Appreciating Happiness through Melancholy
I’m sitting here on my couch tonight, my nose red and sore, my lips chapped, my nose running, and my entire body feeling that familiar achy feeling that comes on as a virus takes control of my body and becomes a cold. I’m most certainly not at my happiest, and it shows, both in my own thought process and in my interactions with other people. As I sat down to sift through the various articles I had accumulated this week for today’s post, I came across one that addressed the subject of melancholy and how it should be celebrated as a natural, and necessary, part of our lives. In the article, “In Praise of Melancholy,” published in the January 18th issue of The Chronicle Review, author Eric G. Wilson tackles the growing idea in American culture that constant happiness in one’s life is “normal” and the ultimate goal is elimination of melancholy.
Wilson quotes a recent poll performed by the Pew Research Center indicates that nearly 85% of Americans believe they are at least pretty happy. Several psychologists and scientists are even examining this phenomenon of “happiness,” attempting to map how the brain works when it feels happiness. Fields of research are emerging to battle against melancholy, attempting to eliminate it from our lives and help people using therapy, drugs, and any number of other venues. But, he argues, that we’re doing ourselves a disservice by trying to numb ourselves to the pain associated with melancholy, and we’re setting ourselves up to live with a diluted version of happiness because of our attempt to eliminate its counterpart.
After reading his argument, I sat here for a moment, thinking of my own predicament, suffering from a bad cold, and I couldn’t help the strong desire to disagree with him. I’m pretty miserable right now, and would give anything to be healthy and happy. But as I thought more about Wilson’s words, it occurred to me that under “normal” conditions I would probably agree with him. I can remember growing up that whenever things seemed to go wrong in life, I reminded myself that what I was facing was necessary in order to appreciate the good, happy moments in life. It’s a philosophy that I think I’ve lost over time, constantly seeking to retain happiness in both my own life and the life of my family.
My wife lost her childhood dog several months ago. We were on vacation when he died, but no one told us of his death until we returned home. I found out moments before my wife did, and I remember the distinct feeling of my heart sinking to the floor. My instinct was to make the whole thing not true; I wanted to immediately drive over to her parents’ house, where the dog had lived, and pick him up to bring him back to our house. What was more devistating for me, however, was when she found out. I will never forget her reaction, and how helpless I felt as a watched the pain encase her in a shell from which she would not emerge until several days later.
Upon seeing a loved one suffer, I believe most of us instinctually want to remove that source of suffering, much as I did when I saw my wife suffer with her loss. But these moments are often counterbalanced by something positive at some point, and both are critical to our appreciation of what we have for the period of time we have it. As the author states in the article, “The porcelain rose is not as pretty as the one that decays. Melancholia over time’s passing is the proper stance for beholding beauty.”(1) It is our understanding that nothing is permanent that helps us appreciate the beauty of something more that we would if that feeling of loss didn’t exist.
This is not to say that all levels of melancholy are typical. In fact, the author states, in several instances there is a strong case for drugs and psychological therapy for those people suffering from an unrelenting, deep depression. But, and this is my own thought here, I think we live in a society where instant gratification is quite often the norm, and if recovery is nothing short of immediate there is an expectation that a drug or intensive therapy should be explored as an option. Should we explore the possibility that we aren’t even giving our own coping mechanisms the chance to work? My wife, as devastated as she was, has managed to recover from her loss and function completely normally without the use of drugs, and with little psychological therapy, though it did take time. I have suffered from my own losses and have managed to deal with them without any kind of drug to help me along. We certainly still think these things are tragedies, but can now appreciate the beauty as we would a decaying rose.
What motivates us to eliminate this feeling from our lives, according to Wilson, is fear. “Most hide behind a smile because they are afraid of facing the world’s complexity, its vagueness, its terrible beauties.”(2) My reluctance to travel around the world is a perfect example of this because I fear what might happen to me if I go. I fear death away from home ever since 9/11, I fear the possibility that I will never return to a familiar place, I fear the melancholy and loneliness I will feel if I can’t communicate or can’t understand the people, culture, and artifacts I might see. Yet, in doing so, I deny myself the adventure of seeing the wonders that the world offers, and the splendor and magnificence of things I just can’t see at home.
So I agree with the author that acceptance, not elimination, of melancholy is the answer that we must seek in order for us to avoid diluting our happiness. As Wilson best puts it when he paraphrases John Keats, “To deny death and calamity would be to live only a partial life, one devoid of creativity and beauty.” I welcome the beauty that sadness may bring, even if its fresh, but decaying petals may not always be immediately evident.
What do you think?
Eric G. Wilson adapted his work in the Chronicle Review Newsletter from his book Against Happiness: In Praise of Melancholy
(1) See “In Praise of Melancholy,” Eric G. Wilson, The Chronicle Review, January 18, 2008, B12.
(1) See “In Praise of Melancholy,” Eric G. Wilson, The Chronicle Review, January 18, 2008, B14.
