Romantic comedy
Sometimes, I wish I were more of a cynic. I think that it might ease my anxiety and lighten my days if I could convince myself to always expect the worse from the universe. Like many people, I tried cynicism on when I was in my late teens and 20s, but it never really took. My heroes have ended up being people like Mr. Rogers.
I don't expect the best, happy endings, good to triumph, love to conquer all. But I do still hope for it. And when life doesn't turn out that way, no matter how much I tell myself that I'll stay detached from it all, I end up feeling bruised. The truth is, I prefer it that way. I'm no masochist, but I like the fact that I can still be inspired and moved, that I'm still sentimental and even sappy.
I think of life as a kind of romantic comedy, a love story that will turn just when I least expect it. And when I say "romantic comedy," I have something very specific in mind. To me, a romantic comedy is a journey, a series of (mis)adventures in which some poor schlub--who generally takes him/herself too seriously--encounters another poor schlub who at first seems quite different. Through the experiences that follow, the two come to see what they have in common, and antagonism is transformed into respect, even love.
Of course, the schlub tends not to realize that he is one (which is one of the reasons he takes himself to seriously). He probably thinks he's a hero or a misunderstood genius or even a father whose children would have perfect lives if only they'd listen to him and stop being so defiant. If he's lucky, something unexpected happens, and he realizes his defiant children, far from being his opposite, are very much like him and that in fighting them he's been fighting against himself: his own stubbornness or anger or fear or insecurity, the things he sees in himself and doesn't like.
My life, like any good comedy, has turned on these sorts of surprising revelations. Just when I think I am one thing, I turn out to be another; just when I'm convinced that some aspect of myself is a liability that I have to get rid of, someone else helps me to realize that it's the very quality that makes me who I am.
Seeing life this way has helped saved me from cynicism. It's given me a kind of faith that dire judgments about who and what we are can't be taken to heart, even when circumstances say otherwise. It's always a good idea to wait until the final returns are in, and we never have a complete picture of ourselves until we get a glimpse of ourselves through the eyes of others.
That, of course, is the other lesson of romantic comedy. There are some parts of myself that I'll only see and appreciate and understand by connecting with other people. Everyone I know--whether friend, enemy, lover, family--can serve as a mirror for me if I know how to look and if I'm willing to recognize myself in them. And if, of course, I can give up being so serious all the time and learn to laugh.
I know that I'll often forget these lessons. I'm certain that before I know it, I'll be playing the serious schlub and complaining about how no one listens to what I'm trying to teach them. But then I also know I'll fall into the fun of romance--with those I love, with life and the universe and myself--all over again. Who can stay cynical in the face of that?
I don't expect the best, happy endings, good to triumph, love to conquer all. But I do still hope for it. And when life doesn't turn out that way, no matter how much I tell myself that I'll stay detached from it all, I end up feeling bruised. The truth is, I prefer it that way. I'm no masochist, but I like the fact that I can still be inspired and moved, that I'm still sentimental and even sappy.
I think of life as a kind of romantic comedy, a love story that will turn just when I least expect it. And when I say "romantic comedy," I have something very specific in mind. To me, a romantic comedy is a journey, a series of (mis)adventures in which some poor schlub--who generally takes him/herself too seriously--encounters another poor schlub who at first seems quite different. Through the experiences that follow, the two come to see what they have in common, and antagonism is transformed into respect, even love.
Of course, the schlub tends not to realize that he is one (which is one of the reasons he takes himself to seriously). He probably thinks he's a hero or a misunderstood genius or even a father whose children would have perfect lives if only they'd listen to him and stop being so defiant. If he's lucky, something unexpected happens, and he realizes his defiant children, far from being his opposite, are very much like him and that in fighting them he's been fighting against himself: his own stubbornness or anger or fear or insecurity, the things he sees in himself and doesn't like.
My life, like any good comedy, has turned on these sorts of surprising revelations. Just when I think I am one thing, I turn out to be another; just when I'm convinced that some aspect of myself is a liability that I have to get rid of, someone else helps me to realize that it's the very quality that makes me who I am.
Seeing life this way has helped saved me from cynicism. It's given me a kind of faith that dire judgments about who and what we are can't be taken to heart, even when circumstances say otherwise. It's always a good idea to wait until the final returns are in, and we never have a complete picture of ourselves until we get a glimpse of ourselves through the eyes of others.
That, of course, is the other lesson of romantic comedy. There are some parts of myself that I'll only see and appreciate and understand by connecting with other people. Everyone I know--whether friend, enemy, lover, family--can serve as a mirror for me if I know how to look and if I'm willing to recognize myself in them. And if, of course, I can give up being so serious all the time and learn to laugh.
I know that I'll often forget these lessons. I'm certain that before I know it, I'll be playing the serious schlub and complaining about how no one listens to what I'm trying to teach them. But then I also know I'll fall into the fun of romance--with those I love, with life and the universe and myself--all over again. Who can stay cynical in the face of that?
posted by A Pilgrim at 12:22 PM
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