The weariness of habit

I love Diet Coke.  I'd drink it every day if I could.  But I know it is unhealthy.  So I don't.  Well, I try not to.  Really, I do.  But sometimes, when I see it in a store, I just buy it.  Buying it gives me joy - it gives me a rush.  I've been drinking Diet Coke for decades.  I just associate it with pleasure.

I open it with that satisfying snap (I only drink it from cans - occasionally from fountains), and I start to drink it and...

It's awful. It's just fizz and has this weird taste and it leaves a disgusting film on my tongue that defiles everything else I eat for the rest of the day. It's not good.  It doesn't make me feel better.  Sometimes I feel worse.  It's gross.  I hate Diet Coke.  I vow to never have it again.

Until, of course, I see it again.  In the refrigerator of a cafe.  And I know it's unhealthy.  But gross?  Never.  I love Diet Coke. I have for decades.  I buy it - I get endorphins just from the purchase.  I open it - that fizzy sound tells me the most dependable pleasure of my life is only moments away - and I drink it...

And it's awful.  It's gross.  I hate Diet Coke.

Until, of course, I see it again.

*     *     *

In this week's chapter, "The Shadow of the Past", Gandalf returns to the Shire .  When we last saw him, though he suspected Bilbo's ring was more than it seemed, he did not quite know precisely what it was.  In the intervening years, he has discovered many things, and has returned in haste to alert Frodo: It is not just one of The Great Rings, but in fact The One Ring.

Gandalf then recounts to Frodo the story of The One Ring and how it came to him.  There is a long description of Gollum's possession of The Ring.  Or does The Ring posses Gollum?  The text is clear - Gollum serves The Ring.  The Ring changes the one who holds it.  As Gandalf explains:

"A mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, does not die, but he does not grow or obtain more life, he merely continues, until at last every minute is a weariness.... [Gollum] hated it and loved it, as he hated and loved himself.  He could not get rid of it.  He had no will left in the matter. "

I both love and hate Diet Coke.  But I absolutely hate what Diet Coke does to me.  And yet.  And yet.  I cannot get rid of my desire for it.  I have no will in the matter.  I will drink it.

Philosophically, we can say "Alex, of course you have a will - you can choose not to.  Don't buy it.  Ever.  Fill up on water, or juice, or even another soda!  Just don't buy Diet Coke.  Is that so hard?"

Yes.  Yes it is.  The abstract argument makes so many false assumptions.  To quote the comedian Mike Birbiglia:  "[My girlfriend once said:] 'We can't choose who we love.'  Which is true.  But that doesn't mean it's good."

I love Diet Coke.  I know it's bad for me, but oh I love it.  So I buy it.  It gives me a feeling, however brief, of bliss.  Unlike anything else.  And I want that feeling.  So I buy it.  Even as I know it is bad for me, the feeling I get from the purchase is unparalleled.  So I buy it.  I've liked it my whole life.  Maybe the past few times have been flukes.  So I buy it.  I'm rarely pleased.  But I buy it.

I do not mean to imply Diet Coke is The One Ring, or that the Coca-Cola Company is Sauron, or that Atlanta, Georgia is Mordor.  That takes the analogy is too far.  But I know, in a way, Gollum's pain.  I understand that need.  I understand how a thing you possess can possess you, preventing your growth, turning all existence into a weariness.  I understand how a precious life experience can become a burden, and yet it is still "The Precious."

I'm quite sure we all have had this experience.  The most obvious example I can imagine is a break-up.  Break-ups are hard, especially when it isn't on your terms.  That special person leaves you, and now all of those happy memories you have are bitter.  And you might, willingly or not, find the memories swirling around in your head.  You used to think about them all the time!  It is only habit.

(When Lindsey and I broke up, for several weeks later, I'd be driving home from work and be thinking, "I'll have to call Lindsey to tell her about..." and then I'd realize she wasn't part of my life any more.  It wasn't even a conscious thought.  It was just a habit.)

