Nothing exists in itself
After taking my American lit seminar, I have come to think of everything in binaries. It’s kind of obnoxious…but also really neat.
“Nothing exists in itself…[if] the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed, in the general consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm. For this reason a sleeping apartment should never be furnished with a fire, which is one of the luxurious discomforts of the rich. For the height of this sort of deliciousness is to have nothing but the blankets between you and your snugness and the cold of the outer air. Then there you lie like the one warm spark in the heart of an arctic crystal.” -Moby Dick
Probably one of my favorite passages in all of American Literature.
If you think about it though, you can’t “think” without knowing what it is to not think. You can’t feel happiness without having experienced some sort of unhappiness. You don’t know what is red without having a comparison of all the other colors of the rainbow. Red does not exist in itself. And, of course, there’s love–the spectrum on which all of the people you know lie, relative to one another. How strange it is to think of the world in this way. But it is a great answer the old question of religion, “Why, if God is so great and pure and loving, did he create misery, sin, death, and destruction?” How would we understand and appreciate “good” without knowing what is bad. How could we live and appreciate life if there was no death?
If you’re silly enough, this could really be a coping mechanism for all your problems. Everytime you experience a heartbreak, a disappointment, a failure, just think how without these setbacks in life, you would never be able to appreciate what’s just around the corner.
Therefore, as I turn 20, and as I grow older every year, I hope I will never become truly cynical. That would be a most miserable bubble to live in.
I love you, Maylene.