Our simple state of existing does not confer any obligations on others to satisfy our every want. But why should they be? The world does not owe us anything. The fact that it takes two incomes to support a family (at least in the style to which we have grown accustomed) seems reason enough to rebel against civilization itself as a failed enterprise.īitterness arises because our expectations in life, poorly calibrated by Instagram and the promises of politicians and professors, are not being met. The crushing poverty of the 19th-century peasant or the modern Ethiopian are too remote for them even to consider. For too many people, yesterday may as well not have existed, never mind last year or last century. The great illness of our age is a myopia that prevents us from gaining the proper perspective over our place in history, or in the larger world. Maybe there’s too much pollution and too many trees are chopped down, but the fact that trees exist at all is a miracle. Maybe you can’t afford a new house or to go to college, but if you’re reading this, chances are you can afford food and some sort of a roof over your head. It may be an imperfect gift, at times even a frustrating one, but it is a gift nevertheless and if we accept it, we should do so with appropriate gratitude and humility. The Consolation of Philosophy makes many compelling points, but for me the most powerful is that life is a gift to be cherished. Only a fool would prefer never to experience anything good in the apprehension that it will one day disappear. A child who is lucky enough to vacation at Disney World may be sad when it is time to go home, but the fact that a joyful experience does not last forever does not make it any less joyful. We know this, and so should not be disappointed when our allotted time runs out. In other words, we should focus on the good times while they last, not obsess over the end which must inevitably come. Anyone who chooses to enjoy the gifts of Fortune does so in the knowledge that sooner or later, they will be taken away. Good fortune, she observes, is fickle by nature. He begins by lamenting the injustice of his fate, only to be consoled by Philosophy pointing out that, despite appearances, he really has nothing to complain about after all. In it, Boethius recounts an imaginary conversation between himself and the personification of Philosophy. While this book is not so widely known today, for centuries it was one of the most popular books in the world, and for good reason. Just hear me out.įifteen hundred years ago, a Roman statesman named Boethius (480–524 A.D.) was imprisoned by his enemies, and while in confinement he wrote a little book called The Consolation of Philosophy. “Gratitude? I’m supposed to be grateful to the politicians that start wars abroad and oppress their citizens at home, to the corporations that scar the land and exploit workers, to the baby boomers who created many of the problems we face today?” But while there is good reason for pessimism, there is equally good reason for optimism and gratitude yet those are two things that I don’t see very much of at all. Of course, there is some legitimacy to all of these complaints, and indeed it can be hard not to buckle under the onslaught of bad news that seems forever to pour down on our heads from the doom-laden buckets of cable news and social media. Everyone seems so unhappy, convinced that the world is in decline, ruined by those who came before to cheat us out of our birthright through the malice of prejudice and greed. I see blame being directed at people belonging to different generations, the “wrong” political parties, and different ethnicities. I see resentment at promises unfulfilled. Today, when I look around, I see a lot of bitterness in the world. And while these feelings are understandable-forgivable even-they miss far more than they capture about the human condition. It’s easy to feel that life is cruel, systematically robbing us of everything good until we are left with nothing. When we lose something we love, it’s easy to feel bitter, resentful, cheated. My mother passed away in August four days short of her 70th birthday.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |