Tricking the Trickster
If I bumped into you on the sidewalk and you asked me if I was suffering any hardships, your question would give me pause. Upon reflection, I’d say that what’s on top of mind for me is the mass extinction event whose evidence I see daily but the trajectory of which I’m helpless to alter. I’m, of course, referring to the precipitous decline of hair follicles on my head. If my lame top-of-mind pun caused you to ponder dark thoughts of revenge, you might retort that very soon, I’ll save a bundle on haircuts, combs, gels, shampoo, etc. when the last follicle on my head gives up the ghost.
My inability to cough up even a single real hardship is discomforting given my blogpost on how important those are for an “examined” life. Suffering is different from hardship. Hamlet was likely alluding to the former in his lament of “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.” Unable to find clarity in any of Shakespeare’s soliloquies, I asked the only other bard I had access to for help. Here’s how (in 2 seconds) Artificial Intelligence differentiates suffering and hardship.
Suffering is a prison,
A darkness that can hold us captive.
Hardship is a path,
A journey that can lead to wisdom.
Suffering is a curse,
A pain that can never be healed.
Hardship is a blessing,
A gift that can be cherished.
If, like me, you found the above sonnet lacking in Shakespearean wit and wisdom, here’s a more prosaic take: Suffering is your good friend living upstairs practicing his violin incessantly but never getting better-every bow drawn across the strings sets your teeth on edge. Hardship is what your friend invited into his life by playing the violin instead of a hobby you’d enthusiastically endorse such as underwater pantomime.
It might be tempting to bemoan the decision-making skills of your friend-I mean, how does one pass up the chance to emulate the French duo of Marceau & Cousteau? But betwixt your bouts of teeth-grinding, if you asked your friend why his violin loudly wails, there’s a possibility he’ll hand you his copy of Lewis Hyde’s Trickster Makes This World. Hyde’s hypothesis is that change is inevitable. Either you invite small hardships into your life through the front door or the trickster gods will crash through your backdoor like a Category 5 hurricane to inflict “cataclysmic” suffering. Very likely, your friend picked up the violin to keep trickster gods from paying him a visit.
You might wonder if learning a musical instrument is enough to placate trickster gods. Trickster Makes This World maintains that what’s needed is the presence of artistic styles that allows for “commerce with accidents.” Accidents might be how you charitably categorize your friend’s daily encounter with the violin. That word also describes my previous efforts at playing the drums to a T. At unguarded moments, my previous drum teachers-yes, I’ve had multiple-might venture to say “train wrecks”. The drum throne is a precarious seat for this king. His uncoordinated limbs, busy cooking up plans for anarchy, pay scant attention to befuddled commands issued by his brain. Where harmony should daily reign, cacophony has been repeatedly crowned.
If my goal is to invite never-ending hardship to mollify even the most demanding trickster gods, it’s obvious I need to pick up my drumsticks (again). It’s time to face the music (or my drums) much like Don Quixote with his lance confronting the windmills. Quixote had the trusty Sancho Panza by his side on his misadventures; I’m burdened with three red-headed stepchildren-both feet and my left hand. The Don came to his senses after being thrown off his horse on his first tussle with the windmills; I’m not as clever, dusting off the drum throne, my failed tilts distant memories.
The long and winding road ahead is filled with the windmills of limb independence, fast-twitch muscles, and linear drumming. I’m optimistic it will be a hardship-filled adventure.
Originally published at http://teepeem.com on April 7, 2023.
