Books, Philosophy
In reading Emerson’s essay Self-Reliance I came across this quote that was rather shocking to me:
“…do not tell me, as a good man did to-day, of my obligation to put all poor men in good situations. Are they my poor? I tell thee, thou foolish philanthropist, that I grudge the dollar, the dime, the cent, I give to such men as do not belong to me and to whom I do not belong. There is a class of persons to whom by all spiritual affinity I am bought and sold; for them I will go to prison, if need be; but your miscellaneous popular charities; the education at college of fools; the building of meeting-houses to the vain end to which many now stand; alms to sots; and the thousandfold Relief Societies; — though I confess with shame I sometimes succumb and give the dollar, it is a wicked dollar which by and by I shall have the manhood to withhold.”
!!
For a former minister, for someone who doggedly pursues goodness and virtue, to emphatically say that he has no obligation to the starving masses with whom he has no emotional connection is incredibly surprising. And also intriguing. My body and mind both immediately rejected the idea, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Could it have some kernel of truth?
I’ve been consciously disconnecting from the news for the last couple months. Not because I don’t care, but because I’ve cared so much and for so long. It’s really affected me mentally. And for what? I’ve protested. I’ve boycotted. I’ve written to my congresspeople. The world keeps spinning regardless, in a bad way. New wars have started. Old wars are still raging. Billionaires and pedophiles may never be held accountable for their sins. It seems like the tide of opinion is changing against the current regime, and I’m glad, but it had nothing to do with my actions or fears or anxieties.
I have always felt a moral obligation to take care of other humans, as well as the planet. Reading this, I’m questioning those feelings for the first time. I feel terrible about what is happening in the Middle East, especially since my own government is an aggressor in this fight. But it’s not just far away, it’s something I have no power to affect. What obligations, then, do I have to the children bombed in the Middle East? Does the fact that I have no power here have any bearing on how I should feel about it, on how much guilt and obligation it’s appropriate and useful to feel? Even closer to home, what obligation do I have toward the homeless people who sometimes sleep in the alley behind my house? I can’t materially make their lives better. I don’t even have a spare room to offer, even if I wanted to (which I don’t).
Feeling guilty and sad doesn’t make the world a better place. If those feelings impel me to act, then sure, but they don’t. Because what can I do to help the children in Gaza except send my senator yet another impassioned email?
There are so many people who don’t care. Or care a little and do nothing. Or would prefer not to know at all. Somehow I ended up in the camp of ‘cares a lot, can’t do much about it.’ I hate being here. I want to leave.
I sound callous because I am. I am continually confronted with suffering I have no ability to alleviate. Frankly, I feel helpless. I am completely consumed with trying to take care of my own body and care for my daughter and nourish my important relationships. That’s important work. Could I do more? Sure. But is the ‘good’ I could do for the poor and the needy worth the personal cost? If I spend the rest of my life traveling to war-torn countries trying to be an emissary of peace, would it do any good? I don’t know if it would. And also I would hate that life. I think 99.9% of people would hate putting themselves in dangerous situations, even for a noble cause. I’m just a regular person. Maybe I care more than the average person, but I also cling just as tightly, maybe more tightly, to the beauty and peacefulness of my life, that I feel I’ve worked so hard to get to, physically and mentally (though mostly mentally). And a big part of that mental piece was disconnecting from the horrors of modern life, domestically and abroad. Especially the images. They don’t leave my mind.
In Self-Reliance, Emerson encourages his readers to do the work they were destined to do. I am not Michelangelo or Michael Jordan, but I’m Cami Marie, and that’s special. I have something to contribute to the world that could be just as incredible. I think my best and truest purpose might be to create art and also just to be. I think so few of us actually get to be their highest and best selves, and that feels like a worthwhile human aim in itself. It feels selfish. I feel a little guilty. There are so many people whose lives are caught in a rip current of suffering. Should any human get to live their highest self if the most pitiable and unluckiest of us only ever get to experience suffering?
I feel myself getting closer to discovering what it means for me to reach that higher self, and how I need to live my life to align with that version of me. Does the world need more poets and artists, or perhaps more revolutionary fighters, or maybe just more foodbank volunteers? I could be any of those things. But I feel continually called to the arts. Emerson argues that to truly live, we have to follow and trust our inner voice, and this is what mine tells me.
Is it okay to let go of the world, to let it shrink to a manageable size and fit within a sphere of influence I have actual control over? Am I obligated to witness and acknowledge the vast and incomprehensible suffering of all humankind?