I don't often wax philosophical here. And I don't often talk about my personal life, since, if it was any of your business, I would have already told you about it in person. Or on IRC, which is sort of the same thing.
But I thought I'd share the following, from "Ghost Rider", by Neil Peart, because it makes more sense to me than all the books I've ever read about grief and dealing with horrible situations in your life. I tend to have a great deal of contempt for psychologists, because they think that life is formulaic, and, worse yet, they seem to think that if you know the formulas, your problems will go away. Yes, this is a grossly unfair generalization, but it seems that so many "counsellors" have completely lost touch with what it means to suffer, and so they offer formulas to "fix" things. This is profoundly disingenuous.
Anyways, I gain more comfort from Neil's book than from a dozen counselors, because he does not offer solutions. He just talks about himself, and what he's going through. He offers a few insights, but does not insist that things are the same for everyone in the world.
Anyways, the following is rather lengthy, but it is covered under Fair Use, and so I'm not violting any copyright laws. But you really should buy this book, if this passage resonates with you.
I have found that it is meaningless to talk in terms of "dealing with it," or of "working through it." No. This particular it is not something to be dealt with or worked through. This kind of It simply changes everything, and there's no coming to terms with it. No deal to be made, no compromise. (I think Ayn Rand once wrote "You can't compromise with evil.")Here and now it's about starting all over again, from the ground up, and as Darwinian organisms, we are expected to adapt to these new circumstances. Adapt, or perish. We can't change what is, or its effects on us and our view of life. That is all done. If we truly want to carry on from this dark crossroads, we can only try to guide the inevitable changes in ourselves. We would not be who we are if this was something we could "get over," or simply carry on from where we left off. Once I expressed the way I see my future this way, "I know I'm scarred by these experiences, I just don't want to be too crippled by them."
If there is any point in carrying on, it is not in simply existing, in cluttering up the world with another bitter and nasty old man, or a joyless hermit, or a suffering martyr forever living in the pas, and punishing everyone else for what life has done to me.
I don't like the feel of the word "Acceptance," the technical term which is applied by the "griefologists" to the state of the process in which I presently find myself. I found on my return from the Healing Road that after all that time and distance I had at least transcented "denial." But to me, knowing that these things are true doesn't mean that I accept the truth. Far from it. As far as I can see, I will never accept that life is supposed to turn out this way. Especially our lives. It's not the way I lived, or Jackie lived, or the way we taught Selena.
This is not at all the way I thought the world worked, and after all, it is not "acceptable" that Selena and Jackie had to die. No way. Not in my world. So that world, or our world-view, is gone. Some well-meaning people have tried to offer me what they perceive to be a "comforting" thought of the "everything must happen for a reason" kind, but I shut them up right away (as politely as I can). Somehow they don't see that it's absolutely no consolation to look at it that way, and more, it brings up some terrible questions in your head: "There's some kind of reason? What? They deserved to die? I deserved to lose them? The world didn't need people like Jackie and Selena?"
Bullshit.
...
So, those of us on the "inside," like you and me, are left trying to "accept the unacceptable." We're expected to pull ourselves together and carry on (expectations sometimes from others, sometimes just from an unextinguishable part of ourselves), but we face a pretty desperate battle, after all, for there's nothing to pull together!
Everything that we were, everything that we based our lives upon, everything that we believe is gone. ... No way we can hold onto what we used to believe, and no way we can forget what has actually happened in our lives, and in our worlds. We will never trust Life again.
However, once again, we've got to adapt, even to that unbearable reality, or one way or another, we will perish. Period.
I won't inflict my deep thoughts on you very often, but perhaps this passage will help someone get a useful perspective on things, as Peart's writings have been doing for me.
Posted by rbowen at June 1, 2003 11:17 AM | TrackBackno, indeed, there is no dealing with it. there should be neither acceptance nor denials. Even Gods should be asked questions, and cussed at and lamented. Every moment examined, indeed, if an end is inevitable, then let us go in our own terms. whatever it is, i might never understand, but, damn if i acquisce ever so easily, damn if i ever carry an angelic smile on my frozen lips as if i believe all the lies i have been told. I want no beliefs, nor lies, nor quickly formulated answers with no heart. Those i have submitted to memory such long time ago, yet they have never helped me live a day of joy. Let the emptiness come if it must, let the helplessness sting me at my weakest, only if i stop to tell you lies, or give you empty smiles, will i be as bad as the gods. I will die with honour sir,if i must, kicking and screaming every minute of my living time, the world owes us an explanation, for all the atrocities, for the loneliness, for the cold isolation of human hearts, yes, the world owes us at least that, and so do the Gods.
i shall die, claiming so, and not afraid and thus, it won't be in vain, my death maybe only in relief..
I would venture to say that being a coward that rails against the night kicking and screaming like a bitter child is the more pitiable fate.
You have nothing due you child; there is no great cosmic debt that must be settled in your favour. It is your choice whether or not to allow all that was good and worthwhile in you to die, and by so doing killing what those who have shuffled loose the mortal coil found most precious in you.
To really live and by this act of valour, this living, honoring the time and love invested in you by those long gone is the road of heroes and poets.
To die with an empty heart is to die without honor; for honor is won in the course of a righteous battle, not in the acceptance of despair and helplessness.
No child there will be no victory for you in this; only the reward of a cold isolated human heart, made so by your own fear and misguided anger.
