The Schopenhauer Cure(90)
“Well said,” responded Philip. “I have mixed feelings. I liked Gill’s support, and at the same time I’m wary of liking it. Rely on others to do battle for you, and your own musculature will atrophy.”
“Well, I’m going to reveal more of my ignorance,” said Tony, pointing to the handout. “This boat story, Philip—I really don’t understand it. You told us last week you were going to give Julius something comforting, and yet this story about a boat and passengers—I mean, to put it bluntly, I don’t know what the fuck gives here.”
“Don’t apologize,” said Bonnie. “I told you, Tony, that you almost always speak for me—I’m as confused as you are about this ship and gathering shells.”
“Me too,” said Stuart. “I don’t get it.”
“Let me help,” said Pam. “After all, interpreting literature is how I earn a living. First step is to go from the concrete—that is, the ship, the shells, the sheep, and so on—to the abstract. In other words, ask yourself: what does this ship or voyage or harbor represent?”
“I think the ship stands for death—or the journey toward death,” said Stuart, glancing at his clipboard.
“Okay,” said Pam. “So, where do you go from there?”
“Seems to me,” Stuart replied, “the main point is don’t pay so much attention to details on shore that you’ll miss the boat’s sailing.”
“So,” said Tony, “if you get too caught up in shore stuff—even having a wife and kids—then the boat might sail without you—in other words, you might miss your death. Big deal—is that such a catastrophe?”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, Tony,” said Rebecca, “I also understood the boat to be death, but when you put it that way I see it doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t get it either,” said Gill, “but it doesn’t say you’ll miss death; it says you’ll go to it trussed up like the sheep.”
“Whatever,” said Rebecca, “but this still doesn’t feel like therapy.” She turned to Julius, “This is supposed to be for you. Do you find any comfort in this?”
“I’ll repeat what I said last time to you last week, Philip. What I get is the knowledge that you want to give me something to ease my ordeal. And also that you shy away from doing that directly. Instead, you choose a less personal approach. Sets a future agenda, I think, for you to work on expressing your caring in a more personal way.
“As for the content,” Julius continued, “I’m confused also, but this is how I understand it: since the boat might sail at any time—that is, since death could call us at any point—we should avoid getting too attached to the things of the world. Perhaps it warns us that deep attachments would make dying more painful. Is this the message of consolation you’re trying to give me, Philip?”
“I think,” Pam interjected before Philip could answer, “that it falls into place better if you think of the ship and the journey not as representing death but what we might call the authentic life. In other words, we live more authentically if we keep focused on the fundamental fact of sheer being, the miracle of existence itself. If we focus on “being,” then we won’t get so caught up in the diversions of life, that is, the material objects on the island, that we lose sight of existence itself.”
A brief silence. Heads turned toward Philip.
“Exactly,” responded Philip with a hint of enthusiasm in his tone. “My view exactly. The idea is that one has to beware of losing oneself in life’s distractions. Heidegger called it falling or being absorbed in the everydayness of life. Now, I know you can’t abide Heidegger, Pam, but I don’t believe his misguided politics should be permitted to deprive us of the gift of his philosophical insights. So, to paraphrase Heidegger, falling into everydayness results in one’s becoming unfree—like the sheep.
“Like Pam,” Philip continued, “I believe the parable warns us against attachment and urges us to stay attuned to the miracle of being—not to worry about how things are but to be in a state of wonderment that things are—that things exist at all.”
“Now I think I’m getting your meaning,” said Bonnie, “but it’s cold, abstract. What comfort is there in that? For Julius, for anyone?”
“For me, there is comfort in the idea that my death informs my life.” Philip spoke with uncharacteristic fervor as he continued, “There is comfort in the idea of not allowing my core being to be devoured by trivialities, by insignificant successes or failures, by what I possess, by concerns about popularity—who likes me, who doesn’t. For me, there is comfort in the state of remaining free to appreciate the miracle of being.”
“Your voice sounds energized,” said Stuart, “but I also think this seems steely and bloodless. It’s cold consolation. Makes me shiver.”
The members were puzzled. They sensed that Philip had something of value to offer but, as usual, were confused by his bizarre manner.
After a brief silence Tony asked Julius, “Does this work for you? I mean in terms of offering you something. Does it help you in some way?”
“It doesn’t work for me, Tony. Yet, as I’ve said,” he turned toward Philip, “you’re reaching out to give me something that works for you. I’m aware, too, this is the second time you’ve offered me something I’ve not been able to make use of, and that must be frustrating for you.”