Noise and Think
I spent
quite a lot of time in the 60’s in what was, at the time, referred to as “Coffee
Bars.” They were quite social places. Routinely we would go there straight from
school, and then, if we were going to some event or other, we would be out and
about for the evening, returning afterwards to our second home, which was – you
guessed it – the Coffee Bar. I am not
sure how they made a profit as usually we could only afford one frothy coffee
per night from their new-fangled machine.
The “wealthy”
ones amongst us, and they were few, would put money in the jukebox, or
occasionally play the pin ball machine.
Am I speaking a foreign language?
I moved on
to some of the meeting places youth that were even more noisy, which, in
Birmingham in the 1960’s were packed out with “standing room only.” Usually, I
ended up jammed next to very large speakers which made hearing anything other
than what came through the speaker impossible.
Hence conversation was difficult, if not, near impossible, unless you did
what I see being done even in night clubs today, that is, one puts one’s lips
as close to the person’s ear as possible and complies with the need to shout.
The usual response was a primal retort of, “What?”
On the rare occasions
when conversation could reasonably and rationally take place, which in those
days usually meant a record was being changed somewhere in the depths of the
building, I, being sort of odd would ask people who were pressed in on me, “What
was the meaning of life?” or “Why are you here - not just here in this place,
but here on earth?”
Usually I
got funny looks. Many of the clientele of the night clubs were taking the
latest drugs of the day too - that did not always encourage intelligent
conversation. I saw many of the not so nice results of that kind of behaviour.
However I did often get responses, of the same ilk of non-coherent talk. I often heard things like, “I come here for
the noise, so I don’t have to think.” Or, “I take drugs because that helps me
not to have to think.”
For me, I
wanted to think. I wanted answers. On top of that, I reckoned I had answers,
and still know them, years later, to be good answers. I had found that life is not purposeless, nor
is it unreasonable. I do not think life is an accident. I
don’t prescribe to what Professor Richard Peters said.
Peters was Professor of the Philosophy of Education at the Institute of Education.
He said “Our basic predicament in life
is to learn to live with its ultimate pointlessness. We are monotonously reminded that education
must be for life, so obviously the most important dimension of education is
that in which we learn to come to terms with the pointlessness of life.” (Richard Peters (1919-2011).
I don’t
think life is pointless. There is a purpose and there is a point. I do, however, understand why one would want
to put noise into one’s brain if one’s education had taught them that what Professor
Peters said was correct.
I understand
why a person would put things in their ears to block out thought. I understand why
one might take drugs to escape the pressures, responsibilities and the hassles
of life. I even understand why one might just want to jump off a cliff to stop
the pointlessness of the “pointless accident” of life.
As I used to
say to my friends amid the deafening noise of the places I went to in
Birmingham in the 60’s.
“Stop the noise
for a moment, and think!
Ask some good questions! Like: “Why am I here?” “What’s
it all about?” “Is there a purpose?” “Is there a God?” And, “Is there a point?”
Thinking for just a short while and asking
some real questions will ultimately push out the nonsense and white noise of the
“Life is pointless” thought.
AH.
adrianhawkes.blogspot.co.uk
www.adrianhawkes.co.uk
Edited by K. L
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