Amor fati is a concept that is currently flooding my life. A wonderful and positive concept, I often find it difficult to relate to. It goes as follows:
Amor fati is a Latin phrase loosely translating to "love of fate" or "love of one's fate". It is used to describe an attitude in which one sees everything that happens in one's life, including suffering and loss, as good. Moreover, it is characterized by an acceptance of the events or situations that occur in one's life.
Wikipedia
Some people find comfort in it and I try, I really do, but my brain often drowns optimism with reality. For example, if I had lost my right leg, I may take comfort in the smaller things like my right shoe never did fit properly or that it constantly wore out before my left shoe did; or that when I buy a pair of socks they will last twice as long. The problem with such optimism is it still doesn't outweigh the fact that I've actually lost the ability to walk - unless I buy a very expensive prosthesis (which I'd still have to learn how to use etc).
Even knowing that I could get a 'peg leg' and have that most authentic visual countenance for Talk like a Pirate Day, isn't much of a replacement for the loss of a leg. However, should WWIII come calling and those missing a limb don't have to participate, spectate, OR be affected by it in any other way (ie lose loved ones etc) then it might be a blessing in disguise. This possibility is unlikely to happen; or is that my pessimism/realism shining through?
It leaves me disheartened to know that our interests which roam far and wide (but apparently centralise around sex and porn) have ignored philosophers such as Voltaire, who pointed out some 250yrs ago, the folly of such concepts. These concepts continue to prosper and are money-spinners for those that prey on pessimists and realists (like me) .
There is no doubt that optimism is a skill worth marvelling and drooling over as life for those who possess it is clearly easier and more joyful, but having to spend many waking hours trying to teach myself to look at things more positively is torturous enough to send me scuttling to bed for an extended period of recuperation.
What happens to those optimists? Usually they die - like the rest of us, but did they lead happier lives? Clearly they had a greater number of disappointments than pessimists as pessimists don't expect success, but with amor fati in their corner our friendly neighbourhood optimists probably felt at the very least that there was a lesson to be learnt.
And that is probably why I've never learnt to be an optimist. Whilst I understand the theory, putting knowledge into practice is often a hit and miss affair. Even if I know the potential pitfalls, sometimes I seemingly leap into said pits with such gusto (probably one of the few times I possess that outrageously expensive commodity known as energy) that it could be conceived that I'm trying to injure myself - and indeed doing so, often confirms my realistic/pessimistic attitude.
I think I hear Joseph "Catch 22" Heller calling me.
