Principles of uncertainty
By Riley Park, Opinions Editor
Here’s something I thought I’d never type in earnest: perhaps DCF is right. Allow me to qualify that sentiment before people assume I’ve decided to dedicate my life to a convent or believe me to be reborn or am climbing every mountain with a handsome ex-captain with his seven adorable and musically inclined children.
I specifically am referring to a phrase that I often hear tossed around that crowd: “we are all broken.” For me, that’s always seemed a rather bleak and self-pitying thing to say; a poor pathos argument for why one might need religion. Contrary to what many may think about me, I am not a misanthrope. I thoroughly believe that every human being is capable of good and is deserving of being treated as if they were. Idealistic and foolish as this may be, I nevertheless hold it true.
And so the sentiment that we are all broken beings in need of healing has always seemed incorrect. Humanity isn’t broken: it’s the uniqueness of our own quirks and traits which specifically makes us human. I could get into greater detail about my past qualms with the stance, but I’m not going to because they do not remain. I agree now.
This year has been, without a single doubt in my mind, the single most important time of my life. The details are too personal for a public forum such as this. All you need to know is that there was a time in my life, primarily in late junior high and through most of high school, when I believed the world was out to get me. I convinced myself that my life was bad, that I was a villain, hated by most around me – my parents, my friends, anyone. At a time in my life where I had very little justification for anger and outrage, I was angry and outraged. Now, at a time in my life where I have every justification for such emotions, I find I am not.
In 1988, there was a fire in Yellowstone National Park. It is noted as being the largest firestorm ever witnessed in recorded history. The damage was in the hundreds of millions, with one third of the large park being consumed in the conflagration for months on end. When the fires died down and a cause was looked for, people discovered an interesting thing about nature.
You see, for years the park had suppressed all fires. They had kept it nice and unburned for all the tourists, a lush and green beauty like few could imagine. But that meant that there were very old trees that were in the park and very dry wood that could easily spark. They unknowingly turned the forest into a gigantic woodpile just waiting to be lit, a bonfire the likes of which none had ever seen.
And in the aftermath of the devastation, a curious thing happened: new trees began to sprout up everywhere across the park where the fire had ravaged. An enormous influx of saplings took root. It was discovered that the cones of the predominant pine in the region would only open under the extreme heat of fire. Thus, it was discovered that the fire was not only necessary to clear out old growth but also to help a healthy new batch of trees take root.
Sometimes in life, we need a little devastation. Sometimes, it’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything. But hitting bottom isn’t a weekend retreat. It’s not a seminar. There comes a point whenyou just need to stop trying to control everything and let go.
As my world turned to ash in early November of last year, I realized an important thing about my life: all of the perceived pains and imagined sorrows I had been torturing myself with for years were actually quite real demons I now faced. But I didn’t care, because now I could see them. Thinking can kill you. A thought has the potential to tear you apart if you allow it to take hold of you for too long. Any idea has the potential to either grow to define or destroy you.
Which brings me to the point of this article: there is a sublime beauty in uncertainty, because humans are uncertain. Each and every one of us, every person you ever meet, second guesses the words they just said or just had a thought about how they should say something and then do not or has no idea really what they want to do with their life or what it all means. Pain is an introspective tool; science has found that depressed individuals are more likely to be empathetic and interpersonal than completely “healthy” and “normal” individuals. Hurt and struggle cause us to look inwards and find ourselves if we do it correctly, and when we emerge from that state of self-reflection we begin to see it in other people.
You start to see people as reflections of yourself. When someone makes an errant and hurtful comment, you remember that time you had done so and immediately regretted it and knew it was because you were having a truly awful day. When a person seems closed off and uncaring, you recall that time when you just wanted the world to fade away because you couldn’t take dealing with it or caring too much about something that could so easily chew you up and spit you out. When you open your heart to someone for even just a small amount and look for them to do the same, you see the same nervousness and reluctance to feel and risk having heartbreak in their eyes that you have in your own.
The ultimate progress of our race and kind is determined by action and the progressive transition from hurt to healed. It is a long process, and one that never truly ends or leaves you as you were, but it is a worthy process. If we can live a life that’s equal to or better in quality than the ones our parents lived, then I think that’s a success.
So we are broken. I wholeheartedly concede the point. But what to do with that brokenness is open to interpretation. You can’t control others or the pain placed upon you. You can only choose your own reactions. Life isn’t all certainty. There’s risk. And those who are really certain are often very wrong. It’s the hesitation and the unknowing which keeps us honest and human.
Stay frosty.
