Commentary - © 2014 Pat Temple
A lack of imagination can make life
worse than death, in ways. And, sadly, the way human beings are made,
they simply can't think ahead when it comes to certain specific
areas. They're pretty good at laying out fields and irrigation
systems. They can picture a pecan farm twenty years in the future, and
the way the house might look, with rich hardwood floors, high ceilings, and
hand-created tile counter tops, but they are nearly hopeless at combating
"common folklore" such as "the hook doesn't hurt the fish,"
despite the fact that the fish appears to be trying desperately to get off it.
H. L. Mencken wrote, about 100 years
ago, that people hadn't bathed until the last 75 years. He did that
deliberately to see how many people would believe it. My father said he
was thinking about that statement (and believing it) standing in front of a
Roman bathtub in the Pliny Gardens in Florence, Italy. He said the
dichotomy almost did not occur to him. He was standing directly in front
of proof that people bathed 2,000 years ago while thinking "I
believe that people did not bathe until 75 years ago … and yet, here I am,
standing in front of a bathtub that was hand-carved out of marble 2,000 years
ago."
It must have helped us survive,
somehow, to have this ability to believe a certain set of facts that aren't
facts at all, but it might not be so good for us as individuals. I
know that for years the school system has said that children have to go to
public schools "because they have to learn to get along with these people;
they will be with them when they grow up." It's not true. Getting
along is among the most natural of any human qualities. Any two people
sitting next to each other on an airplane can adjust to each other's
differences in minutes, and find grounds for a first-rate conversation.
But that statement keeps parents worried that somehow if they don't send their
kids to the local public school -- every day, no matter what else of interest
is going on somewhere else -- they will grow up to be hopeless, socially.
We're very good at accepting platitudes that justify the ends we want, or think
we want, rather than trying for the truth.
People aren't very good at parallels,
either. Young people, unable to imagine that they might someday want to
bare clear skin at a party or a job, suddenly believe a tattoo is the answer to
a bad mood. It doesn't occur to them to figure out ways to determine if
they're likely to want that tattoo in a few months. They seem to think
that they have to get the permanent mark, and then hope they've guessed right,
rather than try one of several alternatives -- draw on themselves with a
ballpoint pen, and vow to keep the ink refreshed for a week -- and see how they
feel -- or wear the same shirt for a month. Worse yet, they sometimes get
tattoos to punish their parents -- to show the parents they can't be pushed
around, not realizing that someone who can't be pushed around "by Mr.
Smith" does not react at all to Mr. Smith. He certainly does not get
a tattoo to "show him."
And then -- there's hoarding. We
don't seem to be able to judge the value -- or the detriment to our quality of
life -- of items we keep. We see something delightful in a store, pick it
up and wait the requisite three seconds for it to glue itself to our hands (a
bond only broken by putting it in the cart), buy it, take it home, put it on a
shelf, admire it for a week, and are then annoyed, slightly, every time we see
it, having to dust it, move it, or realize that that formerly free
space will never be free again and the house is beginning to look more
cluttered than comfortable. I try hard to "get outside myself"
and develop strategies to defeat these terrible mental traps. Once I went
into Marshall's determined to find something I "had to have", to put
it in my cart and walk around with it for twenty minutes, and then to put it
back on the shelf -- and that actually worked. I made myself endure a
slight bit of discomfort, but my buying 'cute' items dropped by about 90% after
I went through that exercise. I realized, too, that going into Marshall's
was like letting a five-year-old into Santa's workshop, but as an adult, I had
to tell myself "No" at every turn. It was agony; I finally quit
going (well, ok, once a month now, but not twice a week.) And sometimes I
walk out empty-handed.
If we had enough imagination, we'd get
more courage, and we'd be more responsible for our actions. We'd take a
look at how the British royal family educates their children, and we'd save to
educate ours, and put them in the schools we wanted them to go to. We'd quit
saying, "I've already paid for public schools so I'm going to send my kids
to them" even when we feel there's a better alternative, just as when, if
we're unlucky enough to get cancer or heart disease, we say, "I know Mayo
costs 15% more than my health plan pays. I'm going there
anyway." Sometimes money isn't that important, and when it comes to
the education of our children -- that's one of those times. But the real
problem here is not money -- it's fear that we may not be doing the right thing
-- that our educational system is too large to be wrong, or the folk wisdom
about getting along with others is too strong. Imagination --
and the facts -- are needed here. Likewise if you're told you must not teach
your child to read at home so he "won't be ahead of the other
children" -- nonsense. He doesn't have to be a jerk just because he
knows how to read at the age of five. He can just know how to read.
My mother was a hoarder, and I suffer
from the same psychology. Fortunately Dad, though he didn't
understand the compulsion, figured out some things to say to me to
help guide me in living a life that appears, at least, quite normal, and is
certainly easier than having to walk through paths to get to the kitchen.
I've read that one good trip on LSD reroutes the pathways in the brain, and
gives the patient the idea that we are all interconnected and the china from
your great-grandmother that you have dedicated your curio cabinet to for twenty
years (though you kind of hate the stuff) is really part of the universe and
even if you give it away you will still retain the essence of it on a cosmic
plane. People who took such a trip underwent permanent personality changes
which made them happier, kinder, and more peaceful. Now, if I could find
a dealer …
Dad told me once that imagination is
not the ability to see things that aren't there. It's the ability to see things
as they actually are. It's a rare gift, but maybe we can begin to develop
it.
