The Frailties of Youth
Eighteen, what a sad and tender age; hormonal, ignorant, ambitious and full of vivacity. I remember an event that was so fruitful to my ignorance and knowledge, that in retrospect I couldn’t believe how paradoxical it was and how faulty my conception of the whole scenario at the time was. Here’s what happened.
I was sitting in my car, parked near my college and fourty-five minutes left before my last exam for A-levels. I remember a teacher back in secondary school once remarked to me the importance of carbohydrates as energy before an exam, and also how great a banana is too for the health of one’s brain. Consequently and without hesitation, how can one hesitate advice from an elder at the age of fifteen, I was enjoying some shortbread doing some last-second revision before an exam when I stopped and was just enchanted by the surroundings. The parking lot had found itself adjacent to a rather turbulent and quasi-congested A-road (A-roads are mini motorways for those of you who’ve never heard of them). In front of me was a mini stream with minimal life and plantation, but the little green somehow always stood out amongst the cars and tarmac that infected the environment with its dark greyness and inevitable multi-pollution. The place where I had parked however, was somewhat different, the road was not tarmacked and no concrete lay beneath the wheels of my car, making the place feel somewhat rural and always reminded me of the countryside, my home, back in Southern Europe. This lack of concrete attracted more and more life, more birds of all sorts would search for food and feel welcomed to these regions and conditions than the tarmac, which was just a few feet away, and with probably more rubbish from which to indulge for food.
The sight that held my gaze for a good twenty minutes, and slowly took away a good half of the last minutes of revision time, was a triad of magpies all huddled up in an almost perfect circle looking for food. Magpies are very soothing to one’s gaze: a beautiful pattern of black and white in its feathers, its belly white, it’s rear and wings (when folded) are black and it’s long tail follows it so gallantly, reminds me of the formal dressing of men in suits; emanating pride and comfort. This picture took me and it reminded me of the entirety of my last years or so, their search for food made me ponder on my recent search for knowledge and purpose.
This retrospective thought coupled with the vision of this triad of magpies became everything present to me, and my awareness was devoted entirely to this moment, like a mother is devoted to her baby child; for a good ten minutes I forgot all else. Then I felt a tugging from within towards an action, the thought to follow made it clear beyond dispute; I was pushed to feeding them. I broke a bit of shortbread that I had in my hand into a few pieces and threw it with some intensity towards the triad; two of them jumped back, and the third barely flinched. With a vast ‘hmm’, in my head thinking that they jumped back because they were expecting a stone to leave my hand. I then decided to throw another piece in their direction, but this time harder. The two that previously jumped back now flew away, and the one that barely flinched stopped at its tracks and looked intently in my direction. From its stare I received a feeling of strength and suspicion, but at the same time pride. It wasn’t afraid of me, or at what I was throwing at it – it’s as if it didn’t care what I threw at it, it was not going to flee.
At that precise moment something hit me, I felt a realization descend on me. That past year or so I was immersed in the wisdom of success, reading books such as ‘Think and Grow Rich’, ‘Radical Honesty’ and many other similar ones based on personal success and development. From all of them in the end I realized one continuing concept that’s captured by a single word: perseverance. Perseverance brings with it other powerful words such as confidence, courage and commitment to name but a few. All these words, and specifically courage, were made apparent to me by this magpie’s actions. It didn’t flee, it was not afraid, and it was as if nature herself were speaking to me with a language she knew only too well. She was trying to tell me that only those who are not afraid get bread, only those who challenge death itself, those who penetrate their fears, will get fed: only the magpie that doesn’t run scared when the world threatens to throw a stone at it will get the rewards.
I was astounded, that whole year prior to the event I had spent in contemplation and buried in the works of success, only to find them summarized in a time window of less than ten minutes, by nature’s cruel means of communication, by her silence that speaks the sort of words that books can only grasp an infinitely small proportion of. I was reaffirmed by nature’s indifference and yet this very indifference of hers appeared so gentle and endearing to me in view of this event; I felt touched by her bosom. What irony that the very wisdom we lack is right here in front of us at all times just waiting to be disclosed, yearning for an observer with an unequaled sharp eye. Sometimes all we need to do is look in silence and allow nature to speak to us the only way she can, with an appearance, with actions. How ironic that the ways of our social world, our humanitas, are so closely bound with the ways of nature; are we really so distinct from animals, or are we just that and nothing more? The very thought of it makes me tremble in fear; at having to question our distinctness, our non-animosity. At the same time though it causes me unusual relief to know that our ways can be found in the ways of the world, for if we ever need guidance and direction, nature, that sweet, loving and indifferent mother is always there to hear our pleas and calls.
Here’s the cold unusual truth. I bet you’re wondering, where is this faulty conception that’s supposed to be paradoxical? The simple and quick answer is the whole thing. In retrospect, I would have never interpreted the event the way I did unless I spent the previous year thinking about certain related topics, reading certain books. If I spoke to somebody about this event and did not add my history leading up to this event, the outlook of the whole event would have been entirely different; showing pure subjectivity. In truth, someone may say: who cares about how a bird reacts towards food being thrown at it, or even someone who’s a little more scientific will say that the bird lacks the necessary cognitive/physical associations for survival and could possibly die. Others may say indeed that’s a brave bird and nothing more would leave their mouths, or others may argue that I was wasting bread unnecessarily – even polluting our streets/parking lots.
The importance of history in the interpretation of a state of affairs is, I hope, more than evident in this event. Can we extend this notion however, can we do what Nietzsche tried to do but hopefully in a more productive and ‘good’ way. History is important, without my history that whole scenario would have been arbitrary to me, entirely so. Without my past, my perspective, what would have been the difference between one interpretation and the next, of that particular phenomenon? I wonder, I really do, how we can safely say that one way of interpreting a state of affairs about nature can be more ‘truthful’ than another; I believe it’s not a matter of truth, but a matter of persuasion, a matter of compulsion – and how fickle is compulsion? It would seem then, the best way is history, the tracing of precedent events may perhaps offer a more strong contemplation of a current event – maybe Nietzsche was onto something with his method, his labour, regardless of the fruits of that labour.
