It often seems that men become genuinely eloquent only when the subject is some form of combat:
"All of the noise and all of the glamour, all of the color, all of the excitement... all of the rings and all of the money. These are the things that linger only in the memory. But the spirit, the will to excel, the will to win, these are the things that endure." – Vince Lombardi
There’s a lot of power in those few words – but look at the subject matter: football! An hour of rigidly stylized ritual combat with a meaningless prize! Is there anything more disposable than that?
There are innumerable things more important than football. One of the tragedies of contemporary life is that so many of us give football more attention than any of them. (Pipe down, you devotees of soccer. Your fetish isn’t important either.)
Yes, Gentle Reader: I’m off on another of those tirades. Hey, my Curmudgeonliness has to express itself now and then. Return your seat to the upright position, close your tray table, and belt yourself in securely.
Some years ago, I encountered this striking illustration of the importance of setting priorities. Note the conclusion:
What are the big rocks in your life? A project that you want to accomplish? Time with your loved ones? Your faith, your education, your finances? A cause? Teaching or mentoring others? Remember to put these 'Big Rocks' in first or you’ll never get them in at all.
The “big rocks” Dr. Covey cites are not necessarily your “big rocks.” Moreover, we must allow that priorities can change as time passes. Today’s “big rocks” may seem laughable to you twenty years hence. Yet even while immersed in our juvenile follies we must set priorities, for without them, life becomes a disorganized, chaotic mess. From such a mess, nothing we achieve will endure.
One of the foremost responsibilities of parenthood is that of teaching your progeny about what endures. If you fail to do that, you’ll fail as a parent. A great part of that process involves demonstrating to the young folk what doesn’t endure, and why.
The major problems in that undertaking are major indeed. Life itself does not endure. That recognition is a stumbling block for many. Emphasizing it leads to a “Why should I care?” conclusion. “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may” and “Eat, drink, and be merry” are its principal implications. Given that young people are in thrall to the strongest sub-rational biological imperatives known to science, getting past those inherently bleak maxims is a huge challenge.
As if more were required, the challenge persists throughout one’s life.
In Roger Zelazny’s masterpiece Lord of Light, his protagonist Sam gives us the following insight into a man’s nature:
A man is a thing of many divisions, not a pure, clear flame such as you once were. His intellect often wars with his emotions, his will with his desires…his ideals are at odds with his environment, and if he follows them, he knows keenly the loss of that which was old— but if he does not follow them, he feels the pain of having forsaken a new and noble dream. Whatever he does represents both a gain and a loss, an arrival and a departure. Always he mourns that which is gone and fears some part of that which is new. Reason opposes tradition. Emotions oppose the restrictions his fellow men lay upon him. Always, from the friction of these things, there arises the thing you called the curse of man and mocked— guilt!
Sam renders that insight to the demon Taraka, a disembodied sentience that knows only desire, no ideals and no constraints except for the limits on its power. Taraka has possessed Sam, and has used his body to indulge in pleasures only humans can experience. But those pleasures have dwindled with repetition. Taraka is perplexed, for he does not understand that being human involves more than gratifying “the belly and the phallus.” How could he, “a pure, clear flame” that had previously known only desire?
A lot of young men have more in common with Taraka than with Sam.
We are confounded by the question of what endures. If life itself must end, what, then, is worth striving for? That’s the appeal of absolute hedonism. Only in appealing to a standard outside human life does any other posture become sustainable.
The problem here, of course, is that of all religions: unverifiability. Living human beings cannot prove that anything beyond the veil of Time “really exists.” Those of us who’ve had private experiences to that effect cannot use those experiences as evidence with which to persuade others. If those others become interested in our faith, all we can do is point to historical records that the hardened skeptic can always dismiss.
Robert A. Heinlein, who was dismissive of religion as such, nevertheless strove to find something beyond a man’s limited temporal existence in which to have faith:
"It would seem obvious to me," Rembert continued, "that the only rational personal philosophy based on a conviction that we die dead, never to rise again, is a philosophy of complete hedonism. Such a hedonist might seek his pleasure in life in very subtle, indirect, and sublimated fashions; nevertheless pleasure must be his only rational purpose-no matter how lofty his conduct may appear to be. On the other hand, the possibility of something more to life than the short span we see opens up an unlimited possibility of evaluations other than hedonistic. It seems to me a fit subject to investigate."[From Beyond this Horizon]
Note the cleavage: If we die dead, never to rise again. If even an absolute rationalist feels such an urge to find things that endure, the problem is real and the need is imperative.
If Time conquers all – and it does – then in the ultimate assessment, nothing endures. Not achievements, nor reputations, nor families, nor institutions, nor nations, nor the Earth, nor the universe itself. Despite that, we are driven to choose things that will endure sufficiently for us. If we can’t find any, that life of chaos is where we’ll end up.
What becomes plain to anyone who lives to age 35 is that what is pressed on us most frequently and most vociferously are pleasures as ephemeral as a soap bubble. Sex. Possessions. Occupational advancement. “Image.” If you have any familiarity with the great literature of India, you might recognize the following snippet of dialogue:
Yama said: Choose sons and grandsons who shall live a hundred years; choose elephants, horses, herds of cattle and gold. Choose a vast domain on earth; live here as many years as you desire.
If you deem any other boon equal to that, choose it; choose wealth and a long life. Be the king, O Nachiketa, of the wide earth. I will make you the enjoyer of all desires.
Whatever desires are difficult to satisfy in this world of mortals, choose them as you wish: these fair maidens, with their chariots and musical instruments — men cannot obtain them. I give them to you and they shall wait upon you. But do not ask me about death.
Nachiketa said: But, O Death, these endure only till tomorrow. Furthermore, they exhaust the vigour of all the sense organs. Even the longest life is short indeed. Keep your horses, dances and songs for yourself.
It has never been put better. What endures “only till tomorrow” is hardly worth one’s consideration. Whatever your personal assessment of what matters enough to earn a share of your effort and devotion, let it be something that will survive longer than that.
Remember: This is an old Curmudgeon talking. I like questions such as the one addressed above. I don’t claim to be able to answer them in a definitive way. Even so, they’re worth everyone’s attention.
Vince Lombardi had the right idea: Give your highest priority to things that endure. Determining what they are is the next question. It’s a question I wish I’d given more time and thought half a century ago.