Everyone you meet reminds you of your past love in some way.  When you manage to date again, you might find yourself comparing your date to your old partner.  You are stuck - stuck on a thing that once gave you great pleasure, but is now nothing more than a burden.  It prevents us from meeting others - it prevents us from growing.  We merely continue, until at last every minute is a weary reminder of what once was.  We love the memories, even as we hate them.  We cannot get rid of them.

How, then, might we overcome these things?  How might we overthrow from our mind a thing that is so ingrained that even when it gives us pain, we crave it?  I wish I knew.  It's not like you can just "cast it into the fire."

In 2004, I was deeply in love with a girl who had rejected me.  I held on fiercely to the good times we had had, even as recalling those times prevented me from moving on, prevented me from enjoying the present.  I didn't even talk to her any more.  I just dragged myself, day in, day out, on thoughts about her.  I endured.

When the summer started, I went to Genesis (an interdenominational Jewish leadership program), and I wasn't much better.  For the first few weeks, it ate at me constantly.  One evening I was sitting by a pond, brooding over the injustice of my heartbreak with my friend, Katie.  I suddenly became consumed with rage.  As I recorded in my journal:

  I jumped to my feet.  I tore into my pocket and pulled out my keychain.  There was a small flashlight on it.  Focusing my hatred on the pond, I freed the flashlight from the ring.  I gave the pond a menacing glare and clutched the light in my hand.  Then I threw it into the pond.

I sat down, suddenly filled with relief.  Katie  slowly edged her way towards me and slipped an arm around my shoulders.  I was breathing heavily.  I stared at the pond.  It had robbed me of my flashlight.  A flashlight I had never needed anyway.  A flashlight I had found on the ground some time before.  A flashlight that I had cherished despite its failing battery.  A flashlight I could do without.  Katie rocked me gently.  I let my head fall on her shoulder.

It never bothered me again.

So what's the lesson here?  I don't know.  I wish I knew why throwing a small flashlight into a pond made me feel better.  I just took all that was bad about the situation and just... threw it away.  And it worked.

I wish this story had a lesson.  I wish I could tell you: "It worked for me, it will work for you!" like so many late-night infomercials.  I wish I could even tell you it worked for me in future heart-aches.  Nope.  So I don't know.  I certainly don't recommend throwing things into ponds.

As humans, we desire control over our lives.  Actions are fine if you know why you do them and genuinely enjoy them.  But if you do them just because you've been doing them for years - that's when they become empty.  And that's when life becomes a weariness of habit.  When we remember our lost loved ones without building relationships with new loved ones.  When we continue to eat or drink a food we used to enjoy, even if we don't any more.  When we go to work in a place we once loved and believed in, but now only go because it pays.  Acting in such a robotic manner drains the energy from our lives, and we wake up in the morning only to find ourselves exhausted by the thought of enduring another day.  And another day.  And another day.

The best I can say is: be aware.  Notice what gives you joy in the world and notice when it doesn't give you that joy anymore.  When that happens, react as quickly as you can.  Take control!  Find something new that gives you joy - do that thing instead.  And maybe that old thing will give you joy again if you return to it from a hiatus.  Or maybe that old thing will never give you that kind of genuine joy again.  Just don't become addicted to the nostalgia of what it was.  Don't live in the shadow of the past.

Bilbo: An immature hero

We all have that friend. You know the one. "THAT" one. They laugh at their own mean jokes, they push boundaries for no purpose other than to frustrate others, they hold others to impossible standards - and yet expect understanding for all of their failures. A friend who believes they are the End-all Be-all of everything, despite having done nothing to justify that attitude. A friend who misunderstands the very idea of life, as if it should be lived for the sole purpose of their own enjoyment - damn the consequences! A friend who cannot grasp grave concepts unless it applies directly, and only, to them. You know the one. The chapter we read this week is about such an individual - Bilbo. We see, even though we have connected with him and come to love his oddities, that his antics are that of an overgrown child. For the upcoming tale, we need a more capable hero than a prankster.

