I watched his appearance at Dennis Pragers conference or whatever it was, and he was teary through the whole thing. I get that completely. I’ve been that guy many times.
We share, I think, a sense that if you fail to truly appreciate the inherent tragedy of human life–the unredeemed suffering, the pointless suffering, the ridiculousness of it all–then you have missed a big, probably crucial aspect of the human experience.
What I would suggest, though, is that one can remain aware of all the awfulness, and all the risks, without becoming overwhelmed. As context, in recent weeks I’ve read about lasers that can penetrate nearly anything, invisibility cloaks, micronukes (Pakistan was talking about them: I hope I didn’t give anyone any ideas), exoskeletons that can lift cars, and of course the cross channel hoverboard trip.
This, and of course aliens, global depressions, and who knows what else.
To me, life is like a giant cave. In one part of it you have all the tragedy and hopelessness and death. But in other places you have beauty. In most places you have the almost inherent beauty of human beings finding reasons to believe, and to care, and to love, as well as they can, which is usually not much, but all you can give is what you have.
I kind of picture myself in a good vantage point, viewing it all. There is a large space outside of me. But paradoxically, when I close my eyes, there is a much, much bigger space, one where the concept of problem does not even exist, where pain does not exist, where joy is the coin of the realm, but joy of a sort we have forgotten, and rarely even sip once in a lifetime on this planet.
Here is my proposition: happiness is a learned skill. It is not something which happens. It is not the result of internal circumstances, nor is it the result of simply “choosing” happiness. It is a skill. There are techniques.
And the best single one I have found is Kum Nye. Nobody listens to me on this, as far as I know. I have converted no one to a long term practice, despite talking often about it.
But happiness is a sort of breathing through your whole body. It is a letting go and allowing, and that allowing causes contentment to burst out from where it was hiding. Painful things come out sometimes when you allow. I know this better than anyone, I think. But the process both sweeps away the chronic ones, and teaches you to deal in real time with the ones you cannot avoid.
I’m in a strange place. I am changing. I can feel it. I am feeling torpid lately. I just sit here. I’m not sad, or confused. I just don’t feel like moving. I think this is the appearance on the outside of an internal state, a paralysis that dates back from long ago, when I felt like a thing.
I will likely have more to say on thing-ness, when I figure out how I feel about it.
For now I will hope that Mr. Peterson puts down Dostoevsky and picks up Tarthang Tulku. Despair (and anger and violence for that matter) can seem deep because they are often hidden beneath the social surface. People like Marty Scorcese are supposedly “deep” directors because they talk about the violence all of us feel, that is always there.
Personally, I think the deep people are the ones who see all that, feel it, understand it, then keep going. There is peace at the bottom.