of the night.

Yes, there is much to write about concerning the stillness of the night.

If you ever bothered to pay attention, and let your imagination take a stab in the dark, the stillness of the night as a literature of interest can lead you 
into the enchanted garden of revealing quietness.

So, unbidden, I took the uncharted plunge into nothingness.

I imagined the thousands of people, young and old, sleeping in unscripted positions, sprawling out on all limbs, and stretching in sports-like freeze-frames.

I imagined one child no older than six frozen in a position of a marathoner in her flowery pjs.

I imagined another child, this time a teenager, planking facedown, with his body straightened like an icicle pop.

Then another freeze-
frame emerged in my mind.

It was a couple half naked wrestling on the bed in a heated embrace.

But their faces registered no obvious aggression.

One was smiling, she appeared triumphant, and the other had his mouth drooling as if grasping for air.

Now the winner of that bedside wrestling match was readily discernible.

Still under the covers of nocturnal stillness, I imagined a strange old man struggling in his bed.

He was providing me with a series of quick motion shots in successive 
time intervals.

One moment he appeared to be drowning in an ocean, hands flailing and legs kicking wildly.

In another moment he appeared to be performing some sort of yoga breathing exercises, with palms meeting above head and then in between his thighs.

Still another moment caught him in a supine position, with one hand on his forehead and the other on his side.

He appeared to be contemplating the next move in a grandmaster chess competition.

At this time, I glanced at my
 bedroom clock and I realized an hour had already passed since I first started writing.

I had been lying on my bed, half awake, writing for an hour with my two busy thumbs pounding away on my Samsung Note 2, like kneading dough with just two active fat digits.

Just when I was about to rest those thumbs and call it a night or morning, another idea bit the bait.

It was wholly unexpected.

The catch was a red herring.

My mind went on an off-tangent expedition into empty open space and the earth
 gradually came into full Technicolor view.

From my vantage point, I soaked up the most amazing sight.

I saw the dichotomy of night and day, activity and inactivity, sleep and awakeness, in a harmonizing contrast revealing how the earth was divided.

It was an amazing sight because I imagined the peopled earth running an unrelenting baton race in a 2 x 400 meters global relay.

And the transferring of the baton of humanity was at the prime meridian point between the
 two hemispheres just before the night passes over to the day and the day passes over to the night.

It was a relay of wondrous metaphorical cooperation as the setting sun dutifully passes the baton over to the early dawn to keep the human race going.

I imagined that this race has been going on and on for millenniums and it had never stopped; not even for a water break.

Humanity has in fact been running faithfully, building civilization from scratch, and taking one small rotational degree at a time.

I further 
imagined that this race would go on into the future as its neighboring planets cheer brother earth on, celebrating every baton transfer, and admiring from their lonely interstellar orbit the shared destiny between the racing populations of the two hemispheric halves.

At this inflective point, I quietly mused, 

"Has humanity ever considered this amazing picture from the floating space where I am standing? 

If they had, and if they were as inspired as I am feeling 
right now, that is, the incredible affinity and cooperation between the people on earth regardless of race, language, and religion, will they still view each other as different and with contempt? 

Or will they view each other as one whole, indivisible and united, working or running towards a common goal, and living as a global family? 

If so, shouldn't we live in peace and pass on to our children and their children's children this baton of hope and shared destiny?"

Mm...food for thought I guess.

Now, looking at 
the clock for the second time, another hour had passed, and I think it's really time for me to retire those fat thumbs.

I recoiled my fishing rod, kept the bait, took one last look at my catch for the night, and then put aside my Samsung Note 2, and went to sleep.

My last thought before I fell into slumber land was, "I think I'll post this in the morning."

Cheerz.

* Image taken from "www.layoutsparks.com".