This week's chapter, the very first chapter of The Lord of the Rings is called "A long-awaited party." The title is meant as a direct contrast to the first chapter of The Hobbit, "An unexpected party." That chapter begins Bilbo's involvement with The Ring. This chapter ends it.

Bilbo is considered an odd Hobbit - this chapter gives us several examples of his neighbors disliking him. He has visitors from outside the Shire (which, in Shire culture, is not respectable); he adopted Frodo, who, according to his neighbors, is from the wrong side of the Brandywine river; he is on awful terms with the Sackville-Baggins (Frodo, upon being adopted, replaces them as Bilbo's heirs). Only the Gaffer (Bilbo's gardener) seems to respect him, and his attempts at salvaging Bilbo's reputation at a tavern fall flat. It strikes us that Bilbo has been treated unfairly. The Gaffer, the only one who really knows Bilbo, likes him. No one else does. Well, what do they know?

Not much, apparently. Most of what they say about him is wrong - just drunks insulting a Hobbit with more wealth.  Jealousy, really.  Even within the chapter, their tales of Bilbo's wealth grow and grow until it is clear they have no idea what they're talking about. They know he has wealth and that he doesn't share it. So they assume he got it in a disreputable manner, and they assume he is hoarding a lot of it (because the more treasure you hoard, the greedier you are). These things aren't true. But even if Bilbo is being unfairly criticized, that doesn't mean he defies criticism.  And I don't mean to say Bilbo is merely imperfect. Reviewing what we know of Bilbo, we find a Hobbit who does not have much moral worth.

Let's head back to The Hobbit.

Bilbo's first major failing comes when he tumbles into Gollum's cave. He finds the Ring and puts it into his pocket. Gollum finds him and wants to eat him.  Bilbo draws his sword and demands to be shown the way out.  Gollum, upon seeing his sword, suggests a game of riddles, that only if Bilbo wins will Gollum show him the way out.  After playing several rounds, Bilbo, while thinking of a riddle, puts his hands in his pockets and, touching the Ring, mumbles to himself "What have I got in my pocket?"  Gollum tells his this isn't a fair question (it isn't a riddle).  The text says: "Bilbo, seeing what had happened and having nothing better to ask stuck to his question."  Gollum gets it wrong, but Bilbo is not sure he will honor the deal.  The text says, Bilbo "knew, of course, that the riddle-game was sacred and of immense antiquity, and even wicked creatures were afraid to cheat when they played at it.  But he felt he could not trust this slimy thing to keep any promise in a pinch.  Any excuse would do for him to slide out of it.  And after all that last question had not been a genuine riddle according to the ancient laws."  But not addressed, even though Bilbo is afraid Gollum will break the rules of the game, is that he has no particular issue about the fact that he also broke a rule.  He's only worried Gollum might use that fact against him.

Nevermind that Gollum goes back to his den to find the Ring to murder Bilbo.  That Gollum is going to break the rules in an even more extreme way doesn't mean Bilbo becomes innocent.  Bilbo can't think of a riddle, and when he realizes he asked something that wasn't a riddle, he insists Gollum answer it anyway.

This is a powerful example of Bilbo's tendency to hold others to a double standard.  Gollum can't break the rules.  That would be unfair.  But Bilbo can - as long as he doesn't get caught.  Bilbo thinks wicked creatures would be afraid to cheat at the sacred game, but Bilbo cheats without the slightest hesitation (except the fear of getting caught).  Again - we all know that friend.  They apply the rules only as they see fit.

Further, when Gandalf and the dwarves ask Bilbo what happened in the cave, Bilbo lies and doesn't mention the Ring.  "Indeed Bilbo was so pleased with their praise [of how he escaped] that he chuckled inside and said nothing whatever about the Ring."  We've all been praised for things we did not do - or at least been given more credit than we deserve.  And we do not always take the time to correct those who praise us - it is nice to hear the appreciation.  If this was the only egotistical thing he did, we could forgive Bilbo.  After all, we have can sympathize with his feelings during this moment.  However, as we have seen (and will continue to see), Bilbo's failings run deeper than that.

