What is Farewell to Arms?
“Cover me, I’m going in.”
Looking across the swath of grass that extends behind my parent’s yard, connecting a network of ready-made homes, I’m reminded of the activities that gathered us together as kids. Long before sheds were erected and landscapes were set, the backyard was a shared experience; each of us grew through the cycle of fear, trust, and confidence that comes with youthful exploration in a group. Like for many, cops and robbers was a favorite, giving me the chance to practice fair play, justice, and honesty as well as deception, malice, and selfishness. With fake weapons drawn, my friends and I relied on the members of our respective sides to overcome whatever threat was lurking on the lawn. On occasion, betrayal occurred, robbing us of trust in future endeavors yet copping our understanding of individual integrity. We unknowingly built community, forging alliances and gaining protection, while our families did the same through neighborly activities.
Away from this common ground, our loyalty was challenged; we battled through puberty, peer pressure, and bullying on our own, learning how to protect ourselves through vulnerable moments in which we couldn’t rely on each other for support. As a group, we were losing touch with the trust that came so naturally in the grassy expanse; we were forced to reevaluate who we let into our hearts. It was around this time the neighborhood started to shift; the community-wide parties came to an end, backyard privacy was prioritized, and next-door friendships were reduced to simple waves of the arm in passing. Our collective guards were up; no longer was the backyard a welcoming space for all, but a secured row of rectangles where an invite “in” was necessary every few yards.
On the other side of the house, across the street, a new threat arrived. A young couple, a bit older than me, moved in and soon after, found themselves the proud parents of 1, 2, 3, and 4. While I was away (then back, then…), blasting through relationships, jobs, and living situations, they made themselves a(t) home and started treating the neighborhood like they owned it. Then, I began hearing about disagreements, confrontations because of their perspective on fireworks. And snow clearance. And pet care. While they were making nice with neighbors up and down the street, they were taking aim at my parents with their insensitivity, from my side of the street anyways. In turn, my anger stockpiled to the point I now have to fight the urge to bid farewell with a wave of my middle finger each time we cross paths.
“Conflict and war among nations begin with friction between individual people. A nation at war is simply the effect of spiritual darkness born of animosity and intolerance among individuals who comprise a nation…We’ve been duped into believing that our actions toward others have no impact upon the world at large,” points out Yehuda Berg, my nemesis, when describing Farewell to Arms in The 72 Names of God. What a j*rkoff. To make me think my growing animosity is the cause of social, political, and economic conflicts we face as a people. That my spiritual darkness is giving birth to the negativity that is haunting us day and night. Did Berg see those debates?! It feels like no one can gain control with the world spinning at this rate. All this unnecessary death is producing friction, especially when counting the lives lost to senseless gun violence. It makes me want to arm myself just to ward off any threats! In effort to reduce the friction between me and my neighbors (and anyone else I rub the wrong way), I’ve turned to a different type of friction to deal with this global animosity: masturbation. I mean…sex with another person is a lot more complicated with COVID; I’m being safe! And with intolerance around every corner, it seems easiest to be alone with my thoughts, feelings…and eruptions. Farewell to my arms being used for anything productive ever again…
As good as it feels to drop trou and work out some tension, I’m afraid there’s no trust or confidence handed over in the exchange. As a result, the walls around my vulnerability go up, the guards come out, and I’m left defending a newly erected structure from being infiltrated by anyone suspicious. Anyone who doesn’t understand what I’m saying. Anyone I don’t trust moving closer. “When enough people make the effort to find good in one another, nations will suddenly and miraculously discover ways to achieve a lasting harmony. There it is—the long-hidden formula for world peace. It begins with us. Peace flourishes when we extend tolerance, unconditionally, to our neighbors. Be aware with complete conviction that our efforts are changing the entire world in that one moment” (77). I thought I was doing good for others by taking matters into my own hands, but Berg once again moves the ideal point beyond my reach, making it feel like lasting harmony is only at hand for those who hold together. As if he ever found peace away from his piece.
shot in the dark
I’m on edge. The year is nearly over, and I have nothing but shingles to show for it. Yes, even my skin turned against me in 2020. But that’s everybody’s experience at this point; no one is safe from the hell of this year, and it is only beginning with the election days away. Any dreams I had about building strong communities made up of diverse perspectives were swept away with each news cycle. The sole focus is to beat the enemy and humiliate the loser; maybe even draw arms against a wrongful winner. As a result, happiness and hopefulness is under attack (not the other way around, Berg!), and it’s lead me to take shelter in a chamber-like place within.
This is my protective space; where the Whole-hearted, Harmonious Organism is grounded, affirmed, and reinforced. And guarded? I guess that’s the struggle now; where political, social, and economic lines are drawn, we must choose sides. Or be swallowed up in silence…To ensure my longevity and happiness, I’ve erected new defense mechanisms, building towering walls that protect WHO I am from attack. That way, the situations I encounter won’t affect how I feel or what my core beliefs are.
It would be all well and good if I was fully confident in WHO I am at this moment. To be fair, revealing my white privilege, Penis Mind (if you remember), and negative thought patterns helped me recognize necessary lifestyle changes in effort to approach the world with open arms versus handful gestures. Unfortunately, these positive steps toward reevaluating how I perceive threats didn’t lock and load confidence as quickly as expected. I found myself mirroring those around me and dropping my feelings into the protected chamber; as a result, the words echoed off the walls—trapped—leading me to feel more on edge as I was reminded how alone I am in my thoughts. How those on the opposing side of the wall would prefer to see me suffer rather than smile. How those armed to fight would shoot down and destroy WHO I am just because they don’t trust what I am.
