What Makes Us Human: A Heartfelt Musing on Modern Acculturation
A true piece of art is not one which simply makes you feel “good.” It is not something that can be traded in for cheap thrills, or fills three minutes of your radio time during a car ride, or takes up ninety minutes on your television screen. Our culture is not lacking in talent; there is talent out there in all of us, but the worthlessness of so much of our music, so many of our films and so much of our literature is disappointing, to say the least.
Now, I am not normally a person who criticizes these things vocally. My closest friends know my feelings on particular actors, musicians, film series, writers and the like—but I will not harp on the specifics or the particular examples here. The point of what I’m about to say is not necessarily to criticize our culture or the people in it. Rather, it is to make whoever is reading this stop and think about what it means to fill his or her time with the things which are truly valuable in life.
The root of this entry is a moment that happened in my car about two hours prior to my typing these words on my laptop. I was driving my car westward on Route 30 from Gettysburg, just listening to my iPod as I went. I came upon the band Ascend The Hill, and their rendition of the timeless hymn, “How Great Thou Art.” I am not one who typically enjoys listening to hymns in the car, but this edition, if you’ve never heard it, is something truly powerful, as it progresses through the general themes of the song, before exploding into a climax built upon the lyrics of the original hymn. It is a flurry of rock-music-meets-people passionate about what they do.
This is not simply a faith-based or religious message, either. For me, personally, oftentimes these moments of astonishment come in the form of faith-based literature, quotations or music. But for you, it might be something else. And we’ve all had these moments. As I was driving along Route 30, I was listening to this song I’ve listened to dozens of times before. It is just one of 6,000-plus songs on my iPod—one of many songs about which I have gotten emotional over the years. But this time was different. This time I found myself ready to pound on my chest, belt out the lyrics, let the world know that what was coming through the speakers and into my eardrums was not just the cacophony of well-played guitars, drums, keyboards, basses and a fantastic singer—but the essence of life itself: A breath entering my body as if I had lived for the first time. It sounds surreal and over-the-top, but I assure you this is what happened.
These moments don’t just come with music, either. Perhaps it’s a scene of a television show, film or theatrical production. Perhaps it’s a painting or a perfectly timed photographic representation of an event or object—no matter how large or minute it might seem to the average person. These are the things that don’t just make us feel good—they take that feeling of goodness to another level. They take it to the level of being not just personal, but personal enough that we want the whole world to know its effect on us.
I personally get nothing, absolutely nothing, out of hearing a singer who has a clean, crisp voice and sings about a party, or his or her shallow concepts of love in 21st-century America. I would rather listen to a raspy, unpolished voice from a person who is on the verge of bursting with emotion because of the personal and uncompromising content of the song he or she might be singing.
The point of all this is to simply say that the pop song on your local modern music station is not going to advance your place in life. It may get you through three minutes with its catchy tune and overplayed, overwritten, cliché lyrics; but it will not give you an emotional high, nor allow you to traverse into the inner depths of your mind, your heart or your soul. These feelings—these experiences—come through recognizing our passions.
Passions are never cliché. Passions are never repetitive. Passions are never like “Hallmark Moments” (Ok, so I slipped one specific example of a pet peeve in here). Passions are never like an overplayed pop song. So, if true passion is never any of these things, then why should our music we listen to be passionless? Why should the films we watch be passionless? Why should the books, magazines and articles we read be passionless? Why should the lives we each live be passionless?
Many people say this is because they are not fans of movies and books that do not have happy endings. Some people say this is because they find what’s on the radio to be catchy and allows them to be carefree. But the truth of the matter is this: The cheesy movies, books and shows do not help us feed our passions.
The song that causes us to fall over in tears; the performance in a film that causes us to forget we’re watching a portrayal and not real life; the book that causes us to get down on our knees and pray; the article we read that causes us to reconsider the things we think, the things we buy, the things we say—these are the things that feed our passions and make us better people.
Movies shouldn’t always have happy endings, because life doesn’t always have happy endings. This is not meant to sound narcissistic or pessimistic; it is simply a fact. We are born, we live crazy lives, and then we die. Our endings are not always happy, so why should our films’ be?
We were created to be ambiguous creatures. We were made to question the order of things, overcome inequalities and help mankind establish tranquility.
We are interconnected, interwoven with tens of thousands of years of experiences.
We were never made to sell cheap songs, feel-good flicks or shallow novels for money and nothing more.
We were not meant to have one-track minds.
We were not made to create “facts” out of thin air and make good-looking books and write history in how we think it should have happened, rather than how it actually happened.
We were not made to accept every statement a politician or newsman says, just because we like what he says—rather than focusing on whether what he says can actually be accomplished, or whether he truly means it.
We were made to fill these things with passion and use them as weapons for change within our own lives and the lives of those around us.
And so, the next time you sit down to watch a film, read a book or listen to a song, ask yourself: “Am I doing this only to make myself happy?” If the answer is yes, then I’d say you’re doing it for the wrong reason.