Back to the present chapter, even on his birthday Bilbo seems to delight in being pointlessly mean.  We are told that 12 dozen (144) is also referred to as "one gross," but that the phrase is not usually used when referring to people.  Bilbo has invited 144 individuals of various familial connection to a private dinner and says:

"'[We are here to celebrate] OUR birthday.  For it is, of course, also the birthday of my heir and nephew Frodo... Together we score one hundred and forty-four.  Your numbers were chosen to fit this remarkable total.  One Gross, if I may use the expression.'  No cheers.  This was ridiculous.  Many of his guests, and especially the Sackville-Bagginses, were insulted, feeling sure they had onl been asked to fill the required number, like goods in a package.  One Gross, indeed!  Vulgar expression."
Caps found in original

Perhaps Bilbo is not trying to be mean - at the least he is being insensitive.  What he means as a joke is taken as some kind of low-brow comedy meant to insult.  Bilbo surely knows that one gross is not meant to be used when speaking of people.  And yet he does it anyway, adding a sort of "no offense" after - as if that comment has ever prevented anyone from being offended...

Further, we are told: "Hobbits give presents to other people on their own birthdays.  Not very expensive ones, as a rule, and not so lavishly as on this occasion... Many of them had indeed been ordered a year before, and had come all the way from the Mountain and from Dale, and were of real dwarf-make."  Bilbo here uses his connections with the outside world to very positive effect.  Here he shows his capacity to bring joy to his community.  But these gifts are given out to anonymous party-goers.  The day after his party, after Bilbo has left the Shire, he leaves behind many gifts to his friends and family which Frodo is charged with distributing.  The presents are absolutely not kind-hearted.  Here is a small sampling:

"For ADELARD TOOK, for his VERY OWN, from Bilbo, on an umbrella.  Adelard had carried off many unlabelled ones.

For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo, on a large wastepaper basket.  Dora was Drogo's sister [Drogo being Frodo's father] and the eldest surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo.  She was ninety-nine, and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century.

For MILO BURROWS, hoping it will be useful, from B.B., on a gold pen and ink-bottle.  Milo never answered letters....

For LOBELIA SACKVILLE-BAGGINS, as a PRESENT, on a case of silver spoons.  Bilbo believed she had acquired a good many of his spoons, while he was away on his former journey.  Lobeila knew that quite well.  When she arrived later in the day, she took the point at once, but she also took the spoons."

Caps found in original

It is truly baffling that Bilbo, with the capacity to bring in presents of true wonder to the Shire, takes this opportunity to take a parting shot at those he knew.  That he delegates this duty to Frodo only adds to the distaste.

Why am I spending so much time degrading Bilbo?  It is not that we dislike Bilbo.  Those who know The Hobbit probably have good memories of his journey and remember him fondly.  After all, while we all have that friend who is thoughtless and cruel and naive, that person is still our friend.  But we must know that, in the harder situations of our lives, that person will not be of much help, and may in fact become a great burden.  They must be cast off.

This chapter does just that.  This chapter takes Bilbo, uses him to introduce and connect us to Frodo, and then sends him away.  The upcoming journey is that of far more consequence than Bilbo's journey to the Lonely Mountain. And for that, we need a different kind of hero.  Not a joker hero, not an anti-hero.  A classic hero.  A hero of strong moral integrity.

The night after the party, as Bilbo is about to leave Bag End, he says to Gandalf: "What fun!  What fun to be off again, off on the Road with dwarves!  This is what I have really been longing for, for years!"  When Frodo leaves on his own journey, he will be in a much graver mood.  When Bilbo leaves, he casts off his final cares and worries.  When Frodo leaves, he will be shouldering those of all Middle Earth...