Dad's Theory of "The Human Condition"

Reading in Ecclesiastes last night, I came across a verse in chapter five that reminded me of something my dad has often referred to as “the human condition.” He likes to tell me that the suffering, happiness, sadness, joy, etc that all humans have to endure is part of this human condition, this cycle of life that all of humanity observes in some concentration.

“Then I realized,” writes Solomon in verse eighteen, “that it is good and proper for a man to eat and drink, and to find satisfaction in his toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of life God has given him- for this is his lot.” I read this and thought of Dad’s theory.

“Why do things happen the way they do, dad?”

“Well dolly, it’s just the raw human condition. We’ve all got our lot, and we need to do what we can to make the best of it.”

An answer like that usually confuses a child, subdues a middle school student, and causes reflection in a teenager. I’ve been reflecting more upon it lately.

Dad’s answer aligns with a poem that I adore by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow; it is called “A Psalm of Life.” One stanza reads “Not enjoyment, and not sorrow/ Is our destined end or way; / But to act, that each tomorrow/ Find us farther than to-day.” I always think of dad when I read this. To me, Longfellow wants us to realize that life is not the same unless it possesses emotion, whether good, bad, or somewhere in between.

Another example that comes to mind is Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley, which I read for Language Arts last year. Although I did not enjoy the book very much, I thought it very effective for this reason. In the novel, the inhabitants of earth do not know what love is. They confuse romantic love with lust, and the notion of a loving family horrifies them. Thus, one of Huxley’s major arguments is that feelings and emotions (in any form) are necessary to a meaningful life.

Of course, Jane Austen has something wise to say upon this subject, and she even takes it a little further. She writes in Mansfield Park that "there will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere." Austen does not only state dad's theory of the human condition, but also declares that we can overcome the "little rubs and disappointments" that it encompasses.

Longfellow’s poem “The Rainy Day” drives this point home. The last stanza says “Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; / Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; / Thy fate is the common fate of all, / Into each life some rain must fall, / Some days must be dark and dreary.”
And so, as one may conclude, this truth is simple. We should all believe it and apply it to our lives. So why do we refuse to do this? Helen Keller knows the answer. She once said that “people do not like to think. If one thinks, one must reach conclusions. Conclusions are not always pleasant.”

And she is correct. The conclusion is that our highs and lows, joys and woes are usually not revolutionary in the grand scheme of things. We are not alone in our suffering, and neither are we solitary in our happiness. All of humanity experiences these things; as dad would say, it is the human condition.

I’m not going to pretend that I like seeing the world this way, because truthfully, it forces me to put life in perspective. When I know that my problems are not as huge as I’d thought they were, I can no longer declare that my suffering is the worst, that I am the only victim. As humans, we like to be the victims because it frees us from blame (at least temporarily). So although I’ve learned this lesson from my dad, and I know it is valuable and true, I won’t always want to apply it to my life. I’m not asking anybody else to do so either. Perhaps together we can take baby steps, accepting that what we must endure (whether pleasant or unpleasant) is what we’re meant to endure, and that it defines us as humans. My hope is that we help each other in this acceptance, so that “each tomorrow fined us farther than to-day.”

Thank you Dad, for helping me grow even when I don’t necessarily want to.

A thought for my readers: what lessons do people or situations teach you?