endsthegame (
endsthegame) wrote in
fandomhigh2014-07-23 12:38 pm
Entry tags:
Practical Philosophy, Wednesday
"This is not a particularly kind week in history," Ender said. "It is far from being the worst - but it's terrible enough that, even though most of us are not from this time and place, I feel it might be worth reflecting on the way we process loss."
He took a swig of water from his bottle, then shifted until he was sitting comfortably.
"Every culture treats loss differently," he said. "Even within those cultures, there are spaces - families, schools, groups - that have differing idea about the mourning process, about how much time to pour into it, about how to do it. In fact, we are even cultures in and of ourselves in this; some of us might cry, some of us might channel that energy into other things, some of us may try to show nothing at all."
Guess which one of those categories Ender fell into.
"How do you handle loss? Do you mourn your dead? How? How does your culture handle it, and how much did you learn from it? Twenty-first century Earth has its funerals, its ceremonies, its rage and its vocal sorrow. As for my time - when I grew up, we were largely blunted by loss, numbed by fear. Our sorrow was humancentric, downright xenophobic... and it lasted for many decades."
He took a swig of water from his bottle, then shifted until he was sitting comfortably.
"Every culture treats loss differently," he said. "Even within those cultures, there are spaces - families, schools, groups - that have differing idea about the mourning process, about how much time to pour into it, about how to do it. In fact, we are even cultures in and of ourselves in this; some of us might cry, some of us might channel that energy into other things, some of us may try to show nothing at all."
Guess which one of those categories Ender fell into.
"How do you handle loss? Do you mourn your dead? How? How does your culture handle it, and how much did you learn from it? Twenty-first century Earth has its funerals, its ceremonies, its rage and its vocal sorrow. As for my time - when I grew up, we were largely blunted by loss, numbed by fear. Our sorrow was humancentric, downright xenophobic... and it lasted for many decades."

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"I keep to myself when I'm mourning," he replied. "These days, anyway. It's not that there aren't people out there who are willing to be there to comfort me, or to listen if I feel as though I have to talk, but I'm aware of how deep my hurts and insecurities run, and I know that most of them aren't things that you just... spring on people."
He frowned a little. That was how he felt about his tendency to just throw words and fears at anybody willing to listen, looking back in retrospect.
"I'm a very self-centered mourner. My pain is my pain, and everything narrows down to that. I didn't grow up with it, and everything I know about dealing with loss I learned in the past year and a half. If there's a right or wrong way to go about it..."
He shrugged.
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Though these days, in some company, it was easy for him to burst into tears at the drop of a hat - sometimes.
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"You try to dig through the good memories," Ender said. "Find something you can keep with you. Remind yourself that that memory matters, that you won't lose it."
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Even he had a couple of those.
"I'm afraid," he admitted, "that the bad memories might sour the good. If there's one beautiful thing and a thousand nightmares, how do you keep that one thing safe?"
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Evan shrugged his shoulders, looking down at the ground.
"I lose sight of the good things too easily. Life doesn't really do bad things in half-measures."
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She toyed with a bottle of water, her eyes were solemn as she listened to her classmates speak, but she made no move to begin a conversation on her own.
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For now, he was choosing glowering and ignoring people.
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