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Quod me nutrit me destruit*

I was chatting with a remarkably intelligent young man a few years ago. In order not to betray his identity, and therefore his confidence, I'll just describe him as someone who was engaged in a quest for wisdom, but not just wisdom for the sake of it. His focus was more existential in nature; more concerned with the relationship between our humanity and our purpose; a search for meaning, if you will.

You know, it seems to me as though the most intelligent of men are also the most sensitive, and consequently the most fragile. There seems to be some sort of connection between intellect and sensitivity. Perhaps it does make sense. I mean, could it be our higher reasoning ability that distinguishes us as beings capable of the so called higher virtues? That we can empathize with others of our species is, I think, some natural function of our ability to reason not only their intrinsic worth, but also the possibility of their pain.

My young friend tells me a beautiful story about a woman he once loved. He tells how she helped him through a difficult time; how she inspired him to seek a higher level of living; to focus on things that truly mattered in the grand scheme. This man was at an age that could certainly render him a slave to his 'lower passions', yet he didn't come across in that manner at all. When my young friend spoke of this woman, he didn't speak of her in terms of her physical appeal. He didn't talk about what a 'hot babe' she was. He didn't even mention her beauty, although one would certainly assume that she must have appealed to him aesthetically. Certainly, chemistry is a crucial element in erotic love, but it is very apparent that my friend established a deeper bond with this woman, beyond the pale of romance. I think it is reflective of his nature--his intelligence and sensitivity--that he was able to develop such a connection.

There is a flip side to this sensitivity that can ultimately lead to our destruction. My friend didn't tell me what happened, but his relationship with this woman had been over for six months, and six months later he was still fairly devastated, though determined to hold on to the positive effect she had on him. Just as this great love changed his life in ways that transcended raging hormones and infatuation, it was also apparent that it left an indelible mark in his life by its ending.


The message that I got from him was that it is up to us to take what we are given and either consume it to our benefit (pardon the quasi religious allusion), or allow it to consume us to our detriment. My friend doesn't see himself establishing this sort of bond ever again. He has instead turned his focus to the things that she nourished in him; a quest for truth and meaning and authenticity. I think this response is evidence enough that he had a greater depth than most his age, and I feel very honored to have the privilege of having known him.

My hope is that I can, as he has, endure the destruction and rise from the ashes of what I have loved and lost. The myth of the Hindu god Shiva comes to mind here. Shiva is the mythical god of destruction. But the myth takes his role further. He is the god of destruction for the purpose of rebuilding.


*What nourishes me also destroys me

copyright 2005

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