A Room of My Own (or on the capricious nature of happiness)
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| a room of her own...and a couple of cars too... |
Yesterday I met up with a friend for coffee. Well, not coffee, but more for a walk. We met in Christianshavn and continued our journey into the freetown of Christiania. There we ate cake and talked. It is cold, although it is late March. The sun shines, however, and sparks hope.
My friend just filed his divorce papers. He feels good. He was married for over 20 something years! They met when they were in their early 20s. They now have two kids. "Do you still talk?" I ask.
"She avoids me. She doesn't want to communicate with me." No matter how many times I witness this phenomena, or experience it myself, it still always never fails to surprise me. I know it's the oldest question in the book, but really people, how can two people who at one time supposedly really in love with each other get to the point, where they just really hate each other's guts?
I'm not saying he's hating her. At all. To the contrary. He's coming off quite magnanimous, I should add. He's being mad graceful. It's her anger that intrigues me. It's her refusal to want to really be cool with him. Why does it intrigue me? Because I so get her response--but what's the purpose of reacting that way?
He says that she blames him. She's angry at him. Basically feels that he ruined her life. My goodness, I can so relate to those sentiments, no matter how irrational they are. But my question is, why do we go there?
Is it really to escape the responsibility we have to ourselves?
Whose responsible for anyone's happiness? Well, no one, really. That's just the truth. We try to sugar coat insecurity with words like "duties" and "traditions", when in reality, their really fancy-ass ways of covering up everyone's universal sense of loneliness. Rather than be alone and contemplate the depth of life, let's get together, get drunk and dance. I've definitely chosen the latter many of times in my life, so I'm not knocking it--I'm just saying.
We continue our walk and he says, "Thanks for calling me today, Les. You're like my only friend. No one calls me. It's so nice that someone calls and asks me out for coffee." I laugh. He continues, "I'm serious, how do you get along here? I think the whole socializing thing here is really wacky. It's like if people haven't known you for at least 20 or so years, it's like they won't let you in to their little sacred social circle. How do you cope?" I laugh.
"I don't know. I think that's one of the reasons I moved away, to a foreign place, to be alone." So in some strange way, this highly indoctrinated socialization process that many Danes share, works for me.
"I don't know how you do it," he says, shaking his head in disbelief.
I forgot to mention that throughout our entire conversation, we had a bet going. The bet was to see how long we could go without using sarcasm, cynicism, cliches, and slang. We ended up getting into a great conversation about the Roman Empire--I'm telling you, if you haven't studied your Roman history, you are in for a treat. But it's not even just Roman history, I love all kinds of history. Like how the Germanic tribes defeated Rome and prevented them from pushing beyond the Rhine, and how many of the earlier cultures, throughout Europe, were quite similar to many other indigenous cultures around the world, before Christianity was introduced. History can't help but reveal the fact that we are more connected than we are led to believe. And when I say history, I mean, all sorts of histories. Some of the best historical books I have read have been published by small presses. The idea is to seek new, fresh ideas, see how they gel with your own contemplation and experience where that takes you. That is the joy of learning. That is how true education can be administered.
Bobcat the cat is gone. It was nice having him around, but I felt sad for him. I could tell he was bored to death being locked up in an apartment. Lucky for him, he is not outside enjoying the great outdoors. I want animals in my life, but I want them to be able to be outside when they want to. Which always leads me to the so far unanswerable question of, where do I really want to live?
I see myself in a house with a garden and I don't want neighbors.
Wherever could that be?
The adventure begins. And I wouldn't mind, in the end, building my own house, either. That would be super cool.
(On the Capricious Nature of Happiness)
It would seem
that one
can
not
have
Happiness
Without
Angriness.
Which
in all
respects
is akin
to
Madness.
Sadness.
farvel,
the lab
