On Grief and Joy

I have written before about the aspects of human nature that I see as fundamental, primarily because they are so visible in the behavior of young children. I have mentioned curiosity, play and joy, to name a few. But one that came up recently that I never thought of is vulnerability. At birth we are entirely vulnerable, so it is clearly elemental.

What brought this to mind was noticing how we react to different types of experiences that people have, and a curiosity about whether there is some kind of internal hierarchy in our responses to them. If there is some kind of accident or tragedy in the life of people that we know well, there is an innate reaction to come to their side and lend any kind of support that we can. There is some deep resonance with people when they are in pain. Some would say “my heart goes out to them.” When someone is being curious, playful, or overjoyed, there are a wide variety of ways that we might respond, but all are very different than our response to pain. When someone is pondering a life change, like changing jobs or moving, we react one way. If they are contemplating a divorce, we react quite differently.

What I am wondering is, is there some hidden criteria by which we naturally determine what is “more real?” Is our “authentic” self any more reflected in our vulnerability than it is in our curious self, our playful self, or our joyful self? When someone is being playful we will respond one way, but if there is a misunderstanding, and the mood suddenly shifts to vulnerability, pain or grief, everything changes in an instant. What is it about pain or grief that makes them any more “real” than the playfulness? Why do we react as if they are “more important” or “more authentic?” How do we navigate abrupt changes like this and what are those actions based on? Spontaneity is generally considered authentic. But do we curtail spontaneity in order to avoid the possibility of causing pain when around someone that we know is prone to depression? Is that a form of hierarchy that is built in to an enculturated human being? Could something akin to that even exist in other animals? What comes to mind are the many cats that my wife and I have had over the years. When they were roughhousing, a single “yip” of pain from one would stop the other.

It does seem evident that there is something about vulnerability, pain and grief that, for nearly everyone, immediately alters how they are being. I remember just days after the World Trade Center towers came down, I heard on the radio that there was a minute of silence, somewhere in Europe, where cars pulled off to the side of the road to acknowledge the moment. That brought me to tears. A natural reaction, I think, but is that really any more essential to my nature than joy?

I have often cited Aurobindo’s belief that everything is Joy. If he is correct, perhaps what touches us in the experience of grief is that we inherently know that the absence of joy requires the re-infusion of joy to be made whole again. If so, there is an argument to be made that our joyful self is most in resonance with the nature of the universe, thus our natural response to re-joy someone is too, as it arises from that same alignment with the cosmos. Thus, this pattern could be reflected in some hierarchical fashion in most, perhaps all, of our ways of relating to each other.