A Hermit's Meditations

[N.B.: I don't honestly expect anyone to wade through all of this.]

Normally I don't much like talking about "My Future," firstly because the fear of it and the conviction of being a failure has hounded me since Grade 10, and secondly because I'd rather do something than discuss what I might do, only to look indolent and vacillating if I never do it after all. But at present the plan is to find an internship at a magazine or newspaper, write freelance articles (e.g. travel articles on Berlin) and short stories and poems, and in the meantime be as up-to-date as possible by reading newspapers and magazines and blogs. I've conveniently decided to postpone the job-hunt until my friend M. comes to Germany on August 17th, because I want to be free to traipse around Berlin and elsewhere with her. Then I want to take my place in the grown-up world — if I were male, I would say "give up my childhood and become a Man."

Also, as I'm not going to university, I need to pursue my general education, and in any case I need to work on my music. The gaps in knowledge are evident enough — the sciences, information technology, politics, economics, psychology, philosophy, music theory, German and French literature, etc. — and I could stand to learn another language or two. So I'll have to read and I'll hopefully audit a few courses, too. My daydreams change, and I use them mostly as encouragement and not so much as definite aims, but my most cherished present one is to find an internship in New York.

Nevertheless I am happy with my life the way it is. The benefit of the grim slog of school — the guilt about not doing my homework, the isolation, etc. — is that, even though I've had my crises, I know I've had it far worse. What I ask of life is to have my self-respect, to be able to unfold freely in character and mind, to be around people whom I trust, to have food and shelter, and to be at ease with myself and the world around me. Now I have it.

* * *

Besides, though I tend to disapprove of everyone else's religion unless it's a peaceful and beneficial one, and I don't feel guilty for having small respect for the Pope, I have found a faith that greatly comforts me. The central tenet is that, as long as I honestly strive to do right in little things as well as big ones, everything will turn out well, and even if it doesn't I won't have to reproach myself for much. Even as a tiny Munchkin I was already analyzing the motives for what I said and did, and seeing clearly enough where my shortcomings were, making concerted efforts to grow into a better person, and being prodded by a pretty active conscience; so the most difficult part is the trust.

As for going wrong, I don't fear it so much, because my idea of atonement is to freely recognize the misdeed, feel genuinely sorry and do one's best not to repeat it. Shortcomings shouldn't be hidden and repressed, but brought to light and dissolved through analysis or diverted into harmless channels. I don't believe in punishment, either. Instead I believe that any act in bad faith has unhappy consequences attached to it, which do not wait to pounce on a sinner down the road (I deeply dislike this concept) but are immediate. To use an illustration, if life is a stream that runs to the sea, the misdeed is an obstacle that fleetingly redirects it into a different course, though the stream will eventually reach the sea like any other. Also, I am convinced that the only sins are actions where other people are harmed, or offenses against one's own integrity. Lastly, I don't believe that there are "good" people and "bad" people, except in the extremely rare cases where people have no moral code at all; treating other people as lepers, on any pretext whatsoever, is only a reflection on one's flawed self.

I'll freely admit that the problem of evil, and the question of what it is, is one I haven't been able to properly explain to myself. I don't doubt that it exists. Still, one of the nice things about humans is that, in us, evil tends to take a banal concrete form, which is easy enough to spot and counteract. Our personalities are rarely monolithic or powerful enough to be demonic, though I suppose that we can become temporarily demonic e.g. as part of a mob. But at times I have felt evil as an abstract atmosphere, where one must be careful not to be infected; still, the infection is that of superstition and fear and loneliness, and not of any dramatic journey to the "dark side." And the best antidotes to superstition and fear and loneliness are common sense, the right kind of strength, and a belief that there is goodness in the world.

Beyond this I see no point in minute theological discussions. The Bible and the thoughts of others are helpful guides, but I don't feel called upon to believe every detail. As far as God, the Trinity, the saints, etc. go, I incline to think, as Alexander Pope put it in the full couplet of his famous quotation: "Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; / The proper study of mankind is man." Nor do I believe that one can arrive at the absolute truth; one should investigate, weigh ideas, draw one's own conclusions, but keep in mind that there can always be flaws in one's observations and logic.

Above all, I believe that one's thoughts and deeds should have as their end the welfare of one's fellow human beings. Though I tend to the less harsh, Hippocrates-like belief that living without harming anyone else is already an accomplishment, I sympathize with the quotation, which Dr. Johnson included in his Rambler, to the effect that "no life is pleasing to God that is not useful to man." This doesn't mean arbitrating the fates of other people, but helping them to help themselves when needed, letting them find their own good in their own way, and treating them with respect. As Mama has often remarked à propos of the "Golden Rule," a problem is that what is good and useful for one person can be bad and worse than useless for another, so one cannot thrust benevolent intentions on others.

As far as one's self is concerned, I think one has a responsibility, too; one is a person like any other, with the same rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Denying an elementary respect and care to one's self is as iniquitous as denying it to someone else. It also defeats one's purpose because if one treats one's self poorly, one tends to treat others poorly too. For example, when I despise myself, it makes me self-centred, torpid and uncommunicative, so that I am quite the opposite of a ray of sunshine to the people with whom I come into contact.

Self-sacrifice can too often be like mercy in reverse, I think, blighting him who gives and him who takes. When I was ten or so, I was much taken by the tales of martyrs, and thought about the concept a good deal. But I felt that I couldn't bear, for example, to die for someone else if he or she didn't know about it and didn't remember me gratefully after I'm gone. In the course of time, however, I've come to believe that martyrdom is admirable only if it is veritably beneficial. Also, I've thought about the feelings of the beneficiary. It is probably a terrible burden to know that someone has literally or figuratively crippled himself, even condemned himself to death, on one's behalf. It is an almost tyrannous claim on one's gratitude. For the benefactor, too, I think it would be somehow embarrassing. So now I find it much kinder to leave the beneficiary in ignorance, and to see one's reward in the knowledge that one has done some good. And if a significant sacrifice is prompted not by generosity but by the urge to self-annihilation, I find it positively criminal.

Lastly, as for the rewards of virtue, I think that they are being at peace with, and being able to respect, one's self. Also, I think that good deeds govern the direction of our lives much as bad ones do; but they guide them into happier and more tranquil courses, so that we are content with our existence and ready to leave the world when we do.