It’s maddening; I want to remain peacefully protected but always feel like I have to defend. Is this integrity? Fighting desperately for truth in expression while feeling compromised by those who question it? Dueling it out to decide who is the most righteous one of all? I know where this will lead: reinforced walls, isolation, and misperceived threats. I can feel others trying to control me with political decisions and social discrimination, and in a misguided attempt to retake my destiny, I’m firing off anger and shame to combat the powerlessness yet targeting no legacy for lasting peace. I’m drained with nothing to offer the world other than a hard on and heart beat. Hm…maybe there’s more to that. No, not the hard on, my heart. It’s protected within these erected walls; by not expressing it (or choking it off), I’m hampering happiness and handing over my existence to those who would prefer I keep it hidden. Farewell future! Not letting Berg put his hands on this one, the only answer my heart can find in this moment is “Hug!” A bit simplistic, I realize (my heart operates at the level of an 8 year old), but hugging grounds me in my body, mind, and soul; the armful act connects me to my heart and to the hearts of others. It tears down existing walls within and outside us. Despite all our differences and the lines we draw as a result, a hug extends beyond borders and reminds us why we are alive.
Caught Unhanded
There I go getting all bombastic when I can’t even hold my own. There’s a pandemic, didn’t you hear? Hugging is more complex than written. Unless you’re hugging yourself (which is a good practice), you need a willing, healthy partner to take that step. I can’t imagine walking across the street, open armed, expecting to find the neighbors happily awaiting a hug. We don’t have that level of trust built, and based on our limited interactions, I don’t know if we’ll ever gain confidence in a shared vision for the community; one where we all feel peacefully protected in and out of our hearts.
It’s probably not contributing to the situation that my life is lived so differently than theirs. From the looks of it, they thrive on consistency, order. Even through the chaos of COVID, they manage their work schedules, family time, and yard work. I thrive in the moment (well, certain moments…); each day is decided by priorities. Yes, sometimes those priorities are questionable, especially when the need to protect and control outduels motivation and tolerance. Still, the confidence I’ve gained by disarming my heart, firing off more truth, and connecting through hugs leads me to believe I’m on the right path. Especially when I consider the goals I’ve set for 2020 and the progress made toward each. I’m not saying that the neighbors’ approach is wrong or unproductive; in fact, they are winning Life, based on the rules. All their protective layers of legacy are already established.
Ugh. Anxiety is building as I consider all the things they achieved that I haven’t. All their economic, relational, and procreative success. While all I do is sit here, stiff and stuck…What do I even have to offer anyone?! Comparisons, my therapist says, are the major hold up in my healing and growth. It guns me down no matter how many walls I build around my heart because I desperately want to be viewed as worthy in the eyes of others. This realization didn’t just happen overnight, though; after a series of misfires with previous therapists, I was hesitant to let my guard down with this stranger, even if he was a professional. Before the first couple sessions, I stressed over what to say and what not to say, concerned that he might reject me or confirm I’m crazy. However, by slowly disarming the protected spaces within, my therapist helped me gain perspective as the truth came out, then guided me on how to be kinder to myself and others, especially with the world in its current state. It even motivated me to begin throwing up a hand in greeting when seeing the neighbors outside.
Happy Endings
Well, I’ve learned ways to disarm my heart and recognized how it positively affects my mood, behavior, and reactions compared to when I do a hand off. OMG! As a result, I don’t need to guard myself like I once did; I see I was protecting happiness and hopefulness, afraid that if I set down my arms, I would lose it forever. Thankfully, I’ve had a chance to reflect on this with loved ones (and a professional) to understand that happiness and hopefulness always exist in our hearts; in fact, we can stockpile it! It’s not meant to be hoarded, though…it’s meant to be shared. And it’s up to us to discover our unique way of expressing it.
This is all reading so cheerful, but these words wouldn’t stand up to a barrage of bullets; no one will be saying farewell to their arms, literal or figurative, with so many threats lurking. As I return home, to a politically divided family, I understand the importance of being the light I want to see in the world, of not letting the dark become such a comfortable place for so long. It isolates me from community, making me feel the need to defend what’s mine at risk of losing everything I’ve built. Right now, community is all we have when considering the implications of contact in localized, high-traffic areas. If we can’t communicate effectively about the issues that are killing us, communities—those we love and cherish—will be destroyed. We are so quick to protect, to arm ourselves when battling those who exist outside our perspective, our belief system. How quick are we to defend our neighbor if/when they oppose our views? We put so much effort into guarding insecurities that eat away at our hearts from the inside that we turn away from those who can help us heal and grow till we find peace.
Thinking forward about how to engage community through expressions of happiness and hopefulness, I turn to my heart again and get another one word response: “Sing!” Geez, this kid…
4WB: This has been on the tip of my tongue for a while; on walks around the neighborhood the past few years, I would let a few notes, then verses, and then complete performances out. It was mostly at the park where I was protected by yards of space; whenever I tried singing while walking past houses, my guard would go up; I’d be fearful that someone heard me and think I sounded off-key, stupid, or, well…gay. I had so much shame in my voice the notes often misfired, and I grew more discouraged in expressing it. Refusing to give up, I found a singing coach that I have been working together with for a few weeks now. This is just the start of what I’m exploring, so don’t expect it to sound like Adele (though I’m practicing!); I hope this little nugget hands over some happiness and hopefulness to your heart, no matter how much its guarded right now. You are not alone; let your light shine!