"In my search for the answers to the question of life ["I am a human, therefore, how should I live? What do I do?"] I had exactly the same feeling as a man who has lost his way in a forest. He has come out into a clearing, climbed a tree, and has a clear view of limitless space, but he sees that there is no house there and that there cannot be one; he goes into the trees, into the darkness, and sees darkness, and there too there is no house. In the same way I wandered in this forest of human knowledge between the rays of light of the mathematical and experimental sciences, which opened up clear horizons to me but in a direction where there could be no house, and into the darkness of the speculative sciences, where I was plunged into further darkness the further I moved on, and finally I was convinced that there was not and could not be any way out.

As I gave myself up to the brighter side of the sciences, I understood that I was only taking my eyes off the question. However enticing and clear the horizons opening upon before me, however enticing it was to plunge myself into the infinity of these sciences were, the less they served me, the less they answered my question. "Well, I know everything that science so insistently wants to know," I said to myself, "but on this path there is no answer to the question of the meaning of my life." In the speculative sphere I understood that although, or precisely because, sciences aim was directed straight at the answer than the one I was giving myself: "What is the meaning of my life?" "None." Or: "What will come out of my life?" "Nothing." Or: "Why does everything exist that exists, and why do I exist?" "Because it exists."

Asking questions on one side of human science, I received a countless quantity of precise answers to questions I wasn't asking: about the chemical composition of the stars; the movement of the sun toward the constellation Hercules; the origin of species and of man; the forms of infinitely small atoms; the vibration of infinitely small, weightless particles of ether — but there was only one answer in this area of science to my question, "In what is the meaning of my life?": "You are what you call your life; but you are an ephemeral, casual connection of particles. The interaction, the change of these particles produces in you what you call your life. This connection will last some time; then the interaction of these particles will stop — and what you call your life will stop and all your questions will stop too. You are a lump of something stuck together by chance. The lump decays. The lump calls this decay its life. The lump will disintegrate and the decay and all its questions will come to an end." That is the answer given by the bright side of science, and it cannot give any other if it just strictly follows its principles. With such an answer it turns out the answer doesn't answer my question. I need to know the meaning of my life, but it's being a particle of the infinite not only gives it no meaning but destroys any possible meaning.

The other side of science, the speculative, when it strictly adheres to its principles in answering the question directly, gives and has given the same answer everywhere and in all ages: "The world is something infinte and unintelligible. Human life is an incomprehensible piece of this incomprehensible 'whole'." Again I exclude all the compromises between speculative and experimental sciences that constitute the whole ballast of the semi-sciences, the so-called jurisprudential, political, and historical. Into these sciences again one finds wrongly introduced the notions of development, of perfection, with the difference only that there it was the development of the whole whereas here it is of the life of people. What is wrong is the same: development and perfection in the infinite can have neither aim nor direction and in relation to my question give no answer.

Where speculative science is exact, namely in true philosophy — not in what Shopenhauer called "professorial philosophy" which only serves to distribute all existing phenomena in neat philosophical tables and gives them new names — there where a philosopher doesn't lose sight of the essential question, the answer, always one and the same, is the answer given by Socrates, Solomon, Buddha...

• "The life of the body is evil and a lie. And therefore the destruction of this life of the body is something good, and we must desire it," says Socrates.
• "Life is that which ought not to be — an evil — and the going into nothingness is the sole good of life," says Shopenhauer.
• "Everything in the world — folly and wisdom and riches and poverty and happiness and grief — [vanity of vanities; doing of doings] all is vanity and nonsense. Man will die and nothing will remain. And that is foolish," says Solomon.
• "One must not live with the awareness of the inevitability of suffering, weakness, old age, and death — one must free oneself from life, from all possibility of life," says Buddha.

