My friend Landon is one of the more inspirational presences in which I've ever been. A lanky transplant from Vermont, I described him the other day as "something of an urban Tom Bombadil", JRR Tolkien's cheery mystical nature-presence. Landon stoops on a dingy subway platform to scoop up trash; when we meet in Manhattan, en route to his house uptown, he inevitably winds up at Harlem House with palms stretched out over fast food bags, paper trash, and plastic bottles, depositing them in his trash can or recycling bin. Landon talks to strangers when it is incredibly inappropriate, and Landon smiles at people in a city where glances shouldn't - don't - linger too long.
Landon is either incredibly deluded, in extremely specific ways, or an unprecedented blessing to this city around him.
I trailed behind Landon yesterday, as he wound his joy-bearing way through the city, wondering where my own sense of childlike glee and sharing went. After all, isn't this world meant to be a community? And community relies upon openness.
Yes, this is an idealistic thought - but I am OK with being an idealist. They don't crucify men for being realistic: a realist is accepted, even if disagreed-with. An idealist is scorned, even when agreed-with.
This is mourning, I think. I'm discovering that to mourn cannot be equated with merely being sad. Mourning is harder, and better, than sadness. To be sad is to feel sadness. Mourning is not an emotion - mourning is a process. You know, I am sure - we all know, I believe - that feeling of an utter and unbelievable frustration, when all that is within you cries out that this should be but then all that is without you shouts back but it will not. When there is something you truly, really hope for - not just want, but need - and yet everything tells you, you cannot have it!
This is the definition of mourning I'm coming to have: the state of disengagement between what should be and what is.
The loss of innocence. I look into my life, and I see my innocence dying. Harsh language - towards myself, towards other people, towards the world - comes faster to my lips. I'm a little faster to be cynical; my laughter sounds mocking, sarcastic. I no longer just laugh; I have to laugh at things. All of us express it in different ways:
-We drink a little more.
-We go farther or faster when we hook up.
-We value money more, and our dreams less.
Loss of innocence. I think this is what happens when we mourn at length, without hope. We lose our innocence - our dreams of what should be. What is an "innocent thought"?
-That love means not getting divorced?
-That innocent people won't get hurt?
-That a community can be a real reflection of love, acceptance, and forgiveness?
-That our purpose in this world is to make a change, not only to make a living?
-That people can care for a stranger?
-That it will be better to do what is right than what is easy?
These are all hopes that I know I've had - that I'm sure some of you have had - that my experience of this world tries daily to shut down. To tell me is my own idiocy, ridiculousness.
But WHATEVER! WHAT. EVER. I am OK with being ridiculous! This is something that the world did not expect. I am OK with being a fool, being an idiot. No, I want to be more of a fool. If that means being more like Landon - being more like Lucas - being more like Jesus of Nazareth, the ridiculous son of a carpenter who said that he was God - then YOU LOSE, WORLD. You are powerless over me, because I don't care about being made a fool.
Well. I do. But I don't want to. I'm going to pray to continue to find the strength to keep on mourning.
Landon is either incredibly deluded, in extremely specific ways, or an unprecedented blessing to this city around him.
I trailed behind Landon yesterday, as he wound his joy-bearing way through the city, wondering where my own sense of childlike glee and sharing went. After all, isn't this world meant to be a community? And community relies upon openness.
Yes, this is an idealistic thought - but I am OK with being an idealist. They don't crucify men for being realistic: a realist is accepted, even if disagreed-with. An idealist is scorned, even when agreed-with.
This is mourning, I think. I'm discovering that to mourn cannot be equated with merely being sad. Mourning is harder, and better, than sadness. To be sad is to feel sadness. Mourning is not an emotion - mourning is a process. You know, I am sure - we all know, I believe - that feeling of an utter and unbelievable frustration, when all that is within you cries out that this should be but then all that is without you shouts back but it will not. When there is something you truly, really hope for - not just want, but need - and yet everything tells you, you cannot have it!
This is the definition of mourning I'm coming to have: the state of disengagement between what should be and what is.
The loss of innocence. I look into my life, and I see my innocence dying. Harsh language - towards myself, towards other people, towards the world - comes faster to my lips. I'm a little faster to be cynical; my laughter sounds mocking, sarcastic. I no longer just laugh; I have to laugh at things. All of us express it in different ways:
-We drink a little more.
-We go farther or faster when we hook up.
-We value money more, and our dreams less.
Loss of innocence. I think this is what happens when we mourn at length, without hope. We lose our innocence - our dreams of what should be. What is an "innocent thought"?
-That love means not getting divorced?
-That innocent people won't get hurt?
-That a community can be a real reflection of love, acceptance, and forgiveness?
-That our purpose in this world is to make a change, not only to make a living?
-That people can care for a stranger?
-That it will be better to do what is right than what is easy?
These are all hopes that I know I've had - that I'm sure some of you have had - that my experience of this world tries daily to shut down. To tell me is my own idiocy, ridiculousness.
But WHATEVER! WHAT. EVER. I am OK with being ridiculous! This is something that the world did not expect. I am OK with being a fool, being an idiot. No, I want to be more of a fool. If that means being more like Landon - being more like Lucas - being more like Jesus of Nazareth, the ridiculous son of a carpenter who said that he was God - then YOU LOSE, WORLD. You are powerless over me, because I don't care about being made a fool.
Well. I do. But I don't want to. I'm going to pray to continue to find the strength to keep on mourning.
Matthew 5:4 - Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted.
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