If you want to be a person of honor, then you must bring honor to what is valuable in life. We need not honor only what is light, beautiful, and pleasant, but also the good that can be learned from what is dark, messy, and difficult. I prefer the first set, but without the others, my set of values would be incomplete. I don’t have to go very far to find any of those tussling values. We’re surrounded by opposites at every moment, and accepting them (liking them is another thing) brings a balance and harmony that feels close to a peace with one’s self. When you’re at peace with yourself, that can bring the right conditions for a clear-eyed love for your self, as temporary as the self is, with all of its frailty and strength combined.
"Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss" by Antonio Canova, 1787, the Louvre, Paris
In my own life, I’ve discovered that a necessary ingredient for regarding the self lovingly is humility. The definition of humility mostly comes with other words to describe it: humble, modest, unassuming, not excessive. Although today is about Saint Valentine, I find Saint Paul to be a good resource for the definition of humility when he admonishes us to not think of ourselves more highly than we ought, but with sober judgment, according to the measure of faith that we are given.
There are some interesting things to notice about this statement on humility. Firstly, he doesn’t say that people should debase themselves or deny what is good and valuable about themselves. He just reminds us not to forget our shortcomings, without despairing of them. Secondly, the word “sober” is another descriptor that gets misused sometimes, to mean somber, stern, or not lively. One of its given meanings is “sensible.” When we’re sensible, that means our senses are engaged, and we’re not leapfrogging around in our minds, from one view of ourselves to another, assuming the best and worst alone. We can sense the truth, feel its shape, and see and hear how it expresses itself. We aren't cut off from our ability to know the truth of ourselves and the situations we find ourselves in.
One movie that portrays self-love, sober humility, and honor, is Cast Away with Tom Hanks. The story is the well-worn trope of a person finding themselves alone on a desert island, in this case, Chuck Noland, an employee of Federal Express. Chuck has to keep his senses engaged in order to survive, which means that he has to honor his body by taking care of its needs, even when that is burdensome, frustrating, and monotonous. He has to honor his need for companionship, communication, and reflection in the creation of Wilson, the volleyball. He honors his need to be out of pain and isolation by weaving a rope to hang himself from the tallest point on the island. He honors his need to not make things worse for himself by testing the rope and seeing it fail. He honors his desire to get the hell off that island, even after painful failures, by bringing his mental and physical faculties to bear upon the hope and problem of rescue. When love is in action, the psyche can bring forth all sorts of inspiration and possibility.
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| Twentieth Century Fox, DreamWorks, 2000 The fire of the psyche needs room to breathe |
On his life raft, he is confronted by what I can only describe as one of the most sobering sights I’ve seen onscreen. While he is floating on a gradually dismantling raft, with the sea beneath him bearing him up and along, and the air above him out to the stars, the sudden eye of a whale emerges and regards him for a moment. What could you possibly conceal about yourself and your life, paradoxically moving and in situ upon the waves, with no words to cover yourself with? There’s nothing to claim or to argue. You are a naked creature, one of many, and also one of many like you. You’re not rare and noble. You’re just another part of what the ocean contains, what the heavens look down upon, and that level plane of existence is peaceful, in spite of its potential danger and awe-inspiring gaze.
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| Found on Deviant Art, Etaris 333 |
Yet, we can also honor our uniqueness within that commonality, by choosing a meaning for what we perceive and what is behind our actions, making ourselves a little less cast away, a little more at home with ourselves, a little more tapped into many currents. On a current for this unique Chuck Noland character, there comes to the island, floating up from the plane’s wreckage, a number of parcels that are never delivered because he keeps and finds a proper and unique use for them. All except one. It has the sender’s business logo on it, a pair of wings. This logo gives him pause, and he decides not to open this package, in hopes that he may one day be able to deliver it. He later uses that symbol to decorate the sail of his raft, both a bold statement of faith, made with humility in the knowledge that the whole endeavor may collapse.
When it comes to symbols, though, they can become illusory artifacts of the past if they fail to continue to lead forward to the future. For Chuck, there comes a moment of confusion and disappointment regarding his treasured photo of his fiancé, Kelly. When, near the end, he realizes that what kept him motivated to returning home-- a faded, idealized image of her kept locked inside a gold watch-- is no longer available to him, he takes an honest appraisal of that turn of events with a trusted friend. His Kelly belongs to the past, and the actual Kelly belongs to her own future. He honors the story of that disappointment by sharing it, soberly, with a little humor, and without blame or embellishment.
When it comes to symbols, though, they can become illusory artifacts of the past if they fail to continue to lead forward to the future. For Chuck, there comes a moment of confusion and disappointment regarding his treasured photo of his fiancé, Kelly. When, near the end, he realizes that what kept him motivated to returning home-- a faded, idealized image of her kept locked inside a gold watch-- is no longer available to him, he takes an honest appraisal of that turn of events with a trusted friend. His Kelly belongs to the past, and the actual Kelly belongs to her own future. He honors the story of that disappointment by sharing it, soberly, with a little humor, and without blame or embellishment.
And yet, at this point, we are only near the end of the tale, and not yet at the transitional threshold of the end. He also will realize, at a crossroads on a vast ocean of prairie land, that the symbol for his future life– the outspread and upturned wings– was on the island with him the whole time, too. Like many things, the symbol that appears can only be seen clearly in hindsight. But, like all symbols, this one only points in a direction and is not the end in itself. And even as he moves into this new life, he keeps his faithful witnessing mind by his side, his Wilson, that can always be renewed in another form and other places. Wilson was not bound to the island, either.
Where we are at today, St. Valentine, Aphrodite and Cupid (who fell in love with Psyche) are all getting a big celebration in their honor. I spent part of that day with one of my favorite writers about love, the late Amy Winehouse. Because if you can write out thoughts about love, like I do, that’s a good friend of love. But if you can write it out, put music to it, and then sing it in front of people who are gazing at you in the humility of all your ecstasy and misery, well, then that’s a lover of love for all time, and should be honored as such:
"I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know" by Donny Hathaway, 1973
""Cause there's nothing, there's nothing you can teach me
That I can't learn from Mr. Hathaway."
–– Amy Winehouse from "Rehab"
