Responsibility is the thing. It's a central spoke, a towering pillar. A key to many, many kitestrings. Some people call it Karma, which is a subtle little nuance of the interpreting of that particular word I enjoy. 'I did this shameful, poorly thought out/immature thing back then with regards to this persons family/friends/associate in some way and so now it is my Karma to be abused/disrespected by this person, and I must handle it with grace and decorum..'. It's an interesting way to look at things. Mildly fatalistic - well, okay very fatalistic but for all of that I don't find it void of merit. It is a viewpoint and way of life that from the outset seems designed to disabuse people of their childish egotism. We, all of us, pay for everything. All of the time.
Some people would indeed call that Karma. I call it life, and it isn't all bad once you get to the chewy center. Sometimes it's even kind of pleasant.
You have to stay mindful of your surroundings though. Even the smallest thing could have repercussions that are far-reaching and unavoidable, though, in saying that, life shouldn't be about avoiding responsibility, karma, repercussions. An impossible goal anyway, a ridiculous goal. It's about choosing your battles. Weighing every situation, taking the temperature of your relationships at pre-decided points and responding accordingly. Being a politician, essentially, one of those smutty, slimy used car salesmen that pull our puppet strings from afar and make us dance to their tedious tunes. A holistic politician though, one in tune, plugged in, switched on and cognizant of his or her Karma. I have this and that and those advantages so I won't be unsettled by this and that and those hurdles or setbacks. We live, we age, we gain mental and spiritual weight... but none of us crumbles until we agree to. That's what I think anyway. Nobody is free from karma, from fate - whatever you define such a thing as - from responsibility, and those who strain to be so are on a collision course with hard reality. Icarus, sun, etc.
It's something that's been on my mind lately and for the first time really. I have so much in life - and I've paid hard prices along the way too - but people don't stop paying. That isn't how it works, I don't think. Nobody's foothold is so secure that a slip or fall is impossible. So what are my responsibilities, while I am up here, on this particular mountain? To myself, to my family, to my friends - and on the larger scale (the scale I don't often adjust my vision enough to encompass) to the community, the country, the world? Am I to be selfless? A warrior of righteousness, humbly pointing out the way with regurgitated platitudes and recycled, microwaved wisdom... Probably not. Am I the family man, the 'our side, right or wrong!' believer, the down home, country bred, blue collar scholar..? I tend to think not. I am both of those things, in part, and I am a thousand other things - in part. But none of them really defines me. Perhaps that's what I'm trying to communicate in this missive, this doomagram from lyle land; I feel ill-defined. My karma's nature seems opaque to me and my responsibilities remain mysterious. I could do that or this or the other thing, no doubt about it really; but should I?
*
Through-out all this speculation and soul-searching (a term I use reluctantly) one idea shines forth as brightly as it ever has, the concept, the ideal .. of the Artist's solitary path. His quest inward transposed to outward rumination, by virtue of the Manifest, of the medium. The responsibility there being translucent and shimmering, as sweetly tempting as any siren's song; Responsibility to the Self, for the benefit of the Self (O glorious self!) and thus, by extension - for the benefit of all. Inner revolt achieved by bringing about external chaos - words of a dead man - but vital still. Whatever relief these ideas bring me in my continuing vortex of ambiguity is short-lived however. Even with art, the manifest, the medium - my options are virtually limitless. Not only in ways to say something but in things to say, I could veer into almost any direction and feel justified. Integrity intact. I could write smarmy, sub-par witticisms for a publication - people still read, some of them, the rumors are true - but should I? Is all I am a comedy writer for a bad television show at the end of the day? Canned laughter and weekly paycheck, see you again on Monday. I could make music, dissonant, atmospheric trip-slop - but should I? Whose life would I really be enriching by inflicting manifest internal discordance on the world? More pressingly, would I be fulfilling my myriad responsibilities by doing so? Endless. The waves in this particular ocean are endless, I can only swim above water for so long. I'll think on it some more, keep you posted. Maybe there is no answer because it's a question only I am asking. Perhaps none of it matters outside my own mind, that all this dilly-dallying is redundant and pointless (c whut eye did i thar?) and my own path has already been chosen for me. That this introspection and fruitless wondering is simply my Karma, my overdue fine come collection day. Maybe.
No comments:
Post a Comment