Muslims and Lamas

When asked what surprised him the most about humanity, the Dalai Lama responded: "Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices his money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he doesn’t enjoy the present, and as a result he doesn’t live in the present or the future. He lives as if he’s never going to die, and then he dies having never really lived."

I couldn't help but drift off into an introspective nightmare the first time I read this quote. This was me. I had become the surprise. These words returned to me and I had the same kind of self-tormenting experience the other day in class as we discussed Qamar and His Two Sons. I literally have no memory of what Dr. Sexson said as his Holiness' words reverberated around my brain. But I do remember hearing about what Frye called our collective "mythological conditioning" (167). I remembered the indictment of our educational system and how I said "oh yeah, I guess that's true" when I looked back a few paragraphs and saw this: "The lowest level is that of the cliche mythology that soaks into us from early childhood...on this level social mythology is adjustment mythology, designed to produce the docile and obedient citizen" (166-7). Much like that movie, The Adjustment Bureau, our education system erases from the curriculum what it deems frivolous or dangerous or not according to society's plan. What's the use of stories that aren't even true? Why teach literature at all? Why not just teach "Language Arts?" That's what they called it in my K-12 school district. Language Arts - how hollow can you get? Stories have been dumbed down to teach "reading comprehension" and "vocabulary." But to what end? So that we can go on to college and become scientists and business people. The culmination of our education is the entry-level job, leading to the "life we are supposed to live." This is the life that the Dalai Lama, and I believe Frye, and Sexson, caution us against.

The "oh-shit" moment I had in Friday's class and the daymare it induced, I've realized, can be traced back to Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, or The Lion King or any number of cliche mythologies that whitewashes the truth and beauty of the original tales. Like the sheep I am, I bought it. I continue to buy it unless I can consciously remember why it is I don't want it. We patch our shoes, as if they will last forever, never bothering to throw them away and start fresh. They get so comfortable, our paths so well-worn, that we forget that suffering, that breaking in a new pair, is redemptive and perhaps worth the pain. We avoid suffering, we Disnify our lives, because it's easier. But what that ultimately does is creates a lie within us. I lie to myself in order to make it through the day. I spend forty hours a week at a job that is meaningless in exchange for money that buys meaningless things. Yet society considers me a productive member of my community. I pay my mortgage; I pay my credit card bill. I have health insurance and car insurance and a 401K. But am I living? If I died tomorrow, if Qamar struck off my head, would anyone tell my story? Would my son know who his father was, or even care? Would he think about my story and wonder how it fits into his life?

I'm 35 years old, but I'm now thinking and writing about things I haven't thought or written about in over a decade. That's good, I suppose. I'm not too old to, as Frye says, become more aware of my "own mythological condition" (167). Qamar is a ridiculous story. But it gets at a fundamental truth, which is that somewhere, in between the romantic and the tragic is laughter. This is the "zone of energy" Walter was getting at. Oranda Laughed - it sounds like the title of a novel - probably a romance. I think any one of us could now write it. We at least know how it would end. A happy ending doesn't have to be simple. Indeed, if Qamar and His Two Sons has taught me anything it's that romance is anything but simplistic. Somewhere in there lies the truth. As students of English Literature I think we all hope to be able to find it between the lines of sex and violence and redemption.

What's ironic about these stories is that most seem to place a high value on materialism and power. Yet the real lesson isn't that these things bring you happiness. It's that losing them, that suffering and pain, even torture, can be the greatest gift anyone has ever bestowed upon their royal heads. I don't really believe that my life would be better if only I were to be kidnapped by pirates or beaten to within an inch of my life or raped by my wife - posing as a man and reciting weird pornographic verses. But I do believe that adventure and pain can lead to a more rewarding life. I think the journeys these characters embark upon show us that we identify more with them as they suffer through their descent than we ever did with them sitting on a throne barking orders at servants. I think this is what is appealing in romance. Suffering is humanizing. It's not their characters, but what their characters must go through that allows us to identify with them. Sure, the romance ending can be cheesy and mushy and unbelievable, but what we all ultimately want is to be happy. We all want that ending in our own stories. But how interesting is a story without a descent? Not very. I think the same is true of our lives.

I'll leave you with some very wise words from Mr. Danny Devito. This is from a movie I saw a long time ago called The Big Kahuna. The whole five minutes are worth watching, but if you skip to 2:50 in the video, Danny's character begins talking about "character." The question I ask myself in these ancient romances is whether or not the characters learned anything from their suffering. Or, if they did, does it last? Does it make an impression on them that permeates their being? Does it "tatoo itself across their face?" Do they truly achieve individuation or, as Mr. Devito says "character?"