Harper on Tedium

The days are hot this summer and there is no rain. I water my lawn on occasion, and my neighbors water their lawns every day, and the only difference between our lawns are subtle shades of yellow and beige. Our yards are gone except for the weeds, which are flourishing, now that all of that annoying grass is no longer choking the life out of them. They are slivers of green isles in the midst of a grassy dead sea.

Today, in a heroic effort, I mowed my lawn and the clouds of dust rose, and my home became an Oklahoma farm in the midst of the Great Depression. The process of mowing the lawn accomplished nothing but it was full of rituals. The ritual of applying sunblock to myself and getting dressed in my yardwork clothes. The ritual of pulling the mower out of the garage and getting it ready to run. The ritual of saying hello to any neighbors and commenting on the heat. Surveying my lawn as if I have any idea what I am doing. Running the mower and cleaning the mower and putting the mower away. Undressing. Showering. Redressing. Dozens of things to do. Chained together, these rituals created an illusion of productivity and I am searching in desperation for a sense of productivity because it keeps the tedium at bay.

When I phone Harper and tell him about my experience he says my obsession with tedium is pathetic and he calls it a "first world problem", which is not a Harper phrase, but it is accurate phrase. Both of our houses are too hot to continue a phone debate so we agree to meet for an early dinner and talk in a dark, cool corner of our favorite restaurant.

I say, "Help me understand what is wrong with me."

"Okay..." Harper says, "What is wrong with you?"

"I don't know."

"Then...I know what is wrong with you."

"You do?"

"Yes," Harper says, "you are ignorant."

This is a typical Harper logical response. The argument is tied up in an elegant little bow that looks pretty and accomplishes nothing. I try my best to look very annoyed and Harper sees it.

"Of course," Harper says, "People don't want to be ignorant, they want to have opinions because no one wants to look stupid, although "stupid" is a word often substituted for "ignorant", which is not the same as "stupid". If you did not know this, you are not stupid, just ignorant. If you are insulted that I just called you ignorant, as people often are, go look up the definition of the word "ignorant", because, if you don't, and you continue to believe that I just insulted you by calling you ignorant, you are being stupid."

This is typical Harper emotional response. He probably isn't insulting me but I am never completely sure. I try my best to look more annoyed, simply because I don't know what else to do.

"The good news," Harper says, "is that we all can address ignorance by putting in time and effort, and utilizing the proper resources, to reach a well-informed opinion. Before doing that, however, we need to take the time to decide if we really are passionate about an idea. If we don't care about an idea, we don't have to have an opinion. I know it feels like we should have an opinion, but we really, really don't. We need to accept our ignorance and truthfully say that we really don't know."

"Harper?"

"Yes?"

"Can you help me or not?"

Harper thinks for a long time. He strokes his non-existent beard. He thumps his temples. He grimaces and shrugs and winces. All for my benefit.

Then he says, "You don't need help."

"Why not?"

"Because your problem is that you are human."

I say, "There's not a lot I can do about being a human."

"That's true," Harper says, "But you can stop looking at being human as a problem."

"What do you mean?"

Harper says, "Humans spend so much of their lives trying to understand all of the big questions. Sure, we spend plenty of time and effort worrying about what shirt to wear in the morning, or how our children are doing in school, or whether or not the current traffic will make us late for work, but we have also spent an inordinate amount of time and effort on philosophy, theology, and psychology as well. We worry about the absurdity of the human condition, the finality of death and dying, the existence of God, the essence of reality, the origins of the universe and time and matter and energy, to the detriment of living. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I'm not sure I do."

"Maybe we should break this down into specific pieces. What is bothering you right now?"

I say, "I guess I feel ambivalent."

"Could you possibly be any less specific?"

"I don't think so."

"Then you probably should be more specific."

"I don't think I can. Questions about my emotions are difficult to answer. Not that I have a problem with sharing how I feel...on the contrary, I am often too blunt...but I don't always know exactly what it is I am feeling."

"Then you are probably stuck in the middle of a dichotomy."

"What does that mean?"

Harper says, "In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth, and that was the first dichotomy, and ever since then humans have been creating dichotomies of our own, an attempt to derive Order from Chaos, which is a significant part of being human. We created Good and Evil, and Happiness and Sadness, and Virtues and Vices, and we exercised Prudence in order to decide where it would be best to reside within the dichomtomy because the human condition does not live in either of the extremes, we exist in the blended grays in between, and when our dreams and fantasies gravitate towards one extreme we feel the pull of the other extreme because we need balance to keep us from flying off into a cold, chaotic void of space."

Then, he says, "There is another dichotomy between the extremes of Tedium and Adventure, of Boredom and Stress, of Contentment and Excitement, and it measures our movements along these other dichotomies, how fast, how often, how extreme, and you are static, at the extreme of Tedium, in the center of the human condition, at the crossroads of all of our dichotomies, like the spokes of a wheel with you in the center, in the calm dead silence of the eye of the storm, while all around you life rages on, and while you cannot feel life, you are aware that it is out there and this fills you with despair."

Then, he says, "You are in that time between time, waiting for something to happen, and remembering something that has already happened."

"You mean the present."

"Yes, from the perspective of time it is the present, but it is only one kind of present. I mean, it is a present, but it is a destructive kind of present because, within the context of the mind, a present can be reality or it can be something else entirely."

"Some sort of tedium, something like limbo."

"In Dante's Inferno, the first circle of Hell was Limbo, a kind of catchall for people that he liked and respected who died in original sin, and it is very much like life on Earth. So, Limbo is Hell, but life is not Limbo, it's not a waiting room, waiting is a choice, something that we control. You need to understand that all of us have the power to stand up and leave, and that all we ever need to do is to do something else."

"And what is the 'something else'?"

"Presently, the 'something else' is picking up the check for a meal with a very dear friend who has imparted a tremendous amount of wisdom upon you and has, up to this point in time, asked for nothing in return. After that, you are on your own."

Confronted with Harper's infallible logic, there was but one choice. I paid for our meals and exited the restaurant. Then, I went back into the real world and started looking for something else to do.