And what these powerful intellects said was said and thought and felt by millions and millions of people like them. And I too thought and felt that. So that my wanderings in science not only did not take me out of despair but only increased it. One science did not answer the question of life; another science did answer, directly confirming my despair and showing that the view I had reached wasn't the result of my delusion, of the morbid state of mind — on the contrary, it confirmed for me what I truly thought and agreed with the conclusions of the powerful intellects of mankind. It's no good deceiving oneself. All is vanity. Happy is he who was not born; death is better than life; one needs to be rid of life." - Leo Tolstoy, Confession, Chapter Six

The simple yet profound meaning Tolstoy found within the many sources of our knowledge of morality: https://lemmy.world/post/44903802

Tolstoy wasn't what we now call "religious," however: https://lemmy.world/post/44866402

"In my search for the answers to the question of life ["I am a human, therefore, how should I live? What do I do?"] I had exactly the same feeling as a man who has lost his way in a forest. He has come out into a clearing, climbed a tree, and has a clear view of limitless space, but he sees that there is no house there and that there cannot be one; he goes into the trees, into the darkness, and sees darkness, and there too there is no house. In the same way I wandered in this forest of human knowledge between the rays of light of the mathematical and experimental sciences, which opened up clear horizons to me but in a direction where there could be no house, and into the darkness of the speculative sciences, where I was plunged into further darkness the further I moved on, and finally I was convinced that there was not and could not be any way out.

As I gave myself up to the brighter side of the sciences, I understood that I was only taking my eyes off the question. However enticing and clear the horizons opening upon before me, however enticing it was to plunge myself into the infinity of these sciences were, the less they served me, the less they answered my question. "Well, I know everything that science so insistently wants to know," I said to myself, "but on this path there is no answer to the question of the meaning of my life." In the speculative sphere I understood that although, or precisely because, sciences aim was directed straight at the answer than the one I was giving myself: "What is the meaning of my life?" "None." Or: "What will come out of my life?" "Nothing." Or: "Why does everything exist that exists, and why do I exist?" "Because it exists."

Asking questions on one side of human science, I received a countless quantity of precise answers to questions I wasn't asking: about the chemical composition of the stars; the movement of the sun toward the constellation Hercules; the origin of species and of man; the forms of infinitely small atoms; the vibration of infinitely small, weightless particles of ether — but there was only one answer in this area of science to my question, "In what is the meaning of my life?": "You are what you call your life; but you are an ephemeral, casual connection of particles. The interaction, the change of these particles produces in you what you call your life. This connection will last some time; then the interaction of these particles will stop — and what you call your life will stop and all your questions will stop too. You are a lump of something stuck together by chance. The lump decays. The lump calls this decay its life. The lump will disintegrate and the decay and all its questions will come to an end." That is the answer given by the bright side of science, and it cannot give any other if it just strictly follows its principles. With such an answer it turns out the answer doesn't answer my question. I need to know the meaning of my life, but it's being a particle of the infinite not only gives it no meaning but destroys any possible meaning.

The other side of science, the speculative, when it strictly adheres to its principles in answering the question directly, gives and has given the same answer everywhere and in all ages: "The world is something infinte and unintelligible. Human life is an incomprehensible piece of this incomprehensible 'whole'." Again I exclude all the compromises between speculative and experimental sciences that constitute the whole ballast of the semi-sciences, the so-called jurisprudential, political, and historical. Into these sciences again one finds wrongly introduced the notions of development, of perfection, with the difference only that there it was the development of the whole whereas here it is of the life of people. What is wrong is the same: development and perfection in the infinite can have neither aim nor direction and in relation to my question give no answer.

Where speculative science is exact, namely in true philosophy — not in what Shopenhauer called "professorial philosophy" which only serves to distribute all existing phenomena in neat philosophical tables and gives them new names — there where a philosopher doesn't lose sight of the essential question, the answer, always one and the same, is the answer given by Socrates, Solomon, Buddha...

• "The life of the body is evil and a lie. And therefore the destruction of this life of the body is something good, and we must desire it," says Socrates.
• "Life is that which ought not to be — an evil — and the going into nothingness is the sole good of life," says Shopenhauer.
• "Everything in the world — folly and wisdom and riches and poverty and happiness and grief — [vanity of vanities; doing of doings] all is vanity and nonsense. Man will die and nothing will remain. And that is foolish," says Solomon.
• "One must not live with the awareness of the inevitability of suffering, weakness, old age, and death — one must free oneself from life, from all possibility of life," says Buddha.

