Day 4: Flying to London / Thoughts on "The Hours"

I pretty much had the house to myself today before the plane flight. Chris and Katie went down to UV for interviews and housing and stuff. Bryan went to school. Mom and Dad both had to work. So I just read a little and did some video processing (wanted to get South Pacific on Bryan's computer so I could free up a tape). I also scanned in all my wallet photos so I could make my wallet thinner and put the pictures on my PDA. Dad came home to pick me up in the afternoon, and we ended up leaving a little later than we wanted to, because I was trying to get the pictures off their network and couldn't get my laptop to connect properly. So instead of dad taking me to Vienna and leaving me to find my way to Reagan Airport via the Metro, he took me all the way into Reagan. Which I had no complaints about, since I didn't want to carry around my bags on the Metro. My flight plan was to fly to New York (LGA) and then on to London Heathrow. It was my first time to Reagan, believe it or not. Not much to say about it, besides it has a very boring layout and a lot of security. I got there with plenty of time, so I changed some money over to pounds ($140 for got 80£. Plus a $5 fee to change the money. Horrible exchange rate if you ask me). I also bought some sunglasses. I lost mine sometime at the end of last year. With summer coming, though, I figure it's about time to get a new pair. At LGA, I ended up waiting a couple of hours for our plane to leave. I got a sandwich at TGIFridays. Thanks to a computer problem, our flight left about an hour late (9:15 EST).

So far, the flight's been uneventful. The flight's very empty. I got an aisle seat on the inside column. There's absolutely no one between me and the guy at the other end of the aisle. Since the guy in front of me decided to lean his chair back, I've just scooted over a seat. Plenty of room for leaning back and sleeping. The only problem is, I can't sleep. This is kind of frustrating because it's going to be mid-morning when I get into London. I guess I shouldn't have slept in so long this morning. I've been playing games and reading the in-flight magazine and watching movies to distract me. Oh, and I love this plane. So much better than the last international flight I took, way back at the end of my mission. On the back of every seat is a television screen, so you can watch whatever you want. Including the flight map, if you so choose.

I just finished watching "The Hours." Fantastic movie, if you ask me. At some points, I felt like there was just a little bit missing. Like there had been some cuts. Well, I guess since it was based on a book, this is to be expected. But it's a really thought provoking piece, and has gotten me thinking. First of all, I just want to say the opening scene(s), with the build-up along all three timelines to the opening passage of Mrs. Dalloway—"I think I shall buy the flowers myself"—is incredible. Great cinematography, and great storytelling.

Besides that, there were three moments that really stuck out during the movie. First off, there's Richard's "Ah, Mrs. Dalloway...always giving parties to cover the silence." There's just so much being said with that statement. First, the silence. What silence? Well, the emptiness of a trivial existence, that's what. The silence one gets back sometimes when he/she starts asking what it's all for. I've been extremely disturbed by the possibility of this silence lately. With Curtis' death for example, but also beginning with back at the end of last year when I was trying to get in the mindset of my main character in the story I've been writing. He has cancer and is like Richard, resigned to death. My character also has failed to find any comfort in religion, which I believe is implied for most of the characters in the movie. The more and more I got into that character, the more and more I began to wonder about the "silence" he was hearing. And though I haven't ever framed it in such elegant words—"cover," that's such a fantastic word for it—I began to wonder if I was doing something to cover my own silence. Like religion. So anyways, here's this guy, Richard, who is either tired of the silence, or unable to cover it, or something, and I just look at him and see how empty he is. And meanwhile, there's Clarissa who seems terrified by this statement. Like she knows about the silence, and she's worried that she could be doing exactly as Richard says, covering it. So on one hand, this silence is so terrifying, but on the other hand, Clarissa just shakes it off, as if to say, "so what if there is silence. What's wrong with covering it with something?" Because if you don't, you'll end up like Richard, unable to live at all in the end. And sure, the silence will come and interrupt life every once in a while, as it does for Clarissa, but at least you're able to live.

