re-run: belief
2003-10-31
In yet another mood for retrospection, I have dusted this three-year-old entry off and given it a new showing. It was, at the time, a rather landmark self-confession. I marvel at its contradictions; at the naivete struggling against reason. I would also add that I no longer believe in most of the things I so adamantly wished to believe in back then, (and I do, thankfully, now have a part-time job to supplement my tuition) but I do think that I hit the bullseye with the importance of meaning and belief. Enjoy, but forgive me for the sub-standard writing style. It was written a while ago.
“Man is suspended in webs of meaning which he himself has spun.”
- Clifford Geertz, cultural anthropologist
I’ve been thinking a lot (never a good thing!) about myself and about the world, trying to piece together just what it is that has brought me so close to despair and self-destruction this year.
I know that on one level, it’s all been about belief. When I was younger, I believed in fate, I believed in an omnipotent force like God that ruled over us, set laws and carved our paths; I believed that there was a design to things, a greater meaning; I believed that we had souls, immortal souls that would live on after death. I believed that loved ones and ancestors were looking over our shoulders, smiling down on us and giving us unseen guidance, and when I wrote my poems or read classic novels, I believed the essence of those writers whom I loved was in the room with me, directing my heart and my hand and becoming a tiny piece of me, of my inspiration.
Now I’ve lived a little and at first, being in the real world sent everything toppling down. I didn’t know what truth was anymore, I didn’t think anything had ever been nor ever would be true. The dead body in the lab, the cold knowledge, the useless, endless rush of the city, the loneliness and abandonment I felt….I know it sounds like I’m dramatising, but I really did and still do, to a certain extent, feel utterly lost and broken.
But I’ve started to recover, little by little. Those old beliefs, they’re gone now. Sure, sometimes I’d like to believe in them again and the thought of them comforts me, but I also know they’re not true and me being the budding scholar and ‘truth searcher’ that I am, I just can’t believe in things that aren’t true. It’s all right, really. It was hard to accept it at times, that life has no intrinsic meaning, no construct but blind survival in the face of death, but I’m learning to deal.
God, what am I talking about? I’m not learning to deal at all! I don’t entirely believe and accept meaninglessness. My whole problem is that I’m trying to believe in two opposing ideas at once and it’s tearing me apart.
* * *
Lately, I’ve been feeling more in control of my life, but I know it’s only skin deep. The truth is, I’m seriously considering leaving uni for a while. There’s no reason for me being there. I don’t have a career ambition and I don’t have the drive anymore. It feels as though all the walls are closing in on me. I don’t know where to go, what to do. Last year, I felt like I didn’t know myself. This year, it’s ten times worse.
It’s like I just woke up from an eighteen-year long dream to discover the real world and all of its stupid pains, problems and responsibilities. I don’t want to think about planning my high-paid career path. I don’t want to think about how pathetic my life is…oh, too late. I try to look for part-time jobs but I’m always too old for the child labour market or lacking experience for the more ‘adult’ jobs. It’s like I’m being punished for putting most of my energy into studying and not enough into work experience and ‘skills building’.
God, I’m so fucking sick of this crap! I hate the idea that we’re just fucking animals! I thought we were special. I thought we were truly civilized and just. I thought the world was how it is always portrayed in the movies. I thought my life would turn out like the books I read, where every word, every character has rhyme and reason, meaning and weight; where destiny and choices (if those two antithetical concepts can be forgiven for being stuck together) are absolute. Instead, I’ve found nothing but chaos, and the same fucking bullshit thoughts keep spinning round and round my fucked up head. I don’t know why I write here anymore. No one’s ever going to read it besides me. No one’s ever going to give a shit.
I can’t reconcile my beliefs. I can’t end my own torment. I’m waiting for that moment of clarity, that sweet epiphany that will change it all, ease this pain…but it never comes. Life has no meaning, no construct, so why should there be anything, any ‘force’ from ‘on high’ that would send me such a moment?
Honestly, all I want in my life are the simple things. Eating in cosy little restaurants, spending time with my family and close friends, loving someone special, writing, shopping and maybe a little travelling. The catch is, none of these seemingly simple, easy things can be had without someone struggling painfully for them somewhere along the line.
Sometimes, I almost trick myself into believing that maybe aunty C is right. Maybe kids should be taught the ‘realities of life’ from a young age? At least that way, if we know what shit we’ll have to wade through when we enter adulthood, we might just be better prepared for it…or else run scared and develop a permanent Peter Pan complex.
I wish I’d been better prepared, I really do. I wish I hadn’t lived an illusion for the last 18 years of my existence. I wish I’d been more pragmatic and extra-curricular in my activities. I wish I could have gotten work experience sooner instead of dreaming up my ridiculous writing projects. I wish I could have gotten my driver’s license instead of constantly putting it off. I wish I could have been braver, more outgoing. I wish I could have enjoyed myself more before adulthood came to rule over me with an iron fist.
But what’s the use of fucking regrets? ‘You can’t turn back the clock’, as they say. No, you’ve just got to keep on going, no matter how unprepared or ill-equipped you are for the journey. Chances are, if you’re strong enough, if you’re smart enough, you’ll find guidance and provision along the way that’ll be sufficient to allow you to keep putting one foot in front of the other. That’s how you start, and after a while, those movements will build rhythm and momentum and you’ll be amazed that you’re still breathing after all that uncertainty and fear.
I don’t care if the whole world tells me there is no meaning! You have to believe in something otherwise you die. That’s the human vulnerability. I still want to believe that things always turn out right in the end. I still want to believe that my life is like a novel and that I’m the protagonist. I still want to believe in meaning, because belief is meaning, and humans are meaningful, even if we’re meaningful just to ourselves.
I still want to feel that everything has a reason and that my path is in some way guided and forged by a greater, unseen, incomprehensible force. Most of all though, I want to believe that goodness exists and that good, selfless acts are the most powerful, profound and meaningful things in a human’s life.
I feel deep down that the world knows, cares that I’m here; that the world knows and cares about everyone and that we’re all “great, important characters” (Ugo Betti) linked in one ‘chain of humanity’. Call me an idealist if you will. I can’t help it. I can’t help but cushion myself.
I know I will die one day. There is no guarantee that life continues on after death, in fact there is very little chance that it does. We die. We rot. I accept that. I don’t like the idea but then again, who really wants to live forever? Not me. I can barely stand myself sometimes. I don’t fancy having myself to look forward to for all eternity!
I also accept that I am fallible, that I am both significant and horribly infinitesimal. I accept that I lack in many things and that my life this year has also lacked – in direction, in force, in will and in strength – but I also know that I can’t give up. I accept futility but at the same time, I don’t accept succumbing to that futility.
Even if there is no greater power out there measuring the sum of my life and soul’s worth, I am measuring and the people I love are measuring and I’ve come too far now to just let them down.
I have achieved something today…one foot has stepped in front of the other.
