the necessity of complaint

The journey not the arrival matters. (T.S. Eliot)

Never thought you’d hear me say that, did you?

“Things are going very well.” Oppose that statement to “Things are very well” or “things are good.” If they are going that implies they are not arrived.

And that is not optimal, right? If we’re going to qualify it definitely, if it ain’t good it’s bad.

There is a certain superstition I’ve encountered about definite qualification, about positive assertion of our happiness or at least our contentment. When someone asks how I am, how things are, if I’m content I’ll say so, but I will equivocate my contentment with a mention of what could be better, or at least with a tone of voice.

After careful examination of that tone of voice and what it’s carrying, I conclude that it signifies…carefulness. Nobody’s going to fool me into being happy! I recognize how fleeting is satisfaction, and I’m not going to act as if everything in my life is great because I might start to believe it…as happens to people, coming to believe in what they pretend…and beliefs are of a peculiarly everlasting nature. If I believe my life is great, I am going to be disappointed. We all know that.

Even when our circumstances are unambiguously enviable, we resort to irony: “It’s rough, but somebody’s got to do it.” We have to complain a little. It keeps us aware of the precarious perpetual motion of this life.

If that bothers you, think of the irritating advice you’ve heard when things are for you unambiguously miserable: “It’s never as bad as you think. Prosperity is just around the corner.” It’s irritating, but that is hope—a cardinal virtue. And I’d argue, if only for argument’s sake, that a certain amount, and type, of complaint is indicative of faith, another cardinal virtue.

If you can complain without it influencing your contentment, I think it indicates a certain submission to fate that is very salutatory in life, whatever your circumstances. It’s sort of the inverse of “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” Like this: when life brings a pitcher of lemonade to your deck chair by the pool, take a couple of sips and then remark that it’s a little too sweet. I mean, you’re not sending it back, as you would if it were only lemon juice.

Remember Fats Waller’s maxim that “T’ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it.” Don’t complain like a complainer; complain like a believer.

first published 7/21/07, 10.26am