The Healer's Art

It might be a sign that your life is really boring when the only entertainment you find in life is in the misfortune of others. I never thought of my life as being particularly boring. But other people seem to expose their tragic flaws in ways that never cease to amuse me.

For example, witnessing someone fall down never gets old. A short time ago as I was walking across campus, a guy came racing toward me on his bike. He was obviously in a hurry, had an overstuffed backpack on his back, and was already struggling to keep balance. As he approached students walking on the sidewalk, he realized that he would either have to stop or take an alternate route. Without even slowing, he decided to cut through the grass between two plush pine trees. He wobbled to and fro like a one-legged beer-bellied fool standing in a one-man canoe being pulled by a motor boat. Disaster was imminent. The final blow was a pine branch to the face. He rolled one way and his bike bounced the other, and bystanders came quickly to offer help (before I even got a chance). But irritated, he refused, and instantly remounted his now lopsided bicycle and rode off. Unable to hold back the laughter, I admired how quickly he healed from such a hard fall.

I always wondered how heroes in movies always seem to be able to withstand blows that often prove deadly to the antagonists. Perhaps there is a magical healing power in pride. Maybe doctors, instead of using morphine, could start shaming their patients into not feeling anything during surgery. They could simply get a 5th grade class to come in, and as a service project, just point and laugh at the patients. No one would dare show pain with their egos at stake. We could make health care affordable for everyone in America, end world hunger, and stop wars—all by tapping into this new source of power. Of course, it would have to be regulated to prevent anarchy. I mean, imagine if someone were to develop such a keen sense of pride that their own bodies wouldn’t even dare die on them. Then those who were more humble and susceptible to pain and suffering and even death, would be oppressed by the prideful tyrants. And I couldn’t imagine living in a world like that…

The art of pride may well be a vice if left unrestrained. At the same time, no one wants their pride hurt. Furthermore/most importantly, if humility is a virtue, perhaps I have too much of it because pain still really hurts me.