Part V: Child of Darkness
Since childhood, I have had a love of building bridges. I am naturally interested in bridging gaps. In particular, I feel drawn to examining ways in which chasms disparate findings and theoretical constructs may parallel, complement and ultimately fertilize one another.
For me, this inquiry was particularly fascinating. The opportunity to “quiet myself” and leave myself open to the inside world of another; and, to compare how his life was similar to my own, was incredible.
My initial enthusiasm was met with some hesitation due to my predisposed tendency to bristle at the idea of putting a unique human being into a “box”. This trepidation, however, was lifted when I finally realized that I could tell about my subjects personality and still preserve the Gestalt (whole is equal to more than the mechanical sum of the parts), of my authentic, evermore forming friend.
In addition to my being thoroughly entertained (by my interview with this Dasein), I believe that he also benefited from our encounter. My friend seemed amazed when I casually mentioned something personal about “him”, that he had never told a soul. It wasn’t until a little into our conversation that I finally confessed that I knew so much about him, mainly because his life (to quite a remarkable extent, might I add), mirrored my own.
I seemed to understand him from the inside-- how he struggled and why he felt the way he did. From my own personal experiences, I know how hard it is to try to learn to accept and value myself.
In addition, I am most indubitably aware of how deep the desire is to find an understanding and completeness in life (then again, who isn’t)! My subject and I share a common battle; we each strive for a peace (both internal and external). “Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata. Shantih, shantih, shantih.” I suffer, as he suffers, and we experience mortal anguish and pain as a necessary key to understanding ourselves and Other.
The Dasein walks out of the restaurant and onto the street. The sun has long since set, but this doesn’t worry him though; because after all, night is the mother of all council. He moves, “In hac lacrimarum valle”, slowly approaching his destination. Just as the mighty Aeneas, the Dasein too is a being that knows defeat and disposition, love and love lost. He knows about war and hatred, the ugliness and waste of it, but still he fights when he has too, with hatred and passion. He is dutiful-- oh, what a hard and weary duty he must endure-- he bears his fate with courage.
He glances at a small chestnut tree and briefly reflects. The flora reminds him of the impasse he had recently crawled through in the hour prior. He grins as he continues on his way.
The Dasein notices the bus parked at the stop ahead of him. With his eyes fixated on the vehicle, he quickens his pace. He endeavors to catch that bus; his stride widens until his last few steps(onto the intended transportation) are nothing less than a full bound. He smiles, a sense of accomplishment fills him as he pays his dues. He floats to the back of the bus joyously and takes a seat.
To his right are two gentlemen who are engaged in a heated conversation. Upon further investigation, the Dasein finds that they are bickering about politics. One man calls himself a Democrat, and the other refers to himself as a Republican. Although the two views seem to originate from the same stem, the men still obstinately argue over their perceived differences.
To his left sit’s a couple. The woman starts to cry and the man snaps yet another bitter comment her way. The Dasein empathizes with her pain, but still he remains silent (so’s not to cause any stir of trouble in route home). “How can someone be so cruel and inhumane?” he asks himself. He listens to the tumult and shakes his head in dismay at what he’s hearing.
“Slaves struggling in their prisons of stone”, he remarks. He sees through their guises, and questions whether or not he was ever so shallow as they. He senses the in authenticity in his fellow riders. He is overwhelmed by an intense desire to scowl.
Suddenly his train of thought shifts. He giggles and reveals to himself the fact that he has become a prime example of maze way re-synthesis. Who is he to judge their genuineness or lack thereof? He ponders whether they recognize as much of him, as he does of them.
“Probably not”, the intuitive feeler says to himself. Although he hides little to nothing, he realizes that he has depth and, depth can never be fully transparent.
He finally resolves that he has few things in common with these people around him. Location, location, location. This idea fills him with a zealous enjoyment as he hops off the bus and heads home to his understanding wife and beautiful kids. His enigmatic eyes sparkle as he revels at the opacity of the here and now. Just as Atlas, he too is burdened by the world, and similar to Sisyphus he must also endure the absurd. Contrary (perhaps even in spite), to these setbacks the Dasein smiles.
“[For]… he who has a why to live, can endure almost any how.”(Nietzsche)
“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”-- John Milton, Paradise Lost
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