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Sitaram · Site Admin Joined: 14 Sep 2005 Posts: 1079

Wisdom Comes Through Suffering

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I spent four years at a college where, twice each week, thirty people
would sit around a huge table, for 2.5 hours discussing a reading from the
"Great Books" in a most serious fashion.

In my Freshman seminar, there was one student, Larry, who for the first
several months remained utterly silent. Often, he would lay his head upon
his arms for prolonged periods of time.

Finally one day, a professor asked the question, "What did Odysseus
learn?"

Suddenly, Larry raised his head. We all sensed that he was about to
speak. We sat on the edge of our seats, our eyes wide opened, mouths
agape, mentally cheering and encouraging in our silence, "Yes, Larry?
Yes!"

And Larry said, "HE LEARNED TO SUFFER!"

And with that, plop, his head went back on his arms for several months.

After those several months of more sullen silence, the professor asked
"Why did Achilles act as he did?"

Again, Lo!, Larry's head rose up like some prophet, like some terrible
specter, like a vision, like a pillar of fire in Moses' desert.

We all began to tremble in expectation.

And Larry said, "BECAUSE HE WAS A MAN!"

And plop, head down, for the remainder of the year.

Larry had spoken!

Sitaram · Site Admin Joined: 14 Sep 2005 Posts: 1079

I often wonder if Larry is still alive. He was a fellow student, living in my
dorm building. He only lasted one year. He did not want to study or do the
readings. Writing poetry was his thing. In those days, writing poetry was
my thing too. A Greek professor who knew of Larry's interest suggested
that he approach me. I was shocked when he asked me about my poetry,
since I had not mentioned to anyone that I wrote. But that Greek
professor served as admissions director, so he knew each students high
school activities.

Larry was sullen and sulky and moody. I visited his room only once, and
he showed me a gorgeous, expensive set of illustrated J.R.R. Tolkein
(spelling?) books. I had tried to read Tolkein in high school, but in the
opening pages, I saw the thing about the Saks-Bagenzie (sp?) family
being S.B. or (S.O.B.) and I put the book down as being shallow. Perhaps
I should have given it more of a chance. At the end of the year, when he
was withdrawing from school and leaving, his relatives came. It seemed
like his family was well-to-do and that he had been indulged by several
women relatives who were hovering about him, comforting him, and
making excuses for his failure.

Imagine, if you were on a college rowing team. You are in a boat with 20
people, each one has an oar in hand, nineteen of them are rowing their
brains out, and one is just sitting their motionless, pouting, sulking. Thats
what it was like to be in class with Larry. I didn't hate the guy. I felt sorry
for him. He never really showed me a poem, but just recited a few lines.
What he recited sounded like a Dylan Thomas knock-off. What can I say.

Towards the end of that Freshman year, Larry stopped coming to classes
altogher. I felt some concern for the direction his life was going. I saw him
in the halls, and he invited me into his room and explained that he had
been drinking. I got the impression that he was using alcohol as an
excuse for failure, a crutch. I think he felt it was fashionable to drink and
sulk like a suffering artist. Larry's suffering was self-imposed,
meaningless suffering, suffering to no greater end or goal, and not the
sort of suffering from which wisdom comes.

Let's face it. Let's be honest with ourselves. Deep down, we all want to be
God, or Hemingway, or James Bond. As a teenager, I read Hemingway's
Moveable Feast, and thought to myself "Wow! I want to live in Paris, and
wear a beret, and sit in caberets and write short stories and sip cafe au
lait and see my work published in the New Yorker and the Atlantic
Monthly. I'm sure that Larry wanted the same thing that I wanted, that we
all want; recognition, success, fame, power.

Larry didn't really want to work for it. He wanted everything to jump in his
lap. I was willing to work for it, and did work, very hard, but never
succeeded in winning public acclaim and popularity.

How valuable is public acclaim and popularity really? As a child, I was
mesmerized by the radio broadcasts of humorist Allen Shephard. In his
last years, Shephard was a sinking star, and Howard Stern, who did not
possess even a fraction of Shephard's genius, was a rising star. Howard
Stern is little more than a pandering pimp having a bad hair day, who
could never measure up to the creative genius and originality of an Allen
Shephard.

The 1930's saw "Anthony Adverse" as a best seller. Nowadays, many
people have never heard of the book or its author. How many best sellers
of yesteryear suffer that same fate of obscurity?

Sitaram · Site Admin Joined: 14 Sep 2005 Posts: 1079

Someone once said:

"A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner, neither do uninterrupted
prosperity and success qualify for usefulness and happiness. The storms
of adversity, like those of the ocean, rouse the faculties, and excite the
invention, prudence, skill and fortitude or the voyager. The martyrs of
ancient times, in bracing their minds to outward calamities, acquired a
loftiness of purpose and a moral heroism worth a lifetime of softness and
security."

