Living in a Box of Limitations

Judgment is a rather harsh word, however we all practice it every day of our lives, whether we want to admit to it or not. When we walk into a room of people there are immediate judgments passed. Judgment is passed on the room, the décor or lack of it. Upon first meeting we assume things about people based on their appearance; their clothing or “sense of style,” shoes, hairstyle, cleanliness, how attractive they are or not, etc... We decide if the person is “cool” or “our type of person.” If our assumptions are positive we may sit near them or speak to them, if negative we may avoid them. However, in the end it may turn out that the person who was not “cool” is actually someone we would enjoy having a conversation with and the person we deemed “cool” is a drone.

In the two stories we read by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, he very pointedly makes fun of this aspect of human nature. In “The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World” the people are so obsessed with this corpse that their conceptions of reality are thrown out the window, so to speak. At first it is simply the women who are overtaken by this idea they have created in their own heads. The men are annoyed with them and all the trouble they are causing, however, they were quickly drawn into this false sense of reality. “...the women kept piling on their junk relics, running back and forth, stumbling, while they released in sighs what they did not in tears, so that the men finally exploded with since when has there ever been such a fuss over a drifting corpse, a drowned nobody, a piece of cold Wednesday meat. One of the women, mortified by so much lack of care, then removed the handkerchief from the dead man’s face and the men were left breathless too. He was Esteban. It was not necessary to repeat it for them to recognize him... There was so much truth in his manner that even the most mistrustful men, the ones who felt the bitterness of endless nights at sea fearing that their women would tire of dreaming about them and begin to dream of drowned men...” A dead man is washed upon shore, he is different than most the men in the village, and within a short time he becomes an invasion into their fantasies. A whole life is created for this “piece of cold Wednesday meat.”

Marquez mocks the fact that we can take one tiny insignificant thing and blow it up into something so huge and ridiculous and completely unrealistic. Having a vivid imagination is not a bad thing. However, when it becomes a fantasy world that we live in, issues begin to arise. Our view of what actually is reality becomes more and more blurred until we live our daily lives as if this fantasy world we’ve created is real. There are many reasons people do this, some do it for “legitimate” reasons. A child who lives in constant fear and horrible abuse may allow themselves to create a fantasy world where they are loved and free from harm, this fantasy world may give them the ability to survive from one day to the next. But others do it because they no longer like the reality they live in, so they create something else, something more interesting or exciting, or simply to just run away.

Marriage is an institution that should be taken very seriously. It should not be entered into carelessly or thoughtlessly. Unfortunately today people want what they want and they want it now. Marriage is easily entered into and exited. The idea of marriage or getting married is so romanticized and idealized, but the reality of it is rarely addressed. Prince Charming and Cinderella are not real. They are fantasies that we create in our minds, fantasies that will never come to life. When I was younger, I remember a girl I knew had made this list of things she wanted in the guy she married someday. After she showed it to me, she asked me what mine was. I was baffled. We were 12 maybe 13. How could she know all of that??? We were still kids. Was there something wrong with me, that I didn't know all of that? Sadly, real life never works out quite the way we picture it in our fantasies.

In the second story, “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings,” the people are horrified, mystified, and captivated by this strange creature that came to be in their lives. They caged it up, threw food or more like trash to it, they poked it, laughed at it, and paid money to see it, but refused to believe it to be an angel. Why couldn’t this creature have been an angel? Well, “he did not understand the language of God or know how to greet His ministers... he was too much human: he had an unbearable smell of the outdoors, the back side of his wings was strewn with parasites and his main feathers had been mistreated by terrestrial winds...” But most importantly this creature could not be an angel because “nothing about him measured up to the proud dignity of angels.” Who is to say what an angel looks like? Who is to say what the “language of God” is? Who is to say how one is to greet their ministers? The people had allowed themselves to be put into a box of limitations. They lived their lives and made their assumptions based on what someone else told them.

People are constantly creating these “boxes of limitations.” We stereotype everything. Woman? Well, they love chocolate, shopping, shoes, clothes, etc... and hate dirt or bugs or being outside. Men? They love being outside and doing “manly” things, playing sports, working on cars, etc... Me? Upon first glance, I may seem to be very girlie and "fragile," for lack of a better word. I have fancy handwriting and truly do enjoy cooking. However, appearances can be quite deceiving. I strongly dislike, not hate, just strongly dislike, chocolate. I passionately hate shopping. I only have as many shoes as are absolutely necessary; sneakers, chucks, and flip flops can be worn with everything, right?! Cloths oh shoot me! Why do I need 700 shirts and 300 pairs of jeans? (small exaggeration) If I were given the option I would prefer to go outside and run around in the woods, climbing over logs and wading through creeks or go hiking. Mud and bugs? They don’t bother me. Is this typical? Who cares, forcing ourselves to live inside a box of limitations keeps us from seeing what is really around us. Not only does it limit our vision, but it stunts our growth as individual human beings and we force ourselves to live by someone else’s standard of life.

