“ALL OF LIFE IS A QUOTATION” (Borges): Also from Life on the Mississippi (in fact, from the same page as the previous post): “Immediately after the war of 1812, tourists began to come to America, from England; scattering ones at first, then a sort of procession of them–a procession which kept up its plodding, patient march through the land during many, many years. Each tourist took notes, and went home and published a book–a book which was usually calm, truthful, reasonable, kind; but which seemed just the reverse to our tender-footed progenitors. A glance at these tourist-books shows us that in certain of its aspects the Mississippi has undergone no change since those strangers visited it, but remains to-day about as it was then. The emotions produced in those foreign breasts by these aspects were not all formed on one pattern, of course; they had to be various, along at first, because the earliest tourists were obliged to originate their emotions, whereas in older countries one can always borrow emotions from ones predecessors. And, mind you, emotions are among the toughest things in the world to manufacture out of whole cloth; it is easier to manufacture seven facts than one emotion.”

It is one of the more startling facts about life that most people spend most of their time playing a role, quoting from someone else’s life. No one poses all the time, and only a few never pose at all; most of us are somewhere on the poseur spectrum. This is at least as true of self-professed non-conformists as of the rest of us.

It’s a standard conservative game to expose the imitation and conformity practiced by soi-disant rebels. More interesting is the way in which roles sustain us when our philosophy fails, wavers, or threatens to lead us into ruin. “I wouldn’t lie/cheat/steal, I’m a good person!” says the man whose beliefs (his real beliefs, even if he is a professed Christian or whatever) justify all kinds of lying, cheating, and stealing. He plays the role so well that the mask has melted into the skin, and he no longer even wants to lie, etc., or at least he is not conscious of wanting this. Similarly, people who profess a nihilistic philosophy can stroll along the street in their (depending on the generation) Russian-anarchist/Marlon Brando/tormented-artist/whatever pose, without actually doing anything more transvaluing of all values than kicking the occasional puppy. You can see the benefits of humans’ love of roles and poses; but the spiritual dangers of complacency, falsehood, and self-righteousness are great.

An example of the pose: A friend once recounted the story of a freshman she met, after she herself had already graduated from college. The freshman didn’t believe in God, and/or hated Him; after all, God had made a world where people suffer. “So, what do you do about it?” she asked him.

“Rrrrooonnkk?” he said in a suitably Scooby-Doo-like manner.

“What do you do about the poor suffering people? Do you volunteer at a homeless shelter? Or do you just sit around and not believe in God?” Which turned out to be the case.

I forget how he ended up–but the pose (I Am Tormented By The World’s Suffering) had been shattered, maybe permanently, for good or ill.

It’s when people become conscious that they’re posing that the real danger sets in. That’s when they have to stop quoting their emotions. They have to choose between conforming their lives to their philosophy, or jettisoning the philosophy, because the pose no longer holds them in its liquid suspension.