Rooting Out the Crabgrass (Fortitude IV)

          So, here we are, mammoths up to our elbows in self-doubt and societal tar.  Where do we find the strength to actually free ourselves from despondency?  Whence fortitude?  We may have some inkling of what we’re fighting against, but to what end? Just wanting to be free obviously isn’t enough. What are we persevering for?

         

          I’ve observed previously (“Too Little Butter Over Too Much Bread” & “Discrimination and Satisfying the Belly”) that there has to be something that moves us more powerfully than the satisfaction of our own whims or appetites. People want to be for something other than themselves, and that doesn’t mean we want to be society’s tool or a cog in the economic machinery of capitalism, or somebody else’s means to their ends. People want to have an effect in the world; they want what they do to matter.  It’s easier to overcome despondency (hopelessness) if there’s something worth working towards, something bigger than ourselves.

 

          Generally people think in terms of the myriad good causes to devote themselves to both locally and globally.  These are admittedly worthy, yet the twenty bucks we mail to the Darfur relief fund doesn’t fully extricate us nor assuage our longing for something more.  We personally didn’t do the work, our wealth did.  All right then, maybe we’ll feel less hopeless and personally ineffectual if we roll up our shirt sleeves and go out there and clean up the neighborhood on clean-up-the-neighborhood-day. Those “community” organized do-gooder days or serving at the soup kitchen one evening a week lifts our spirits initially, but isolated acts (even if habitually repeated) only provide a momentary release if after the fact we return to the mire of our same lives and attitudes. While laudable, these acts of charity have the same effect as the more reprehensible acts mentioned in the previous posts, in so far as they merely distract us from our predicament. While not nearly as debilitating, they are still no more than a temporary sublimation of dissatisfaction with the status quo.

 

          Well what to do then? It doesn’t mean we all have to devote the entirety of our lives to eradicating poverty, discovering the cure for cancer, or single-handedly ending the conflict in Darfur, Lebanon, Irag, Kosovo, Tibet, Sri Lanka, etc., etc., etc. (although we might!)  The point is not the grandeur of the action, (although the nature of the act must be good rather than evil) but rather that everything we do must be motivated by and advance the purpose that is our raison d’etre.

 

          Whence purpose?  The good works described above are the manifestations of dedication to higher ideals: things like the end of suffering or the advancement of justice.  These are themselves the manifestations of primary ideals: what is true or good or beautiful or best. So to begin, we must first examine our underlying principles, take a hard look at what moves us. Upon what are our actions grounded? Whom or what do we serve? What is the Aristotelian “prime mover” in our lives? 

 

          Not just any old purpose will suffice. Narcissistically serving ourselves doesn’t work, masochistically subsuming ourselves into the societal herd doesn’t either. If we really are motivated by greed (or lust, or anger, or fear, etc.), it’s unlikely that we’ll do anything more than end up drowning in the tar. We must choose to serve an ideal and then find the means of expressing that ideal in ways that are best suited to our skills and talents and circumstances. In this way, every act we engage in, from the smallest to the most grand, will reflect and advance that ideal.  If even the simplest action is imbued with the ideal, then despondency doesn’t have a chance.  Each tiny success is proof that there is hope. In essence, we need to stop looking for ways to make the tar pit of despondency homier and drag ourselves out by the leafy vine of self-denial and sacrifice on behalf of something greater.

 

          We also have to overcome our conviction that we personally can’t.  And here’s the rub.  Courage, fortitude, and perseverance are attained by being courageous, by enduring, and by persevering.  It’s about as infuriating as those lovely Japanese koans and Aristotelian tautologies.  But, it’s true.  While virtue may not be able to be taught, it can be learned, and the only way to learn this sort of thing is to examine and try to understand examples of it, and then try it ourselves.  To be virtuous, one must practice virtue. 

 

          So we have to decide not to give up.  Not just with a sigh and an “oh, well” but with a fierceness and unswerving devotion that brooks no argument. We have to be willing to be Don Quixotes serving our Dulcineas.  And that’s when fortitude is born.

 

          Dedicating ourselves to a purpose gives us the courage to get started.  A fierce devotion to our purpose, to that noble something which is greater than ourselves, is fortitude’s source.  It makes it possible to endure the inevitable hardships, rebuffs, and rebukes that, while personally daunting, become of little concern as our attention turns from ourselves to working on behalf of a higher ideal.     

 

          Will it be difficult?  Yes.  Will we fail from time to time?  Yes.  Will we look the fool?  Yes.  And we won’t care.  In fact, if anything, we’ll fight all the harder to preserve the dignity and virtue of our Lady Dulcinea Ideal.  To burn with devotion for a good and noble cause is sweeter and more lasting than any other reward. 

 

 

Magdalen

 

The problem is, what if you don’t feel fiercely devoted to anything?  What if, for you, there seems to be no Dulcinea?  That’s another topic for another day. But be of good cheer, there’s always another day.