Sometimes, life is ironic. Sometimes it’s comical. Sometimes it’s ironically comical, like when the founder of AA asked for a shot of whisky on his death bed only to be denied by the nurse. Or the fact that “the only losing basketball coach in University of Kansas history is James Naismith—the man who invented basketball in 1891” and that A Charlie Brown Christmas is a movie about over commercializing Christmas, yet, every year, is trimmed down by ABC in order to make room for more commercials (via).
Sometimes, though, life’s irony isn’t all that funny. Sometimes it’s hard, frustrating, and more than a little exhausting. Like now, after the long Thanksgiving break - a weekend set aside to rest, be with family, and acknowledge the many blessings we have - I feel more exhausted and more frustrated than before.
Maybe you can relate? Of trying hard to maintain a good and positive and productive spirit, of trying to be diligent with your attitude and conversations with family and friends, of trying day in and day out to be purposeful in who you are and what you’ve been given only to be knocked down by a carelessly spoken word, a moment of deep disappointment, or the constant burden of a nagging worry.
Or perhaps you feel more like the student who wrote me about an “inner panic,” that’s “hard to express” but makes them “feel holed up and small.”
I know I feel that way sometimes. And I hate it. Largely because I can’t necessarily pinpoint why I feel it or explain where it came from. And because I can’t explain it, I can’t name it. And because I can’t name it I’m not entirely sure how to deal with it.
Recently, though, I’ve begun to try. I’ve named it DOR, short for “the Dichotomy of Realities.”
Let me explain.
Although there are some very real, very immediate changes to my life since the outbreak of COVID-19, everything else seems relatively normal. I still have a job, my kids still go to school in an actual school building, and bills are still being paid. Life isn’t all that different. Yet, when I turn on the news, listen to podcasts, or hear stories of people both near and far, I see and hear a reality that is harsh and hard and often very scary, and I just can’t make sense of it. How can what I see and hear be in such contrast to what I experience? How can both realities be true?
But then I think, maybe the difficulty isn’t in the ability to accept that various people are living radically different realities at the same time because that’s fairly normal. National Geographic has been exploiting that dichotomy for decades. The Dichotomy of Reality in a single person, however, is not normal. Or at least it shouldn’t be. And that, I believe, is where I’m truly struggling. How can two radically apposing realities actively exist - in the same moment and at the same time - in one person? How can we be both absolutely right and absolutely wrong simultaneously?
Like the woman in a video posted by @aaronjfaulkner who chewed out some teenage boys who were sitting in their car. “You’re ass is grass,” she barks through the slightly open driver-side window, “You’re supposed to be sheltering in place.” Then, when she notices the phone, she ends with, “Go ahead, put me on social media. You’re a little punk!” Her eyes are furrowed and her hand keeps hitting the glass. How can she not see the irony in her actions? How can she be so concerned about humanity yet so unkind to humans in the exact same moment?
Or what about the story that broke recently of the senior pastor at Flowing Streams Church in Florida who encouraged the Trump administration to “‘start shooting” democrats and members of the media in firing squads if it turns out they conspired to rig the presidential election.” How is that possible? How can a man read the scriptures of grace and mercy and forgiveness while also conjuring up ideas of a mass killing spree?
In his TED Talk, How One Tweet Can Ruin Your Life, Jon Ronson also wrestled with this dichotomy. If you don’t remember the name Justin Sacco you probably remember her story. She’s the one that sent a sarcastic (albeit insensitive) Tweet right before boarding a plane to Africa. Jon Ronson explains it this way:
{Justine Sacco} was a PR woman from New York with 170 Twitter followers, and she'd Tweet little acerbic jokes to them, like this one on a plane from New York to London: [Weird German Dude: You're in first class. It's 2014. Get some deodorant." -Inner monologue as I inhale BO. Thank god for pharmaceuticals.] So Justine chuckled to herself, and pressed send, and got no replies, and felt that sad feeling that we all feel when the Internet doesn't congratulate us for being funny . . . And then she got to Heathrow, and she had a little time to spare before her final leg, so she thought up another funny little acerbic joke:
[Going to Africa. Hope I don't get AIDS. Just kidding. I'm white!]
And she chuckled to herself, pressed send, got on the plane, got no replies, turned off her phone, fell asleep, woke up 11 hours later, turned on her phone while the plane was taxiing on the runway, and straightaway there was a message from somebody that she hadn't spoken to since high school, that said, "I am so sorry to see what's happening to you." And then another message from a best friend, "You need to call me right now. You are the worldwide number one trending topic on Twitter."
Within hours, and at the hands of thousands of strangers, Justine had lost her job, her life, and her humanity. She sent a terrible message (albeit, misinterpreted) and was publicly maimed and destroyed for it. Yet, those who responded with deliberate cruelty, with horrific words and ideas that could in no way be misinterpreted as anything other than hateful not only “got a free pass” from all in attendance, they received affirmation and applause.
Comments such as, “I'm actually kinda hoping Justine Sacco gets aids? lol” was liked and retweeted. Another person tweeted, "Somebody HIV-positive should rape this bitch and then we'll find out if her skin color protects her from AIDS” and nothing happened. Nobody venomously responded to or retweeted their cruelty or contacted that person’s employer or found where they were traveling to and met them as they arrived.
