The Law of the Conservation of Hardship
Martin Heidegger, the contemporary German philosopher, says: “If I want to be honest with you, I must tell you that life is inevitably hard, and this has nothing to do with where you are and how you live.” I call it the “The Law of Conservation of Hardship,” meaning that hardship transforms from one form to another, but does not disappear.
For this reason, in the West, in a very good and ordinary life, where no one shoots anyone for their beliefs and everything is calm, there are many people who take antidepressants daily just to get out of bed! Here, too, there are puffed-up people, sick individuals, and people teetering on the edge of despair. Many believe that advancements in technology, the internet, non-organic peas, and gluten have made us this way, and that people were happier in the past. I say: listen, but don’t believe.
Even thousands of years ago, an Indian prince named Siddhartha, also known as Buddha, fled his crystal palace to find the meaning of life and ultimately said: “Life is suffering;” suffering, or in the language of Buddha, “dukkha.”
Heidegger expresses this concept in another way: “existential anxiety,” and adds: “I do not say this to make you despair. There are plenty of good and pleasing things in the world that whenever you find yourself sinking into a well of sorrow, you can reach out for and grab them like a ‘rope’ and pull yourself out!”
One of these “ropes” is music. If you can play an instrument, do so; if not, listen to it. When you’re happy, listen to music, and when you’re sad, listen to even more music. When you are unable to move, dance. Dancing is the best and most beneficial thing you can do for your soul. Wherever you hear a rhythm that you can dance to, move your body, even if the rhythm is the sound of water dripping from the roof. If you have a good voice, sing while dancing; if not, that’s okay.
Another thing you can do is read books. Reading books helps you experience other lives in the world of imagination that you could never practically experience.
In ancient times, most philosophers were also astronomers. Perhaps you do not want or cannot become an astronomer, but you can always look at the sky when you’re sad and see how small your troubles are against the grandeur of the galaxy.
There are other “ropes,” too: painting, photography, planting trees, cooking with new spices, traveling, and movement. We were not created to sit. Chairs are one of the most dangerous inventions of humanity. Instead of sitting, walk, run, or swim. If you have to sit, find companions for yourself and enjoy their company. Don’t limit your circle of friends to the people around you. You can be friends with almost all living beings in the world: flowers, grass, fish, birds, and even cats. Sometimes animals can even become better friends than people.
In life, there are many wells of sorrow, but there are equally many “ropes;” don’t let go of the “ropes.” Be careful not to cling to rotten “ropes” like alcohol, smoke, money, pride, and success, because they will not only not pull you out of the well, but worse, they will leave you at the bottom of the well!
Look for your own “ropes,” and if you cannot find them, weave them yourself. There are few people who know how to “weave ropes”—scientists, explorers, football coaches, comedians, and artists are all rope-weavers, and with the “ropes” they weave, they pull others out from the depths of the well!
If we are not dying from whooping cough today, it is because we have taken a “rope” that Louis Pasteur wove long ago. “Symphony No. 5” is a rope that Beethoven wove together with notes. “One Hundred Years of Solitude” is a rope that Gabriel García Márquez wove together with words and imagination. Most ropes were woven one day by those who might themselves have been imprisoned at the bottom of the well. Be resilient and patient…
How beautifully Rumi expressed these concepts in poetry long before Heidegger: I sighed; when my sigh became a rope The rope hung in the well of my sorrow, I took that rope and emerged Joyful, stout, and blooming…
This article was originally written in Persian. I found it to be very intriguing; however, despite extensive searching, I was unable to identify the author. Consequently, I decided to translate it and share it with our readers. Ali Sadr
