Monday, May 4, 2020

No One Will Remember You - Or Perhaps Just Me..

There's been this tight knot wrapped around my chest for as long as I can recall. I became what's known to people as a 'Nihilist' about a few years ago. However, there's still this irrational desire left in me which persists to tell me that I must commit deeds which must beg for the attention of the public or thereof. 

I'm about as certain as a palm tree that some humans have come across the 'dilemma of legacy', whether it's after withdrawal from a former set of principles or belief system, it surely strikes every human at some point in their lives. It can be argued empirically that this is rather a function of our survival instinct grounded in our biological apparatus(es). Speaking from the lens of a nihilist such as myself, I strongly believe that a legacy isn't something that's inherently necessary but is attributed in our lives as a privilege guiding the fun towards some metaphysical destination. 
Just like a lot of other things in our lives, you have the choice to either work on one or simply be indifferent about it your entire life. 

The one reason this take becomes impractical is because it fails to offer pragmatic benefits - or does it? 
Leaving behind legacy isn't primarily beneficial to the dead person's forgotten or remembered works, it's secondary or rather non-existent to them. 

That's pretty much obvious but, we still choose to worship them for that specific deed, almost like the person was some sort of deity who had bestowed us with the finest blessings of this realm. 

I don't wish to venture and raise the question of whether they deserve that fame or worship; there's no question that they receive attention simply because it's appealing to the laymen unbeknownst of what their deeds actually even are.

Leaving all that Aside, Here's my Personal Take on the Subject at Matter:

For a long time, I highly believed that even if my life didn't have much value, I still ought to leave behind some sort of deed that would make civilisation remember me for it. This specific thought haunted me for a long time, especially during periods of depression where I would search for some sort of comfort in the abyss or void that had snatched me from existence. It was a state of uncertainty but not one that brought me any solutions as far as I was concerned.

It was really hard for me or anyone to swallow the pill that reality doesn't prejudice against anyone or anything: when you realise what and how meaningfully venturous the thought of death can be, it's hardly ever at the expense of what reality ought to grasp. What deed you commit or what kind of life you lead is never of any concern to reality at all. The furthest it can or will ever go in our life times will be to the public and ourselves individually.

In the book, On The Heights Of Despair by 20th century Romanian philosopher, Emil Cioran, describes the superfluous necessity that the whole of world burdens upon every new human that comes into existence. In this one specific paragraph, he ascribes the sentiment quite thoughtfully. He says:

"As far as I am concerned, I resign from humanity. I no longer want to be, nor can still be, a man. What should I do? Work for a social and political system, make a girl miserable? Hunt for weaknesses in philosophical systems, fight for moral and aesthetic ideals? It's all too little. I renounce my humanity even though I may find myself alone. But am I not already alone in this world from which I no longer expect anything?"(Cioran)

The meat of this post will be contextually referring to ideas and sentiments pertaining to that book but will occasionally refer to other philosophers from similar schools of thought. 

To further justify his statement in the excerpt above, I'd like to use the example of Gregor Samsa from the Metamorphosis. Unlike the intent laid by Cioran, Samsa still had the natural instinct to survive and feed his family, despite being turned into an 'insect' or rather an 'alien'. His concern for his family may have been overshadowed by his guilt; however, it paradoxically led to his demise as well. 
A popular theory states that the thematic portrayal of 'alienation' in The Metamorphosis tells its readers about the ingenuous yet conflicted life that Franz Kafka led. If you're interested in a brief exposition of what it meant, check this link(Spoilers for Metamorphosis). Kafka's alienation conveys to the world the initial stages 
of detachment from being 'human' - in a derogatory sense. Although one's intent to do good or meaningful acts in a world where 'fair' and 'unfair' aren't perfectly understood by anyone may be encouraged ,  it still doesn't change the fact there exists such boundaries and differences. 

It's the rendering of irrelevance in our deeds that makes one cling to that detachment - perhaps just one of the reasons if not the main. Hyperbole it may be but, the thought of death ought to liberate us all from such silly notions and superstitions, the same type that keep our lives running in and out 24/7. But how is it that the thought of death has become such an addiction ? It's certainly not a question that's tending to be naïve but, it doesn't pose a blatant answer either. 
Sure, you could go simply saying that it's all meaningless but, it still wouldn't quench one's thirst in desiring to know the justification of how and why it's meaningless. It's not simple tautological iteration.  

It's perhaps a natural obligation to deed itself that draws us closer to that path of despair. Obligate one to do the deeds that every other human has done in the past, present and will be obligated to do in the future. The question behind this obligation may be called a waste of time but, of course it's a significant question nonetheless. E.g. include happiness, compassion, empathy, contribution, service. They are naturally attuned in our being but discourse is more than plausible - that's why this post is even being made. 

All humans want to be happy or satisfied in some way or form but, some see it as a curse or rather a burden. Are they masochists ? Not necessarily. They're just innately disturbed by glamour and can't believe it be their sanctuary at all; they feel everything else just like we all do but optimism isn't their refuge neither is pessimism. I would have loved to say that this post was specially made for them but, we all know that is far from the truth. Before I go any further with this post, I must link the video that inspired me to start this post in the first place: 


This short story narrated by PursuitOfWonder conveys the insignificance of legacy; although it speaks of meaning in the 'long run', it still tackles some very vital elements that I'm trying my best to describe in this very post. This reassures the human to be both grateful and neglectful. Grateful because in realising humanity's inevitable doom, we must make the most out of it while we're still alive. Neglectful because it gives room for people like I to have a better reason to not participate in life's various activities. Similarly, Cioran describes the extent to which our perception of death may become just as unappealing as life. This makes even our defense mechanisms like despair a lost hope in the middle of the ocean. He says:

"The terrifying experience and obsession of death, when preserved in consciousness, becomes ruinous. If you talk about death, you save part of yourself. But at the same time, something of your real self dies, because objectified meanings lose the actuality they have in consciousness." (Cioran)

It's not that philosophy doesn't solve the mystery of death, it's that there isn't any death to confront with philosophy. Death to us is only a passing act, nothingness and void are abstract concepts and become intertwined with post-death. All philosophy can do is comfort us with what we want to achieve by knowing what death is, yet never actually do it. There isn't any empirical evidence or substantial reason to tell us we'll be okay. God's been rendered meaningless centuries ago, in order to make up for that meaning, existentialism was born. But it still didn't answer the primary solution to the problem of and insignificant significance, such as the confrontation of death and an infinite meaning with grounded assurance. 

I strongly feel the need for a part 2 of this post. As it seems to me that I've failed to answer or tackle certain questions and statement. For that I wish to have another chance to tackle them in a broader light. 

Thank you for reading - if anyone ! 

References: 

- On The Heights Of Despair, Emil Cioran

- Eventually, Everyone We Know Now Won't Be Known By Anyone, Pursuit Of Wonder

- Metamorphosis, Franz Kafka

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