Why?
How can there be such an accepted duality of reality? How can we acknowledge such wrong and hate and insensitivity in one instance yet ignore it completely in a slightly different other instance? How can we be so aware yet so blind?
How can I?
I may never say such vulgar things as those tweeted at Justine Sacco, but I know I am guilty of living in this dual reality. Like the times I get frustrated - and I mean the blood pumping, I’m-about-to-lose-my-shit kind of frustrated - and bark at my kids to “STOP YELLING AT YOUR SIBLINGS!!!” Or when I gossip about people who I think are gossipers
How can I do that? How can I, in the exact same instance, hate something bad yet embrace it with both arms? In those moments I instantly know I’m a fraud, that I’m living and expecting two different realities, but does that cause me to pause the next time he speaks unkindly? Sometimes. Other times not. Which is itself another frustration: why can I not stop doing what I hate doing?
The other night, while wrestling with the DOR, a quote came to mind: “So much death. What can man do against such reckless hate?” because in those moments, either when I see it happening on Facebook, the News, or anywhere else humans exist, I often feel the same way. That the fight is hopeless.
But then the rest of the quote came to mind, and as Lord of the Rings often does, it inspired me.
Movies that play on the Good vs Evil are always the same. The bad guy (or gal) are always bigger, stronger, more advanced, and for sure have many more followers. Yet, the good guys (or gal) always win in the end! But only after someone offers a bit of encouragement. Then, with a renewed vision, the hero is once again confident and ready to fight, to inspire those present, and lead them into their final battle against Evil. Soon after, the story ends and Good is victorious once again..
Aragon offers similar inspiration, “Ride with me. Ride out and meet them.” Or rather, “Don’t give up. Keep going.”
Recently that simple truth, although elementary in stature, has been a bedrock for my day to day. I’ve tried to be positive, to remain artistic and active, to be a man of integrity. Yet, more often then not, I’ve felt dull, accosted, and discouraged. Inconsequential even. In those moments I know full well I’m being unfair to myself and to life in general, but that doesn’t mean the frustration isn’t there, that I don’t want to throw my arms up in exhaustion and, in some way, give up. Just like King Theoden.
Its easy for us to focus on the negativity of the world around, largely because it’s the sauce that makes the evening news, TikTok videos, and Facebook posts. Yet, in the midst of the destruction and ugliness, I am also constantly reminded to “ride out and meet them” by those who continually refuse to give in or give up.
Like these people who, in the early onsets of the Global Shutdown, found ways to stay positive, stay creative, and keep each other laughing.
“Always find ways to cheer yourself up,” the young journalist, Violet Wang says. Or better yet, always find ways to cheers up others for that is what sustains us, encourages us, and inspires us to be better people. Not criticism and backbiting.
I doubt any of those people above maintained such great attitudes all throughout their quarantine. I’m sure, like me, they had their rough days, weeks, perhaps even months. But I’m also just as confident that they found encouragement from someone who inspired them to get out of bed or of their own discouraged mind and do something fun, something creative, and something worthwhile.
Because that too is part of our dichotomous reality, that we are kind and good and able to do great things even when we don’t feel like it. Even when we’re at war.
We are rarely allowed to have a choice in the event we are asked to live, but we are always provided a choice in how we choose to respond to those events. We can either destroy a life, or save it. We heal each other, Zahed says, when we catch another’s hand from darkness and move them into light.
We know this and want this, which is why stories such as My Enemy, My Brother stir our hearts to tears. Because we know it to be true and want, so desperately, to live lives of such moral aptitude.
Yet, when the moment presents itself, when we have an opportunity to do what we want to do, we do not. Instead, we do the very thing we hate to do: we destroy. We live out our Dichotomy of Reality. We live out our humanity.
“Human beings,” states Bryan Stevenson - founder and executive director of the Equal Justice Initiative, “are biologically programmed to do what is comfortable, to do what is convenient” and not necessarily what is right. “To do something uncomfortable,” he continues, what is scary, what is dangerous, what is not fun, requires us to make a conscious choice - a decision - to do the very thing we do not want to do. To be kind, to love despite the hate, and to save a life rather than destroy it.
“An absence of compassion can corrupt the decency of a community, a state, a nation. Fear and anger can make us vindictive and abusive, unjust and unfair, until we all suffer from the absence of mercy. We condemn ourselves as much as we victimize others” (via). In short, we all lose.
So now what?
Now that I have named it and found a way to explain it, how do I deal with it? The answer, for me at least, is quite simple: keep fighting. Be it against the war of pain and destruction around me, or the war for pain and destruction within me. Keep Fighting.
To paraphrase Jon Gordon:
When they say unkind things about you, keep fighting.
When they falsely accuse you, keep fighting.
When no one notices, keep fighting.
When everyone notices, keep fighting.
Fight with passion.
Fight the good fight. For history never remembers the critics, only those who signed up for the battle. Because they’re the ones that become the heroes, who become brothers. They’re the one’s who change the world.
They’re the ones who ride out and meet them.
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