And what these powerful intellects said was said and thought and felt by millions and millions of people like them. And I too thought and felt that. So that my wanderings in science not only did not take me out of despair but only increased it. One science did not answer the question of life; another science did answer, directly confirming my despair and showing that the view I had reached wasn't the result of my delusion, of the morbid state of mind — on the contrary, it confirmed for me what I truly thought and agreed with the conclusions of the powerful intellects of mankind. It's no good deceiving oneself. All is vanity. Happy is he who was not born; death is better than life; one needs to be rid of life." - Leo Tolstoy, Confession, Chapter Six

The simple yet profound meaning Tolstoy found within the many sources of our knowledge of morality: https://lemmy.world/post/44903802

Tolstoy wasn't what we now call "religious," however: https://lemmy.world/post/44866402

Faith: the will to believe in a truth; "the knowledge of the meaning of [a] man's life," that he gives to it.

"There arose a contradiction from which there were two ways out: either what I called rational wasn't as rational as I thought; or what seemed to me irrational wasn't as irrational as I thought. And I started to test the line of reasoning of my rational knowledge. Testing the line of reasoning of rational knowledge, I found it quite correct. The conclusion that life is nothing was unavoidable, but I saw an error. The error lay in the fact that my thinking didn't correspond to the question I had asked. The question was this: why do I live, that is, what is real and lasting that will come out of my illusory and impermanent life, what meaning does my finite existence have in this infinite world? And to answer this question I studied life.

The answering of all possible questions about life obviously could not satisfy me because my question, however simple it might appear at the beginning, included a requirement for the explanation of the finite by the infinite and the reverse. I was asking, "What is the meaning of my life outside time, outside cause, outside space?" But I was asking the question, "What is the meaning of my life within time, within cause, and within space?" The result was that after a long labor of thought, I answered, "None." In my reasoning I constantly equated — I couldn't do otherwise — finite with finite and infinite with infinite, and so the result I got was what it had to be: a force is a force, a substance is a substance, will is will, infinity is infinity, nothing is nothing, and there could be no further result.

Something like this happens in mathematics when, thinking you are solving an equation, you produce a solution of identity. The line of reasoning is correct but in the result you get the answer a = a or x = x or o = o. The same happened with my reasoning about the question of the meaning of my life. The answers given by the whole of science to the question only produced identities.

And indeed strictly rational science, which begins like Descartes with completely doubting everything, rejects all the knowledge recognized by faith and constructs everything anew on the laws of reason and experience, and cannot give any other answer to the question of life but the very one I received — an indeterminate [not exactly known, established, or defined] answer. It was only at the start that science seemed to me to give a positive answer — the answer of Schopenhauer: life has no meaning; it is evil. But having looked into the matter I understood that the answer isn't positive, but was just my feeling expressing it as such. A strictly expressed answer, as articulated by the Brahmins and Solomon and Schopenhauer, is only an indeterminate answer or an identity, o = o; life appearing to me as nothing is nothing. So philosophical science denies nothing but only answers that it cannot solve this question, that for it the solution remains indeterminate.

Having answered this, I understood that it was impossible to look for the answer to my question in rational science, and that the answer given by rational science is only an indication that the answer can only be given with the question being put differently, only when there is introduced into the reasoning the question of the relationship of the finite to the infinite. I also understood that however irrational and distorted the answers given by faith, they have the advantage that into every answer they introduce the relationship of the finite to the infinite, without which there cannot be an answer. However I might put the question, "How should I live?" the answer is "By God's law." "What that is real will come out of my life?" "Eternal suffering or eternal bliss." "What meaning of life is there that is not destroyed by death?" "Union with the infinity of God, paradise."

So apart from rational science, which previously seemed to me the only one, I was inescapably led to recognize that the whole of living mankind has another irrational science — faith, which gives the possibility of living. All the irrationality of faith remained the same for me as before but I couldn't fail to recognize that it alone gives mankind answers to the questions of life and consequently the possibility of living. Rational science had led me to recognize that life is meaningless; my life stopped and I wanted to destroy myself. Looking around at people, at the whole of mankind, I saw that people do live and affirm that they know the meaning of life. I looked at myself: I did live as long as I knew the meaning of life. Like others I too was given the meaning of life and the possibility of life by faith. Looking further at people from other countries, at my contemporaries, and at those who lived before us, I saw one and the same thing. Where there is life, ever since mankind has existed faith gives the possibility of living, and the main features of faith are everywhere and always one and the same.

