In pondering my purpose in life, I often imagine the following: what if I had been born a slave in Egypt, building the pyramids? I would have spend my entire life in hard labor at a task I probably did not care about, and probably would have never seen the final product before I died. The vision could equally well be of many other conditions of slavery that have existed throughout humankind's sad history.
I imagine there are two kinds of slaves - those who accepted their lot in life, and those who rebelled, either internally through resentment and depression, or externally through attempts to escape or change the system. Given the chances of actually succeeding in rebellion, I imagine that accepting one's lot in life is the more healthy answer - that there, one can find at least some internal peace.
This is a difficult conclusion for me who values his freedom so highly - to think that it might be better to acquiesce than to fight. We hold those who have fought for freedom so highly in our society as the examples of who we all should be. Yet, no one is ever totally free. We all pay taxes, we all sit on hold waiting for a customer representative to come on the line, we all constantly suffer the small indignities our society has in store for us. Without the skill of finding peace in the middle of restriction, we would all be miserable indeed.
When does acquiescing become an escape, and when does it become a legitimate path to serenity?
I'm about to re-enter the workforce, and am trying to prepare myself to lose 40+ hours of free time each week in return for money. My freedom has a price, apparently - I can be bought. Is this an indignity or a privilege? It feels like a return to slavery. Can I find serenity working for the corporate empire? Should I?
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Though he slay me
It has once again been a long time since I've posted. One excuse I have is fatigue. I have been diagnosed with a long-term lung infection that is sapping much of my energy, and many things have fallen by the wayside. I sleep 12 hours a day, and am not working because of the amount of sleep I need. The infection is expected to last another year, and I am on triple antibiotics to combat it, which may be adding to the fatigue.
The infection has changed my life. There are many things I cannot do that I used to do, or cannot do as much of. I get tired easily, and do not have the physical stamina that I am used to. I dance three dances and go home, instead of dancing all evening. I spend a lot of time at home reading instead of doing things.
Being a depressive as well, it is hard to find the line between what I can do but just don't feel like it, and what I genuinely cannot reasonably do because of the infection. It is a question constantly on my mind, and if I am not careful, I can use the accusation of laziness to beat myself up all day. I am slowly learning to have some sympathy for the various losses I have suffered and are still adjusting to.
Another issue the infection has brought up for me is that of resentment. I have a tendency to fall into a victim attitude, and can easily become resentful over what "life has done to me". In this, I follow in the footsteps of my father, who was partially disabled from when I was five years old, and resented his disability the rest of his life. He was sure to remind us at least yearly of the accident that "did this to him".
From the distant memories of my religious upbringing came a quote the other day: "Though he slay me, yet will I trust him". It is from the book of Lamentations in the bible, and is someone speaking about the suffering he is going through and his attitude towards God. The verse struck me, because the author is obviously not talking about trust in the sense of believing he will come to no harm. He is referring to what might be considered an absurd attitude - trusting someone whom you know will hurt you.
This speaks to me more of an attitude of the heart rather than an evaluation of trustworthiness, and it struck me as the only healthy attitude I could think of having in the face of my infection. Life (my substitution for the word "God") is going to do us "wrong", cause us to suffer, deprive us of things we want and need, and that deprivation is inevitable. What attitude do we have in the face of this reality? Resentment? Fear? Bitterness? Resignation? None of these attitudes are useful, and could cause at least as much harm to us as the injury itself.
What came to me from this verse is that the attitude of "trust" he writes about is a willingness to face pain, an openness in the face of known danger, a willingness to play the game for the joy of it, despite knowing you may lose in the end. This is not pretty stuff. But life often is not pretty. Life is often obscene, with its heartless cruelties, handed out with equal ease along with the beauties and joys of this world.
How do we face life in its glory and its cruelty? By being willing to face the pain and danger and still live with an open heart. We all face death, ultimately. What choice do we have but to love the one who will ultimately take our most prized possession away from us?
The infection has changed my life. There are many things I cannot do that I used to do, or cannot do as much of. I get tired easily, and do not have the physical stamina that I am used to. I dance three dances and go home, instead of dancing all evening. I spend a lot of time at home reading instead of doing things.
Being a depressive as well, it is hard to find the line between what I can do but just don't feel like it, and what I genuinely cannot reasonably do because of the infection. It is a question constantly on my mind, and if I am not careful, I can use the accusation of laziness to beat myself up all day. I am slowly learning to have some sympathy for the various losses I have suffered and are still adjusting to.
Another issue the infection has brought up for me is that of resentment. I have a tendency to fall into a victim attitude, and can easily become resentful over what "life has done to me". In this, I follow in the footsteps of my father, who was partially disabled from when I was five years old, and resented his disability the rest of his life. He was sure to remind us at least yearly of the accident that "did this to him".
From the distant memories of my religious upbringing came a quote the other day: "Though he slay me, yet will I trust him". It is from the book of Lamentations in the bible, and is someone speaking about the suffering he is going through and his attitude towards God. The verse struck me, because the author is obviously not talking about trust in the sense of believing he will come to no harm. He is referring to what might be considered an absurd attitude - trusting someone whom you know will hurt you.
This speaks to me more of an attitude of the heart rather than an evaluation of trustworthiness, and it struck me as the only healthy attitude I could think of having in the face of my infection. Life (my substitution for the word "God") is going to do us "wrong", cause us to suffer, deprive us of things we want and need, and that deprivation is inevitable. What attitude do we have in the face of this reality? Resentment? Fear? Bitterness? Resignation? None of these attitudes are useful, and could cause at least as much harm to us as the injury itself.
What came to me from this verse is that the attitude of "trust" he writes about is a willingness to face pain, an openness in the face of known danger, a willingness to play the game for the joy of it, despite knowing you may lose in the end. This is not pretty stuff. But life often is not pretty. Life is often obscene, with its heartless cruelties, handed out with equal ease along with the beauties and joys of this world.
How do we face life in its glory and its cruelty? By being willing to face the pain and danger and still live with an open heart. We all face death, ultimately. What choice do we have but to love the one who will ultimately take our most prized possession away from us?