The Heart had asked for Pleasure, but Now it must say No More
As a University Student who follows the reassuring cyclical season of grinding semesters followed by an extended period of carefree indulgence, the expectation of a stellar summer was one of the principal reasons that I exhausted so much energy in my studies. The thought of reward, of youthful extravagance, seemed like a far cry from the odious discipline that I was subjecting myself to. I had plans for the best summer of my life: two weeks in Spain that would be my first trip abroad and two months working at a summer camp that was mainly making new friends and having a good time rather than work. To say that the onset of a global disaster was a disappointment is an understatement.
I could say that I was completely shocked, but part of me had a gut feeling that something unprecedented was about to happen. It’s as if the dream already felt dead to me, as if the requiem hymn were already being played pianissimo. In all honesty, I felt a little cheated. How could the best summer turn into the worst so quickly? Maybe this reaction is the problem. The extreme reliance on gratification, and the unfamiliarity with real difficulty, made me think that I somehow deserved some sort of reward for the little work that I do. More and more I am beginning to see how little this age of man expects to work for the crown. It is taking extreme situations to make us realize that life is suffering, and that those who suffer through it well will be crowned. It’s time for the spineless to get a spine.
For centuries the need for purification has been preached by countless authors, and it seems it is time for us to enter the jaws of the leviathan. For me, this means addressing the entitlement that I didn't realize was there. I always figured myself a grateful human being. I counted my blessings often enough, and I considered it a privilege to have first world problems dealing with how good I look to whether that girl will like me. Now I see that a pernicious, secret entitlement hindered me from true peace, and was the reason that when solitude became mandatory I went into a frenzy. My first reaction was to pursue hedonism at every turn, after the distraction of schoolwork was replaced with the structureless gap of a summer with seemingly nothing to do. Continuing this way up until recently only engendered greater misery and pain. Even in the midst of countless lives being lost, I realized that I was still thinking only of myself! Lamentably my thoughts were preoccupied with the exaggerated sense of self-importance. Self-reflection leads me to realize that I could only think of how these times have affected me. Maybe this is why people keep flocking beaches in droves. The multitude is crying out in reproach against those who would take away their rights.
If things had not have changed, I think my attitude would have continued to be centered on my own little sphere of existence for at least the remainder of my youth. The accumulation of wealth and the quest for power, while never being extremely enticing to me, nonetheless would take the majority of my attention as my main quest was to do what was commendable and of high esteem in the regard of modern man. I would be content making myself miserable as long as I made loads of money in the process. But now I feel as if one visited by a ghost. It warns me that my time is short, even now, where I feel that I could be immortal. What will I do for my fellow man? Will I be more than a high-profile donor or philanthropist? None of this is heroic at all. The era of martyrs, both in flesh and principle, has been replaced with the return of Roman revelry and amusement. But Rome is falling now.
So now, like a great artist, let us see the work we have created be entirely torn to pieces so that it may be lifted up again. Our plea for pleasure is no longer a possibility: it spells certain death. Now we must ask what part we can do in preventing the complete decay of society, beginning with ourselves. Our greatest problem is that we are the most impatient writers, expecting every draft to be perfect and to receive instant acclaim. The disease of this age, which has no concept of patience, will have to yield to longsuffering as the World seeks to heal.