Whatever the faith and whatever the answers and to whomever it might give them, every answer from faith gives the finite existence of man a meaning of the infinite — a meaning that is not destroyed by suffering, privations and death. That means in faith alone can one find the meaning and potential of life. And I understood that faith in its most essential meaning is not just "the unveiling of unseen things" and so forth, it isn't revelation (that is only a description of one of the signs of faith), it's not just the relationship of man to God (one needs to define faith and then God, but not to define faith through God), it's not agreement with what one has been told by someone (as faith is most often understood) — faith is the knowledge of the meaning of man's life, as a result of which man does not destroy himself but lives. Faith is the life force. If a man lives, then he believes in something. If he didn't believe that one must live for something, then he wouldn't live. If he doesn't see and doesn't understand the illusoriness of the finite, he believes in the finite; if he does understand the illusoriness of the finite, he must believe in the infinite without which one cannot live.

And I remembered the whole course of my mental labors and I was horrified. It was now clear to me that for a man to be able to live he either had not to see the infinite or have an explanation of the meaning of life in which the finite was equated with the infinite. I had such an explanation but I had no need for it while I believed in the finite, and I began to test it by reason. And with the light of reason I found the whole of my previous explanation to dissolve in dust. But there came a time when I stopped believing in the finite. And then I began to construct out of what I knew, on rational foundations, an explanation that would give the meaning of life; but nothing got constructed. Together with mankind's best minds I came to o = o and was very surprised to get such a solution when nothing else could come of it.

What was I doing when I looked for an answer in the experimental sciences? I wanted to learn why I lived and for that I studied everything outside myself. Clearly I was able to learn a great deal, but nothing of what I needed. What was I doing when I looked for an answer in the philosophical sciences? I studied the thoughts of those people who were in the same position as myself, who had no answer to the question, "Why do I live?" Clearly I could learn nothing other than what I myself knew: that one can know nothing. "What am I?" "Part of the infinite." Now in those few words lies the whole problem. Can mankind have asked this question of itself only yesterday? And really did no one ask himself this question before me — such a simple question coming to the tip of the tongue of any clever child? This question has been asked ever since man has existed; and ever since man has existed, it has been understood that for the question to be answered it has been just as inadequate to equate finite to finite and infinite to infinite, and ever since man has existed, the relationship of finite to infinite has been looked for and expressed.

All these concepts, in which the finite is equated to the infinite and the result is the meaning of life, concepts of God, freedom, good, we submit to logical analysis. And these concepts do not stand up to the criticism of reason. If it weren't so terrible, it would be funny to see the pride and complacency with which like children we take to pieces a watch, remove the spring, make a toy of it, and then are surprised that the watch stops working. The solution of the contradiction between finite and infinite is necessary and valuable, providing an answer to the question whereby life is made possible. And this is the only solution, one we find everywhere, always and among all peoples — a solution coming down out of time in which the life of man has been lost to us, a solution so difficult that we could make nothing like it — this solution we carelessly destroy in order to ask again that question inherent in everyone to which there is no answer. The concepts of infinite God, of the divinity of the soul, of the link between the affairs of man and God, the concepts of moral good and evil, are concepts evolved in the distant history of man's life that is hidden from our eyes, are those concepts without which life and I myself would not be, and rejecting all this labor of all mankind, I want to do everything by myself, alone, anew, and in my own way.

