Desperation and Resignation
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.
What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. 🦋
I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear;
nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary.
Henry David Thoreau (Walden)
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch.
He said to me, "You must not ask for so much."
Then a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door.
She cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"
Over the past several years, as I was trying to figure things out, I wrote a series of esoteric poems (many of them not in English) on desire, desperation, and resignation, beginning with "Έρως και Λήθη" (Eros and Lethe). During this time I found myself stumbling reluctantly into Stoicism. I say reluctantly because there was always a part of me that resented not being able to have things that I wanted. The passage I quoted above from Cohen's "Bird On A Wire" describes very well the inner conflict I was dealing with. You can find evidence of this inner conflict in many of the poems I wrote during that period.
That first quotation from Thoreau has been a favorite of mine for as long as I can remember. The online discussion group I managed years ago was called "Lives of Quiet Desperation", and many of my poems over the years have either referenced that quotation or begun with it as a premise. The words "desperation", "despair", and "resignation" appear quite frequently in my more recent poetry so I'm thinking it might be a good idea to explain exactly what I mean when I use those terms. The words "desperation" and "despair" are synonymous, and both indicate the absence of hope. People often say that they "desperately want" something and a lot of people assume it just means that they "want it a lot", but when the word is used correctly it actually means that they "want it without any hope of getting it". The word "resignation", as used in those quotations from Thoreau, means the acceptance of desperation.
That second quotation from Thoreau is one I used to strongly agree with, but nowadays not as much. I included it because it leads into the philosophy that my quest for happiness has led me to. I mentioned before that my attempt to achieve happiness by learning not to want was not successful because I found that I didn't really have any control over my desires. (The heart wants what it wants.) But, I've discovered that I do have some control over my expectations. I may not have any control over what I want, but I can learn to accept that I can't have everything that I want. I can achieve happiness by resisting hopes that are unrealistic. So, despite what Thoreau said, I've come to the conclusion that resignation (the acceptance of the absence of hope) is often an appropriate and positive response.
I believe that this philosophy I've ended up with is compatible with both Epicureanism (choosing our pleasures wisely and realistically) and Stoicism (accepting things which are beyond our control), and can be explained using the Freudian concepts of the id and the ego. The id is that subconscious part of us which includes our desires. We have little or no control over it, and it operates according to the pleasure principle. (The id doesn't care about morality or reality. It only cares about pleasure and having its desires satisfied.) On the other hand, the ego operates according to the reality principle. It's job is to discern which desires of the id shouldn't or can't be satisfied, and which ones should and can, and to try to find the best way to satisfy them. So, by building up the wisdom and willpower of the ego (improving our judgement and increasing our self control) we become better equipped to achieve happiness. (Please note that within the context of this discussion I'm using the Freudian definition of the word "ego" and not the more common one with all of its negative connotations.)
The American Dream is dead.
Corporate America has betrayed us.
Our government has betrayed us.
Bureaucrats have taken over the world.
Stupidity is triumphant. Incompetence is the norm.
Proficiency is neither recognized nor rewarded.
Give up on your dreams. They will not come true.
You are defeated. There is no hope.
Resignation is the only answer.
Cultivate apathy. It's the only way to survive.
We must make sacrifices in order to reach contentment.
Learn not to hope. Learn not to want. Learn not to care.
Accept it that you are alone and cannot be understood.
Don't let anyone know what you're thinking.
Expect less so that you won't be disappointed.
There can be no peace without inhibition.
There is no serenity without apathy.
There is no satisfaction.
I've wished upon the evenin' breeze
that murmured through the cottonwood trees.
I've cried out to the big full moon
an' begged that he might grant a boon.
I hoped an' prayed 'til my knees got sore,
dreamt an' dreamt 'til I could dream no more.
But none o' my dreams e'er come true
an' there was nothin' e'er that I could do
but learn to be happy wi' what I have,
cover my tears with a cynical laugh.
The butterfly with the broken wing
knows that he shall never be
a caterpillar again.
I cannot help but want
but do not dare to hope.
Dreams
Dreams die. Life goes on. Accept things as they are.
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
Langston Hughes (Dreams)
O thee who stealthily shed tears
Who waste these pearls of their eye.
If some dreams cease to be
Life doesn't end, it doesn't die.
Gopaldas Neeraj (Jeevan Nahi Mara Karta Hai)
There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty,
before the last revolving year is through.
Joni Mitchell (The Circle Game)
To the "Dreams" poem by Langston Hughes, all I have to say is "phooey!" I once posted a picture of an emperor penguin with that poem as its caption. I don't know if anybody got it but the penguin was a flightless bird in a barren field, frozen with snow. I also responded with the quotation "Some birds learn to walk" by a fictitious character named Sans Rêves (French for "without dreams"). As you can probably tell, I don't share the opinion that the death of dreams is the end of the world. I've come to believe that sometimes dreams come true but just as often they don't, and there's no point in continuing to pursue a dream which has no possibility of being realized. Again, it's better to give up on hopes that aren't realistic. We must learn to accept things as they are.