Is it the case that character is forged or is it merely revealed?

Sometimes, I think we are an onion to be peeled. Othertimes, I think we
are a potatoe to be baked. There are some eternal mysteries which are
not worth stewing over. Thinking is what causes most problems in the first
place, if you want my opinion. At least, that's what I think.

In the Upanishads, God is definitely an onion, to be peeled away layer
after layer with the knife of "Neti Neti" (not this, not this) on the cutting
board of apophatic theology.

For King Solomon, man is definitely a potatoe to be baked in the fire of
adversity:

"Every son whom the Lord loves he chastens, and scourges those whom
He receives, and casts their soul into the fire of adversity until they reach
a seven-fold purity."

Now, Hell is definitely not a fast-food chain, because the potatoes are
never done. But, if it WERE, I would definitely order everything "to go."

And peeling an onion is a tearful, sorrowful task. And, what do we look for
as we peel? All I ever find is, more onion, more onion, until finally, I find
no-onion-non-being at the core and center and heart of things.

Rachel · Posted: Fri Oct 21, 2005 10:58 am Post subject:

In my opnion, be it ever so slender, I deeply believe that adversity brings to the surface that which hinders us from reaching the depths of our destiny, and in suffering the truth of our hearts is revealed. It is like the man or woman who under great stress that has lasted a while looks at someone that thought he or she was their his/her friend and that one says coldly " i never could stand you" they may apologize after the fact and say they didn't mean it, but i don't buy it. It is in adversity our beliefs and loyalties are tested to the limit. it is when we see who we are and can go on from there.
the Bible says that Jesus the Christ, the Second Person of the Trinity, when come as man, clothed in flesh "learned from the things he suffered."

I have to say Sitaram that I think you sold yourself short by not reading Tolkien for the great and horrible sufferings of the man were poured into his work and show some of the greatest tests(especially the Unfinished Tales) and human tragedy and how it was dealt with that I have ever had the privelege to read.
And everyone has to have history. The name Sackville-Baggins was the group of one clan and had a lot of sorrow as well as happiness contained in it.
As for Larry, well we are all "once upon a time" aren't we. I mean we start off with a snow white page and go on from there. We can either be the hero of our tale, the evil antagonist or somewhere in between.
Whatever Larry's behaviour was the fact is you don't know what happened to him and for all we know he could have ended up surprising everyone. Many great people have had to pull themselves up from the dust and find themselves before going on to greatness whether in a big world or a smaller one.
_________________
The universe belongs to one who can look at the world as 'once upon a time' rachel

Dreyfus_1906 · Joined: 28 Jan 2006 Posts: 1 Location: New England

Most colleges have language requirements these days. Mine is no
exception. Having always been slow in that area, I decided to spend a lot
of money in a program that promised to deliver proficiency. It required a
two month stay in the isolated backwoods of New England where I spent
my summer before freshman year.

I met him at orientation: a thin, blond boy from the South. His eyes were
a little glassy, and he was quiet. However, this was after the entire camp
(for it was more like a camp than anything else) promised not to speak
English for the rest of the stay. He could not really say anything because
he was a beginner; I already had a year of the language under my belt.
After a few weeks, he started to talk, and the first thing he said to me
was: "Have you read Bartleby, the Scrivener?"

Now, I was surprised because that is not the sort of thing you say to some
relative stranger. Before I could answer, he continued,"Today I learned
the phrase 'I would prefer not to'. I think it is wonderful." Then he
repeated it as if some secret of life were contained in that negative
conditional. I told him it was a while since I read it, but that I remember
liking it very much. He laughed and walked off without saying goodbye.

He came up to me again the next day and started: "People generally think
that phrase is an existential statement. I disagree. If it had been an
existential statement, Bartleby wouldn't have wasted away." It was as if
the fragmentary conversation from the day before was still in the air.
Before I could reply, he continued: "Now, people compare him to Camus'
stranger but they are very different. The stranger did not disintegrate
and the stranger smiled in the end. Bartleby retreated." I asked him
whether he had retreated. "No, I like the phrase for another reason."
Then he left.

I did not see him for over a week. Even though this was a small program,
we were kept busy. Finally, one day after dinner, he saw me taking a
stroll. He walked over and said, "Even the idea that 'life is an idea' is so
weak that it has no more substance than what the phrase gives it." That
was the last thing he said to me.

The program concluded, and we were allowed to speak English again.
However, he was nowhere to be seen. His roommate told me he had
gone back to St. John's early for a clavichord recital. So he was from St.
John's.

Sitaram · Site Admin Joined: 14 Sep 2005 Posts: 1079

Delighted to see you here, Dryfus!

I was up all night Fri-Sat. trying to get a free chat room to work (it is
Java/IRC) for the forum http://www.ennisjack.com which is a discussion of
Brokeback Mountain (the movie).

So, not much time left, but I shall be back to read and reply.

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