Secondly, there's Clarissa's statement to Richard, "That is what we do. That is what people do. They stay alive for each other." Just a little aside here—Meryl Streep was fantastic as Clarissa. One of her best performances ever, I think. But anyways, this statement sort of goes along with Richard's statement to Clarissa, "What about your own life?!! Just wait until I die, then you will have to think of yourself." And that all ties back to the silence. Richard's essentially saying that Clarissa is avoiding her own silence by worrying about Richard all the time. But this is exactly the point. Richard hears the silence because he's so self-absorbed in his own existence that he doesn't hear anyone else. Clarissa can cover the silence because she extends beyond herself, almost forgets herself really, as she tries to make everyone else happy. I think this rings true for myself as well. When I get depressed, I'm really being selfish. Thinking too much about my own existence, until suddenly the purpose of the universe collapses into the single, mortal being that is myself. And when you're only looking at yourself for answers, of course you're going to get silence because there's no one but yourself to give you answers. But when I'm occupying my time with others, when I expand my universe to the whole of mankind, with its infinite potential, suddenly my own silence disappears because there is so much more there. I mean, I'm going to die. Eventually, I'm going to non-exist. But mankind can go on and on forever, if we so choose. And thus, if invest my purpose in mankind's purpose, I can exist forever as well. And so, as Clarissa says, I'm staying alive for others, just as they're staying alive for me. It's a metaphysical contract, really. I'll keep the silence away if you keep the silence away. And that way we can keep living and stave off non-existence. Of course, I'm not saying that Richard would keep living if he weren't so self-centered. Richard doesn't want to cover the silence. So we're really talking about two different philosophies for existence. Richard's paradigm seems right to him. He says that after all, there's still the silence. So why bother. His paradigm says essentially that death and life—existence and non-existence—have the same utility. No one is more valuable than the other. And in fact, death has a higher utility because it doesn't have to fight against the silence. Clarissa's paradigm meanwhile, assumes that life is definitely more valuable than death, no matter the silence. It's this basic assumption that keeps us alive, and gives the entire human race meaning. There's no logic to this assumption, at least not that I can rationalize at the moment, but it's an emotional assumption most of us all make. Richard's paradigm shift, his lack of such an assumption, is not only dangerous to himself, but to all mankind. Because by removing himself from the human race, he takes away that which gives meaning to others.

And finally, there's Virginia Woolf's explanation to her husband of why someone has to die in her novel. She tells him, and I'm paraphrasing here because I can't remember exactly, that "someone has to die so that the rest of us realize the value of life." First of all, just applying this to the vague argument I've been building here, the story seems to be saying that, despite my assertion that Richard's paradigm shift is dangerous, his death is still valuable to the rest of humanity because it shows us the value of life. How does it do that? By reminding us of the silence and reminding us of the alternative to life and forcing us to crystallize our belief that life is more desirable than death. We mourn because we realize just how much potential Richard's death has removed from our common vested interest in life and humankind. But metaphysical arguments and literary analysis aside, this part of the film really got to me because of, of course, Curtis—the idea that he died so that we could appreciate life. I think his death has really helped me to come to a lot of the same conclusions that I'm arguing Clarissa has made. I don't want to be overdramatic here, but I wonder if one way of looking at his death would be to say he died so I could get on living. These last few months; well, especially over winter, I've been so self-absorbed, so (I guess I'm finally admitting this to myself) depressed about the possibility that maybe all my religious beliefs are just a cover and I could suddenly die and my entire life will have been meaningless. It's like I was half-expecting myself to die. And then suddenly Curtis dies and I realize that on one hand, I'm dead right about the fragility of life, and on the other hand, I've been wasting my time worrying about my own death because it's going to happen eventually. There's nothing anyone can do about it, so just keep on living and enjoy it. And find stuff to do so I can cover the silence. Even if my religious beliefs about life and death are wrong, it doesn't matter in the long run because they will have covered the silence and allowed me to live. I don't know. I'm logically trying to explain away what is really an emotional and religious state, but basically I'm suddenly more comfortable with Curtis' death, and death in general.

As well as life. I think I'm seeing things a little more clearly now. I'm beginning to realize that I've been too concerned my entire life with achieving something that will preserve my name for future generations. What I should be concerned about is mankind achieving something. Some happiness. Some perfection. Some infinity. Something to give mankind the meaning that seems so impossible to find in my own, singular life. This, I'm beginning to think, is what religion and God is all about. The swallowing up of the self in others. The realization that we are all intertwined. We cannot exalt ourselves, rather we must be exalted together with others, by others. It's a grand human vision—an eternal human family. The only vision that seems worthwhile.

In closing, just by way of clarification, I think it might appear to some people that I'm ignoring God in this discussion. And I just want to clarify myself (I know, I know, perhaps I'm just trying to cover my silence). A lot of the time we use God's "mysterious will" as the end-all answer to questions about life and death. But I really think He is just the beginning to the answer. Sure, I believe in a Creator. But you know what, I don't think in the end we're going to die, meet God, and suddenly find that existence makes sense. That silence—the possibility of non-existence—is still going to be there, and we've got to take a stance on it, whether it be now or later. So I'm just looking for answers that don't end with God. And that's why I've arrived at this human vision thing. Think about it, if God didn't create us, what would there be? Nothing, except God. And silence. I'm wondering if God needs us to cover the silence as much as we need Him. By us eternally progressing, achieving some infinity, God Himself achieves meaning. Because there suddenly is that Other that He can contract with—that expands beyond himself into something larger. It says existence is better than non-existence. And if you're willing to believe, as do I, that He is just an extension of the human family—the Father of us all, you see that this human vision is His own vision.

Posted May 12, 2003 (11:58 PM) | Comments (1)