I am a very articulate and creative person with a strong desire for accomplishment and appreciation. I've wanted to be a musician for as long as I can remember. I'm a drummer and a pianist, and I played in several unsuccessful bands when I was younger. I attempted to get back into music again as an "adult", but for various reasons my attempt was unsuccessful. I also fancy myself as a writer, a poet, and a lyricist. I have a large collection of songs and poems that I've written over the years. Many of them I feel rather proud of. But I've achieved almost no recognition. I've had no success to speak of. As I've gotten older, nearing the end of my life, I've had to admit to myself that my dreams of being a musician and a poet are never going to be realized. I've had to learn to accept things as they are. But sometimes it's difficult, sometimes it bothers me, and sometimes it seems that I'm the only one who cares. (I never play my drums or my piano anymore, and I rarely write. What's the point in writing more when hardly anyone is interested in reading what I've already written? "I've little or no pleasure, to speak of, in writing, no joy in weaving words into metre, whether it's the fact I've reaped no profit from it that makes this thing the source of my misfortunes, or that writing a poem you can't read to anyone is exactly like making gestures in the dark." - Ovid)
There was a time when I enjoyed the work I do. My abilities were appreciated and I felt a sense of accomplishment. But, since my industry has been taken over by incompetent bureaucrats I don't feel that much anymore. I'm just holding on until I can retire, and I've learned to cultivate apathy in order to cope. I have to accept things as they are.
He had once enjoyed what he was doing
and his life was not such a chore,
but then the idiots took over the world
and nothing made sense anymore.
So he just sat there in his cubicle
day after day after day,
and he felt that his life was wasted
and he wished that he could get away.
And he dreamed up ways of escaping
but something always made him stay.
He wished he could've been a rock star.
That's all he'd ever wanted to be.
To travel the world making music.
There were so many places to see.
And he wanted his own flock of groupies
who would follow him wherever he'd go,
and tell him that he was wonderful
and be good to him after the show.
And maybe, just maybe,
I'll eventually come to the conclusion
that all the hopes and dreams I hold so dear,
all of my crazy, crazy dreams
are just that.
And anything but what I can touch
in the present moment
is a dream.
My dreams are dying, but it's all right.
Sometimes I feel sorry for myself.
Sometimes I can't help thinking about
things I've always wanted but haven't got.
Sometimes it bothers me that I'm not a musician,
that I'm trapped in a job that I hate.
But then there are other times when I remember
that no one gets everything they want,
and I realize just how lucky I am
to have the things that I have.
And it occurs to me
that no one gets everything they want.
We all choose between some things that we want
and other things that we want.
Some people make those choices consciously.
Other people make them without realizing it.
Many of my friends chose to follow their dreams.
I chose to be a working man.
And as I look back on my life,
and think of all the things
I wanted but didn't get,
I realize
that I chose the thing I wanted most.
There is one dream that matters,
only one meaningful thing,
one hope that I live for,
one desire that I need.
My dreams are like pearls.
I gave up all for one of great value.
The one I could not live without.
The one I almost lost.
All others have turned to sour grapes.
Still, I do not cast them before swine.
The truest religion is born of necessity,
and out of necessity I've come to embrace:
Resignation, Apathy, and Isolation.
I am the hermit; the solitary man.
So many people were shut up tight inside themselves like boxes,
yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully,
if only you were interested in them.
I guess I've always been kind of a loner. I often feel like I don't really belong, like a puzzle piece that was accidentally placed in the wrong box. And like most introverts, I don't always feel comfortable in crowds. But I'm an outgoing introvert. I can be a wild and crazy guy at times, especially when I'm with someone who I feel comfortable with. But I'm hard to get to know. And all my life I've had a hard time finding people who truly understand me and the way I think, people who are interested in me and the kinds of things I'm interested in, and people who recognize and appreciate my talents and abilities. (So many seem to view me as just someone in their audience.) This sometimes makes me feel very alone. And like other introverts, I occasionally have a need for solitude. Every once in a while I go through something I call an "isolationist phase" and I need to go off and be a hermit. There are times when I find myself needing to take a break from the nightlife, to avoid temptation and envy. At times I need to go off by myself to think about things. And at other times I just need quiet evenings at home with my wife. (There's nothing I enjoy more than that.)
The world is an island of lost souls
just trying to find their own place.
Well, he sits all alone at a cheap Chinese buffet.
He's got no one to talk to but he's got something to say.
His friends wonder why he always seems to go off alone.
He just keeps to himself. He likes to be on his own.
He's always been a lone wolf who couldn't quite fit in with the pack.
But he had once felt alive. Now he wants that feeling back.
He fears he's invisible and that no one can really hear his voice.
He's a loner by circumstance and certainly not by choice.
I am not afraid of being alone for being alone's sake.
But I'm often envious
and I tremble at the thought of being lonely.
I'm afraid of being unwanted and unloved.
I'm afraid of being unappreciated and unsuccessful.
I'm afraid of being just one of those leaves
lying on the ground.
There's a certain calmness that comes from solitude,
but a certain longing as well;
a longing for comfort of a different kind;
for the pleasure of sharing the glory
with someone like ourselves.
The feeling that we're the only one of our kind
is what makes one feel
truly alone.
I am not fooled by ancient myths.
I am not drawn to wordly delights.
Before I came, while I'm here, after I've gone:
The world is full of good things.
The world is full of bad things.
My presence makes little difference.
I accept my insignificance.
I'll spend the day with the one I love
and care little for anything else.
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