“Who knows where madness lies? Too much sanity may be madness; and maddest of all, to see the world as it is and not as it should be.”
– Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quijote
There’s a saying in Spain, “Take what you want and pay for it.” It means that everything has a cost, whether you pay it now or later, and you should know this and be ready, or at least resigned, before you even start. When we are dazzled by the glamour of our desires, the costs seem distant–yeah yeah, we think. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. But when the time comes to settle up, sometimes we realize the cost was greater than we imagined.
Last night I had a fight with my housemate and best friend. I don’t think we’ve ever had a real argument before. There was a split second that I can’t get out of my head, as she slammed a door in my face to stop me from talking, of a look of shock and disgust on her face. And more than that, a lack of recognition. It’s like she realized I’m not the person she thought I was, and now I’m a virtual stranger to her.
I don’t feel like a different person, in fact, I think I am more authentically myself than I used to be; but I suppose I’ve changed a lot. Though my friend and I talked long on the phone while I was taking care of my mom, we lived in different cities and didn’t get to see each other. And while she was sympathetic, she has never watched the person she loves most in the world suffer and slowly die, so she has no way of knowing how deeply transformative that is. To be honest, I don’t think even I was fully aware of it. To me, she seems changed, but I don’t know anymore whether we both changed, or if it’s all me. Probably some of both I guess.
I found the perfect, most beautiful description of how I feel now, written by someone who has also been here:
“I feel homeless and alone most of the time; orphaned figuratively as well as literally. I do not often say this to anyone, and it is only sleep deprivation that is making me publish it, but there are many times when I want nothing so much as to roll the dark earth over me like a blanket to sleep forever….I am become too much a creature of the crossroads, always hovering between one thing and the next, unable to make any real decisions, unable to make any real movement.”
I’m a living ghost.
I’ve always been an introvert and loner, and was never lonely being alone. In fact, I’m more likely to feel lonely in a crowd, because it’s rejection that makes me lonely. You can’t feel alienated without people to be alienated from.
So what was this big fight about? It started as just a discussion, though it was obvious from the get-go that our perspectives are very different now. The part that apparently became intolerable for my friend, so much that she threw her hand up and refused to speak to me anymore, was that I don’t believe in progress.
That seems like a pretty abstract point to get so worked up about (although John Michael Greer likely wouldn’t be the least surprised that a challenge to the cherished myth of progress could have disastrous consequences).
To me, it’s self-evident from even a cursory examination of human history that human behavior (including “civilization”) is not a line but a circle. The extent to which this is obvious is I guess predicated on how wide a view of humanity and how long a view of history you adopt: if your concept of history is limited to your own nation-state over the last couple hundred years, maybe a belief in progress seems more justifiable. But I’ve always been a big-picture kind of girl. I think I actually laughed out loud when my friend tried to convince me that oil prices, crumbling infrastructure, education, and politics are unrelated.
As proof that progress exists and some presidents are morally better than others, my friend brought up marriage equality. Now, make no mistake, I think marriage equality is a good thing, and a worthy thing to care about and work towards. But that doesn’t make it “progress”. My contention is that as long as you have a politico-economic system that is based on the exploitation of inequality, there will never be equality either at home or abroad.
And there are costs. They are externalized so we don’t have to look at them, but they’re there nonetheless. Every “social justice” victory on the domestic front is paid for by the victims of wars of empire that prop up a corrupt system. This is not a reason not to work for equality in whatever ways matter to you; nor am I saying that supporters of marriage equality can’t celebrate that victory. Even hyper-local acts of compassion have meaning. All I would ask is that we occasionally take a break from patting ourselves and our preferred politico-du-jour on the back to remember that blood continues to be spilled to make “the system” “work”. Maybe lose a little sleep now and then wondering about the other injustices we might have overlooked while we were focused on our own particular causes. I think it is one of the great ironies of the modern age that “social justice” and “progress” can be made into a carpet under which we sweep the inequities too ugly to even be named, let alone challenged.
My friend argues that marriage equality is the most important thing in the world to people I care about, and by implication it should be to me too. Perhaps she sees it that way because she’s an atheist materialist who doesn’t believe in life after physical death. Perhaps, from that rather Epicurean point of view, a law that makes life better for some (those that live in countries with marriage equality laws) is the best that can be hoped for. We can’t do anything about the bigger picture, she says. I can’t help but notice that materialism tends to give its proponents a very narrow view of “life” and all too often it’s “me and mine first”. As for me, when my heart is weighed against the feather of Ma’at, will support for one American step toward equality balance out all the lives destroyed globally to perpetuate inequality?
That’s what I would have said to my housemate if it hadn’t been past our bedtimes, if I hadn’t been sick and cranky, if I were better at marshaling words in a disagreement with someone I love and whose respect matters to me. I never got the chance, so I suspect the look of disgust she gave me is because she thinks she is sharing her home with a homophobic bigot. Sadly, I probably won’t get the chance to prove her wrong or even explain myself. Even if she gave me the chance, she doesn’t seem to hear what I’m saying anymore anyway.
It’s times like these, when I hear the words “You’re weird” for the hundred-thousandth time, when I see the look of shock, when someone I care about slams a door in my face literally and/or metaphorically, when I’m told that the only success that matters is the kind that comes from following all the rules, that I ask myself if I am the crazy one. If you haven’t been through it, let me tell you that losing your most beloved person, watching them suffer and being powerless to stop it, pokes a lot of holes in the wool covering your eyes. You question everything you ever took for granted–and that’s even if you know that life persists after physical death, as I do. Prior to my mom getting sick, I had made a decision to get some enchantment back in my life by hook or by crook; when I was caring for her, as scale after scale fell away, I willingly embraced the idea of the Great Work. Sure, I thought, there will be costs. I’ve been warned. I’m strong enough to pay them, and anyway, it’s worth it…
So far those costs have been losing my only real parent, my job, my home, my health insurance, moving halfway across the country, a lot of credit card debt, and watching my closest friendship crumble in slow motion. Which is all the more heartbreaking since I am dependent on that friend for my housing, and I have no other friends here. And lest we forget, the person I was before my mom got sick is gone too. Occultists talk about the “death in life” of the mystery schools–well, I doubt this is what they had in mind, but believe me, it fits the bill. Cervantes wrote a lot about madness, and seemed to conclude that it was better to be mad and happy than sane and jaded. (The ending of Don Quijote is truly one of the saddest things I have ever read, and its message that letting others impose their “reality” on you and crushing your beautiful dreams is fatal couldn’t be more timely, as this year is shadowed by Neptune-Saturn conflicts.) But I can’t go back to the relative safety of who I was before, and what I believed then. Was it worth it? Do I see clearly now, or not at all? Am I mad, or too sane? And which would I rather be?