Best of Week: Obscurity

“Obscurity is dark, ample and free; obscurity lets the mind take its way unimpeded. Over the obscure man is poured the merciful suffusion of darkness.”

My initial reaction to these lines in the second chapter of Orlando was of utter amazement. The word choice and sentence rhythm painted such a deep and vivid picture in my mind that I was surprised when I realized it was in fact an intangible idea being described, not a black, viscous liquid. Soon, however, this literary awe faded and was replaced with brow-furrowing confusion. Wait… obscurity is a good thing?

I found myself frantically vacillating from agreement and disagreement with this thought. Agreeing, I recalled all the times I didn’t play very high in the line-up on the tennis team (playing against less skilled opponents), and there would be nobody who came to watch my match. I felt completely obscure, but at the same time, there was virtually no pressure on me, so I would take my biggest risks and hit my best shots. However, disagreeing, clips of certain TV shows would replay in mind, where hundreds of Americans would fight over a chance to be in the spotlight because it would fulfill their dreams and lead them to a better life. Well, which of these is more accurate?

Thinking about these specific examples brings up many questions. What is more valuable: the way one feels in the moment, or the outcome of one’s actions? Our life or our legacy? Of course this could be completely turned on its head. Some people feel much more comfortable when they are out of view of others, and some people perform much better under watchful gazes.

Linking and swirling around this train of thought are the questions of motivation. What gets us to do what we do? In Orlando, after his painful experience with Nick Greene, Orlando finds he would write much better if he did it for himself, not anybody else. Thousands of local police officers, firefighters, teachers, software engineers, and doctors will never get their name beyond their county borders, but does this stop them from taking pride in their job? Not in the least. There are also those who live off of the views and support of others—those who walk to be followed, so to speak. Thousands of musicians, Broadway actors, professional athletes, and comedians project themselves onto the global screen to live out their dreams or bring about the change they want.

So, with all these thoughts, what can one take away from this quote? For me, it is a different perspective. I have always believed that the emotions of the moment and the way things end up years down the line are equally important. And, I have realized over time that everyone is guided by a different light—for reasons of their own. However, I had never really considered the pursuit of obscurity. In the future, I don’t really see myself seeking out opportunities to bury myself in the darkness, but I will definitely give more credit to this option. After all, a person on center stage and a person behind the scenes have an equally important role in putting on a show. Why appreciate one and leave the other to be ignored?

What If?: Memories Unearthed

The piece “Memoria Ex Machina” was built on a set of very unusual ideas. However, it was one in particular which really had me thinking. And, when I say “thinking”, I mean the not blinking for several minutes on end because that would most definitely disrupt my train of thought kind of thinking. The idea was very simple, yet profoundly complex: Perhaps the objects of our memories are better off left in oblivion, never to be unearthed.

According to “Memoria Ex Machina”, when we see an object or relive a moment from way back in our past, we run the risk of being disappointed when they don’t live up to our memories of them.

When I first read this, I got very depressed. Suddenly I felt like my whole childhood was an illusion. However much I hate to admit it, though, I have had a great deal of experience with this phenomenon.

One day, when I was only about six or seven-years-old, I heard a song in music class that made my heart soar. It was called Sammy/ I’m Glad I’m Me. I don’t know what it was about it that made me feel so light and exuberant. Maybe it was the lyrics, which my classmates and I acted out by flapping our wings and hopping around, or maybe it was the infectious melody. Whatever it was, I would be humming that tune for the rest of the day with a smile on my face. Soon, one school year morphed into the next, new friends joined the old friends, a baby sister was born and before I knew it, eight years had passed. And Sammy had been left behind.

Then, one evening last year, for reasons I have yet to explain, that fateful tune suddenly popped into my head. At this point, the Internet had evolved so much that within a minute, I had located the song, whose name I had since forgotten, and eagerly began listening to it.

Immediately, my smile deflated. The lyrics were mediocre at best. The melody seemed inconsistent and manipulated. To say the least, the song before me was a disappointment compared to my old childhood sweetheart. I was just about to “x” out of the YouTube page when the chorus began playing for the first time. With no warning whatsoever, my heart became as light as a feather and started soaring.

Yes, technically, I was disappointed after I unearthed this melody of my youth. What I had hypothesized were the reasons I loved the song were absolutely incorrect. I could honestly think of nothing complimentary to say about Sammy as a musical piece. What was it that made me feel that state of joy and bliss, then? It must have to do with what that song really reminded me of—what I connected it to the first time I heard it all those years ago.

The song was about a father. It was about independence. It was about pretending. It was about friends. Could these ideas have made me feel happy and alive when I listened to it? I also remember shedding all my worries as soon as I walked into my music class every week… feeling clean and pure as can be. Could this somehow be woven into my memory?

I have a feeling it wasn’t just Sammy that was unearthed on that evening last year. Because of unfounded expectations and a closed mind, I demonstrated the “Memoria Ex Machina” reaction: disappointment. But, I also rediscovered a great deal of my childhood and caught a fleeting glimpse of my young, buck-toothed, innocent self in the process. So, could I say I wish that memory had remained in oblivion? Yes, I could. But I would be lying.