Saturday, 23 October 2021

The integration of violence into society

 

A few years ago, there was an upsurge of learners physically attacking teachers in South African schools. The teachers could not retaliate because the law forbade it. There seemed to be an asymmetry (beyond the minor-adult axis) regarding the meting out of justice in these situations; a teacher would be in more trouble if he retaliated then the learner would be for assaulting the teacher in the first place. This asymmetry left teachers at the mercy of learners and learners took advantage of this. It became a rather contentious topic on 702 and I recall quite a considerable number of its listenership advocating for the reinstitution of corporal punishment. At the time I thought it was the worst idea; living in one of the most violent countries, the last thing we needed was another tributary through which more violence could flow. I felt that in order for violence to be curbed; it should be eradicated from society entirely. For me it seemed disingenuous and lazy for us to discuss ‘gender based’ violence without discussing the number of men who kill other men in South Africa, or the number of women who inflict violence on men knowing that society would not even bat an eyelid because of an unfortunate masculinity construct. There is a toxicity in femininity that relies on this and will goad, taunt and provoke men to no end knowing that he cannot in any way respond physically because the law will come down, ton of bricks, hard on him. Because, as is often the case in society, men are not really seen beyond their utility; parts of their humanity is thwarted or ignored altogether. Men are complicit in this as well. Men are not meant to have feelings, they are not meant to react in any way to provocation and when an armed burglar breaks into a man’s home at 3am, he (as a man) is meant to leave his wife in bed and confront the burglar by himself and risk his life. His life seems by virtue of being a man disposable i.e. how in The Titanic, women and children were first on the lifeboats. There are men who will read the few sentences above and see zero conflicts regarding what I’ve articulated. They internally and impulsively assent to ideas that men are supposed to protect their families, cannot show emotional displays (interpreted as weakness), and irrespective of what women do, the men can never lay hands on women. If this blog had appeared on any mainstream media, this is the part of the blog where folks stop reading, put on their virtue signalling T-shirts and cancel me. But before roll your eyes and label me as anti-women or pro-GBV, bear with me for a second. I am not in any way arguing for GBV, as a woman myself it should be obvious why this cannot be the case. What I have been arguing for is a violence-free society (think Scandinavian). As a caveat, I’d like to draw attention to the observation that South Africa’s violence is a symptom of inequality and there is no way that the violence conversation can take place before the inequality one has. Inequality aside, I saw a society where men wouldn’t raise their hands to women; women wouldn’t raise their hands to men; men wouldn’t raise their hands to women; learners wouldn’t raise their hands to teachers, vice versa and so forth. Importantly and indispensably, it is a society of mutual respect and understanding that our ability to inflict violence on one another is ever present; that we should treat each other in a way that doesn’t wittingly poke and trigger those parts. It would not be a society where violence becomes impossible but where violence becomes unnecessary. It would be a society where a man does not have to bear the yoke of protecting his family, existentially and financially, because there would be nothing potentially-violent he would need to protect his family from. While I’m lost in fantasies of this utopic non-violent society, Tyson Yunkaporta comes and drops his book Sand Talk on to my society. Like a house of cards, my society flattens at the impact. I had to begin ideating afresh on violence. The great thing is that I already had a cornerstone to begin with: the acknowledgment that the ability to respond violently is very much a part of the makeup of being human. I guess I have been Ariscratle from Ice Age 4 imploring Scrat and the rest of society, ‘No! Stop! Brother [and sister], rise above this base desire to be more than a [primate- of the chimpanzee variety].’ With this capstone and Sand Talk, I started rebuilding.


In Season 5 of The Real Housewives of Potomac, Monique Samuels assaulted another cast member, Candiace Dillard and most of the other cast members reproached Samuels and she was ostracised and Dillard herself was spared rebuke even though her actions were instigative. Consequently, Samuels is no longer a part of the show. Samuels heightened already high tensions by tweeting ‘ask and you shall receive’ post altercation. Her co-stars condemned her behaviour as morally reprehensible as the tweet showed that she lacked remorse for her actions. She subsequently kowtowed to the pressures that be. I thought her behaviour was a natural consequence of the provocation. You push people hard enough and they will push back. You go around daring people, one day someone will call your bluff. In Seriously Funny, Kevin Hart has a bid about precisely this. And of course, the hackneyed ‘a lady doesn’t behave like that’ reprimand from all other cast members. This brings me to the domestication of people.

