Sometimes the misfortune
of others provides hearty fodder for reflection in those of us in more fortunate
circumstances. Wisdom that we can use to avoid our own calamities, or sage
signage as to how to comport our own selves when neck deep in treacherous
waters.
In 1896, author and journalist
Stephen Crane, recived a commission to be a war correspondent. He was directed
to ship to Cuba to cover the hostilities there. His transport ship the SS Commodore sank en route and he and a handful of others were left to chance in a
wooden dinghy.
Once ashore he turned this
harrowing and uncertain experience into a story, “The Open Boat,” that is deeply infused with trenchant insight.
Often when we hear of
another’s plight or dire circumstance, we imagine ourselves in that same predicament
and begin the hypothetical role-playing deciding what we would or would not do.
The very basis of my main line of work, preparing the self and others for conflict
is just this sort of hypothetical hair-splitting and preparation.
A core problem with
our “Here’s what I would do’s” is
that we imagine ourselves and our responses in the best of circumstances, at
the peak or our abilities, or at the very least how we feel right now if right
now is relatively neat-o. Seldom do we cast our hero stories from the
standpoint of our own selves in the clutches of the flu, hobbled with a snapped
femur, or flash forward to our “Golden Years” and inevitable waning of abilities.
We, more often than
not, have a rather dear evaluation of just how adept or “awesome” we would be
when things go “South.”
This is Mr. Crane on
the subject.
“Shipwrecks are à propos of nothing. If men
could only train for them and have them occur when the men had reached pink
condition, there would be less drowning at sea. Of the four in the dingey none
had slept any time worth mentioning for two days and two nights previous to
embarking in the dingey, and in the excitement of clambering about the deck of
a foundering ship they had also forgotten to eat heartily. For these reasons,
and for others, neither the oiler nor the correspondent was fond of rowing at this
time. The correspondent wondered ingenuously how in the name of all that was
sane could there be people who thought it amusing to row a boat. It was not an
amusement; it was a diabolical punishment, and even a genius of mental
aberrations could never conclude that it was anything but a horror to the
muscles and a crime against the back. He mentioned to the boat in general how
the amusement of rowing struck him, and the weary-faced oiler smiled in full
sympathy. Previously to the foundering, by the way, the oiler had worked
double-watch in the engine-room of the ship.”
Indeed. There is no best
time for the dire to occur. Dire does not postpone. But we often postpone in our preparations,
whether that be training, financial stability, life-plans, “So many things I want to do but I’ll get to
them later” or even making sure loved ones know that your love is embodied
by more than a “Thumbs Up” on a “Post” owned by a third-party entity.
Often these brushes
with mortality, Crane’s and our own, act as a great winnowing of the wheat and
the chaff.
You discover how to prioritize.
Prioritize duties, responsibilities, and, alas, people.
You discover who is
there for you and who is a valuable hand on an oar when the pull of the sea is
incessant.
And…hard times also
reveal some less savory sides of things.
“It is in emergencies that men of worth show their superiority;
prosperity helps to hide the baseness of inferior men, but adversity speedily
reveals every man as he really is.”-Isocrates Archidamus
The facts are some of
those around you in the best of times are worth their salt. Some are not.
Unfortunately, you won’t
discover this salt-worth until dire times strike.
There’s not much we
can do in advance of that regarding our judge of character, but we can internally
evaluate ourselves and be harsh with our assessments.
Mr. Crane again.
“When it occurs to a man that nature does not regard him as important,
and that she feels she would not maim the universe by disposing of him, he at
first wishes to throw bricks at the temple, and he hates deeply the fact that
there are no brick and no temples. Any visible expression of nature would
surely be pelleted with his jeers. Then, if there be no tangible thing to hoot
he feels, perhaps, the desire to confront a personification and indulge in
pleas, bowed to one knee, and with hands supplicant, saying: "Yes, but I
love myself."…
“It is, perhaps, plausible that a man in this
situation, impressed with the unconcern of the universe, should see the
innumerable flaws of his life, and have them taste wickedly in his mind and
wish for another chance. A distinction between right and wrong seems absurdly
clear to him, then, in this new ignorance of the grave-edge, and he understands
that if he were given another opportunity, he would mend his conduct and his
words, and be better and brighter during an introduction or at a tea.”
If we are honest with ourselves,
we will look at our own habits and find many of them lacking, and then with
utmost desire yearn beyond all yearning to be better and brighter versions of ourselves
without need of shipwrecks and dire circumstances.
But..dire things do
happen.
But even here, Crane
has something mighty interesting to teach us. It is a lesson echoed again and
again in survivors’ accounts and spoken of elegiacally in Sebastian Junger’s
book Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging.
Let’s look to Mr. Crane
again.
“It would be difficult to describe the subtle
brotherhood of men that was here established on the seas. No one said that it
was so. No one mentioned it. But it dwelt in the boat, and each man felt it
warm him. They were a captain, an oiler, a cook, and a correspondent, and they
were friends, friends in a more curiously iron-bound degree than may be common.
The hurt captain, lying against the water-jar in the bow, spoke always in a low
voice and calmly, but he could never command a more ready and swiftly obedient
crew than the motley three of the dingey. It was more than a mere recognition
of what was best for the common safety. There was surely in it a quality that
was personal and heartfelt. And after this devotion to the commander of the
boat there was this comradeship that the correspondent, for instance, who had
been taught to be cynical of men,
knew even at the time was the best experience of his life. But no one
said that it was so. No one mentioned it.”
Dire times. The best experience
of life.
Why?
These times can reveal
a rawness, a perspective shattering gimlet-eyed view of the world that the
day-in-day-out hamster wheel we choose for ourselves simply cannot.
We do not create ourselves
with thoughts, poses, and opinions.
We are revealed via
tests, experiences, what we have endured.
With good fortune, we
endure with good companions by our side and come out better and brighter in the
everyday.
To all of us being
better and brighter.
To all of us being good
companions.