Aluminum seems to be everywhere. Really. Clays are aluminum minerals. You were probably thinking “aluminum cans.” You’re right. Aluminum cans are everywhere, it seems. Walk a forested mountain trail, sit for a moment, put your hand down to brace yourself, and—yes, there’s another one, a Coke or Pepsi can, a Coors or Bud. We just can’t get away from the stuff, whether it’s shaped as a container or is clinging onto the bottom of our shoes: Aluminum seems to be everywhere. On Earth’s surface, aluminum is the third most abundant element.

When something is abundant, we expect to run into it. Of human abundances which dominates? Peace? Violence? Is peace the norm and violence the dramatic exception? Is violence the norm and peace the quiet exception?

As I have pointed out before, the history of the past millennium includes a war per year. A war per year! In fact, numerous wars per year. Wars everywhere, every year. War is a constant. And then there’s violence between individuals: Abuse, petty and serious crime, and murder. We don’t have statistics on murders-per-day for every year of the past millennium, but if we did, we would probably see a relatively steady proportional rate. Of course, with today’s seven billion people, the same percentage of murders per 1,000 results in higher absolute numbers. Depressing, isn’t it?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if peace were as widespread as aluminum? If it were the litter of our world or the dust on our shoes?  

As automobiles become increasingly more “auto,” we transfer ownership of “self.” Self is one of those dual concepts: We know how to speak of “self,” but, given its complexity, we have trouble defining it. 

So, let’s look at the concept. I know a couple of things. Self is always rooted in some kind of place, either real or imagined. Self appears to will its presence in either kind of place as a consequence of immediate or long-term decision. Self also seems to vacillate between recognition and estrangement. There, that’s what I know about Self.

Of course, there’s more to Self than that. I’m just not sure what that “more” is or how to define it. Maybe you know. Okay, since you ask, I’ll hazard something else:

Having control of the throttle seems to be an essence of Self. If I let my car drive me, I might feel at the least that I have control over the destination. “Car, take me to the closest grocery store.” See, I can control the destination. But I don’t have control over the trip. I like “auto” when it means “I” during the traveling. I like Self that evolves through trial and error, through the excitement of discovery, experimentation, and challenge. I might be typical, and if I am, I embody the Self of every “next generation” that rejects at least some of the “auto” prescribed by the previous generation. I like having control of the throttle, and I guess that you do, too.

The next time you find yourself complaining about your predecessors or your successors, keep in mind that they, also, like having control of the throttle.   

This is NOT your practice life. It isn’t. There’s no proof that you get another chance. This life is IT. 

So, avoid unnecessary risk. Don’t take foolish chances. Don’t gamble that you can jump from a roof to a swimming pool or from one balcony in a high rise to another. I repeat: Don’t try to make a video of a foolish risk just to put it on YouTube. “Oh! Look! There’s another one.”

Risks abound. The people near Kathmandu recently suffered through a strong earthquake that killed thousands. They did not go out of their way to take a risk. They simply lived in a risky place on a risky planet. However, not far from Katmandu climbers on Mt. Everest were killed by an avalanche caused by the earthquake. The climbers put themselves at risk. “Oh! Look! I climbed the big mountain. Here’s a picture of me on top. I can tell my grandchildren.” Or, maybe not. Maybe the climber was one of those killed.

Am I saying don’t take risks? No, I know the planet is full of them, and some risk is necessary. Life is risky. Just don’t take foolish or unnecessary risks. This is NOT your practice life. It isn’t. Sorry for the repetition I repeated tautologically again and again. I’m just concerned that if you try to jump from one balcony to another, I might be standing on the sidewalk below you. I’m a bit fond of life. Mine. Yours.  

The painter Courbet inspired impressionists. That seems a bit strange since Courbet was the inventor of realism in art. How could this be so?

Courbet painted from his experience, starting his career by painting characters and scenes of his peasant village. His “realism” did not result in digital photograph-like representations, but he did focus on aspects of a scene that other painters of his time were likely to refrain from capturing. For some reason, Courbet believed that painting commoners was realistic and that painting the elite was not. He knew the people and places where he lived, so he painted them in a way to capture their essence and to negate any idealism.

Painting to negate idealism from what one directly experiences ironically opens up the possibility of painting one’s impression of reality. Every place has objective properties, but not everyone sees the same objective properties. Some see color more than shape. Some see lighting more than depth.

As in most instances of understanding and representing the world, people of different times bounce between different perspectives. If I take you to New England, I might point out the pinkish granite in one place and the grayish granite in another and then explain the mineralogical differences between the two. Or I might point out the exfoliation of the rock as one form of weathering and narrow valleys as evidence of glacial erosion. In short, I might focus on the physical makeup and physical processes of the New England region. If you take me to New England, you might point out the majesty of big exposed rocks, deep valleys, and beautiful forests. Both you and I portray the area in a realistic manner. Your way, however, combines something of what you are with the place you explain. My way, by contrast, eliminates me, or strips my explanation and perspective down to a set of scientific facts.