I didn't think so then, but the germs of those thoughts were already in me. I understood firstly that for all our wisdom my position alongside Schopenhauer and Solomon was a stupid one: we understand that life is evil and still we live. This is clearly stupid because if life is stupid — and I do so love all that is rational — then I should clearly destroy life, and no one would be able to challenge this. Secondly I understood that all our reasoning was going around in a vicious circle, like a wheel that has come off its gear. However much, however well we reason, we cannot give an answer to the question, and it will always be o = o, and so our path is likely to be the wrong one. Thirdly, I began to understand that the answers given to faith enshrine the most profound wisdom of mankind, and that I didn't have the right to deny them on the grounds of reason, and that, most importantly, these answers do answer the question of life." - Leo Tolstoy, Confession, Chapter Nine

"I must skip many of the recollections of South Africa. At the conclusion of the Satyagraha struggle in 1914, I received Gokhale's instructions to return home via London. So in July Kasturbai [Gandhi's wife], Kallenbach and I sailed for England. During Satyagraha I had begun travelling third class. I therefore took third class passages for this voyage. But there was a good deal of difference between third class accommodation on the boat on this route and that provided on Indian coastal boats or railway trains. There is hardly sufficient sitting, much less sleeping, accommodation in the Indian service, and little cleanliness. During the voyage to London, on the other hand, there was enough room and cleanliness, and the steamship company had provided special facilities for us. The company had had provided reserved closet accommodation for us, and as we were fruitarians, the steward had orders to supply us with fruits and nuts. As a rule third class passengers get little fruit or nuts. These facilities made our eighteen days on the boat quite comfortable.

Some of the incidents during the voyage are well worth recording. Mr. Kallenbach was very fond of binoculars, and had one or two costly pairs. We had daily discussions over one of these. I tried to impress on him that this possession was not in keeping with the ideal of simplicity that we aspired to reach. Our discussions came to a head one day, as we were standing near the porthole of our cabin. 'Rather than allow these to be a bone of contention between us, why not throw them into the sea, and be done with them?' said I.

'Certainly throw the wretched things away,' said Mr Kallenbach.

'I mean it,' said I.

'So do I,' quickly came the reply. And forthwith I flung them into the sea. They were worth some £7, but their value lay less in their price than in Mr. Kallenbach's infatuation for them. However, having got rid of them, he never regretted it. This is but one out of the many incidents that happened between Mr. Kallenbach and me.

Every day we had to learn something new in this way, for both of us were trying to tread the path of Truth. In the march towards Truth, anger, selfishness, hatred, etc., naturally give way, for otherwise Truth would be impossible to attain. A man who is swayed by passions may have good enough intentions, may be truthful in word, but he will never find the Truth. A successful search for Truth means complete deliverance from the dual throng such as of love and hate, happiness and misery." - Mahatma Gandhi, The Story of My Experiments With Truth, Part Four, Chapter Thirty-Seven, "To Meet Gokhale"

"To attain to perfect purity one has to become absolutely passion-free in thought, speech and action; to rise above the opposing currents of love and hatred, attachment and repulsion." - Mahatma Gandhi

Gandhi's "Acquaintance With Religions:" https://lemmy.world/post/44944407

"I must skip many of the recollections of South Africa. At the conclusion of the Satyagraha struggle in 1914, I received Gokhale's instructions to return home via London. So in July Kasturbai [Gandhi's wife], Kallenbach and I sailed for England. During Satyagraha I had begun travelling third class. I therefore took third class passages for this voyage. But there was a good deal of difference between third class accommodation on the boat on this route and that provided on Indian coastal boats or railway trains. There is hardly sufficient sitting, much less sleeping, accommodation in the Indian service, and little cleanliness. During the voyage to London, on the other hand, there was enough room and cleanliness, and the steamship company had provided special facilities for us. The company had had provided reserved closet accommodation for us, and as we were fruitarians, the steward had orders to supply us with fruits and nuts. As a rule third class passengers get little fruit or nuts. These facilities made our eighteen days on the boat quite comfortable.

Some of the incidents during the voyage are well worth recording. Mr. Kallenbach was very fond of binoculars, and had one or two costly pairs. We had daily discussions over one of these. I tried to impress on him that this possession was not in keeping with the ideal of simplicity that we aspired to reach. Our discussions came to a head one day, as we were standing near the porthole of our cabin. 'Rather than allow these to be a bone of contention between us, why not throw them into the sea, and be done with them?' said I.

'Certainly throw the wretched things away,' said Mr Kallenbach.

'I mean it,' said I.

