Now that I'm eighty (80!) years old, it's time to think about what, if anything, I've learned. For many years now, I've been waiting for wisdom to kick in, but so far, no thunderbolts or grand illuminations. Yet I seem to have accumulated a number of maxims and cliches, which leads to the dispiriting conclusion that perhaps there's no difference between ordinary commonplaces and sophisticated wisdom. On the other hand, it is undeniably the case that I am a different person now than I was twenty or forty or sixty years ago, so perhaps all these years have produced some changes in attitude and behavior. What follows is the first installment of either "wisdom" or "commonplaces" -- take your pick.
Although it is true that there are psychopaths and sociopaths, there are very few of them. Almost all the people I've known over the years have been poor struggling mortals, like myself, trying to act decently and respectably. The difficult people with whom I've had to deal are pathetic rather than villainous. They act badly because of their own inadequacies, anxieties and fear, not because they are innately vicious. A surprising number of people have endured dreadful traumas and most of them have recovered to live satisfactory lives. There are some poor souls who compensate badly. They cause pain to us, but more to themselves. It's not true that to know everything is to excuse everything, but knowing people's stories certainly helps you to become more empathetic and understanding. My younger self was much harsher and less compassionate toward difficult people than my present self.
Genuine understanding between individuals is difficult and misunderstanding is rife. It's hard to translate what's in your head to your friend or neighbor, and just as hard to understand what's in someone else's head by words alone. If you're going to be surprised because someone misunderstood you, then you're going to spend half your entire lifetime in a state of dreadful shock. Although irony and understatement are most useful figures of speech, beware of them. There's nothing more awkward (and sometimes dangerous) than an ironic remark that is taken seriously, or a serious remark that is understood ironically. A meaningful exchange of ideas or insights can't be brief, because it takes time for a shred or glimmer of understanding to grow and ripen. If you want to have a real friend, make the time. Understanding someone else's brain is akin to Zeno's Paradox; you get halfway there but you never get all the way.
Everyone is engaged in "presentation of self." You meet someone new, and they tell you about themselves, but they're not really doing so in any profound way. They're not trying to. They're acting out the "presentation" that they've devised over the years. They offer you a handful of anecdotes which they think represent themselves. But the fun and the satisfaction only begins when that first mask drops away. In order to know someone, you have to ask a question that is not truly intrusive but manages to take your new friend (or old friend, for that matter), a hair's breadth apart from their usual style of presentation. Sometimes it's not worth the effort, but there are occasions when it can precipitate a worthwhile friendship. Too many conversations are not exchanges of information. A says something from his repertoire of self-presentations; then B, impatiently waiting his turn to talk about himself, responds with a nugget from his own store. No genuine communication takes place. This kind of exchange is disappointing and almost useless. We all generate these forms of presentation partly as a defense against revealing too much of ourselves and becoming vulnerable, and because we all have our own follies and weaknesses. So we act a role. The further the contrived role is from the true self, the more transparent and even offensive it becomes. It's hard for people to be true to themselves; it takes work.
More wisdom (or commonplaces) coming soon. Stay tuned.
Comments