 

 Yunkaporta has a rather interesting hypothesis regarding the mass scale domestication of people. He posits that the Prussians invented adolescence to extend the developmental period of children into adulthood. This adolescence allowed the Prussians to retard the populations’ social, emotional and intellectual maturation so that they would be easier to control; creating a permanent state of child-like compliance in adults. This domestication was exported to Nazi Germany and then to America. His hypothesis does coincide with menarche but it conflicts with the neurobiological finding that the human brain only fully develops at the age of 25 unless this finding is correlated to the retardation. I think his hypothesis is compelling and if that was the only thing I had found insightful in Sand Talk, it would have been completely worth the read. It is still something I need to mull over; the jury is still out on whether his hypothesis is poppycock or pure genius. I do however want to spend time a bit of energy on the domestication of human beings because our current human conditioning would have made us easy prey to the sabre-tooth if we were placed in those settings, that’s if we didn’t die of starvation because persistence hunting is no joke. Yunkaporta points his finger to public education but I would like to point to more nuanced techniques that I myself have fallen for, repeatedly. This particular technique is courtesy to the English and the residual culture they left in their wake when South Africa became a Republic in 1961. When I was in primary school we were often referred to as young ladies. Obviously this was the Pygmalion Effect in full force and my nine-year old self had zero fighting chance against such psychological weaponry. Whenever a teacher referred to us as ‘young ladies’, we would beam with all the pride we could muster without putting our ladyship in question with vainglory. That referral, however, was not just an acknowledgment of the self but an invitation to step further and firmer into our ladyship. The principal of the school at the time was the epitome of a lady: never raised her voice even in anger, always composed, poised, immaculate, articulate, unhurried and the entire student body adored her. To emulate her was an ambition harboured by many female learners. So there we were: tempering our loud natures, walking across the quad instead of running, having our hair tied back at all times and blunting our sharp tongues. Later, it dawned on me that this whole turn ‘girls into ladies’ thing was a restraining, a domestication. I had inadvertently zipped up my own lips; placed fetters and handcuffs on my own feet and hands. I am wild now, untamed, let loosed; resembling an older Sandy Crood, or at least attempting to.

Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club, in conversation with Tom Bilyeu says that the number one preoccupation people have is ‘looking good’ and showing the world that you ‘have it all together’. Woe to him who gets flustered in public. Being taught to be a lady was being trained to look good in thought, word and deed. The same thing has been done to men; a gentleman shows the outmost restraint, suffers silently under heavy constraints and is chivalrous. In societies where violence is equated with savagery; unsophistication and the efforts of desperate people who have not cultivated any other alternatives as a response to life’s provocations. This perception has also led to the damsel in distress trope. In the face of danger, a lady doesn’t raise her hands but must rely on a man facing the danger on her behalf, putting his own life in harms away. A woman must act like a lady by sitting and waiting on a man to act like a gentleman. This is some co-dependent toxic shit. Just imagine with me if you will, a lady dropping her ladyship, picking up a weapon of self-defence and pulling a Jenko & Schmidt from 22 Jump Street or a Mike and Marcus from Bad Boys, standing back to back facing the threat from all sides with the camera panning in slow motion. Impossible? No. Implausible? No! Improbable? Most definitely. Not because women can’t learn to fight but because have been weakened more and more through domestication. Women don’t fight. Most women have no agency in the face of danger. They freeze. While men have been given options in the face of danger: fight, flight or appease. Just as a lion at the lion park approaches the fence of an enclosure when it spots a human child (easy prey) on the other side of the fence. There are men who see women in the same light. They see easy prey. They are predatory because they know they’ll mostly get away with anything they do to women. In Vagabond by Lerato Mogoatlhe she shares an account of a man attempting to force himself on her and she fights back. I remember picking up her book, reading the blurb and being both excited and afraid at the same time. Here was a woman, very much like myself demographically, who travelled the continent on very little money and alone. My domestication reflex kicked in right on cue: What? No male chaperone? And my neo-cortex shows up on the scene (late as always) and I have to remind myself that she’s an adult. She should be able to go wherever she wants and do whatever she wants to do without being afraid. The domestication of women has not only been accomplished through their physical weakening but like the domestication of dogs, there has been an invisible leash placed around them that keeps them in their very well air-conditioned and artificially lit kennels. Not a lot of women would do what Mogoatlhe did. A lot of women die having not heeded the inner call to adventure or not trying new things they really want to because of safety or looking good or the other tamings of society. Lebo Mashile writes in her poem There is a me that I could be:

There is a me that I could be/ If I could just let her breathe outside/ A thundering song that I could sing/ If I just let her breathe outside/ There is a me who lives unseen/ She paces the corridors inside.’