'So do I,' quickly came the reply. And forthwith I flung them into the sea. They were worth some £7, but their value lay less in their price than in Mr. Kallenbach's infatuation for them. However, having got rid of them, he never regretted it. This is but one out of the many incidents that happened between Mr. Kallenbach and me.

Every day we had to learn something new in this way, for both of us were trying to tread the path of Truth. In the march towards Truth, anger, selfishness, hatred, etc., naturally give way, for otherwise Truth would be impossible to attain. A man who is swayed by passions may have good enough intentions, may be truthful in word, but he will never find the Truth. A successful search for Truth means complete deliverance from the dual throng such as of love and hate, happiness and misery." - Mahatma Gandhi, The Story of My Experiments With Truth, Part Four, Chapter Thirty-Seven, "To Meet Gokhale"

"To attain to perfect purity one has to become absolutely passion-free in thought, speech and action; to rise above the opposing currents of love and hatred, attachment and repulsion." - Mahatma Gandhi

Gandhi's "Acquaintance With Religions:" https://lemmy.world/post/44944407

Our knowledge of anything — of morality, time, the experience, science, history, philosophy, math, and even the influence of the divine to whatever degree that we keep alive or "living" via our unique and profound ability to retain and transfer knowledge in contrast to nature, is a consequence of being as conscious to both ourselves and everything else as we humans sure seem to be. We may give life or create any degree of knowledge of morality or of time, but that doesn't make them not real. Sure, we give life to there being a past and a future via the images of either that we instill in our minds through our imaginations, and right now may be the only time there is, but that doesn't make time itself not real or cease to exist if there's something not capable of giving life to it so to speak, as we can plainly see when we observe something decaying or measure how long something has existed for.

Of course the same can be said of our knowledge of morality no matter the source, like what we now call "religion," stoicism, or even a proverb from where or whenever. Our knowledge of morality is of course born out of our imaginations as well, but more specifically when it comes to morality — our unique and profound ability to imagine ourselves in someone or something else's shoes and really try to imagine feeling all that they're feeling, or in a word: empathy. The law and the prophets as a whole that were meant to be fulfilled; "love thy neighbor as thyself." The power of "the writings" - Matt 22:29 LSV: knowledge.

All knowledge exists with or without something capable of acknowledging it or to give life to it so to speak; it's there waiting for something to come along and reveal it. Therefore, anything conscious enough to retain any degree of knowledge is only capable of behaving out of what it presently knows, making anything's doing a doing out of a degree of lack of knowledge; an ignorance. This is what Socrates meant when he said all evil is born out of an ignorance (Socrates on ignorance and evil) because of course lack of knowledge to any degree — including and especially of the experience — is going to come along with our unique and profound ability to acknowledge any extent of it in the first place. Which in turn makes all lack of knowledge to be just as much of a consequence of consciousness as any possession of knowledge to any degree. This is the knowing necessary to gain the understanding, thus, the will to forgive any lack of knowledge to any extent we all encounter at some point, in some way or another throughout our lives.

The "sign of Jonah" (Luke 11:29):

"And the Lord said, 'And should not I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also much cattle?” - Jonah 4:11

"Know thyself." - The first of three Ancient Greek maxims chosen to be inscribed into the Temple of Apollo where the Oracle of Delphi resided in Ancient Greece

"When you can understand everything [things] you can forgive anything [things]." - Leo Tolstoy

An Allgorical, More Philosophical Interpretation of the Story of the Garden of Eden: https://lemmy.world/post/44870805

Tolstoy: "I am a man [human]. How should I live? What do I do?"

“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people's feet." - Matt 5:13

The Salt

We're humans. Therefore, how should we live? What do we do? Well, what good is salt if it's lost the reason for its existence — to preserve foods or make them taste better? Considering a humans unparalleled potential and ability for selflessness in contrast to any other living thing that's ever existed — as far as we know, of course — wouldn't it become incredibly obvious what the reason for a creature as conscious and capable as a human is made to live for? Objectively, God or not: to strive to be as selfless as possible; to be capable of acknowledging any of its more barbaric and selfish thoughts or behaviors — at all in the first place — and abstain from them, for a purpose outside of itself. This is the "salt": selflessness.

