"That however the abilities and brains of men may differ, their stomachs are essentially the same."
-- This Side of Paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald.
I'm a terrific cynic. I think a lot of us are. We slip into the mainstream of cynicism and skepticism fairly early in our lives, saying that it's only natural that we should be "realistic," "honest," "disillusioned," etc. It's an unspoken stepping-stone to being an adult—we've all agreed that cynicism is the easiest and best course to get along in this world, and dishonour upon anyone stupid enough to not look through that lens. An idealist has no place in the real world, and surely won't survive.
I love my cynicism. It's my cynicism that let's me criticize, mentally and verbally, the chalked in phrases of "I will stand alongside my neighbour" and "I will NOT stop loving you" on the sidewalk to class. It's my cynicism that let's me step away from orthodox politics and indiscriminately ridicule whoever I want with arrogant impunity. It's my cynicism that allows me to litter empty words about and never have to really be held accountable for them. It's my cynicism that let's me always assume the worst about people, and it's what let's me make people prove that they are more than just an idiotic stranger who has no relevance to my life. It's my cynicism that let's me guard myself against the cruel and uncaring world—at last, that's what my cynicism says.
"Yes," he agreed, "you're right. I wouldn't have liked it. Still it's hard to be made a cynic at 20."
"I was born one," Amory murmured. "I'm a cynical idealist--" He paused and wondered if that meant anything.
There are lots and lots of quotes about cynicism—how cynicism is a kind of refuge, a way to handle the outside world. I think that a lot of people would admit that their cynicism is a regretful necessity—at least, from the people I've talked to. There's regret that we aren't the exuberant idealists we once were, if only as children. "If I could be any age, I would be 8. The world is beautiful and promising and you still believe in Santa Claus and magic."
“I'm not sentimental--I'm as romantic as you are. The idea, you know, is that the sentimental person thinks things will last--the romantic person has a desperate confidence that they won't.”
One thing in particular that has stuck with me is the idea that cynicism is intellectual cowardice. I don't agree with it, but I don't disagree either. I'm a cynic, but I am still very invested in the pursuit of knowledge. I enjoy the exploration of poets and musicians and mathematicians. But in my pursuit of knowledge, lines start blurring because knowledge is hollow without the substance of meaning and truth. And that requires emotional investment. I can stand, with my cynicism, as an intellectual before myself and the world, but it is my cynicism that silences my empathy. Maybe a better phrase would be that cynicism is emotional cowardice. My natural introversion aside, I don't want to go through the work of emotional investment in relationships and issues. Everyone knows that your heart will be wrung and possibly even broken when you let yourself be emotionally vulnerable. So, for the most part, we do our best to make ourselves invulnerable.
“We want to believe. Young students try to believe in older authors, constituents try to believe in their Congressmen, countries try to believe in their statesmen, but they can't. Too many voices, too much scattered, illogical ill-considered criticism.”
According to Myers-Briggs, I am both an INTJ and an INFJ. Scientific soundness of MB aside, I do find it to be a fairly accurate assessment. As much as I am an intellectual cynic, I am a romantic idealist. I do want meaning and beauty and truth; I want to feel and see and hear as much as I can in this great world. I want to fix and help, and I believe that's how we're made, to seek the whole and the good. But I am constantly brought up short by my doubt and my cynicism. In the moments I want to save the precious and beautiful world, I curse my cynicism and all the times I never acted or tried. In the more frequent moments that I'm disgusted and disgruntled with the world, I thank my cynicism for keeping me from unrealistic and fruitless endeavours like trying to save the world.
“You're a slave, a bound helpless slave to one thing in this world, your imagination.”
Our world is ruled by our cynicism. To a certain extent, I think that's necessary. But I also think that it's incredibly easy for cynicism to blanket everything in its grey shroud and blot out the colours. It might not really occur to us, but we can always be making more room for beauty and passion in our lives. Avoiding pain is a natural instinct, but we need to be careful—at least, I know that I have to be careful—not to lose our compassion and empathy. The hackneyed analogy of something being like a muscle is overused for a reason. Not that I recommend wearing a bleeding heart on your sleeve, but emotional vitality is something that we must work—actually work, with triumphs and pains—to keep from atrophying.
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
--The Four Loves, C. S. Lewis