I can appreciate your impressions, and you can appreciate my science. Both of us can bounce between impressionism and realism. Both of us demonstrate a duality with bouncing aspects.

Every place has an objective reality, and every person has an impression of place that derives from previous experience and knowledge, from emotional history and current feelings, from physical health and from mental focus. Today, ask yourself about the place where you find yourself. What part of the bounce dominates your explanation of where you are? If you could paint that explanation, would it be realistic or impressionistic? Is your form of reality just an impression?

We can’t get around holding ourselves as the life-form to be emulated. We are the life-form with philosophy. We are the life-form that explores without necessity, spending, for example, billions of dollars on telescopes and spaceships, drilling through Earth’s crust, and diving to the ocean’s greatest depths. We are the life-form that creates art for art’s sake and that creates without necessity. We are also the ones that see symbols as either threatening or empowering.

For millennia our life-form has made and preserved representations of both ideas and reality. For millennia our life-form has purposely destroyed those same representations. In a recent manifestation of conscious destruction, ISIS militants destroyed ancient statues housed in Mosul’s museum, and that destruction seemed to draw the world’s attention as much as their purposeful atrocities against the civilians they attacked. We might note that the barbarism of this current group was directed at artifacts that survived from ancient Assyrian and Akkadian cultures that were known in their own time for similar acts of barbarism.

There are other life-forms on our planet that can deal with symbols. Dolphins, primates, and even chickens seem to be able to distinguish among symbols. None of those life-forms, however, goes out of its way to destroy symbols. Purposeful destruction of symbols through book-burning or hammering is, regardless of our disdain or our acceptance of the practices, a mark of the special nature of our life-form. Yes, we can destroy what we create, and just as we can create for creation’s sake, we can destroy for destruction’s sake.

For many, the destruction of ancient art in Mosul is a sign of true barbarism, catching as much attention as the beheadings and live immolations. But the destruction of ancient art is also a sign of consciousness that is vastly different from that of all other known life-forms. “Civilized people” won’t condone such barbarism, but they should realize that the barbarians share consciousness with them. “Civilized people” can also use that fact as a point of departure for reflection.

You probably won’t be happy the next time a local “barbarian” causes you some grief—a scratch on your car, a bit of vandalism, a jump in the line, a tire track in the grass, some litter—but you can attempt to understand how that barbarian is related to your civilized mind. You can also ask whether or not you ever consciously damaged someone else’s icon.

History relates that we will never rid ourselves of barbarians. The future will tell whether or not we will join them.    

Community seems like a good idea. People get the protection and resources of the masses. But any community comes with a loss of individuality to varying degrees. The tradeoff reveals itself in a number of ills, more so in some communities than in others. Take communism, for example. As it developed in the twentieth century, it quashed the free spirit of billions of people and led to the deaths of tens of millions.

Imprisonment and death under the auspices of community are extreme ills. There are “lesser” ills, also. Like magma undergoing a compositional change when it erupts as lava, the underlying beauty of almost every—if not every—social system cannot surface without changing. For magma there is usually a loss of constituent gases. In an emerging social system the change manifests itself in a loss of constituent individualism. We all seem to profess the virtues of individuality until two individuals meet. To make the community work, we relinquish some of our individuality. Every community has a constituent self-denial.

Utopian experiments always fail. You might point out “this one” or “that” to show a success story, and, temporarily, the society you point to probably worked. Then the second and third generations came along. Goodbye, Perfect Society.

“Is it just me, or do you think the rules around here are a little too restrictive?” 

Mystery of mysteries from the world of paleontology: Why do fossils of caimans in Panama indicate an animal migration from North to South America before there was a Panama Land Bridge and a Central America continental connection? The answer: The bridge was there earlier than previously thought. The animals walked, swam in fresh water rivers and lakes, or swam across very short saltwater bodies. Who cares?

Well, geologists, biologists, and paleontologists care. The story used to be that the Central American Land Bridge was a mere three million years old. If that were true, then a number of land and fresh water critters like caimans would have had a hard time getting from one continent to the other. But a recent geologic discovery by Camilo Montes and other scientists seems to push the formation of a land bridge back another ten million years or so. Northern Colombia has ancient sediments that rivers from Panama transported to South America (Science, 10 April 2015, Vol. 348 no. 6231, pp. 226-229). The Central American Seaway appears to have closed earlier than three million years ago. Migrating from north to south just meant walking.

Problem solved. Or, at least, problem redefined. The new evidence for an earlier land bridge seems pretty strong. But, if the conclusion is true, it presents another problem. How did the glacial epochs with their extreme cooling and warming episodes of the last 3 million years get their start?  Previously, many scientists cited the closing of the connection between the Pacific and the Atlantic as a major contributor to the cooling. Such a closing of the seaway would have stopped the interchange of ocean currents between the two oceans and affected Northern Hemisphere climate. If the closing happened ten million years earlier, then a climate problem replaces the animal-exchange problem. If not a change in currents, then what caused temperatures to begin their erratic teeter-tottering between high and low extremes at least ten times during the last two to three million years?

