RubySoho
Winston
Tragedy and the Fresh Spring Air
May 14th 2008 23:06
It's gorgeous out, a perfect New England spring day. When I walked out my front door this morning I was struck by the scent of fresh mulch and honeysuckle, and for a moment I simply breathed deeply, savoring the newly-budding emerald greenery and the crystalline blue sky. Eyes closed, I stood and just listened to the rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds already well into their day's activity. I love spring and summer with every fiber of my being. The simple pleasures of watching the trees bloom and inhaling the fresh air have not diminished for me in 31 years. It was with great reluctance that I opened my eyes and continued walking to my car to head for work, rather than staying to enjoy such a peaceful, perfect moment. I enjoyed this simple episode despite the fact that I had just read on the news that over 15,000 people in China were confirmed killed thus far due to the earthquake. The toll is likely to rise significantly. 15,000 is a town. Gone, snuffed out. Whether these deaths are attributable to the blind motions of nature or to the whim of a capricious deity makes no difference. The tragedy is absolute. In the face of such calamity, how is it that a spring breeze is able to bring me so much pleasure?
It is not that the people of China do not have my sincere sympathy. It isn't that the populace of Myanmar is not deserving of my fervent wishes for relief. I have been saddened by all the accounts I've heard, as I am by numerous tragic events that occur with clockwork regularity around the globe. Saddened, but not crushed. I am not rendered despondent at the news that many, many thousands of my fellow human beings have been killed by terrible disasters. Would it matter if they were American? Probably, but only to an extent. Would it matter if they were from my part of the country? My state? My town? Each successive step closer to my proximity raises my level of grief/concern. Why? The carnage is equally real and raw in any case. The difference, I suspect, is the the more immediate the problem, the more readily I think, "that could have been me or those I'm close to."
Altruism is one of the virtues of humanity, but it is limited in even the most generous among us. Our nature is one of selfishness; self-preservation is our genetic mandate. While there are compelling psychological and genetic arguments as to why we exhibit empathy and why we help others, even strangers, the fact remains that our own needs and the needs of those genetically closest to us generally trumps all else. The further away the conflict, the further removed the victim, the less dismay we feel. Disaster in China may as well be disaster on Mars. Move the location to Boston, though, so near to my little town, and suddenly my awareness, compassion and fear escalate dramatically. Why? Because I visit Boston, I have friends in Boston. The danger becomes real to me. Without the context of a familiar setting, tragedy is just another picture on a screen, a big font in a screaming headline.
In our new age of mass communication, it is perhaps to our advantage that we are able to be unaffected by the torrent of grief that cascades about us in infinite streams. If I mourned equally for each incident of human suffering witnessed on CNN, or if I were rendered as immobile with despair over the death of a child in Asia as by the death of a loved one, what hope would I have for my life? How could I even bear to get out of bed each morning, only to be endlessly bludgeoned by carnage and sorrow? No, we simply cannot afford to be affected by all the tragedy rampant in the world. In effect we pick and choose our moments of grief, generally reserved for those events that impact us personally, and thus maximize our moments of pleasure and peace. It's common to hear that we have become increasingly desensitized to the violence around us due to overexposure to various media. I doubt this is the case. Our tendency to reserve our greatest outpourings of grief for those instances closest to us is innate. It is simply that our filter is being taxed to a far greater extent now than ever before. In centuries past, people, insulated by their lack of technology, had no knowledge of the hardships of the rest of the world. The fact that we are able to absorb as much dismal information today as we do and continue to function is fairly remarkable. A certain amount of apathy may be necessary for us to maintain our sanity.
So, as thousands weep and cry in China, I smile and admire the beauty of a blossoming tree. As entire families lie destroyed in Myanmar, as market places are bombed in Iraq and children wither away in Africa, I enjoy a glass of wine with my wife. As wildfires destroy homes in California and while hurricanes batter our southern coast, I continue about my day. Heartlessly? No, I am aware of the suffering of others. I've experienced my own incidents of punishing grief, and my heart goes out to those in pain. But I continue on, taking pleasure in the beauty that the world provides in tandem with misery. For now I whistle my way past the graveyard, breathing the fresh air deeply. As do we all.
It is not that the people of China do not have my sincere sympathy. It isn't that the populace of Myanmar is not deserving of my fervent wishes for relief. I have been saddened by all the accounts I've heard, as I am by numerous tragic events that occur with clockwork regularity around the globe. Saddened, but not crushed. I am not rendered despondent at the news that many, many thousands of my fellow human beings have been killed by terrible disasters. Would it matter if they were American? Probably, but only to an extent. Would it matter if they were from my part of the country? My state? My town? Each successive step closer to my proximity raises my level of grief/concern. Why? The carnage is equally real and raw in any case. The difference, I suspect, is the the more immediate the problem, the more readily I think, "that could have been me or those I'm close to."
Altruism is one of the virtues of humanity, but it is limited in even the most generous among us. Our nature is one of selfishness; self-preservation is our genetic mandate. While there are compelling psychological and genetic arguments as to why we exhibit empathy and why we help others, even strangers, the fact remains that our own needs and the needs of those genetically closest to us generally trumps all else. The further away the conflict, the further removed the victim, the less dismay we feel. Disaster in China may as well be disaster on Mars. Move the location to Boston, though, so near to my little town, and suddenly my awareness, compassion and fear escalate dramatically. Why? Because I visit Boston, I have friends in Boston. The danger becomes real to me. Without the context of a familiar setting, tragedy is just another picture on a screen, a big font in a screaming headline.