Julio Cortázar

When the word “hypocrisy” is brought up, there is this immediate aversive reaction. No one wants to be accused of being a hypocrite. However, in our daily lives it seems to be everywhere. When one asks the question “How are you?” the typically acceptable response is “I’m good.” We do not simply say the words “I’m good,” we put on a smile and force ourselves to fake-it-till-it’s-real, or at least convincing. For some strange reason it is no longer acceptable to be real. Not to say that we should wear our emotions on our sleeves or tell everyone we meet of all our troubles. However, what is wrong with saying “Eh. I’m having a rough day.”? Nothing more must be said, no details are required to be given and the other person need not feel awkward, as if the answering party just shared in confidence with them some deep, dark secret. They need only to share a sincere smile or some encouraging word, to let the other know that they care enough to try and make their day better, even if only in some small way. Instead, we give the acceptable answer and move on to talk about something as emotionless and mundane as the weather. Faking the desire to actually care about another individual has become the norm.

In Julio Cortázar’s short story “Our Demeanor at Wakes,” he depicts a family who does just this. They are tired of the hypocrisy around them, so they decide to “fake it” better than everyone else. They attend a funeral and are so convincing in their mourning that they completely take over the funeral. Not only do they fool everyone around them, but at times it seems they themselves are so caught up in it, that they begin to believe the lie they have started to spin. In the end, they walk off silently and emotionless, not caring about the possible repercussions of their actions. The longer they faked it, the harder it became to discern between what was real and what was simply made up.

The story “The Continuity of Parks,” is an excellent example of “creating my own reality.” There seems to be this need for the man, in this story, to finish his novel. He becomes so absorbed in it that he does not see striking the similarities to his own life. One can’t say for certain, but maybe his wife was having an affair. Perhaps he knew and was trying to escape from his own reality with the book.

The imagination is a very powerful thing. It allows us, for a brief moment, to escape into an alternate reality; one where we do not have to think about or deal with the mundane or demanding reality we live in. This is not always a bad thing, having a mental break from life can be very beneficial for an individual’s sanity. However, when that alternate reality that we dive into starts to become our reality, is when there is a problem; saying it so “black and white” makes it sound so ridiculous and unrealistic. Yet, it is so easy to do. Our fake-it-till-it’s-real or at least convincing life style is very conducive to running away from our reality.

On the flip side is the story “Axolotl,” by Julio Cortázar. There is a man, who becomes obsessed and very passionate about suffering of the axolotl at the aquarium. He says “they were suffering, every fiber of my body reached toward that stifled pain, that stiff torment at the bottom of the tank. They were lying in wait for something; a remote dominion destroyed an age of liberty when the world had been that of the axolotls. Not possible that such a terrible expression which was attaining the overthrow of that forced blankness on their stone faces should carry any message other than one of pain, proof of that eternal sentence, of that liquid hell they were undergoing.” There is an element of empathy this man feels for the axolotl, but he does nothing for them. He does not seek to alleviate any of their suffering, nor does he try to change himself.

All in all, I would say these three stories can give a rather depressing view of our human condition. We are hypocritical and lie to each other and ourselves. Sometimes we try to see or feel things from another’s point of view, but really we are just creating our own little worlds that fit with what makes “me” feel better. Yes. That is a very depressing view on humans. However, there is also the idea that these can be taken as warnings. People can change. Empathy is a good place to start, but we cannot change our hypocritical behaviors and become real, unless we are first willing to do something.

Popol Vuh: The Dawn of Life Response

As I was reading the first few chapters of Popol Vuh, I had to stop often and go back to reread, checking to make sure that I had just read correctly, and indeed I had. Once I made it through all five chapters, I went back and reread the whole thing a few times. I had a hard time taking it seriously. It all seemed soooo... so preposterous. So, illogical. The gods decided to make humans out of animals? Then mud? Next wood? And the failed wooden people who managed to escape the gods death punishments are now monkeys? Then there is the seeming shock the gods experienced over the fact that none of their attempts worked. Two questions came to mind... Why would these people be so proud of their gods, when everything they did was a complete failure? And if their gods messed up all the time, what makes them any different than you or me?

I have no answers to either of my questions, but to explain where my train of thought is coming from... Growing up I have always been that person who thought everything all the way through. I like good, solid facts. I like logic and logical reasoning. And when something didn't fall in any of those categories I either pushed it away and wouldn't think about it or just totally rejected it. My brothers always tell me that not everyone thinks the way I do, and what to me, may appear to be ridiculous, does not always appear that way to everyone. Not to say that having an imagination is bad, but I like my line between what is real and what is not. Imagination has its place. Things that don't fit into my idea of reality get filed under "fake."

No matter how many times I read the chapters, it still seems very odd and a bit ridiculous to me. I found myself thinking very critically, that it was just stupid. However, I stopped for a minute and thought about what I believe. Not all of it is totally logical and to some people it may seem very illogical and ridiculous, having very little solid, factual basis. Someone could very easily look at me and say what I believe is ridiculous and stupid.

Overall, I really enjoyed reading these few chapters. And find it very interesting that no matter where you go or what people group you learn about they all seem to share similar ideas. Ideas such as greed, pride, and lying being wrong. As well as, a belief system being important, whether it be a specific religion or not.