The Hero Myth & Our Triumphant Suffering

How noble is the one who pushes through pain and overcomes great obstacles? in spite of  the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune?" Unyielding in the face of suffering, such a heroic figure seems to suggest that there is glory in not bending to the voices of suffering that echo inside of us. These figures are upheld throughout the ages as exemplars of human nobility---of the greatest that we are each capable of, of what we all should aspire to. 

And yet, it appears that there is more to the story.

I cannot help but wonder what kind of world we create when suffering's voice is merely a sound that we feel compelled to overcome all the time. I wonder what kind of a society we encourage when suffering is seen as merely a personal struggle that each and everyone of us should find the steely resolve to be triumphant over. Do we unwittingly create a society that is hardened to care and compassion in relation to suffering and its many shades and timbres? Do we create a culture where suffering has no value except as a weight that the force of our personal will is supposed to uphold day after day? Do we maybe create---subtly, over time--a world indifferent to the various calls and claims that suffering makes upon us , if for no other reason than because our preferred mythology has been that suffering is what heroes and heroines overcome, and that is all suffering is good for---another mountain to climb and conquer?

When suffering is merely that which is to be conquered by our will, by our technology, by our spirituality and metaphysics what do we miss in viewing suffering so narrowly? And what do we create, inevitably, as a result of so narrow a view of suffering's continued presence in our many realms and worlds?

"I'm So Hungry I Could Eat A Horse!"

Has anyone actually ever followed through on that and eaten a horse. I am talking a full-sized horse, not any of those pint-sized ponies that people keep in their house and end up needing an intervention from their friends because of. I don't think being a Cowboy in 1883 and being forced to eat your trusty stead because you got lost on the trail and ran out of food counts either. Same for the Donner Party. Which always troubled me, now that I think of it: did they NOT eat their Horses before they started eating each other?

Dog food doesn't count either. I don't care how tasty it is! We are talking Filet of Secretariat here.

Funny how cows and horses are about the same size and we actually eat cows---unless you are from India, then you allow them to piss and shit on your front lawn (do they have "lawn" in India ) and eat rice with your hands---but no one ever says, "I am so hungry I could eat a Cow!" I mean, it is not like a Cow is to a Horse as a Mouse is to an Elephant.

This is where you interject and inform me that it is not meant to be taken literally and is just a figure of speech. It is not meant to mean that someone is actually going to eat a whole Horse---even if they could.... or wanted to. It is just someone saying they are really, really hunger and have a monstrous appetite. Kind of like when a guy without the assistance of an erectile dysfunction says he is going to make passionate love all night long. He doesn't really mean that he can. Anymore than he ate a Horse 2 hours earlier when he was "stah-ving!"

That is the peculiar thing about desire and how relative it is. Before the desire is fulfilled---while it looms on the horizon like an oasis in the desert---that desire feels larger than life. I really think I could eat a Horse, and I really could play Mailman all night long without being assisted by any pills or powders. That is how it FEELS in the moment. The desire feels massive and ravenous.... all-consuming. The proverbial eyes are bigger than the stomach is.

We are not lying either when we say how we feel in that moment. We are giving shape and substance to our subjective feelings. Our desire is all-consuming. That is how it feels. The irony, though, is that our capacity to hold and contain the objects of our desire is not as big. The willingness of our desire---the desire of our desire---is greater, in many instances than is our capacity for our desire.

Is that a little too philosophical? Perhaps. It need not be, though. I am sure any one of us can find immediate and direct examples from our own lives where our willingness led us to overestimating our capacity. It happens in love and relationships all the time. We don't need to just be talking about eating Horses here. That person who has the willingness to be faithful in marriage may not have the capacity to do so. Their desire is true and legitimate while their capacity to enact that desire is limited.

The same can be said for the person who is suffering with an addiction: one can have the desire for sobriety, and overcoming the abuse of a particular substance, while not having the capacity to actually do so. They may not be lying. They may not be dishonest. The lover who wants and craves you passionately---in the moment of intense passion---can be honest about their passionate desire to have you forever, while not being capable of actually doing that forever. The willingness is real. So are the limits of our capacity; and oftentimes the nature of all-consuming desire is such that it distorts our own perception of ourselves and the reality of what we are capable of. The result is that we overestimate how hungry we actually are.
 

I'm so hungry I could eat a horse, but I'll just settle for a burger.