What good is a human that's lost its purpose? What good are humans as a whole if we've lost our purpose as a whole? Crippling ourselves, defiling our own minds from the images of our past or potential futures we create in our heads via the double-edged sword that is our imagination, governing so much over how we feel and behave today; our desires and vanities for the sake of ourselves taking precedence over our design, i.e., building your house (your life) on the sand, on what's as temporary as "breath" or "vapor" ("spirit"), like most people. Rather than on the rock, on what can withstand the tides of time, like Jesus or Socrates did; what ultimately reveals itself to be the truest life or, the "true life."

Why don't we ever see birds, for example, sitting around all day, stimulating their sense organs or crippling themselves by how they didn't fulfill xyz desire or vanity for the sake of themselves via the way mankind has presently manipulated its environment and organized itself? Because the extent of how much less conscious birds (nature in general) are of themselves. Could you imagine what would happen if bees stopped doing what they were made to do? In favor of what they want out of their lives? Life on Earth, yet again, would be led to be extinguished, as it did roughly six other times over the last five billion years. Is there anything unique that humans as a whole bring to the table, similar to how the species of bees do for all life on Earth?

"Happy the meek — because they shall inherit the land." - Matt 5:5 YLT

A day, even millenniums from now, where violence, at the very least, is considered a laughable part of our past as the idea of a King is to us now for example; not by supernatural means, but seen in the sense of Tolstoy's personal, social, and divine conceptions of life. Through a painfully slow millenniums long transitioning into it. Without humans, life on Earth continues as it did for the last five billion years, with no great potential for anything to act upon itself or everything else — selfishness or selflessness (morality) upon an environment. This is what makes more conscious, capable beings — on any planet, unique: Its capacity for morality in contrast. But what if these beings begin to do the opposite of what they were designed for? As salt is useless without its taste, so would humans — from the point of view of an unimaginable God(s) or creator(s) of some kind, even from an atheist's point of view — be useless without its purpose: Selflessness, to even and especially, the most extreme degrees. Rather than incessantly choosing itself all throughout its life as — out of inherency — a more conscious monkey would; and when the storm of death begins to slowly creep toward the shore of your conscience, where will you have built your house (your life)? Out on the sand? As most people would be inherently drawn to? "And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.” - Matt 7:27

"Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction [selfishness], and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life [selflessness], and those who find it are few." - Matt 7:13

Tolstoy: "I am a man [human]. How should I live? What do I do?"

“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people's feet." - Matt 5:13

The Salt

We're humans. Therefore, how should we live? What do we do? Well, what good is salt if it's lost the reason for its existence — to preserve foods or make them taste better? Considering a humans unparalleled potential and ability for selflessness in contrast to any other living thing that's ever existed — as far as we know, of course — wouldn't it become incredibly obvious what the reason for a creature as conscious and capable as a human is made to live for? Objectively, God or not: to strive to be as selfless as possible; to be capable of acknowledging any of its more barbaric and selfish thoughts or behaviors — at all in the first place — and abstain from them, for a purpose outside of itself. This is the "salt": selflessness.

What good is a human that's lost its purpose? What good are humans as a whole if we've lost our purpose as a whole? Crippling ourselves, defiling our own minds from the images of our past or potential futures we create in our heads via the double-edged sword that is our imagination, governing so much over how we feel and behave today; our desires and vanities for the sake of ourselves taking precedence over our design, i.e., building your house (your life) on the sand, on what's as temporary as "breath" or "vapor" ("spirit"), like most people. Rather than on the rock, on what can withstand the tides of time, like Jesus or Socrates did; what ultimately reveals itself to be the truest life or, the "true life."

Why don't we ever see birds, for example, sitting around all day, stimulating their sense organs or crippling themselves by how they didn't fulfill xyz desire or vanity for the sake of themselves via the way mankind has presently manipulated its environment and organized itself? Because the extent of how much less conscious birds (nature in general) are of themselves. Could you imagine what would happen if bees stopped doing what they were made to do? In favor of what they want out of their lives? Life on Earth, yet again, would be led to be extinguished, as it did roughly six other times over the last five billion years. Is there anything unique that humans as a whole bring to the table, similar to how the species of bees do for all life on Earth?

