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| Earn this... |
I suppose that it's inevitable that blogs contain autobiographical elements.
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Unbeknownst to most, I am actually a musician. And I'm not just a musician but a song writer. At least, I was.
Music still comprises the greater part of my life. If I remember correctly, I was taking piano lessons when I was as young as 10 years old. I didn't love it initially, but it grew on me. I was extremely fortunate that my family could also put me through voice lessons. By grade 11, I was writing songs monthly for the coffee houses held by the music program at my high school. I always had to one-up myself, technically, melodically, rhythmically, and/or by refining my overall performance. I became absolutely obsessed with writing music. At one point in my life, I would spend over half of my waking hours trying to find underused chord formulas and rehashing traditional constructs. I know that many people would kill to have my talent (at least that's what my mother always says).
And then I stopped.
It's a bit like ripping my own heart out, tossing it to the side, and knowing that it's still beating.
There has always been a part of me that just wanted to drop everything, join another band, write music, and perform live shows for the rest of my life.
But to this day, I have never regretted sacrificing that privilege.
The rest of this blog post will attempt to unpack that ^^^ statement.
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How was/is my capacity for music a privilege you might ask?
We usually talk about privilege in terms of skin colour, gender, class, wealth, and/or ability. I'm referring to privilege in a much more wholistic and abstract sense. I think that I would describe privilege as a certain kind of un/known capacity.
First, many, if not most, families cannot afford to put their kids through piano and voice lessons. I am ever indebted to my parents for pushing me to attend lessons with an expert from the Royal Conservatory, let alone fund my classes.
Secondly, I know that I can contribute at least 10 fold more to others through schooling, research, and politics than I could ever contribute through a career in music.
Finally, and most importantly, it's possible that in sacrificing my capacity for music that I can bring myself closer to living a Good life. Not everyone will have the chance to do that which Socrates and his pupils exalted within the Ancient Greek dialogues.
Although one of my greatest sacrifices, writing and playing music is now just one drop in the sacrificial bucket that has been my life. And I'm not alone in this regard. Some of my closest allies have forgone child bearing and even intimate relationships in order to treat others as they would have others treat them. This lifestyle is not for everyone. But I believe that for me, it is absolutely necessary. Because my definition of "others" stretches off into the infinite. My definition includes all potential sentient, feeling, life: all of those potential lives who might have acted differently if they were in my position with my known capacity.
If this capacity is privy to the agent wielding it, then there are consequences. For example, I have empirical evidence that I can work almost non-stop in the service of others; therefore, if I know that, then I have a responsibility to do it. Put another way, someone in the future experiencing the brink of the total destruction of this planet would admonish me if he/she could. It's a logical projection of our circumstances given the empirical evidence available.
Moreover, our individual responsibility for the future scales with our known capacity. In this sense, known capacity refers to our knowledge of the causality that might impact the future combined with our knowledge of our ability to do something about it.
I don't expect everyone to adopt my moral universe and, to be honest, I never did. I don't want my students to end up like me. I don't want them to have to let go of parts of themselves in order to make this world decent.
But our context has no precedent in human history. And if we empathize with potentiality, all of those potential lives, it's not an tremendous leap of faith to conclude that they would want, at least, the same chances that we had. We have this responsibility as an extension of our awareness. We have an obligation inherent in the universal values of the human species that have transcended time.
I'm only requesting that we try to be reasonable given the circumstances. We have enormous power over the future of this planet. And as the inevitable cliche suggests "With great power comes great responsibility."
Therefore, we can have the choice of whether to sacrifice our privileges for the sake of others.
I would earnestly request from my reader that, at the very least, we do that which we think would be reasonable.
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I didn't watch the entire movie, 'Saving Private Ryan,' until I was in China about a year ago. The first time I watched the ending, I balled my eyes out. I don't think I've ever cried that much in my entire life. I want the people of the future to have Ryan's degree of appreciation for what we did. (Un)fortunately, that means that we may need to sacrifice some of our privileges so that they might have, at least, the same opportunities that we had.
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My students once asked me "How do you define success?" After some thought, I responded "If I can achieve a measure of decency, then that's enough. If I can treat others the same way that I would have them treat me, then I've succeeded."
