In any case, the interviewer asked some of the kids questions about being cold and pointed out that the kids frequently hold hands to stay warmer. When she asked them about dealing with the cold one kid piped up and said, laughing, "It's so cold we have to dance," which prompted further laughter from the others. The interviewer tried to prod the kids to get them to speak of hardship and difficulty, but they remained undaunted and resolute in their cheer.
Indomitable. That is what I thought about the kids.
Experience denudes life of wonder; experience renders us cynical. But the spirit of indomitable wonder, the capacity for joy, can remain with us. This, I think, is apolitical. And remarkable.
Remarkable because practically everything in life assaults our ability to wonder. Life contains disappointment and unrealized dreams. The quotidian drags us into automaton-like routine. Pedants cause us to question ourselves, create reactionary feelings. Parents say "no" which turns into teachers and professors and authorities of every stripe. Our fellows see the world as a nihilistic place that is little more than a contest of wills to dominate. We are told suffering is the norm. We suffer. We age and become aware that growing ultimately means senescence.
Still, most of us retain the ability to wonder. The indomitable spirit of the Syrian refugees lives in us if we allow it.
"My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!"
William Wordsworth.
"The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder,
The hill-side whiten’d with blossoms of the mountain ash,
The same, late in autumn—the hues of red, yellow, drab, purple, and light and dark green,
The rich coverlid of the grass—animals and birds—the private untrimm’d bank—the primitive apples—the pebble-stones,
Beautiful dripping fragments..."
Walt Whitman, "Spontaneous Me"
These are words of wonder.
Wonder is indomitable, the sense that every situation is an opportunity for something - perhaps laughter, dancing, fellowship, love, accomplishment; the sense that life is possibility - Hemingway's old man whose sail unfurled, a flag of perpetual defeat, did not defeat him and captured the admiration of a boy, who perhaps recognized the miracle of the indomitable spirit that lived in the man, in whom experience should have extinguished that spirit long ago.
I struggle with this post because the subject cannot be easily articulated and is not necessarily subject to reasoned argument. The spirit I heard in the Syrian kid's voices seems perfectly real to me, but also ineffable and practically indescribable. It is not optimism in any conventional sense nor is it simple naivety. The spirit is almost an inclination of mind, a way of seeing. But it is more than an inclination or a vision. The indomitable spirit requires action. The Syrian kids respond to the cold by dancing. That does not render their lives easy or ameliorate the misery of being cold without knowing when one will feel true warmth again, but by looking at the deprivation as an opportunity for a fanciful dance the kids actualize hope and possibility. Perhaps the Syrian kids have no right to be hopeful. Perhaps hope and possibility delude us. I choose to believe otherwise.
Indomitable. A bit crazy, perhaps. But a little crazy is good, if it gets you to dance.
William Wordsworth.
"The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder,
The hill-side whiten’d with blossoms of the mountain ash,
The same, late in autumn—the hues of red, yellow, drab, purple, and light and dark green,
The rich coverlid of the grass—animals and birds—the private untrimm’d bank—the primitive apples—the pebble-stones,
Beautiful dripping fragments..."
Walt Whitman, "Spontaneous Me"
These are words of wonder.
Wonder is indomitable, the sense that every situation is an opportunity for something - perhaps laughter, dancing, fellowship, love, accomplishment; the sense that life is possibility - Hemingway's old man whose sail unfurled, a flag of perpetual defeat, did not defeat him and captured the admiration of a boy, who perhaps recognized the miracle of the indomitable spirit that lived in the man, in whom experience should have extinguished that spirit long ago.
I struggle with this post because the subject cannot be easily articulated and is not necessarily subject to reasoned argument. The spirit I heard in the Syrian kid's voices seems perfectly real to me, but also ineffable and practically indescribable. It is not optimism in any conventional sense nor is it simple naivety. The spirit is almost an inclination of mind, a way of seeing. But it is more than an inclination or a vision. The indomitable spirit requires action. The Syrian kids respond to the cold by dancing. That does not render their lives easy or ameliorate the misery of being cold without knowing when one will feel true warmth again, but by looking at the deprivation as an opportunity for a fanciful dance the kids actualize hope and possibility. Perhaps the Syrian kids have no right to be hopeful. Perhaps hope and possibility delude us. I choose to believe otherwise.
Indomitable. A bit crazy, perhaps. But a little crazy is good, if it gets you to dance.
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