Existentialism is a humanism. Actually, it is. It asks us to focus on our current lives, not dwell on a past or future that may not even exist. Or to fixate on why we can’t do something, to hold onto constraints – and Lord knows we all have constraints – as the reason for not making a decision that in ‘good faith’ we would make. It asks us to celebrate our humanity, our sheer existence. Right now.

It puts the responsibility for choosing and acting on us. We all know this: nobody can make you choose or act in a certain way. Not God, not a pre-existing set of Moral Laws, not a spouse or boss, friend or politician; not a tethered past nor unchained future. These are cop-outs, and place our decisions on somebody else or something else: “God made me do it”, or “It’s just the way people are.” No. It is up to us and only we can act, even if we do so in ‘bad faith.’ Who else can make the decision? As the great novelist Thomas Wolfe starkly put it: “Naked and alone we came into exile. In her dark womb we did not know our mother’s face; from the prison of her flesh have we come into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth.” Feels harsh, but right – our existence did not come from us, we did not ask for it; but it came nonetheless and we were thrust upon this earth to live, and live we must. Choose we must. Act we must.

But how will we act?

(I watch people through the window; lingering on a Sunday morning at my favorite cafe. They are each making decisions, small choices on a gray day. Like the Dad, sitting with his wife and son, but deciding to look at his smartphone – not his lean, coiled teenager, stealing glances at his distracted Dad – and spend time with five inches of glass rather than 250 pounds of life; preferring the virtual over the physical, strangers over kin. Or the sixty-year old bachelor, dyed hair, anachronistically attired in skinny jeans and Vans, trying to impress two women at his table, cheating a waning vitality, trying to catch time by the tail. Or the thirty-five year old Mom, three kids in tow, attending, adjusting, encouraging, admonishing, yet happy with the constant distractions – a clear feeling of purpose and pride on her rosy face.)

Existentialism is the most realistic philosophy; certainly the most accessible. Because, lets be honest: the only thing you know is you are here now, and only you can decide what to do and what to act on and what to become. And yet: why do we act in bad faith; or conversely, why do we avoid acting in good faith? Why do we crave distraction, and in the process back away from connection to our loved ones and physical environment? Why do we pretend we are what we aren’t? And increasingly, why do we do these in tandem – procuring a virtual personality, an image, really a fiction, onto a social network and craving hits and attention from other virtual fictions?

Because it is a choice. Many of us simply choose to avoid each other. And really, this is no different than choosing to get lost in religion or look for direction from somebody or something other than yourself. Maybe the answer is simple: most of us don’t want the responsibility; we don’t want the stress – or the ‘anguish’ as Sartre put it – to act authentically and live essentially. We’d rather cling to simple pleasures and petty annoyances, anything to keep us from the bigger questions. But many of us do embrace the sheer rush of the now, we touch the marrow of our lives, and understand that we are only here now and now is the time to capture, now is the time to live, and now is the only time to explore our essence, to touch our common humanity, to see the flow of nature and love and art and freedom.

(She said: “Hello, how are you doing?” And it was immediately clear she really wanted to know – looking right at me and listening closely to my response. She didn’t want anything from me; didn’t expect anything from me – whatever I provided back was fine. So I took a risk and answered honestly – that the day was so full of Spring, so much color and fresh air, that there was a feeling of ‘lifting up’, of soaring up to something greater. She smiled: “I know what you mean, I felt on my walk this morning that the pebbles on the shore were literally shining, almost pulsing, as if they were placed there by something greater – I was going to take a picture of them, but felt the camera was a barrier between me and something timeless and beautiful; so I just looked at it and slowly made my way to work.” Her face glowed as she turned to pour another coffee; mine did too – I felt loved and connected. I felt human.)

– by MJB