No barking up this tree!
In Robert Richardson’s lovely biography of William James (which I have not yet finished but cannot quite put down), I read the following: James once complained of Schopenhauer’s pessimism, comparing it to “that of a dog who would rather see the world ten times worse than it is, than lose his chance of barking at it.” I love that comment, and it reminds me of Dylan’s observation in “Its Alright Ma(I’m Only Bleeding,” about “the one who sings with his tongue on fire [who] /Cares not to come up any higher/But rather get you down in the hole/That he's in.” I’ve known so many like this. I’ve been so much like this at times my miserable self.
I hear this most interestingly when I ask somewhat sincerely, “How are you?” Responses: “Tired!” “Busy” “Don’t ask!” “Do you really want to know?” “Well, OK.?” Or worse, they actually tell me how they are! “I’ve been to the doctor.” “I’ve got a dentist appointment.” “Work is impossible.” “Doesn’t the world suck?” It’s not that I won’t be a sympathetic ear. I will be. Actually, I’ve lately thought of myself as a good listener, having learned a great deal about my responsibilities to the Other from Emmanuel Levinas, I think. That’s not it at all. Rather, I am curious now how that opening (like a good opening in a chess game) sets the direction for the entire conversation. What I mean is this: I can respond to the comment by discussing the named condition, and continue on beating the topic to veritable (or virtual) death, thereby maintaining the conversation on the level of complaint and suffering; or I can offer some kind of supportive pep talk which will finally fail (see above comment on barking dogs); or I can merely agree that the companion’s condition is warranted and ‘yes, isn’t life hard!’; or I can join the grumble, Mr. Bumble, and compare miseries. And then we can both (or all) see the world ten times worse than it is rather than lose our chance at complaint, which has been transformed into an opportunity to ironically aggrandize ourselves by endlessly listing our hardships and woes. Ah, nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen!
Its sunny today, the grass is growing loudly and all of my appliances are in good working order. It is Shabbat, my children have full social calendars for the weekend, and even I have activities to which I look forward. I am in good health and financially troubled. I am reading two wonderful books, awaiting the publication of my own brilliant tome, and finishing this blog entry.
And there is a bottle of Summit Extra Pale Ale which welcomes my thirst and pleasure.
How are you today? No barking ,please!
posted by Alan A. Block at 1:00 PM
1 Comments:
Alan, As you already know, I think about this idea of yours a lot. And, as we have had one of these very conversations within the last week, finding this on your blog was like an echo of my thoughts since we had that conversation. I'm thinking that I have at least two reactions to this "I'm busy" etc. situation ... The first is that I get your point. When someone actually answers, within our culture, they are not really communicating - or they are communicating. But, then again, and here's my reaction (b), if you start with this particular question, what do you expect? What else might someone actually say in response to "How are you?"
My sister had a friend in high school whose response would often be a reflection of the day's weather. "I feel especially sunny today!" Or, "I'm a bit foggy." My family used to mock her in her absence. Now I look back and think she was pretty clever in her commentary on the question. Why ask it if you don't want the kinds of responses people typically provide? Why not try different questions for a few weeks?
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