Yunkaporta sums up the domestication of women in this way. ‘Everywhere civilisation goes, most women are excluded from active participation in violence and then domesticated into a twisted, soft, flouncing version of femininity… In Asia, the Middle East and Europe, in every civilization, women are forced to adopt a passive role, their bodies confined and weakened until they are at the mercy of the men around them… the subjugation of women is perpetuated by multiple means. The myth of romance is political. It is a myth about male-dominated hetero couples, where an incomplete woman is completed by her relationship with her partner. Patriarchy naturalises this sexual identity, masking the cultural construction of the feminine, thereby continually reproducing women in a subordinate position… when it was found that Neanderthal women carried much the same suite of bone injuries as men, there was a brief silence before ‘men were hunters and women gatherers’ narrative continued unchallenged… When I think of the worst public beating I ever received from a woman, resulting in three busted ribs, a knife through my hand and half my hair pulled out, I recall that the non- Aboriginal observers of that fight ignored the power of that magnificent woman and focused on my weakness as an individual who had somehow let my sex down. The onlookers, both male and female were so disgusted with my poor performance that they didn’t even bother calling an ambulance, leaving me to crawl my bloody way home.’ So again I ask: Improbable? Yes, but it doesn’t have to be.

 

Palahniuk says that his work scratches away at the gossamer of looking good; allowing people to confront their shadow selves (including people’s propensity for violence), to integrate it into themselves, and lastly celebrate it because it is a part of being human. Yunkaporta, ‘Creation started with a big bang, not a big hug: violence is part of the pattern. The damage of violence is minimised when it is distributed throughout a system rather than centralised into the hands of a few powerful people and their minions [or one gender of the population]. If you live a life without violence, you are living an illusion, outsourcing your conflict to unseen powers and detonating it in areas beyond your living space. Most of the Southern hemisphere is receiving that outsourced violence to supply what you need for the clean, technological, peaceful spaces of your existence. The poor zoned into the ghettoes of your city are taking those blows for you, as are the economically marginalised who fill your prisons. The invisible privilege of your technocratic, one-sided peacefulness is an act of violence. Your peace- medallion bling is sparkling with blood diamonds. You carry pillaged metals in your phone from devastated African lands communities. Your notions of peaceful settlement and development are delusions peppered with bullet holes and spears. Violence exists and it must be carefully structured within rituals governed by the patterns of creation and the laws of sustainable cultures derived from those patterns. Violence employed in these highly interdependent and controlled frameworks serves to bring spirit into balance and hold in check I-am-greater-than deception… Every organism in existence does violence, and benefits from it in reciprocal relationships. Domesticated beings are stripped of this reality, and become passive recipients of violence- either its benefits or its cruel impacts. They devolve as a result.’ This shares the same sentiment with what Jordan B. Peterson once said in his Maps of Meaning series. He said that the reason why we don’t resort to our primal reptilian brain is because everything is working as it should be. If there were serious food shortages for example, we would shrug off our civility to survive. It would be Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago. We saw a hint of this in our avaricious hording behaviour with the impact of the Corona virus. All of a sudden, shops had to interfere and restrict the amount of non-perishable food people were buying because at that point, it didn’t matter if other people got food or not.

