The Uncomfortable Seat: Why We Cling to Hope and the Bench of Despair?
Life, with its rollercoaster of highs and lows, often leads us to a peculiar crossroads. It's a place where suffering forces a fundamental question: do we surrender to a higher power, or do we fight tooth and nail to change our circumstances? My original article, written a few years back, "The Bench" attempted delves into this dilemma with raw honesty and exposing the uncomfortable truth about the relationship between suffering, belief, and progress. In this blog, let's unpack these ideas, with the help of philosophical spice and exploring the seldom-seen bench at this existential intersection.
The Seed of Spirituality: Not a Lofty Ideal, but a Cry for Relief
We often romanticize spirituality, painting it as a noble pursuit arising from a desire for higher understanding. But is that truly the case? "The Bench" argues otherwise, suggesting that religion and spirituality often sprout from the soil of suffering, not enlightenment. A content, bustling individual might occasionally visit the temple, perhaps out of habit or tradition. But the individual drowning in sorrow, the one wrestling with despair? They're often the ones seeking solace in the divine, clinging to faith as a lifeline in a turbulent sea.
Think about it. Why do we turn to prayer most fervently in times of crisis? Why do we question our beliefs when tragedy strikes? As the Stoic philosopher Epictetus might have put it, it's not events themselves that disturb us, but our judgments about them. And when those judgments scream "unfair" or "unbearable," we seek a higher power to make sense of the chaos, to alleviate the pain. God, in this context, becomes the most accessible escape hatch for a mind desperately seeking refuge.
The Scourge of Questions: Why Happiness Doesn't Need Answers
A life brimming with joy rarely pauses to interrogate its own foundations. As "The Bench" eloquently states, "A fulfilled life doesn't ask many questions." Why would it? When happiness is the prevailing state, its origins become irrelevant. But when happiness is a scarce commodity, a phantom on the horizon, questions multiply like weeds. "How can I find it?" "Why am I suffering?" "Where did I go wrong?"
This isn't mere curiosity; it's the howl of a frustrated soul. Those who endlessly seek the "root cause" of everything aren't driven by intellectual thirst, but by the burning need to escape their suffering. Here, I make a straight albeit perhaps controversial, claim: happiness and deep intellectualism often clash. An already fulfilled life doesn't need to unravel the mysteries of the universe; it simply is. It's akin to Schopenhauer's idea that the intellect is a servant to the Will, primarily employed to navigate suffering and seek gratification. A life free of suffering rarely exercises this function of intellect.
The Engine of Progress: Fueled by Dissatisfaction
Progress, whether personal or societal, thrives on a fundamental sense of "lack." If we were perpetually content, basking in a state of blissful ignorance, why would we strive for anything more? This is where the concept of "misery as a catalyst" comes into play. It's not the ingredient itself, but the spark that ignites action.
Evolution, both biological and cultural, is a testament to this principle. We adapt, we innovate, we strive for better because we're not entirely satisfied with the status quo. As "The Bench" points out, even innate talent needs the sting of adversity to manifest its full potential. It's the discomfort of our current situation, the awareness of something "better" out there, that propels us forward. This constant tension between what is and what could be is the lifeblood of progress, much in line with the Hegelian dialectic, where the clash of opposing forces drives the evolution of ideas and society.
The Crossroads of Choice: Faith, Action, and the Backup Plan
The inevitable intersection arrives when suffering forces us to choose a path. Do we surrender to faith, entrusting our fate to a higher power, or do we take matters into our own hands, actively striving to reshape our reality? Most of us attempt a precarious middle ground – a blend of effort and prayer, a worldly struggle with a divine backup plan. Our prayers might become a safety net, a comforting thought while we are busy working hard.
However, at any given moment, we're essentially traversing one of these roads. We're either actively combating our suffering or seeking solace in the arms of faith, hoping for divine intervention. And honestly? We're constantly switching lanes, veering from one path to the other as life throws its curveballs. The important question is if we are aware of these choices and switches. And why is it that we are making such choices?
The Bench of Hopelessness: A Rare and Uncomfortable Seat
But there's another option, a seldom-acknowledged alternative at this existential crossroads: the bench. Not just any bench, mind you, but the bench of utter hopelessness, a despair so profound that it abandons both faith in a benevolent God and belief in the efficacy of worldly efforts.
This is a rare vantage point, a place few dare to tread. Why? Because even in the darkest of times, a flicker of hope, however faint, usually persists. We believe in the possibility of joy, even when we're drowning in sorrow. We cling to the notion of "happiness," even if we haven't tasted it in years. It is not a bad thing, though, this flicker of light is the reason why we wake up in the morning after all.
The truly suicidal, as "The Bench" suggests, aren't those who deny the existence of happiness. They're the ones who've lost all hope of ever attaining it, of ever escaping their torment. That's why they reject life itself. This is the essence of the bench – a complete surrender, a relinquishing of all hope, in both the divine and the mundane. There's a fundamental difference between "I'm not happy" and "There's no such thing as happiness." The former implies hope, the latter, its utter absence. The difference is the bench.
The Courage to Hope: A World Without Free Will?
Dwelling with this reality, it takes more courage not to be hopeless, to keep fighting, to cling to that flickering ember of hope, even when everything seems to conspire against it. Most of us are, in this sense, courageous. We persevere, we endure, we battle until our last breath, fueled by the belief, however irrational, that things can get better.
And yet, the final blow: a suggestion that free will might be an illusion. Are our choices truly our own, or are we merely puppets dancing to the tune of circumstance, compelled by forces beyond our control? Do we choose our paths, or do they choose us? Do we actively sit on the bench, or do we simply find ourselves there, deposited by the relentless currents of life?
The Bench leaves us with more questions than answers, a fitting end to a piece that grapples with the messy, uncomfortable realities of human existence. It's a reminder that the path to understanding is often paved with suffering, that belief and progress are born from dissatisfaction, and that the choices we make are rarely as clear-cut as we'd like to believe. And sometimes, the most profound insights are found not in the pursuit of happiness, but in the quiet contemplation of despair, on a lonely, often-overlooked bench at the crossroads of life.
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