Guest article provided by: wildislelit.com
Tragedy & Comedy: False Dichotomy
Why is it that all wisdom seems to wash away when we need it most, in the moment of suffering? Even the boldest of Stoics seems to bend at some point or another under the throes of depression or anxiety. Is it as Nietzsche claimed in Twilight of the Idols; are “there are more idols in the world than there are realities?” (Nietzsche 31) And are we to interpret his meaning as to suggest that the wisdom passed down from our traditions is nothing more than worthless delusion?
Both yes and no.
For you see, the greatest wisdom of the past is that very realization, that our notions might all be erroneous. Is that not why we—who know no better—celebrate figures like Socrates? Was it not his self-skepticism, his awareness of his own ignorance, which made him wise in the first place?
And in the east, the Taoists make the same claim. Lao Tzu says in the opening chapter of the Tao Te Ching:
the tao source of life that we often talk about
is beyond the power of words and labels to define or enclose
While it is true that we employ words and labels to outline our experience
they are not absolute and cannot define the absolute…
the words and labels that we use make us think that they are different
but only so we can talk about it from the outside of ourselves
in regard to the outside of the point in space and time (Lao-tzu 9)
So it seems these distant and disparate philosophies agree. They converge on the conclusion that we human beings really don’t know much of anything. For all our groping in the dark, we’ve earned nothing more from Truth than a humiliating slap in the face. And for that, we ought to be grateful, because it means that we aren’t abandoned after all. Even in the darkest of moments, Truth remains with us. Only our uncouth manners toward her make us suffer.
It is our own mistake which makes enlightenment seem to dim. We believe, or we fall back into our habit of believing, that the dichotomy between tragedy and comedy is real. We succumb to our pride and arrogance. We self-deceive. We become our own little Satans whispering in our ears that what-is ought not to be. We choose in the moment to reject the very wisdom we need, such as that passed down by Buddha Siddhartha Gautama:
“He abused me, attacked me,
Defeated me, robbed me!”
For those carrying on like this,
Hatred does not end.
“She abused me, attacked me,
Defeated me, robbed me!”
For those not carrying on like this,
Hatred ends. (Buddha 3-4)
But if the wisdom is not at fault, if indeed we are the culprits casting our own sails into the sea in frustration, what then ought we to do about ourselves?
Journey, not Destiny
Just as one does not love his family only in one moment but over a course of time, one can only love wisdom likewise. Philosophy is not merely a study; it is an attitude and a relationship; it is something cultivated over the multitudinous iterations of a single self. And just like in a functional marriage, a husband must learn to consider his wife’s needs and to treat them not as problems requiring annihilating but as fundamental realities which must be adapted to in order for a harmonious union to be possible. And the simile continue, for just as a marriage is never perfectly positive throughout its existence, neither is one’s relationship with Truth. There will be disagreements and the necessity for peacemaking. There will be doubts and the need for reaffirmations of faith.
Given this, we learn that we have actually been making two mistakes: not only has Truth never left us, even during our darkest trials, but also our expectation that the proper application of wisdom will free us from suffering. It will not, and it was never meant to do so. Philosophy is the practice of loving Truth, not of anesthetization. Remember these things when suffering is greatest, that it is in embracing the pain that your relationship with the Truth is cultivated, and that this moment—though seemingly distant from happier times—is actually part of the same Great Course of life which must be accepted or rejected in its entirety.
One day it was announced by Master Joshu that the young monk Kyogen had reached an enlightened state. Much impressed by this news, several of his peers went to speak with him.
“We have heard that you are enlightened. is this true?” his fellow students inquired.
“It is,” Kyogen answered.
“Tell us,” said a friend, “how do you fell?”
“As miserable as ever,” replied the enlightened Kyogen.
—Anonymous (Hyams 134)
Buddha Siddhartha Gautama. The Dhammapada; Teachings of the Buddha, translated by Gil Fronsdal, Shambala Publications Inc, 2008.
Hyams, Joe. Zen in the Martial Arts, Bantam Books, 1982.
Lao Tzu. Tao Te Ching; An Authentic Taoist Translation, translated by John Bright-Fey, Sweetwater Press, 2014.
Nietzsche, Friedrich. Twilight of the Idols, originally published in 1889, translated by R.J. Hollingdale, Penguin Books, 2003.
by MarQuese Liddle | MFA
Author & Editor at Wild Isle Literature