And also, with the Scandinavian example; as ‘peaceful’ as it is, now and then violence bubbles to the surface. A few days ago, a man went on a shooting (bow and arrow) spree killing five people. We can repress violence but we run the risk of having no say in how it will erupt and how extensive the damage will be; uncontrolled violence is also gratuitous. Yunkaporta writes, ‘There is controlled violence versus uncontrolled violence, hidden violence and public violence, violence born from colonisation and dispossession. There is also an argument to be made for white systems perpetrating non-traditional violence so that members of marginalised groups remain cornered about these things and not with the decisions that are being ‘made for us’ in a wider socio-political sense.’ Violence is not just physical; violence is poverty, carnism, erasure of cultures, arbitrary hierarchies, incarceration without rehabilitation, the commodification of people and the environment etc. Erick Godsey in conversation with Michael Phillip of the Third Eye Drop podcast, says that we should take our cues from nature. Yunkaporta supports this view as well, ‘Violence is part of creation and it is distributed evenly among all agents in sustainable systems to minimise the damage it can do. We follow creation, so we must all have high levels of competence when it comes to conflict.’ Godsey takes it further and says one of the problems with modern day society is that ‘we are heads cut off from our bodies’ which is why Ian Tattersall says that ‘The only ironclad rule of human experience has been the Law of Unintended Consequences.’ While we lived in smaller tribes, unintended consequences could be rectified and equilibrium in the system re-established. Unfortunately global village consequences are exponentially catastrophic which is how we have found ourselves in the climate change predicament, amongst other things. And because we are disembodied; we have lost the ability to recalibrate to nature’s patterns. We have lost the patience to wait and see how the changes we make on the earth affect the rest of the system before changing something else. Before we ourselves have assimilated a change into ourselves, a new one is thrust upon us by occupying powers and on each other. We have literally lost touch of reality. We have all this information and technology and our heads are spinning at the speed of 260 Mbps but our bodies are still at the beginning of the race; asking like that infamous South African ghost: ‘Waar is my kop?’ The Law of Unintended Consequences remains and the consequences will naturally follow; whether we like it or not. Jonathan Pageau of The Symbolic World had his house flooded in 2019 because a dyke had broken. Despite the stress of having most of his and his family’s possessions destroyed, he asked a sensible question: Where is the water supposed to go? In Nadia Owusu’s Aftershocks, she describes how all the people who die as a result of an earthquake are killed by the manmade structures around them. The earth is have said to have gone through 5 mass extinctions and I’m pretty sure they were violent affairs. Nature, will always auto-correct. With our big brains, we could have let nature set the rhythm so we could exist in tandem with it; moving along the grain; advancing with its patterns; able to anticipate and dance with it. But we’ve chosen to strong arm it as we have done with one another  and the violence of nature’s autocorrect (homeostasis) of our unintended consequences may lead to our demise which will likely be a protracted painful death; as the planet becomes even more inhospitable for and hostile to us. Yunkaporta says that violence has to be distributed among all agents to mitigate the damage, similarly Jamie Wheal’s recapturing of the rapture has to be distributed among all agents. Elon Musk is not going to save us.

 

One of the most violent occurrences that take place daily and should then reinforce the indispensability of nature’s timing in the activities of human beings; and that is childbirth. Childbirth is violent for the mother and the child. Maybe it’s modern day medical advancements (epidurals, caesareans, inductions, germ theory etc.) have made it less harrowing. Even with the hormones that flood the system of the mother to dilute the violence so that she heals well and that allows her to remember childbirth in sepia tones so that she would still want to procreate in the future; the violence still exists. There was a time in our not so distant past when childbirth was truly touch-and-go. Maternal and/or neonatal death was common and likely. Creation started with a big scream, and the hug came only after. Human beings have fully wrapped their heads and bodies around the gestation period of a human foetus. They know that they run all sorts of risks by either shortening or lengthening that period. A cautionary tale, perhaps, on not dilly-dallying with regards to climate change and all the other percolating elements that came as a result of our heads floating around without bodies. Another lesson childbirth extends to us is that violence doesn’t have to lead to trauma. I think trauma is one of the biggest threats to the survival of human beings. Systemic violence has produced trauma that has lasted generationally and psychologically crippled large populations which is really counterproductive to our existence. In summary, a good childbirth is not one without violence; it is one where violence is integrated, is shared, timely, where both mother and infant survive without trauma. Therefore, a good society is not one without violence, it is one where violence is integrated, is shared, timely, where human beings and the earth survive without trauma.

Sunday, 3 October 2021

The Courage to be Ordinary

 

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasm, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.

BrenĂ© Brown’s Daring Greatly, is titled after the last two words of Theodore Roosevelt’s The Man in the Arena speech. She begins the book with the quote and returns to it as she wraps the book up. Perhaps at this point your pupils are darting from one side to the other or your brow is furrowed in an attempt to reconcile daring greatly with being ordinary; intuition would put these very far apart on the continuum of being. But I see them essentially communicating the same message: That of showing up in your life in the way only you can. And that requires a lot of courage because we are inundated with a lot of things that would make showing up difficult and sometimes debilitating.

