Jun 23 2008
Struggling climbers
Here is one of the most persistent questions of my current life: how do we respond to those who cannot climb as well as we?
The Lost
The sleepwalkers, the blind, the unaware, the slaves, the children: these are some of the names we, the older siblings, use for them. I have always used the word “child” for someone who lives only for themselves, has little or no self awareness, who bears no responsibility towards others, who does not understand their power. In a culture that tries to shun it’s rites of passage, which reveres youth and irresponsibility, the children have grown old, but they remain children. Age is no longer a limiting factor in childhood.
And even those who grow up often remain slaves to their culture, their assumptions: to one another. These are The Lost.
I have what I think is an appropriate and respectful approach to The Lost. We are all climbing the mountain, whether we choose to do it alone or together. Some of us have been given tools that we use to climb, and we can leap up faces that would daunt those without our gifts. We get these tools from our parents, or others we meet on the climb. Some of us have forged our own tools. We have specialised in vaulting up some parts of the mountain, while other parts render our specialist equipment utterly useless.
We are all struggling up the mountain. So when we meet someone who does not have our tools, does not recognise a tool when it is offered, is frightened of the height as they climb (as we can all grow frightened), and finds a comfortable niche to sit for a while, can we blame them? We feel a terrible sadness that they will not know the joys of our place on the mountain, and as we watch them begin to kill and maim one another, as they begin to exploit the niche they have found, as they pollute it, disfigure it, and begin to end all life on the mountain - we begin to feel angry with these children. It is true that they know not what they do - and thus we are in a trap. Do we be angry with these Lost children, when their only crime is the betrayal of their parents and their own lack of courage: or do we try to keep our patience with them, and let them destroy themselves, everything we love, until at last they kill us?
Mostly, I choose to offer them the respect that is due, for the challenges they have overcome. Everyone has overcome challenges: often we each do so daily. That is worthy of respect. Beyond that, there is the golden rule that you cannot help until you are asked for help. And so most of the time I content myself to chat away to The Lost, to point out inconsistencies where I can, and to only let my rage show when their illusions start leading them to harm themselves or others whom I love. Chatting about “that gorgeous steak I had last night” for example, tends to earn some form of rebuke from me, even if it just withdrawal from the conversation.
How do you deal with those who are you meet who suffer from ignorance that causes harm?
The Fallen
I have met those who have tried, who have borrowed will from me or from others, or who have delved into strength they never knew they had, but who have failed. They surge on up the mountain, only to lose steam, to forget their initial enthusiasm, to find themselves with challenges that they didn’t expect, to find the view and the height daunting, or to listen to the voices of The Lost below, calling them to let go, give up, be like us. They freeze and then they let go and fall back to where they were before.
It is so encouraging to see someone who is climbing, and so heart-breaking when someone lets go. I would say that 1% of people I meet are in the process of climbing, and of them, perhaps 1% manage to stay on their path for the rest of their lives.
I do not know how to respond to those who fall, intentionally and wilfully. They all have reasons, of course, and generally I will let my pity for them overcome my frustration. For, to go back to the stoics, am I not really becoming frustrated with my own failings? What emotions, then, are authentic, and what response is merited? Sara and her mentor have chosen the path of having no sympathy for The Fallen. “If you do not want to live, I will not help you”. I have some sympathy for this view. But while it is a response, and while it is an authentic expression of our frustration and our disappointment, is it a loving response: is it a holistic response?
Every time a man or woman falls, he or she goes back to a life of killing, hating, blaming, and disrespecting: they are back on the path of genocide. This is real, it is not just a clever philosophy. Each person who forges their own path is a warrior, a gardener, a carer and a being of strength and courage. They are necessary. They are the proof that we can do better. When someone lets go, it is a victory of illusion over truth. Surely we should be angry when this happens, surely we should do something. Because we love them, and because we love all life.
I am honestly at a loss here. It is my failing. I would like to do better, to have a strategy.
