Getting Over . . . Carrying On

 

Dear you,

This weekend, I kept the television running non-stop.  Between heartbreaking updates about our exit from Kabul and hurricane Ida, commercials carried on in the most disturbing way.  A former sitcom star screamed gleefully about “dynomite” Social Security benefits. A hyper-happy voiceover ordered me to “Show off your white smile this Labor Day!” An emu tried to sell me insurance.  Meanwhile, New Orleans went dark and thousands were left behind in Afghanistan.

The disconnect was unsettling.  The reality of events competing with the reality of the marketplace. Networks cannot run on nothing.  I know they need commercials to stay on the air and keep me informed.  But this seemed so out of alignment, twisted.  The twisting continues today.

I listen to details about how the #TexasTaliban essentially ended abortion rights in their state, how they pulled this off and why the SCOTUS majority just let it go.  Then, this:

“Here’s why birthday candles are the perfect gift.”

I listen to updates about Ida flooding the northeast.  And then this:

“Everything’s better between King’s Hawaiian bread.”

We seem, in some ways and in some places, to be carrying on. Life rolling along. No good can come from tears without action.  No good can come from walking around in sackcloth and ashes.  But it feels wrong to be bopping around all “dynomite” happy during these tragedies.  How to do this?  How to find balance without being mindless? Time for a refresher course in stoic philosophy. I have been reading and re-reading Marcus Aurelius since last year, perfect advice for these days. From Book III of his Meditations:

“You need to avoid certain things in your train of thought:  everything random, everything irrelevant.  And certainly everything self-important or malicious.  You need to get used to winnowing your thoughts, so that if someone says, “What are you thinking about?” you can respond at once (and truthfully) that you are thinking this or thinking that.  And it would be obvious at once from your answer that your thoughts were straightforward and considerate ones – the thoughts of an unselfish person, one unconcerned with pleasure and with sensual indulgence generally, with squabbling, with slander and envy, or anything else you’d be ashamed to be caught thinking.

Someone like that – someone who refuses to put off joining the elect – is a kind of priest, a servant of the gods, in touch with what is within him and what keeps a person undefiled by pleasures, invulnerable to any pain, untouched by arrogance, unaffected by meanness, an athlete in the greatest of all contests – the struggle not to be overwhelmed by anything that happens.  With what leaves us dyed indelibly by justice, welcoming whole heartedly whatever comes – whatever we’re assigned – not worrying too often, or with any selfish motive, about what other people say. Or do, or think.

He does only what is his to do and considers constantly what the world has in store for him – doing his best, and trusting that all is for the best.  For we carry our fate with us – and it carries us.”

Marcus Aurelius wasn’t suggesting I stop brushing my teeth, buying presents, or eating tasty bread. He would be indifferent to inane commercial breaks and advise me to do the same.  He’d say focus, be an “athlete in the greatest of all contests – the struggle not to be overwhelmed by anything that happens.”  He’d say learn this:

We live serious content interrupted by commercial breaks.

It all just is.

If I really get that, if I know how to roll, I can show off my smile this Labor Day with gravitas and balance. Like a stoic athlete.  Up and over the bar.

Still trying,

Joyce