A Brief Interlude (#1)

Please pardon this interruption in my regularly scheduled blogging. However, I had to share something I’ve been thinking about recently.  I had to gather the seed of a thought from my mind, and plant it right here. Then I am going to let it germinate, and harvest its fruit at some point in the future.

“Greatness is never appreciated in youth,
called pride in middle age,
dismissed in old age,
and reconsidered in death.
Because we cannot tolerate greatness in our midst
we do all we can to destroy it.”
~ Lady Morella, Babylon 5, from the episode “Point of No Return”

My birthday was on Monday; I turned forty-two. 
I felt really good—one of the best I’ve ever had.
It was over by Tuesday. 
And, a week later, I am pulling at the edges of its memory, 
Searching for a signpost, some sort of clue,
Of where I should turn to next. 

Nearly a week after my birthday, I sat alone in my backyard. A cloud-filled sky, blurring a crescent moon and the evening star, stretched overhead. The heat from a crackling fire competed with the chill of an April night. The quote above, by Lady Morella, stirred in my mind, again. It had surfaced several times over the past few months. Maybe it was influenced by current political events. Or inspired by the social struggles of these uncertain times. Perhaps my own growth and introspection nudged it out of the far shadows of my mind. No doubt the feeling of withdrawal after the birthday highs played a part in fueling this malaise. 

Then there was the nostalgia (it’s an emotion that regularly taunts me). Lady Morella is a throw away character from a single episode of a science fiction series. It aired around the time I was entering college, and I loved watching every minute of it. It was literate, and it was cheesy. In one episode an actor, suffocating under layers of makeup, could deliver William Butler Yeats’ The Second Coming with such chilling grace that I instantly fell in love with the poem. But then follow that up with an interplanetary death match reminiscent of Jean Claude Van Damme’s Bloodsport: so bad that I cringe whenever I think about it. However, when it focused on personal, social, and political conflicts, and allowed the best of the cast to showcase those struggles, that show was powerful and inspiring, leaving behind beautifully poignant, memorable quotes. So, for me, the quote is relevant and thought-provoking. And yet, I am toiling with it.

It is no wonder I have been focusing on Lady Morella’s observation about greatness. She speaks of generational divisions, something I am keenly aware of as I get older. She wraps it up in a warning against an inescapable ignorance, which seems to permeate everywhere these days. Finally, she delivers a sad, seemingly universal truth: we seek to destroy what we don’t understand. I get a sense from so many people that we are on the "Eve of Destruction".   

We are slaves to our specie’s aging process. In youth, we lack the wisdom to understand the value of patience, deliberate action, deferred gratification. Therefore, when the young seek greatness, we fail to appreciate it. By middle age, we become jealous of those who try and possess things we consider only possible when younger: passion, fitness, strength, energy, being in love. So, when middle-aged people seek greatness, we label it pride. And by old age, with death so close, we consider a search for greatness a fool's errand. We dismiss it. Only on death’s door  do we let go of our egos, doubts, and assumptions, and rethink our misguided thoughts. By then, there is no energy, nor time, for greatness.

We are slaves to our ignorance. We are surrounded by so much of it. There is even an arrogance about having it. We are also suffering terrible hubris about our relationship to it. James Burke, a science historian, once said, “never before have so many people understood so little about so much.” Humbly, I would like to add, “never before have so many people studied so much only to learn so little.” There is resentment for those who actively seek knowledge; there is also contempt from those who have knowledge, but do not know how to wield it. Worse, just about everyone involved thinks that they are the ones who are reasonable, rational, and intelligent. It is through all this ignorance that we mislabel and reject greatness.

We are slaves to our jealousy. In Write Naked, Jennifer Probst provided an interesting distinction between envy and jealousy.  For her, both are the act of coveting what someone else has but you do not (a house, a particular friend, happiness, etc.). With envy, you covet it, but are willing to accept that the other person has it. I want my friend’s house, because it is so perfect, but I am glad she is living in it. When we are jealous, however, we covert something while wishing ill on the person who has it. I want Beth to be my friend; I don’t want her being friends with Melanie anymore. The world would be a better place if upon seeing greatness in another person, we supported them while seeking it for ourselves. Or accept that we cannot possess it, but be grateful that someone else can achieve it. We have to stop destroying greatness out of jealousy. 

So what is my problem with all of this? What she says about generations, ignorance, and jealousy are so very relevant to me. Yes, it is playing out in the world around me. But it is also emerging inside of me. As I enter middle age, I find myself pursuing so much of what I should have done or wanted to do—but was too anxious and scared—in my youth. I am doing those things now with a sense of urgency, but also feelings of wonder and joy. And for many, that screams mid-life crisis.  (I cannot let that stop me.) Also, as I am learning new subjects, exploring new experiences, I find that I am discovering more of what I do not know. And that can be frightening. As I uncover my ignorance, I am doing my best to be honest and humble. (I have to admit when I am wrong.) Finally, middle age comes with its own physical, emotional, and social changes that can prove overwhelming. When we change, envy and jealousy can creep in and take over. (I am doing my best not to repeat my adolescence.)

In the end, that leaves only "greatness". So, what does it have to do with me? 

Nothing.

And that’s my current struggle with the quote.

I feel that everything she has said, and everything I have written, can be applied to something else, which I have spent the past five years seeking in myself. 

Kindness.

So, here is the seed of a thought that I am planting today, and will return to some time in the future:

If you are youthful and kind, you are naive.

If you are middle-aged and kind, you are weak or have an agenda.
And if you are old, and kind, you are either creepy or a fool.
Because we cannot tolerate kindness in our lives, we doubt it, subvert it, rename it, and in the end, reject it.