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Humanity Steps to the Plate (Again) I am grateful to the game of Baseball for my latest analogy on human empowerment.
Curled in bed with my lover one recent evening, the fear that knowledge sometimes brings was troubling my partner's heart. Despondent about humanity's future, my lover asked me whether I thought we would "make it". No, this wasn't a sexual proposition (not this time anyway). The question was sincerely searching for some strand of hope that would make dreaming for the future seem like a meaningful exercise again. And it is perhaps because I try not to deal in the medicine of hope, inferior drug that it is, that I did not respond with some kind of Hallmark sentiment, full of teddy bear softness and squishiness. There was no troubled answer in my heart; no feeling of having to be the bearer of bad news, like a doctor telling a family his patient hadn't survived an operation. My mind, instead, thought of baseball. Now baseball usually enters a man's mind in bed only if he's trying to delay his sexual release in the heat of some vigorous carnal thrusting, so that his lover might safely slide into the home plate of orgasmic bliss, only then to be followed by a white hot fireworks display launched in celebration of another successful coitus completus. Sleep soon to follow. But the baseball thought that came to me, faster than a Nolan Ryan heater, had to do with statistics. As Samuel Clemens once wrote, "There are three kinds of lies; lies, god-damned lies, and statistics." If you aren't familiar with America's grand old pastime, it is enough to know at this point that baseball and statistics are as intimately entwined as I might be with my lover on any given night (or time of the day). What baseball statistics show, sometimes with incredible accuracy, is the probability of a player's success in certain game situations. By looking at the numbers, we can reasonably guess whether a player will fail or succeed when called upon to execute his talents. This is why my partner was feeling so world weary. Based on the statistics, the numbers, the information she has gathered about human behavior over the course of our history and comparing that with the news of the day and the information that the mainstream is paid to ignore or deny, the probability that mankind is going to strike out again seems fairly high. And as anyone who has watched or played baseball might know, striking out, from the hitter's perspective, is no fun at all. I certainly agreed with my lover that humanity's batting average doesn't seem that impressive. But the reassuring and empowering thought I had was that all statistics can do is highlight a player's probability to do something in a certain situation. It can not say definitively what will happen. You still have to play the game. The greatest thing a sport does is that it teaches any adversity can be overcome by anyone. We usually remember the great players, those who overcame adversity so much that they made it look easy at times. We put them in our Halls of Fame and teach our children about them. But equally thrilling in sports is watching the unknown or marginally talented player succeed in clutch situations, when everyone expected them to fail. That's why I don't weep for the future. I am the future of humanity, as are all unlearners. I have dug in at the plate. I have looked that nasty reptilian pitcher in the eye. I have even winked at him, daring him to throw his nastiest pitch. The statistics say that there is a high probability that we will strike out. But I've got my rally cap on. And I'm ready to hit. Any good coach will not only teach you the physical things you need to do to prepare for the challenges of the game. They will also prepare you for its mental challenges. As much as I love my partner, I have a different understanding of my power, of all our power, than she does of her own. It makes a big difference in the way each of us will approach the game. And it just might change its probable outcome. The sporting analogy can be extrapolated even further. Baseball statistics are gathered over the course of a very long season, and then compared with the numbers over the course of a career. As any observer of sports will tell you, each season has its own ups and downs. The same can be said over the years spanning a career. Where is humanity in this current "season"? How long have our "careers" been? There is a good chance both have been very long. There is an equally good chance we have had "champion" seasons along with being basement dwellers. But who can say definitively where we are now? Who can say definitively where we are headed? The "winning" attitude, no matter where we find ourselves, is to assume we are on a championship run. Such an attitude will secure the winning ways and cure the poor habits that lead to "losing". I don't know if my "pep talk" had any effect on my partner's perspective, nor if they will have any effect on yours. I only share it as an example of a way that we can all approach the game. But the bottom line is that this physical world is indeed a game. Win or lose, I am grateful for the opportunity to play it at all. It has taught me many valuable lessons, and inspired me with ideas to create different games. Perhaps not, but perhaps sometime soon, humanity will be ready for a different game, or at least succeed with dignity and class in the one it is currently playing. Sports are seen by many alternative thinkers as a mere distraction, like other staged events (Congressional debates, Jackson trials, broadcast news, etc), whose purpose is to keep the herd entertained while they are being unmercifully sheared and slaughtered. There can be no doubt that they do indeed serve this purpose. But it would be unfair to limit sports to one purpose only. Consciousness is powerful enough to bend anything to its needs. You are powerful enough to bend this world to your desires. Do you know this? Do you dare try? Or will you just sit on the sidelines and let the nasty boys have their way? Whose Life are You Living? |