 

The title of this blog is inspired by Paul Tillich’s seminal work The Courage to Be. Tillich writes extensively of how we are in the grips of an anxiety crisis and how this anxiety threatens our ability to BE in this world. He differentiates it from fear because fear can be faced, analysed, overcome and even endured. Fear always appears as a definite object and therefore in a way makes room for you to participate in it; you have agency and while it may not be easy facing the objects of your fears; it is entirely possible through courage. Whereas, anxiety is a pernicious thing in that it permeates everything, the very air you breathe and therefore it cannot be faced as you would fear. As a result it threatens your very agency; because how do you begin to fight that which you can’t even point out or localize? Tillich writes ‘Anxiety is finitude, experiences as one’s own finitude… it is the anxiety of nonbeing, the awareness of one’s finitude as finitude… it expresses itself in loss of direction; inadequate reactions, lack of intentionality… the reason for this sometimes striking behaviour is the lack of an object on which the subject (in the state of anxiety) can concentrate. The only object is the threat itself, but not the source of the threat itself, the source of the threat itself is ‘nothingness’.’ This ‘nothingness’ is where courage is really needed. It is quite easy to be courageous in the face of things that affirm your being, perhaps courage is not even needed there but courage is necessary in the face of things that threaten your being; the nonbeing. Which is why Tillich’s writes ‘courage is the affirmation of one’s essential nature, one’s inner aim or entelechy, but it is an affirmation which has in itself the character of ‘in spite of’.’ This ‘in spite of’ comes in many different forms and Tillich elucidates on these forms which basically mark the human condition today; what the modern man is facing. ‘There are three types of anxiety according to the three directions in which nonbeing threatens being. Nonbeing threatens man’s ontic self-affirmation relatively in terms of fate, absolutely in terms of death. It threatens man’s moral self-affirmation, relatively in terms of shame, absolutely in terms of condemnation. It threatens man’s spiritual self-affirmation, relatively in terms of emptiness, absolutely in terms of meaninglessness.’ In the words of the Apostle Paul, ‘we are hard pressed on every side’ and with depression being the leading cause of ill health and disability in the world; some of us are crushed.

 

In W. H. Auden’s The Age of Anxiety, he writes: ‘We would rather be ruined than changed/ we would rather die in our dread/ Than climb the cross of the moment/ And let our illusions die.’ One of the reasons that some of us are crushed is because we have clung to the illusions that do not work for us anymore or we refuse to face the crisis that we are in. John Vervaeke in his Awakening from the Meaning Crisis series defines courage in a very specific Tillich- inspired way. He says courage is not just bravery (the facing of danger) nor is it just fortitude (the enduring of difficulty); courage is facing the meaning crisis head-on and rejecting anything that responds to the crisis in any way that is not good. Courage is a virtue; it involves the wisdom to see through the illusions and the distortions of fear or distress to what is truly good and to act accordingly.

 

One of the uncourageous ways that history has responded to the meaning crisis is through the adoption or implementation of pseudo-religious ideologies such as Nazism, Fascism, Marxism, Fundamentalism etc. which tried to resuscitate religion apropos Nietzsche’s death of God. Tillich writes ‘The anxiety of emptiness is aroused by the threat of nonbeing to the special contents of the spiritual life. A belief breaks down through external events or inner processes: one is cut from creative participation in a sphere of culture, one feels frustrated about something which one had passionately affirmed, one is driven from devotion to another to another because the meaning of each of them vanishes. The contents of the tradition, however excellent, however praised, however loved once lose their power to give content today. And present culture is even less able to provide the content. Anxiously one turns away from all concrete contents and looks for an ultimate meaning, only to discover that it was precisely the loss of a spiritual centre which took away the meaning from the special contents of the spiritual life. But a spiritual centre cannot be produced intentionally; and the attempt to produce it only produces deeper anxiety’ or as Vervaeke puts it ‘has drenched our world in blood’. Akwaeke Emezi in Dear Senthuran: A black spirit memoir, writes ‘Illusions are the best things to burn, I think, but some people consider such fires to be threats, and those who start them even worse’. Tillich himself courageously incinerated illusions against the Third Reich through more than 100 radio addresses that implored Germany, to recognize and reject the horrors of Hitler. Courage is always on the side of the good, and acts out against any illusions that detract from the good. The courageous dare greatly. Maya Angelou addressing Cornell University in 2008 said ‘Courage is the most important of the virtues, because without it no other can be practiced consistently, you can be kind and true and fair and generous and just, and even merciful, occasionally but to be that thing time after time, you have to really have courage.’ Angelou, Tillich, Vervaeke all have illustrated how courage is a virtue that points to other virtues, pointing to the true and the good i.e. the transcendentals. Tillich writes that courage does not eliminate anxiety, the existential nature of anxiety not allowing its removal, but courage can subsume the anxiety of nonbeing into itself. In order for this courage to be to not be threatened by nonbeing then the courage has to be powered by something that transcends both being and nonbeing. Vervaeke suggests that one of the ways you can face the meaning crisis is by moving from a horizontal teleological narrative (where you are caught in your personal history and future) into a vertical ontology where you ascend in terms of virtue; where you become more and more of yourself i.e. Platonic atonement or Aristotelean self-actualization. All these point to transcendence.

