Can I have my favourite things?
As a 5-year-old, there was nothing more enticing than the Sound of Music and Julie Andrews' singing voice (a friend recently accused me of being a fake fan for not knowing about Julie Andrews even though I loved the Sound of Music so much. She might be right, but in my defense, I was just 5!). Discovering the Stephen Hough transcription of My Favourite Things harks back to those blissful nights running away from the dinner table the moment I was done to indulge in the joy of watching the film. The cranky old computer served one sole purpose—for young David to have his daily dose of the Sound of Music. The good ol' days.
Then at some point, those days vanished. I entered elementary school, then I changed school, and then I moved to a smaller island. For five years I lived in an illusion of settlement, but no, life had its way and we shuffled on. Maybe continuing life under the red banners as a flower and a torchbearer of the Communist mission would have been a satisfying one, who knows. But life most likely would have been me living against the current, and that, that is not stable. That isn't what I want, nor is it what would make me happy.
Like any human being, I've long grappled with the wants and needs. Things slip away from your life like those streams flowing through your submerged hands in water—seamlessly and effortlessly. The moment you realize they are gone, it's too late. The needs fulfilled themselves without much push and the wants occasionally had their brief appeasements, but they quickly gave away to disappointment and, unsurprisingly, relegated themselves to the forgotten strand of memory.
Sometimes I do chase after the wants, at times desperately wishing their fulfilments. While occasional successes do present themselves, more often than not I found myself disappointed. Feeling sad, I look around and realize maybe it was all a futile effort—maybe I should've never wanted it. But what can you do, refuse your heart? Or swallow up the bitterness and move on? You think you've done so, but then they come out and out and again and again like an undying fountain. Except, in this case, the water is yellow and bitter, not youthful and magical. Really, you know all you are chasing after are the clouds—visible yet beyond reach. So, you sit down and stare blankly into the sky.
Why do we constantly chase after those unreachable things? Perennially, as if we aren't aware of our own limits. In trying to devise the most beautiful city, Plato's Socrates, Adeimantus, and Glaucon engage in discussions sweeping from education to the foundation of the economy to the who's and what's of sex and marriage. And after Socrates has constructed a "most beautiful city" with Adeimantus in which only the needs shall be provided, Glaucon objected, "it looks like you're making your men have a feast without any delicacies." Ah! Socrates agrees to examine such a city, where luxuries and delicacies are available, one where its men and women can fatten their bellies and indulge in the joys of lust and wealth. An "infected" city, he dubbed. Thus, desire, while natural, seems to ultimately constitute a fault, a sin.
Imagine a life without the fulfillment of desires, imagine a life without the joys and entertainment of books and movies, imagine life without the intricacies of human relations but just the barebones of necessity and exchange. It is unbearably pale and bleak, life loses its enjoyment and living reduced to a mere occupation.
But if desires are the pathogens to an "infected city," why must the lack of them be such an innate pain? Seeking them shouldn't be a fault, because it is the most natural inclination of any human being! Desire, with moderation, is what brings out the true self of a stray of sunlight—a spectrum of infinite colours. Did I need Julie Andrews and the Sound of Music? Surely not. But how heartless would it all have been, how colourless and dull would it all have been. I will be sad—we will all be sad—when our most heartfelt desires get swept away by the stream of life. But to look on with that tint of hope in our eyes and burying it in our hearts, that's what life should be like. Hopeful, but with a shade of blue, a slightly sad one.
Then at some point, those days vanished. I entered elementary school, then I changed school, and then I moved to a smaller island. For five years I lived in an illusion of settlement, but no, life had its way and we shuffled on. Maybe continuing life under the red banners as a flower and a torchbearer of the Communist mission would have been a satisfying one, who knows. But life most likely would have been me living against the current, and that, that is not stable. That isn't what I want, nor is it what would make me happy.
Like any human being, I've long grappled with the wants and needs. Things slip away from your life like those streams flowing through your submerged hands in water—seamlessly and effortlessly. The moment you realize they are gone, it's too late. The needs fulfilled themselves without much push and the wants occasionally had their brief appeasements, but they quickly gave away to disappointment and, unsurprisingly, relegated themselves to the forgotten strand of memory.
Sometimes I do chase after the wants, at times desperately wishing their fulfilments. While occasional successes do present themselves, more often than not I found myself disappointed. Feeling sad, I look around and realize maybe it was all a futile effort—maybe I should've never wanted it. But what can you do, refuse your heart? Or swallow up the bitterness and move on? You think you've done so, but then they come out and out and again and again like an undying fountain. Except, in this case, the water is yellow and bitter, not youthful and magical. Really, you know all you are chasing after are the clouds—visible yet beyond reach. So, you sit down and stare blankly into the sky.
Why do we constantly chase after those unreachable things? Perennially, as if we aren't aware of our own limits. In trying to devise the most beautiful city, Plato's Socrates, Adeimantus, and Glaucon engage in discussions sweeping from education to the foundation of the economy to the who's and what's of sex and marriage. And after Socrates has constructed a "most beautiful city" with Adeimantus in which only the needs shall be provided, Glaucon objected, "it looks like you're making your men have a feast without any delicacies." Ah! Socrates agrees to examine such a city, where luxuries and delicacies are available, one where its men and women can fatten their bellies and indulge in the joys of lust and wealth. An "infected" city, he dubbed. Thus, desire, while natural, seems to ultimately constitute a fault, a sin.
Imagine a life without the fulfillment of desires, imagine a life without the joys and entertainment of books and movies, imagine life without the intricacies of human relations but just the barebones of necessity and exchange. It is unbearably pale and bleak, life loses its enjoyment and living reduced to a mere occupation.
But if desires are the pathogens to an "infected city," why must the lack of them be such an innate pain? Seeking them shouldn't be a fault, because it is the most natural inclination of any human being! Desire, with moderation, is what brings out the true self of a stray of sunlight—a spectrum of infinite colours. Did I need Julie Andrews and the Sound of Music? Surely not. But how heartless would it all have been, how colourless and dull would it all have been. I will be sad—we will all be sad—when our most heartfelt desires get swept away by the stream of life. But to look on with that tint of hope in our eyes and burying it in our hearts, that's what life should be like. Hopeful, but with a shade of blue, a slightly sad one.
"When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favourite things
And then I don't feel so bad"
I feel like you cannot really truly experience pleasure without also having gone through misery. Similarly, you don't get to fully appreciate summer or spring without winter.
ReplyDeleteimo we're still young enough to chase after those desires instead of taking such a defeatist stance, do not go gentle into the good night!
ReplyDelete