We need to stop focusing on what makes us feel good, and instead focus on what makes us more human.
Photo: Westward view from Longstreet Tower on Seminary Ridge, Gettysburg, PA (Codie Eash, Nov. 8, 2013)
Now, I am not normally a person who criticizes these things vocally. My closest friends know my feelings on particular actors, musicians, film series, writers and the like—but I will not harp on the specifics or the particular examples here. The point of what I’m about to say is not necessarily to criticize our culture or the people in it. Rather, it is to make whoever is reading this stop and think about what it means to fill his or her time with the things which are truly valuable in life.
The root of this entry is a moment that happened in my car about two hours prior to my typing these words on my laptop. I was driving my car westward on Route 30 from Gettysburg, just listening to my iPod as I went. I came upon the band Ascend The Hill, and their rendition of the timeless hymn, “How Great Thou Art.” I am not one who typically enjoys listening to hymns in the car, but this edition, if you’ve never heard it, is something truly powerful, as it progresses through the general themes of the song, before exploding into a climax built upon the lyrics of the original hymn. It is a flurry of rock-music-meets-people passionate about what they do.
This is not simply a faith-based or religious message, either. For me, personally, oftentimes these moments of astonishment come in the form of faith-based literature, quotations or music. But for you, it might be something else. And we’ve all had these moments. As I was driving along Route 30, I was listening to this song I’ve listened to dozens of times before. It is just one of 6,000-plus songs on my iPod—one of many songs about which I have gotten emotional over the years. But this time was different. This time I found myself ready to pound on my chest, belt out the lyrics, let the world know that what was coming through the speakers and into my eardrums was not just the cacophony of well-played guitars, drums, keyboards, basses and a fantastic singer—but the essence of life itself: A breath entering my body as if I had lived for the first time. It sounds surreal and over-the-top, but I assure you this is what happened.
These moments don’t just come with music, either. Perhaps it’s a scene of a television show, film or theatrical production. Perhaps it’s a painting or a perfectly timed photographic representation of an event or object—no matter how large or minute it might seem to the average person. These are the things that don’t just make us feel good—they take that feeling of goodness to another level. They take it to the level of being not just personal, but personal enough that we want the whole world to know its effect on us.
I personally get nothing, absolutely nothing, out of hearing a singer who has a clean, crisp voice and sings about a party, or his or her shallow concepts of love in 21st-century America. I would rather listen to a raspy, unpolished voice from a person who is on the verge of bursting with emotion because of the personal and uncompromising content of the song he or she might be singing.
The point of all this is to simply say that the pop song on your local modern music station is not going to advance your place in life. It may get you through three minutes with its catchy tune and overplayed, overwritten, cliché lyrics; but it will not give you an emotional high, nor allow you to traverse into the inner depths of your mind, your heart or your soul. These feelings—these experiences—come through recognizing our passions.
Passions are never cliché. Passions are never repetitive. Passions are never like “Hallmark Moments” (Ok, so I slipped one specific example of a pet peeve in here). Passions are never like an overplayed pop song. So, if true passion is never any of these things, then why should our music we listen to be passionless? Why should the films we watch be passionless? Why should the books, magazines and articles we read be passionless? Why should the lives we each live be passionless?
Many people say this is because they are not fans of movies and books that do not have happy endings. Some people say this is because they find what’s on the radio to be catchy and allows them to be carefree. But the truth of the matter is this: The cheesy movies, books and shows do not help us feed our passions.
The song that causes us to fall over in tears; the performance in a film that causes us to forget we’re watching a portrayal and not real life; the book that causes us to get down on our knees and pray; the article we read that causes us to reconsider the things we think, the things we buy, the things we say—these are the things that feed our passions and make us better people.
Movies shouldn’t always have happy endings, because life doesn’t always have happy endings. This is not meant to sound narcissistic or pessimistic; it is simply a fact. We are born, we live crazy lives, and then we die. Our endings are not always happy, so why should our films’ be?
We were created to be ambiguous creatures. We were made to question the order of things, overcome inequalities and help mankind establish tranquility.
We are interconnected, interwoven with tens of thousands of years of experiences.
We were never made to sell cheap songs, feel-good flicks or shallow novels for money and nothing more.
We were not meant to have one-track minds.
We were not made to create “facts” out of thin air and make good-looking books and write history in how we think it should have happened, rather than how it actually happened.
We were not made to accept every statement a politician or newsman says, just because we like what he says—rather than focusing on whether what he says can actually be accomplished, or whether he truly means it.
We were made to fill these things with passion and use them as weapons for change within our own lives and the lives of those around us.
And so, the next time you sit down to watch a film, read a book or listen to a song, ask yourself: “Am I doing this only to make myself happy?” If the answer is yes, then I’d say you’re doing it for the wrong reason.
We need to stop focusing on what makes us feel good, and instead focus on what makes us more human.
Photo: Westward view from Longstreet Tower on Seminary Ridge, Gettysburg, PA (Codie Eash, Nov. 8, 2013)
