I watched a movie this afternoon titled Chinese Coffee, the story of one damaged man seeking help and counsel from his equally damaged friend. It got me thinking, made me open a dusty old box hidden away in one of the many dark corners of my mind and what follows is the result of the analysis that followed.
Despair is timeless, as is the romance of despair. Or are they? Within the context of an individual's existence, despair can indeed be truly lasting. It feeds on itself and on anything and everything, in some ways like that tiny mountain stream that feeds on other streams as it grows into the mighty, unstoppable river, its flow seemingly inexorable, all-consuming. And much like the stream, the despair of one individual has the capacity to consume other around him. Unless and until this unstoppable force meets an immovable object - the will of an individual - despair will drag a man down to depths of oblivion with chilling certainty.
But unlike despair itself, the romance of it is far from everlasting. Over time, the desperate man comes to a fork in the road, though seldom his mind sees it; and, he makes a choice - he either resolves to fight his despair with every fiber of his being or he allows it to consume him until all that is left is venom, that unique flavor of venom which one can only find within a man who has admitted defeat.
In truth, peace is success (the converse is far from true) - and to attain it one must overcome the inertia within, both intellectual and physical. Often the mind balks at the scale of this challenge and one sees despair as something romantic. Thus is born the image of the romantic pauper, living in the dark, grimy shadow of human society and yet somehow beyond it, above it - somehow, noble. This illusion, shallow as it is, is powerful... it drives one to wallow in a living purgatory until the inertia builds up to a level where one can only choose between a cathartic battle to overcome and a spirit-crushing admission of defeat. And only when a man sees the darkness of despair does he realize that the romance it once seemed to hold, it never did - it was nothing more than a reflection of the jaundice in his eyes, an expression of his lack of will.
So, I ask myself, where do I stand? Did I make the right choice when I came to that fateful fork in the road? Or, have I yet to reach it? Do I still wallow in despair? Do you?
Despair is timeless, as is the romance of despair. Or are they? Within the context of an individual's existence, despair can indeed be truly lasting. It feeds on itself and on anything and everything, in some ways like that tiny mountain stream that feeds on other streams as it grows into the mighty, unstoppable river, its flow seemingly inexorable, all-consuming. And much like the stream, the despair of one individual has the capacity to consume other around him. Unless and until this unstoppable force meets an immovable object - the will of an individual - despair will drag a man down to depths of oblivion with chilling certainty.
But unlike despair itself, the romance of it is far from everlasting. Over time, the desperate man comes to a fork in the road, though seldom his mind sees it; and, he makes a choice - he either resolves to fight his despair with every fiber of his being or he allows it to consume him until all that is left is venom, that unique flavor of venom which one can only find within a man who has admitted defeat.
In truth, peace is success (the converse is far from true) - and to attain it one must overcome the inertia within, both intellectual and physical. Often the mind balks at the scale of this challenge and one sees despair as something romantic. Thus is born the image of the romantic pauper, living in the dark, grimy shadow of human society and yet somehow beyond it, above it - somehow, noble. This illusion, shallow as it is, is powerful... it drives one to wallow in a living purgatory until the inertia builds up to a level where one can only choose between a cathartic battle to overcome and a spirit-crushing admission of defeat. And only when a man sees the darkness of despair does he realize that the romance it once seemed to hold, it never did - it was nothing more than a reflection of the jaundice in his eyes, an expression of his lack of will.
So, I ask myself, where do I stand? Did I make the right choice when I came to that fateful fork in the road? Or, have I yet to reach it? Do I still wallow in despair? Do you?
1 comment:
Despair and fear make one assume a foetal position...maybe in a physical sense...maybe in a psychological sense. This leads one to seek the mother, for her womb is the first sanctum known to any human being. There is a sense of security in that, which is evil, as it lulls one into a state of ignorance. The unformed foetus needed its protective chamber..but the adult must not seek what is no longer hers/his. Security comes from knowing the truth, and knowing the truth is virtually impossible without sustained effort in the face of daunting pain.
Two observations
1. It is wrong to give in to the illusion of nobility that accompanies a spineless acceptance of evil wrought by lack of effort and ignorance
2. It is also wrong to use that cathartic burst of energy without prudence.
To find success one must first find 'the self'. Without this knowledge, every external circumstance can potentially drag one down into ruin.
To one who has true self-knowledge, there can be no despair, no defeat and no destruction...for (s)he has sundered the bonds of inertia and ignorance, which are the two faces of death. To live is to live by the truth.
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