In our new age of mass communication, it is perhaps to our advantage that we are able to be unaffected by the torrent of grief that cascades about us in infinite streams. If I mourned equally for each incident of human suffering witnessed on CNN, or if I were rendered as immobile with despair over the death of a child in Asia as by the death of a loved one, what hope would I have for my life? How could I even bear to get out of bed each morning, only to be endlessly bludgeoned by carnage and sorrow? No, we simply cannot afford to be affected by all the tragedy rampant in the world. In effect we pick and choose our moments of grief, generally reserved for those events that impact us personally, and thus maximize our moments of pleasure and peace. It's common to hear that we have become increasingly desensitized to the violence around us due to overexposure to various media. I doubt this is the case. Our tendency to reserve our greatest outpourings of grief for those instances closest to us is innate. It is simply that our filter is being taxed to a far greater extent now than ever before. In centuries past, people, insulated by their lack of technology, had no knowledge of the hardships of the rest of the world. The fact that we are able to absorb as much dismal information today as we do and continue to function is fairly remarkable. A certain amount of apathy may be necessary for us to maintain our sanity.
So, as thousands weep and cry in China, I smile and admire the beauty of a blossoming tree. As entire families lie destroyed in Myanmar, as market places are bombed in Iraq and children wither away in Africa, I enjoy a glass of wine with my wife. As wildfires destroy homes in California and while hurricanes batter our southern coast, I continue about my day. Heartlessly? No, I am aware of the suffering of others. I've experienced my own incidents of punishing grief, and my heart goes out to those in pain. But I continue on, taking pleasure in the beauty that the world provides in tandem with misery. For now I whistle my way past the graveyard, breathing the fresh air deeply. As do we all.
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Comment by RubySoho
Music Zone
Thought Zone
The sheer scale of injustice and tragedy in the world will drive you crazy if you let it.
Comment by Morgan Bell
Science News
Deep Pencil
Business News
Movie Train
Comment by Winston
Small Thoughts on Big Questions
Comment by Winston
Small Thoughts on Big Questions
Part of what I'm wrestling with in this post is just to try and decipher what I SHOULD feel? Thousands of people are dead. That is a truly awful thing. But I'm not paralyzed with grief, and neither are you it seems. Sometimes I marvel that I (and most everyone else) is able to go about their daily lives worrying about the mundane trivialities we all face when so much carnage exists in another part of the world. But I don't think we have a choice. Life must go on, we can't all fall down wailing whenever anything bad happens. It's so confusing being a person sometimes.......
Comment by Morgan Bell
Science News
Deep Pencil
Business News
Movie Train
and yes i did take your original meaning, i was just trying to say we shouldnt feel guilty about things we cant change . . . if theres something you could be doing and youre not well then DO IT (im not talking to you in particular but the any average joe) and if there is nothing in your power that can be done than dont dwell on it . . . i dont have the money to feed all the starving kids in africa but i can write an article about it or be honest about my opinion if asked
i know so many people who either cant watch the news or get really angry or sad about news and i personally think rather than dwelling on the big things they CANT change they should focus on the little things they CAN . . . help out a disadvantaged kid close to home if you are in a position to, give someone a lift, talk to your neighbours, be involved in your community etc
natural disasters are random and when something hits close to home that will be your chance to stand up and make a difference . . . in conclusion the last thing you should feel is guilty if you understand and accept your limitations
(i sound like im giving a speech from AA i know haha)
Comment by postmoderncritic
Postmodern Critic
Relativity Watch
Padsoc
Great post, and boy do I ever want to come to New England!
Comment by Winston
Small Thoughts on Big Questions
Comment by Winston
Small Thoughts on Big Questions
New England is great! If you ever visit the States, a trip to Boston is a must
Comment by postmoderncritic
Postmodern Critic
Relativity Watch
Padsoc
Have you always lived where you are right now?
Comment by Winston
Small Thoughts on Big Questions
I was born in Indiana (midwest U.S.) but my family moved to MA when I was two. I lived in western MA until after college when I moved to the NYC area for three years, and worked in Manhattan. I moved back to MA a few years ago, this time to the eastern side, about 1/2 hour outside of Boston. I'm just a New Englander at heart, I guess, as is my wife. I doubt we'll ever move out of this part of the country. The midwest and the south are terrifying (due to the political'/ideological climates pervading those areas), the west coast doesn't do too much for me (although I'd love to visit wine country in CA) and Florida is too damned hot to live in 6 months of the year (although absolutely gorgeous in late winter/early spring).
Boston is a great city, VERY different from NYC and L.A. I really hope you get a chance to see it some time
Comment by Anonymous
I hadn't heard the news about the quake, and had gone on to work as I do in such auto-pilot fashion. I was in the process of taking an order for beans & greens when I noticed the newspaper on the table. I saw the headline, then became aware of a small amount of "chatter" at other tables, but had the same awareness as you... people knew, people cared, but life went on.
My grandmother used to read the paper every morning and watch the news every night... for what seemed like the sole purpose of making herself cry. She'd get so emotionally involved with these stories and let them upset her on such a grand scale that it became a deterrant for me. At age 35, I rarely read the newspaper or watch the news. There's so much wrong with the word that is so easily spread through the media pipeline... that I'd much rather focus on the good things and the beauty that's in my immediate surroundings. Anything else is too depressing.
What happened is tragic - and as you said, the tragedy becomes more intense the closer it hits to home. I think it reminds us of our own mortality and how quickly things can change.
I appreciate your writing voice... but then, I have since your first post. *smiles*
Nice to "read" you again.
Wendi
Comment by Winston
Small Thoughts on Big Questions
Thanks for the kind words re: the post. It was just one of those things that was on my mind. No real point to it other than airing out what I was thinking that day.
Well, I'm actually going away on vacation in the morning for a week (our first real vakay in 3 years!), but I hope to hear more from you soon!!