"Happy the meek — because they shall inherit the land." - Matt 5:5 YLT

A day, even millenniums from now, where violence, at the very least, is considered a laughable part of our past as the idea of a King is to us now for example; not by supernatural means, but seen in the sense of Tolstoy's personal, social, and divine conceptions of life. Through a painfully slow millenniums long transitioning into it. Without humans, life on Earth continues as it did for the last five billion years, with no great potential for anything to act upon itself or everything else — selfishness or selflessness (morality) upon an environment. This is what makes more conscious, capable beings — on any planet, unique: Its capacity for morality in contrast. But what if these beings begin to do the opposite of what they were designed for? As salt is useless without its taste, so would humans — from the point of view of an unimaginable God(s) or creator(s) of some kind, even from an atheist's point of view — be useless without its purpose: Selflessness, to even and especially, the most extreme degrees. Rather than incessantly choosing itself all throughout its life as — out of inherency — a more conscious monkey would; and when the storm of death begins to slowly creep toward the shore of your conscience, where will you have built your house (your life)? Out on the sand? As most people would be inherently drawn to? "And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.” - Matt 7:27

"Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction [selfishness], and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life [selflessness], and those who find it are few." - Matt 7:13

"Just about this time Narayan Hemchandra came to England. I had heard of him as a writer. We met at the house of Miss Manning of the National Indian Association. Miss Manning knew that I could not make myself sociable. When I went to her place I used to sit tongue-tied, never speaking except when spoken to. She introduced me to Narayan Hemchandra. He did not know English. His dress was queer — a clumsy pair of trousers, a wrinkled, dirty, brown coat after the Parsi fashion, no necktie or collar, and a tasselled woollen cap. He grew a long beard. He was lightly built and short of stature. His round face was scarred with small-pox, and had a nose which was neither pointed nor blunt. With his hand he was constantly turning over his beard. Such a queer-looking and queerly dressed person was bound to be singled out in fashionable society.

'I have heard a good deal about you,' I said to him. 'I have also read some of your writings. I should be very pleased if you were kind enough to come to my place.' Narayan Hemchandra had a rather hoarse voice. With a smile on his face he replied: 'Yes, where do you stay?'

'In Store Street.'

'Then we are neighbours. I want to learn English. Will you teach me?'

'I shall be happy to teach you anything I can, and will try my best. If you like, I will go to your place.'

'Oh, no. I shall come to you. I shall also bring with me a Translation Exercise Book.' So we made an appointment. Soon we were close friends...

We met daily. There was a considerable amount of similarity between our thoughts and actions. Both of us were vegetarians. We would often have our lunch together. This was the time when I lived on 17s. a week and cooked for myself. Sometimes I would go to his room, and sometimes he would come to mine. I cooked in the English style. Nothing but Indian style would satisfy him. He could not do without dal. I would make soup of carrots etc., and he would pity me for my taste. Once he somehow hunted out mung cooked it and brought it to my place. I ate it with delight. This led on to a regular system of exchange between us. I would take my delicacies to him and he would bring his to me.

Cardinal Manning's name was then on every lip. The dock labourers' strike had come to an early termination owing to the efforts of John Burns and Cardinal Manning. I told Narayan Hemchandra of Disraeli's tribute to the Cardinal's simplicity. 'Then I must see the sage,' said he. 'He is a big man. How do you expect to meet him?'

'Why? I know how. I must get you to write to him in my name. Tell him I am an author and that I want to congratulate him personally on his humanitarian work, and also say that I shall have to take you as interpreter as I do not know English.'

I wrote a letter to that effect. In two or three days came Cardinal Manning's card in reply giving us an appointment. So we both called on the Cardinal. I put on the usual visiting suit. Narayan Hemchandra was the same as ever, in the same coat and the same trousers. I tried to make fun of this, but he laughed me out and said: 'You civilized fellows are all cowards. Great men never look at a person's exterior. They think of his heart.'" - Mahatma Gandhi, The Story of My Experiments With Truth, Part One, Chapter Twenty-two: "Narayan Hemchandra"