Reading Jules Verne

  Jules Verne is a kind of favorite author of mine, though it's hard to say why I find him so endearing. I first learned about Jules Verne through the movie 10,000 Leagues Under the Sea where I was introduced to a character named Captain Nemo. But it was only when I was in Grade 11 that I learned about the massive oeuvre that this man had produced in his life. I did a French ISU at that time where I had to choose to describe a famous French writer or celebrity, and it was Verne that I chose, due to my interest in science fiction.

  Of course, part of the appeal of Verne is that he was a science fiction writer at a time when there were very few, and the genre had yet to truly establish itself. That is, a lot of the hard-coded
"conventions" had not yet solidified, so we can safely say that Jules Verne was a bit of a trailblazer. He wasn't afraid to introduce characters who became mouthpieces for his more extravagant ideas about travel (whether to the moon, around the world, or under the sea); at times, his main characters were platforms through which an idea could be explored, debated or argued amongst other individuals. Verne seemed to have also been writing during the era where people truly did enjoy debating intellectually, and would meet in these trendy millionaire's clubs to debate or discuss some hot topic. H.G. Wells seems to have had a similar preoccupation in his stories with debate, although it seems that his writing was more political in nature. Both writers were satirizing and even illuminating the problems of nationalism and colonialism, by imagining a world where humans have to face (and sometimes fight with) unknown powers that are greater than themselves. Verne was decidedly more cheerful, I think, whereas Wells seemed to have given up on finding solutions to human problems (see his book Mind at the end of Its Tether, for example).

  The thing I do enjoy and appreciate the most about Verne was not the science behind his writing, but rather the attitude of wonder that he conveys in each page. Too often, I think human beings are prone t be jaded nowadays, since "technological marvels" are few and far between (with the exception of the latest gadget, perhaps). Verne happened to be writing at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, where so many ideas were changing and there was quite a bit of hope related to using all this released power to simply build a better world. Even though Verne himself was often subject to the stereotypes of his day (including odd characterizations based on the nationalities of his characters), I do believe that underneath his glib satire, he envisioned humanity as working together to made the world more livable and exciting through these technological marvels. His sense of wonder is something that I believe can be intentionally instilled in a person, at least by imagining what it would be like to approach things with curiosity rather than cynicism: the "believing game", to quote Peter Elbow, rather than the "doubting game". I also believe that my own exploration of meditative practices is akin to Verne's discovery of new worlds: both involve suspension of previous ideas and the ability to freely embrace the unknown by seeing everything as truly new.

Verne's stories are warm because we know that the characters work together for a goal and there is such a sense of belonging in the shared goal. Although his books may seem jaded these days, I do appreciate the more enlivening aspects of his writing that are so rarely found these days, to my thinking.

Question Duality

   If you have ever felt hurt by something that a person says to you, you will notice that part of the hurt comes from the fact that you are subconsciously agreeing with what the other says. You hold that possibility in your mind and even start to collude with it. A person says that I am walking too slowly, and then I feel terrible about it. For one, I might suspect that the person is correct in their assessment of me, and start to become somehow defensive. For another, I agree with the person's evaluation of what it means to be a slow person; that is, I see it in a negative light, rather than in a neutral one. I might even go so far as to think that all the world would agree with him, and therefore I am the only one who is slow. Thus, I brand myself a kind of outsider to the world. 

   All of these states are rather depressing, and they all come from the agreement that something is good and something else is bad. Not once do I ever question this dualism. Is it really correct that one person's pace is superior to another's? If so, where does that belief come from? Can that belief possibly be questioned? This is where it's important to see that duality is always a construction of the mind. A person, a quality or a thing is never "good" or "bad" unless some value system or judgment is imposed upon it, at which point it starts to appear as good or bad. From this appearance comes a host of suffering, including feelings of estrangement, insecurity, bitterness, defensiveness, and so on. If one is able to see that all duality is fundamentally a construction of mind, would one be so quick to deem one thing as "good "and the other as "bad"? Perhaps if a person could see the harm that duality causes people (including cases of human conflict and war) they would be able to see how deceiving it is, and how much suffering it makes i the world. On the other hand, if a person suspended their own tendency to see things dualistically, they may start to relieve the suffering they create for themselves or those around them. Things and situations are never absolutely good or bad. Instead, these are always assessments or value judgments we make in the moment that create suffering. 

  The point I am making is, if one is able to see the mechanism through which the mind creates dualisms and reinforces them, there is more chance to behold those dualities as parts of a whole, rather than seeing oneself as "one" or "the other". This is a bit like a chess player who is playing both sides of the chess game. She or his is cognizant that a chess game could not exist if only one player's pieces were on the board. Similarly, for me to feel the grief of thinking I am one thing, there must be an accompanying tension to embody the other. And both sides are simply being played out in the mind. This is a bit like Yin and Yang. To see that these tensions and opposites are continually feeding on one another for their existence is to reckon that we are neither absolutely one nor the other, but that both conditions co-exist as mental constructs that are in flow or in process. And what is the mind that truly beholds those processes, moment to moment? Well, that's for all of us to figure out!