Posted by: Chris J. Davis on June 2, 2003 04:31 PMwhy the misguided child? why is the anger which fills my veins when i see an atrocity that is committed by your gods a bad thing.? why is it that i must accept all, like an angel painted on the frescoes of a lonely church. And no sir, i shall say to you, i am neither an angel nor a saint, i never was, and never wanted to be. I did see the beauty of a million lives, i did notice the brightest colors of the skies, i did know the love and the joy when i looked at a child smiling at me, or a mother caressing affectionately a baby. My eyes filled with tears not always because i was sad, but i had this delight of a life overwhelming me. Yet, if i don't turn a blind eye, or turn my head away at all at the sight of most unpleasant things, unspeakable atrocities, and I have the courage to yell " you, the one they call a God, have you no shame of all those cruelties committed in your name, even i, in my mere presence,possesing only a tiny heart have more mercy and compassion than you have ever shown to this world reeking of hunger, death, loneliness like the plague, and smellings of crippling fear."
And, I am no more child dear sir, than you were ever a parent. My heart shall never know emptiness which might bestow itself upon yours rather than mine. For, i will always see things for what they are, and never paint over them with false but bright colors, so that i can claim that God's goodness and mercy is untouched, and say with a sigh, "oh his mysterious ways." No, sir, i shall never say that. And in doing that, the truth will bestow me with its gifts, and the world bestow me with a heart which always will be filled with passion, with temparament matching that of Gods , with such love when i see the morning dew on a silent flower, with delight because a train passes by and i run after it like a child does. Passion, oh passion, love, oh love, courage, oh courage. Those are all the virtues of my so called essence, of my heart that says, never stop, and never pause not even one second to question life itself for all the mysteries it holds. For we are gods ourselves, and the earth is forever our love. I shall ask its secrets, i shall demand answers when i don't like what i see. I shall call names because i really, really care. Maybe, maybe, some flicker of a hope that says to me, maybe all that is needed to change the world is the courage to see it exactly as it is, and whisper no more lies to anybody's ears that this is our hell , this is our heaven, if so, where do the children go, when they die, and what lies will you tell to a mother who cries for the loss, because if you say one more time, "God's mysterious ways", i shall send you to the same place the children have gone to, since it is your god and your place. I swear.
It is truly a travesty that your penchant for flowery empty words has outpaced your intellect.
At what point did I make mention of gods, heaven or hell; in truth not a single time did these ideas creep into my response to you, and more so when did I posit that you should accept and, what was your quaint pseudo-intellectual way of saying it, oh yes:
"why is it that i must accept all, like an angel painted on the frescoes of a lonely church."
Again in misguided vehemence you have lashed out.
Acceptance of that which is worst in this world was never counsled by this voice, only that an acceptance of cold oblivion was the cowards play; was it not Aristotle who said:
"The beauty of the soul shines out when a man bears with composure one heavy mischance after another, not because he does not feel them, but because he is a man of high and heroic temper."
And again from Aristotle:
"I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is over self."
And yes madame I am not a father, but I have known the pain of loss and abandonment; the realization that you are not a product of love but of selfish desire; I have played the role of father to the woman who bore me since my 12th birthday, having my childhood and innocence ripped from me.
Do not presume that you have some monopoly on pain and misery, for you certianly do not. Misery is a whore who frequents the beds of any and all unlucky enough to find her.
Excuse me for being forward madame, but when and where have you been able to view the workings of the gods? How is it that you have come by this miraculous sight? For I see nothing but the workings and intrigues of man. His follies and misguided passions bringing him and those around him to horror and ruination.
And lastly, because I tire of this exercise I leave you with one more quote from Aristotle, in response to your discourse:
You: "maybe all that is needed to change the world is the courage to see it exactly as it is"
Aristotle: "To perceive is to suffer."
Posted by: Chris J. Davis on June 3, 2003 08:59 AMmy dear sir, i beseech you, since when words spoken from one's heart should have a company called intellect. Intellect is a man's game, and the words that spring from it pains me so like the empty houses on a beautiful hill, there is never any soul living in any one of them. Your first prose angered me so, because that's where exactly your words came from, that they were learned but carried no sign of the true wisdom which one can only wear after one indeed has had to courage to look and not look away. I congratulate you so, my dear sir, on this endavour.. The words you have bestowed upon me just now, gave me a glimpse of a roaring soul, and my heart beat a hundred times faster, and indeed Sir, if i claim, i know gods, that's where i know them from. Glimpses here and there of my own soul, dear sir, and just now of yours, and of a thousand others in little moments like this which one has to look for with all the attention one can muster, indeed, dear Sir, the Gods hide in moments like this, and if you ask me if i am worthy of anything, then i shall reply, yes sir, yes, for i have discovered and search for the moments like these of roaring souls, and i stop and can't breathe, because i don't want to miss not even a fraction of this. This is how i live life, dear sir, this is how i live life..
A good day to you too dear Sir. A good day to you too.
Posted by: Chiara on June 3, 2003 06:19 PMI've been here. I came to see but have not found. Not pain. Not heart. Not brain. Now I have to leave.
Posted by: fx on June 3, 2003 07:39 PMAristotle: "To perceive is to suffer."
To suffer is to live.
Posted by: null on June 4, 2003 09:35 PMI was surfing the 'net, wondering about Neil Peart's story. I had heard that he had written a book and that it had to do with the loss of his wife and daughter. I lost my wife to Cancer, nine months ago. As her 33rd birthday just passed, I was reminded that I am still grieving and will never get over the loss. As Neil put it, "As far as I can see, I will never accept that life is supposed to turn out this way."
I keep hearing over and over that "everything happens for a reason", as well. And I always find myself saying to myself that that just cannot be. Otherwise, I would have made sense of why my Susan suddenly had to "leave", by now. (I don't like to say die. It just doesn't feel right, right now.) I would have found meaning in it.
So, I move on. I respect Neil Peart and am making it my mission to find his book immediately. I just want to see what his perspective on this is. Maybe it will help me in my journey. Thanx.
Posted by: Steve on June 24, 2004 06:03 AM