Hannibal Smith would shake his head
disappointingly, as our plan most certainly did not come together. Rather than
make excuses on why, I simply prefer to acknowledge that as a team, we did not
get the points intended across cohesively. For that, I am sorry and hope that
some of the intended points came to the surface. At this point, I am not
speaking for my team, as I don’t want to be presumptuous and assume they feel
as I do or to assume a self-appointed position to speak for people who have not
asked me to do so.
With that said, I would like to
discuss something that I felt was presented properly of myself, that was not
received in the intended context as I found out after class while talking to a
classmate. When I discussed my experience with tragedy when I was a child, I
discussed how I experienced a dream as I went into a seizure that I called “absolute
nothingness”. The most absolute calm and state of simply nothing. Another way I
would describe it is, how I imagine “non-existence”. I believe that at this
point is where the confusion may come to some. So allow me to clarify, by
restating the point of how it relates to Kierkegaard’s anxiety.
I was brought up to be Irish
Catholic, with very little success. My grandmother on my father’s side was an
incredibly mean and nasty woman who had an unnecessarily nasty tongue that
spout anger, judgment and resentment. She died when I was 5, and I only felt
bad as it made my grandfather sad and he was a very kind and sweet man. My
father however took on much of his mother’s traits, and when I questioned the
concepts of God that seemed to not make sense, it was made clear that I should
shut my mouth. This was the same during Sunday “school”, or any other religious
aspect around me. I did not really believe a big invisible man wasted his time
watching everyone in judgment, with love, in order to see if we should all burn
for eternity or spend eternity praising him while running his chores and
fighting his wars. However, the anxiety of making the wrong choices was heavily
a part of me, and I would say was strong enough a part of my life then for me
to say it kept me agnostic. This anxiety was in the same manner Kierkegaard
speaks of in terms of it preceding sin, or of those lead astray by the
understanding of a finite outcome. I wasn’t exactly sure why something I felt
was so terrible and horrifying still held so much power over my mind to where
the notion of death or being “sinful” brought such anxiety. Now we get to the
tornado.
I will spare graphic detail and
simplify it by stating that the scene was grisly showcased death and savagery
to a rather fine point. This was followed by so many people saying a few
statements that to this day anger me due to their absolute ignorant and self-segregating
component of well-intended willful ignorance: “I couldn’t imagine”, “god works
in mysterious ways”, “gods will/plan/any derivative”, “we/you/they were blessed”
or any derivative and, one of the most arrogant I find, “I/we/they will pray
for you/them/us”. The obvious questions came to mind when I heard these, like
what plan of an all loving god would include needlessly killing 9 children,
wounding so many others in such graphic a manner in front of about a hundred
other children? If we were blessed, why weren’t the others? Were they evil? I
had to watch my first friend I ever met through school and liked so much, Adam
Soltis sliced throughout his body with glass shrapnel and crushed savagely by a
large concrete wall because I was a blessed catholic, and as a Jew, he did not
accept Jesus as the messiah? If we were so blessed, why did the event fill me
with fear, anger and anxiety while taking away any verbal outlet as no one had
time or cared to listen? Or simply wrote off my woes as I was “just a kid”?
Needless to say, those questions received no valid answer and the universe
remained as quiet as expected. To say I had faith would be quite a jump. Through
that, I still had the anxiety however.
Then
came my “experience” or dream. This is when I fully understood just how easy it
was to hold on to the notion that death is not the actual end. The difficulty
to accepting we are finite ourselves, and that death may very well actually be “the
end” for us seemed rather apparent to me when I came to in a hospital being
told that I was having seizures. The “nothingness” that I felt made me feel
calm and happy. Not because I thought I died, or that it was how it may feel
just before you die; but rather it made me feel like I understood that I
existed, and that I didn’t need a purpose for existing. It seemed so
egotistical to me that I ever felt it was important for my life to be defined
by something greater to have created me for some manner of intent. I lost all
anxiety. This is where I disagree with Kierkegaard, as I lost the anxiety, as I
believe, not because I am lost, but rather because I no longer felt the
subconscious need to define my life through some immeasurable notion of omnipotent
meaning. I lost the anxiety of death being inevitable, with no amount of
suicide, but rather a vibrant outlook on life and how enjoyable all experiences
are, the good and the wretched; not because they have some given meaning, just
simply because I happened to be. My life’s meaning, I believe, is simply
defined by compounded choices that I have made and no other reason, and I think
that is incredibly beautiful!
No comments:
Post a Comment