I say this often and it’s frankly not the best note to end the year on, but we are the most coddled people in the history of people. Or maybe it is a good note – liberating to realize just how trivial are so many of our chains.
Drone panics. Cruise ships, generally. Online gambling. Vaccines: How do they work? Masks: you’re not the boss of me!
Meanwhile, the inability to even countenance any sort of reckoning with the climate crisis as it is in motion and been in view for three decades represents just a haunting boredom. Nothing else to do, all needs met, no entertainment quite good enough, hey – let’s allow the most craven, unqualified people imaginable to be in charge just to see what happens.
Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting:
Just as someone in pain is linked by his groans to the present moment (and is entirely outside past and future), so someone bursting out in such ecstatic laughter is without memory and without desire.
All churches, all underwear manufacturers, all generals, all political parties, are in agreement about that kind of laughter, and all of them rush to put the image of the two laughing runners on the billboards advertising their religion, their products, their ideology, their nation, their sex, their dishwashing powder.
To see the devil as a partisan of Evil and an angel as a warrior on the side of Good is to accept the demagogy of the angels. Things are of course more complicated than that.
Things deprived suddenly of their supposed meaning, of the place assigned to them in the so-called order of things (a Moscow-trained Marxist believing in horoscopes), make us laugh. In origin, laughter is thus of the devil’s domain. It has something malicious about it (things suddenly turning out different from what they pretended to be), but to some extent also a beneficent relief (things are less weighty than they appeared to be, letting us live more freely, no longer oppressing us with their austere seriousness).
If you go away from a row, you can still come back into it. A row is an open formation. But a circle closes up, and if you go away from it, there is no way back. It is not by chance that the planets move in circles and that a rock coming loose from one of them goes inexorably away, carried off by centrifugal force. Like a meteorite broken off from a planet, I left the circle and have not yet stopped falling.’
Between austere seriousness and falling, find a place to dig into the oppression – and your role in perpetuating it. How does a better you relate to a better world? If that’s an embarrassing question, we’re too scared of humiliation and hide behind the wrong things that never saved anyone. Don’t be afraid to get it wrong; try something not in the book. There is plenty that should be rejected, just find somewhere to start.
Pro tip: It’s always the night before Christmas.
Image via Bloomberg, but they’re only the messenger.