Isn’t that the way of the world? You solve one problem, but your solution creates another problem—or at least an unintended effect. Won’t there ever be equilibrium? Won’t the seesaw balance?

Disequilibrium is the way of the world. Balance something, and watch something else become imbalanced. Please someone, and watch displeasure grow in someone else. Make peace with one country at the expense of becoming an enemy of another one. The horizontal seesaw of knowledge and belief is temporary at best. The seesaw of human connections is usually tilted.  

Your life is not a game, but if it were, you would always be at a critical moment and in critical place. What you do will determine an outcome for not only you but also for others directly or indirectly.

You are always at the plate. So, can you guarantee success? Can you give a successful outcome a better than even chance? Possibly. Direct your attention in one direction and one direction only, the direction of the pitch. Focus on the incoming ball. No distractions.

What if the pitcher is the best in the league? He still has to throw the ball, doesn’t he? Assume the ball is self-propelled. Assume that the pitcher has nothing to do with throwing the ball. Now you face only the ball, albeit a moving one.  Here it comes. Get ready to swing.

Feel the moment? Feel some tension? Adrenalin rushing through you?

Of course, no one feels that every moment bears such importance and drama. But why not? You live only in the moment in a single place. Here comes the next pitch. Where’s your focus, and what are you going to do with it?

Cappadocia, a center of conflicts for thousands of years, holds one of the largest of the region’s 200 underground cities. Still not completely explored, the cavernous 5,000,000 square foot multilevel set of passageways was capable of housing more than 20,000 people. Humpf! Living underground. Imagine.

The underground cities in the region of Cappadocia are very old, some apparently dating back to the time of the Egyptian pyramids. Carved from the region’s volcanic tuff, some of these underground cities are connected by tunnels that run as long as four or five miles. That’s a bunch of excavating.  “What are you doing today?” “Digging. Tomorrow, too.”

Obviously, people dug, and dug, and dug for a reason, and that reason was no different from the reason people dug bomb shelters during the last century: Safety. Safety has always been a concern, and, if you think about it, in seeking safety, people aren’t too different from meerkats. There’s some safety in living beneath the surface. But such a life also has its drawbacks.

When the United States government sought underground facilities for surviving a nuclear war, it built an underground hideaway at the Greenbrier in West Virginia. Not bad. Got your resort right there, very convenient unless there’s an actual attack. The government also looked into storing food and finding shelter in Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. Now that’s a big hole, and nobody has to do any digging.

Unfortunately, every place on Earth and under Earth has its drawbacks with regard to safety. Mammoth Cave, for example, has multiple places for air to enter, and such air would carry any surface radiation into passageways. But just being underground poses many problems even without nuclear fallout. There’s the darkness, for example. And in Cappadocia, the rocks contain erionite, a mineral known to cause mesothelioma and suspected to cause lung cancer.

So, there they were, those generations of rock excavators, carving by hand the volcanic tuff not just for a day, but rather for years, decades, and, if reports are correct on the most recently discovered underground city, millennia. That much digging exposed many people to erionite (Na2,K2,Ca)2Al4Si14O36·15H2O. The very walls of their underground cities were a threat.

That reminds me of a story a classmate from Brazil told during an ichthyology class on dangerous fish. His uncle was attacked by killer bees. To escape, he dived into the river, where piranha ate him. Know the place where you seek safety. 

You might not want to admit your addiction to sutra, but that’s not unusual for an addict. You have read and heard words-to-live-by since you were born. The process of addiction has been subtle and sometimes insidious. Now you’re hooked. Almost everything you say is a version of some aphorism or is based on one. As British philosopher Francis Herbert Bradley remarked in a mixed metaphor aphorism, “The hunter for aphorisms on human nature has to fish in muddy water, and he is ever condemned to find much of his own mind.” Mixed metaphor aside, the point Bradley makes is similar to one made by Elias Canetti, author of The Human Province, “The great writers of aphorism read as if they had all known each other very well.”

Although you want to be thought of as an individual, you bear in your makeup the thoughts of a culture you can’t shake. Why? Every counterculture has also permeated your being. Rejecting is often a matter of accepting.

Is there no escape? Is there no place to go mentally or physically that doesn’t already bear the stamp of the past and pose the threat of addictive aphorisms? With 100 billion predecessor humans, you might not have much hope of truly becoming that “special one,” someone without aphorisms jumping synapses.

Maybe life isn’t about “choices” in general, but about choices for or against sutra. Certainly, conscious life has that struggle against inculcated values and life lessons.

In the meantime, as you, in Bradley’s metaphor, go hunting with a fishing hook, I wish you good luck in overcoming your sutra addiction.