I finally watched my copy of "Harvey" tonight, while doing the dishes... It might be said as well that I finally did the dishes, because in truth, it had been far too long.
And watching it, I thought how very much the movie might be a good lesson for this place...
Here and there, I'll have a friend who grows tired of the drama. Now, it might be drama between them and a friend, or between two friends of his/hers, or a vibe that the community is giving off in response to the antics of this or that member... Or it could be all of this. Whatever it is, it makes people want to withdraw. I've seen it online where people quietly fade into the background, and at gatherings with hands tossed up, eyes rolling.
And we watch "Harvey", and we see Mr. Dowd ("Elwood P." as he'd assuredly remind you), and yes, he seems only just a bit off... If it weren't for the whole six-foot rabbit thing, the only bit about him that would stick out is his extraordinary kindness.
The world around him was full of turmoil -- Veta trying to get Elwood committed and out of her hair, Myrtle looking for love, Dr. Sanderson and Kelly's tumultuous relationship, possible lawsuits, temporary firings, chases, delusions, and in the middle, an amiable man and a rabbit pooka just looking to have a drink now and again.
There's a special sort of madness in characters like Mr. Dowd that keep them from being as emotionally invested as anyone else... Theirs is just a casual curiosity, like Andy Dufresne in the beginning of the "Shawshank Redemption", when Red described him as walking around the yard as though he didn't have a care in the world. Or like the voice of the deceased Lester Burnham at the end of "American Beauty":
"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life..."
.
.
.
We can't be these characters -- our lives are not so easily written. But I wonder -- if we could remember that sense of detachment, and maybe try to embrace it more in our own lives without becoming uncaring -- could we not reduce the chaos? If not in the community, in ourselves?
I think of the threads I contribute to and how few really needed my contribution -- or rather, how little I needed to make it... None of them ever needed me.
I used to call myself a misanthrope, and for a bit, way back when, I was one. But mostly, I just like my solitude. I don't really chat. Getting PMs from me is like pulling teeth. My detachment from online events has grown over time and continues to do so, but counterintuitively, my time spent online has grown. I've a handful more things to handle, but then, my goal is making my time spent here more congruent with my level of attachment to events... ...which wanes.
I don't think I'll ever leave, mind you. No... No quiet disappearances into the background (though maybe a touch of fading), nor big, loud goodbyes, banging cymbals as I walk out the door... But my detachment is already significant, and my involvement in the occasional online imbroglio seems to stem mostly from the innate love of a good verbal tussle than any great passion on the topic at hand -- and really, who needs to humor those silly urges anymore?
There's a good line from "Harvey" that helps maybe encapsulate the rest of the transformation I seek...
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I hope my friends who feel compelled to withdraw can find the detachment they need... I consider myself very fortunate for having found mine some time ago, realizing it recently, and being able to act on it shortly. As Mr. Dowd put it, "I don't know, I just don't seem to have any time anymore." There's a comfort in progression and acting on a plan rather than reacting out of kneejerk reaction, instinct or need...
There's some Buddhist stuff I'd been thinking about in conjunction with these matters -- stuff I'd come to conclusions about some time ago, and which will still take years for me to realize in my own life, but I won't bore you all with rambling further on that right now.
But I will recommend you see "Harvey".
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And watching it, I thought how very much the movie might be a good lesson for this place...
Here and there, I'll have a friend who grows tired of the drama. Now, it might be drama between them and a friend, or between two friends of his/hers, or a vibe that the community is giving off in response to the antics of this or that member... Or it could be all of this. Whatever it is, it makes people want to withdraw. I've seen it online where people quietly fade into the background, and at gatherings with hands tossed up, eyes rolling.
And we watch "Harvey", and we see Mr. Dowd ("Elwood P." as he'd assuredly remind you), and yes, he seems only just a bit off... If it weren't for the whole six-foot rabbit thing, the only bit about him that would stick out is his extraordinary kindness.
The world around him was full of turmoil -- Veta trying to get Elwood committed and out of her hair, Myrtle looking for love, Dr. Sanderson and Kelly's tumultuous relationship, possible lawsuits, temporary firings, chases, delusions, and in the middle, an amiable man and a rabbit pooka just looking to have a drink now and again.
There's a special sort of madness in characters like Mr. Dowd that keep them from being as emotionally invested as anyone else... Theirs is just a casual curiosity, like Andy Dufresne in the beginning of the "Shawshank Redemption", when Red described him as walking around the yard as though he didn't have a care in the world. Or like the voice of the deceased Lester Burnham at the end of "American Beauty":
"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life..."
.
.
.
We can't be these characters -- our lives are not so easily written. But I wonder -- if we could remember that sense of detachment, and maybe try to embrace it more in our own lives without becoming uncaring -- could we not reduce the chaos? If not in the community, in ourselves?
I think of the threads I contribute to and how few really needed my contribution -- or rather, how little I needed to make it... None of them ever needed me.
I used to call myself a misanthrope, and for a bit, way back when, I was one. But mostly, I just like my solitude. I don't really chat. Getting PMs from me is like pulling teeth. My detachment from online events has grown over time and continues to do so, but counterintuitively, my time spent online has grown. I've a handful more things to handle, but then, my goal is making my time spent here more congruent with my level of attachment to events... ...which wanes.
I don't think I'll ever leave, mind you. No... No quiet disappearances into the background (though maybe a touch of fading), nor big, loud goodbyes, banging cymbals as I walk out the door... But my detachment is already significant, and my involvement in the occasional online imbroglio seems to stem mostly from the innate love of a good verbal tussle than any great passion on the topic at hand -- and really, who needs to humor those silly urges anymore?
There's a good line from "Harvey" that helps maybe encapsulate the rest of the transformation I seek...
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I hope my friends who feel compelled to withdraw can find the detachment they need... I consider myself very fortunate for having found mine some time ago, realizing it recently, and being able to act on it shortly. As Mr. Dowd put it, "I don't know, I just don't seem to have any time anymore." There's a comfort in progression and acting on a plan rather than reacting out of kneejerk reaction, instinct or need...
There's some Buddhist stuff I'd been thinking about in conjunction with these matters -- stuff I'd come to conclusions about some time ago, and which will still take years for me to realize in my own life, but I won't bore you all with rambling further on that right now.
But I will recommend you see "Harvey".
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