Existential Crisis

1/23/2008

I have the propulsion to write. Quick! Before all your brilliant ideas float away in the Harmattan winds. Then…nothing. Just this morning I was thinking about a woman who owned a television and was unhappy because on that television she saw all the things she did not have and she was already one of the richest women in the village with her flushing toilet and satellite TV. Then, quite literally, a few minutes later I read the following sentence, “I don’t think you can start wanting something till you know it exists.” (Ishmael by Daniel Quinn) On a side note – this book is possibly one of the most enlightening books I’ve read in a very long time.) I refuse to elaborate on this sentiment any further. Just know it resonates within me. The poignancy is more potent for me here than ever before. Okay, I lied. I am going to expound a bit on this point as I sit here looking at all the pretty new wood furniture I just had delivered. I’m going to put a curtain over my screen door, not because I abhor people’s curiosity but because I don’t want them to see, to know the blatant gap in material wealth even here since I am supposed to be living like a local. Part of me is ashamed, embarrassed. I don’t want them to have the idea of development and living richly with having more “things,” which begs the question, why did I buy the furniture then. Why did I have those precious trees cut down so I could live more comfortably? I was doing just fine before they arrived. I don’t need them. But, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement and joy at their arrival. It made my day. At what cost though? I’m only going to be here 2 years – actually less than that now. Those trees toiled through the unforgiving climate of Togo to become furniture. And after I leave, then what? What happened to my desire of living simply? Where does one draw that line? Take only what you need and leave the rest in peace. But, what exactly do I need? I’m going to throw in a quotation from Ishmael just for fun here: “The story the Leavers have been enacting here for the past 3 million years isn’t a story of conquest and rule. Enacting it doesn’t give them power. Enacting it gives them lives that are satisfying and meaningful to them. This is what you’ll find if you go among them. They’re not seething with discontent and rebellion, not incessantly wrangling over what should be allowed and what forbidden, not forever accusing each other of not living the right way, not living in terror of each other, not going crazy because their lives seem empty and pointless, not having to stupefy themselves with drugs to get through the days, not inventing a new religion every week to give them something to hold on to, not forever searching for something to do or something to believe in that will make their lives worth living. And – I repeat – this is not because they live close to nature or have no formal government or because they’re innately noble. This is simply because they’re enacting a story that works well for people – a story that worked well for 3 million years and that still works well where the Takers haven’t yet managed to stamp it out.”