Existential Crisis

I think I've identified my problem – thankfully I only have the one problem – I might be having an existential crisis (now I really feel like a member of the human race).

Recently I watched the film “Year of the Dog”, in which a 40-something, unmarried, childless, animal-loving woman, working in a less-then-satisfying job, has a breakdown (existential crisis) after the death of her cherished dog. It’s described as a comedy but isn’t – it’s probably closer to a black comedy, but not quite – so I’ll have to categorize it as a grey comedy. It was a little difficult (sad, uncomfortable) to watch, but in the end I found it worthwhile. But I found it more worthwhile, even illuminating, when I listened to some of the commentary by the writer/director, where he used the exciting expression “Existential Crisis”, to describe what the woman was experiencing. (Interestingly, the film I watched next was “Superbad” – a film about teenage boys who are also experiencing existential crises - really).

So, what is an existential crisis. (Warning: film spoiler alert) In the case of the woman in the film her crisis evolves when she finds she doesn’t have anything in her life to deeply connect with, to be passionate about. A series of encounters following the death of her dog result in an obsession with animal rights; with her behaviour becoming increasingly erratic, and then dangerous, in support of this cause. (Another warning: dodgy sentence alert) Her animal obsession is both an external manifestation of her internal crisis, as well as being a strong indication of where her true passion lies. Eventually she is arrested (as can happen during an existential crisis) after she attempts to attack her deer-hunting neighbour. She finally realizes what she needs to do – she quits her job, leaves town and joins a group of animal activists.

I googled 'existential crisis' to find a definition, but it’s difficult to narrow down. Here are some possible explanations (from Wikipedia):

-A sense of being alone and isolated in the world
-A new found grasp or appreciation of one’s mortality
-Believing that one’s life has no purpose or external meaning
-Awareness of one’s freedom and the consequences of accepting or rejecting that freedom

I also found this comforting website which informs that: “You are alone.”

Does existence require meaning and purpose? Hell no. A few years ago I came up with a philosophy for life, which I can explain in 4 words: born, live, die…whatever. Other than that, we’re deluding ourselves. This might sound like a bleak philosophy, but it doesn’t have to be. It all depends on “whatever”. I’ve found so much more joy in “whatever” once I realised I was going to die – which was when I was in my mid-30’s (prior to this I believed I was immortal). So now I try to make the most of what I have, find out as much as I can (there’s a lot to know), try to make my brain the best that it can be – while (mostly) trying not to annoy anyone or anything in the process. And, hopefully, I will have made the best possible use of my existence before I keel over.

I have lapses, though. Sometimes my “whatever” doesn’t seem to be enough. I want more. I can’t be fulfilled unless I have more. Give me more! But I don’t need more. I can live quite well without more. In fact “more” might bring me misery. “More” might not be what my self-serving imagination has made of it.

Enough of the obscure. Back to the slightly less obscure.

Some people feel the need to make a mark on the world, or to change the world, or both. Is this about ego or compassion? Or both? Maybe this is the best combination for positive change. But what is “positive”? There are things I’d like changed about this world – but I don’t know how much of that is to my liking. What about everyone else’s liking? What if my way isn’t the fairest? I’ve always just survived the best I can, not trying to change the world but trying not to inflict damage. But I do inflict, not intentionally but from laziness and selfishness and inaction. And I don’t want to inflict. I wonder if this is at the heart of my existential crisis. It’s not very glamorous – be less lazy and selfish and more active. Fuck. Can’t it be something exciting, like buying red shoes or howling at the moon? Actually, I have a pair of red boots, and I am a little infatuated with the moon, but I’ve never howled at it.