Into The Void

While on the Cape I was the guest at a dinner party where six persons sat grouped loosely around a relatively small wrought iron table situated on the brow of a slight cliff above the beach looking out onto the ocean.  The group was remarkably congenial, the conversation amusing and never-ending, and, yet, in a sense, there was another guest at the table.  None of us could divert our gaze from the endless waters stretching out to the horizon, snatching only quick glances at those to whom were talking or hearing from, somehow intoxicated and hypnotized by the view. (remember Xenophon's tired band shouting out "Thalatta, thalatta" when they caught sight of the Mediterranean again?)  Contemporary cultural critics constantly object to our obsessive preoccupation with electronic devices; they are the bane of our times.  That evening I was witness to one remedy.  Have an ocean to hand, or, rather, in view.  No one's gaze was diverted from the water, even when at times, the conversation faded, even when several went into the kitchen to help things along.  The spell of the view demanded total surrender.  I was older by thirty years than the others at the table, and I knew a wonderful secret that they in their busy busy lives as spouses, parents, and professionals have yet to learn.  Yes, you can sit idly staring at the sea, it is so hypnotic for almost anyone, but then again it is perfectly possible to surrender to the absolute nothingness of life, a truth easier to comprehend and embrace as the finality of death is more apparent.  My hostess on the Cape played for me the tape of an amusing interview with Willie C. K. or some such on one of those late night talk shows.  This K. fellow managed to shut the host up, a blessing that saved the event for me, and proceeded in his very witty way to explain why he forbade his daughters to have cellphones.  The underlying philosophical truth to his spiel had to do with the fact that one needs to disengage from being endlessly busy (cellphones, texting, etc etc) to embrace the elemental nothingness of life.  And my hostess and I smiled at one another because we had both specialized in ancient Greek literature in our professional learning days, a body of texts guaranteed to take one away from endless fascination with promised salvation which personifies cultures dependent upon religions of the Book.  It is good to get behind that endless smile, stop struggling to keep up the pretense of meaningful and successful days, put down the electronic toys, sit there, staring into space, the immensity of the nothingness, the vast emptiness of it all.  It can work as the absolutely perfect tonic!