 

One of the ways the meaning crisis has reared its ugly head is in our culture’s obsession with purpose. People have been rendered catatonic by the need to live meaningfully or by the weight of feeling they are living purposeless lives. We are bombarded by cataracts of social media images and celebrities who seem to be killing this life thing and making a killing while at it; who seem to know what they are here for and meet every day with a vitality we crave and that exsanguinates the life out of us in comparison; that embroils us in the drama of the narcissism of small differences. Always trying to find the thing that makes us unique in comparison to others; that makes us believe we should be simply adored for who we are. Brown writes, ‘when I look at narcissism through the vulnerability lens, I see shame-based [shame lying between relative guilt and absolute condemnation] fear of never feeling extraordinary enough to be noticed, to be lovable, to belong or to cultivate a sense of purpose… I see through the cultural messaging everywhere that says that an ordinary life is a meaningless life… I know the yearning to believe that what I’m doing matters and how easy it is to confuse that with the drive to be extraordinary. I know how seductive it is to use the celebrity culture yardstick to measure the smallness of our lives. And I also understand how grandiosity, entitlement, and admiration-seeking feel like just the right balm to soothe the ache of being too ordinary and inadequate.

 

Meister Eckhart writes, ‘People should not worry so much about what they do but rather about what they are. If they and their ways are good, then their deeds are radiant. If you are righteous, then what you do will also be righteous. We should not think that holiness is based on what we do but rather on what we are; for it is not our works which sanctify us but we who sanctify our works.’ Let us not get caught up in the world’s insistence that our works should produce insta-money or insta-fame. Emezi calls this necessary work, The Spell. ‘The spell is clear: face your work. I inhale it like a meditation sometimes, to counter the panic of a life mutating too fast, when I wake up every day as a different person inside a different world. Everything else can shift however it wants, but the work will always be the work. No matter what changes, that instruction is still the same.’ We should also not buy into over-consumptive culture’s ideas about having something to show for our lives beyond actually showing up for our lives. As Phil Ford writes in his essay What was blogging?, ‘Hoping You’ll have something to show for your life is a mug’s game. What we want is something to show we’re living.


In his book, Tillich evokes the image of a knight in full armour riding his steed through the valley with death and the devil on either side of him. ‘Fearlessly, concentrated, confident. He looks ahead. He is alone but he is not lonely. In his solitude he participates in the power which gives him the courage to affirm himself in spite of the presence of the negativities of existence.’ Brown makes use of the man in the arena who stumbles, with a face marred with blood and sweat and dust. Both of these examples illustrating people showing up to the task or work at hand, in spite of. Emezi writes, ‘Even when seized by a thousand fears we can make strange and wonderful things simply for the sake of the strange and the wonderful, we can create without permission, we can [work] into the unknown.

 

In light of being stared down by what Tomas Bjorkman calls the meta-crisis: the interlacing of ecological, spiritual, existential, socio-economic, mental health crises of our time tied with the cultural pressures mentioned above; to be ordinary is itself a courageous act. To show up in spite of is to dare greatly. To decide for yourself what the meaning of your life will be (Viktor Frankl vibes) or to decide that life is meaningless (as Tillich says that the act of accepting meaninglessness is in itself a meaningful act). You can still show up in your life and in the lives of others, regardless what you choose to do with your life. Emezi writes, ‘The manual stays the same: to try until you can, to be bold and patient.’ To be excellent, to be good, to be courageous. To dare greatly with our eyes cast upwards. To say yes to life in spite of everything as Frankl’s recently released collection of essays is titled. Or as he puts it originally: Trotzdem ja zum leben sagen.