Daisy

I am a man of many acquaintances and very few friends. There are people that I like and who like me in return that could become friends, but more and more I find myself living a largely solitary existence. I do not know if this is because of so many disappointments as so many people have let me down and even caused injury, or because of an inborn sense of alienation, or because I have become so self-absorbed that I prefer quite contemplation and freedom from being meddled with.

However the importance of friendship is not lost on me. I know that we are defined by our actions – not by the thoughts, feelings, and intentions that drive or inspire our actions. From our perspective looking out through our eyes we do not always see who we are for good or bad. Friends are there to tell us who we are. They shed light on the actions we may be too close to see in complete focus.

Today I received a message from someone with whom I share a piece of my history. I do not know if this person is an acquaintance or a friend, however it is someone among a small handful of people who knows me better than anyone else.

The message was a quote from my favourite novel, "...it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again." I was flattered to tears and it inspired these thoughts.

It's from a story about a young man from a poor family who wanted to be someone special. He had no idea what this would be, so he set about training himself in broad skills such as elocution, bearing, and positive habits, such as saving money, regular exercise, and cutting back on smoking.

Then one day he fell in love. He was in the army at that time and knew that he could not support her. So after he was shipped away to war and eventually returned he set about making his fortune to achieve his goal of being with the woman he loved.

In the interim she had married a wealthy man and had produced a daughter for him. Nevertheless she was what he wanted. He threw lavish parties that were the talk of society, and yet he never attended them. He only hoped that they would draw her to his door.

Eventually he won her, but a chain of events led to his fall. After which she carried on in her little bubble as if nothing had happened. She proved unworthy of the greatness she had inspired in him.

Here is the full passage from which the excerpt sent to me was taken:

"If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away...it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again."

In reading this there was a sense of familiarity as if through this person who knows me so well I was reminded of qualities in myself that I had forgotten. In solitude it is easy to forget who you are without the reflective glass of the world.

And yet though I know I have touched many lives over the decades and inspired others, I have never achieved the greatness that I wanted as a child. And yet I am driven by this persistent hope that one day my ship will come. In the meantime have become a cheerleader encouraging others to persevere and strive for greatness in the Romantic mode. It is a role that I think I am quite good at doing.

It is important to have goals. To know what you want. I have articulated many high and lofty goals, but the predominant actions of my life have been for her. They have been for Daisy.

The novel in question is The Great Gatsby. Jay Gatsby wanted to be one of them. He wanted to be there in the in-crowd with the alpha males and he wanted the alpha female. Yet at the same time he was never one of them even at his own lavish parties. He was always aloof and apart. He was simultaneously less than them and far more than they could ever be.

Daisy was a fantasy, a distraction, something worthless that he imagined as having worth. Yes, he loved her, but I wonder if she was more of an idea than anything else – the dream of ascension.

Part of me has always wanted social acceptance while at the same time I see that crowd as vacuous, possibly because I do not share their values and cannot surrender mine. Like Nick and Gatsby, I can never be one of the Buchanans and sometimes I deride myself for wanting to be one of them. And yet the hunger is always there.

In the final scene between Nick, the novel's narrator, and Gatsby, as Gatsby presides over his goal slipping from his fingers and yet defiant in his hope assured that Daisy would come to him. Nick says to him, "'They're a rotten crowd. You're worth the whole damn bunch put together." These are the reassurances of a friend who sees the truth of things when we forget who we are.

Today I received a message from someone that reminded me of who I am at a time when I felt lost after being distracted by chasing Daisy, a worthless and rotten illusion programmed into me in my youth. It's a distraction resulting in achieving nothing. I have no idea where to go or how to accomplish my real ambitions. But I suppose that is the first challenge on the path to greatness.

If there is a message here it is this. Beware of Daisy. Make sure your goals are truly worth having regardless of how wonderful they may feel and count on your friends to set you right when you have lost your way.