Weight, fatigue, and the shadow of cynicism

I find that fatigue and cynicism seem to go hand in hand. They appear as twins, showing up together when you least expect them, though their appearance isn’t necessarily surprising, but always unwelcome.

I'm neither a nihilist nor a pessimist, but there are days when my resilience thins, days when the protections slacken and patience and endurance fall into retrograde, all beneath the weight of caring too much for a world that seems to care only for the heartless and soulless. Caring, sensitivity, and experience yield wisdom and solace — a gift, most days. But there are moments like tonight, when life feels radically heavier, as if the world's gravity had tripled without warning and I alone am struggling to keep my balance.

Fatigue, n. Weariness with bodily labor or mental exertion; lassitude or exhaustion of strength. We suffer fatigue of the mind as well as of the body. — Webster’s (1891).

She had warned me of cynicism, and I do try to avoid it, but my cynicism isn’t the loss of caring. Rather, it is my caring gone empty, depleted by a world that takes without giving. The armor guarding a heart narrowly pierced between the plates. Yet, I choose not to succumb to the gathering storms this night. The fire still burns within me. The bond between us grows stronger.

And so, I’ll let my pen and my mind rest for today, crawling into bed early, ready to dream of that place I cannot yet go, and the warmth of those who await there.

This is not fantasy,¹ but faith. And faith is both light² and flame that defy the dark³.

Goodnight world.

#Excultio

Notes:

  1. I distinguish fantasy (desire without ground) from faith (ground without sight). Faith, then, is not optimism or self-deception. One can hold the second while flat on one's back under tripled gravity, where it is, indeed, best tested.

  2. A shadow is light, blocked. Perhaps cynicism is caring, blocked — a trick of the light more than the dark. How the mortal eye misleads.

  3. If faith defies the dark, why does it grow heaviest precisely in the hours before sleep, where it is shouldered rather than worn? Perplexing thing, spirit.

By D. Bowman | Nomina Numina is a journal of my reflections, moments, and meaning-making between worlds. Reply by email.