Joe Guse on Chris Farley

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

But Doctor, I am Pagliacci- A tribute to Robin Williams


A man goes to a doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. The Doctor says, "Treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up." The man bursts into tears. Says, "But doctor...I am Pagliacci.”

There’s some sad things known to man, there ain’t too much sadder than, the tears of a clown.
Smokey Robinson

The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long
Lao Tzu


One of the great feel good moments for me as a kid was watching Happy Days.  Although I was never around for the 50’s, the show captured a kind of nostalgia for a time and place that I was always kind of fascinated by. I remember “Mork’s” first appearance quite well. It was the first time I met Robin Williams. I was intrigued.

Later me and my brothers and sister would totally get into ‘Mork and Mindy.’ You knew you were seeing something  unique when you watched Robin Williams. Even as a young kid watching this, I had an intuitive sense that a star was born. He had it. He had that thing.  I loved him as Mork, laughed a lot at his standup over the years, and cried a manly tear at ‘O Captain my Captain’ in Dead Poet’s Society. Later I felt a sense of pride watching him create one of the only great depictions of a psychologist in 'Good Will Hunting.’ Someone finally got it right.

Cut to a LONG time later, and I found my myself with a unique niche in the world. I was someone people wanted to talk to about the intersection of comedy, tragedy, and psychology. How it all happened doesn’t matter. The point is it’s a subject I know something about because I’ve lived it. I know a lot of the reasons people use humor. Most of them are good, some of them are bad, and a lot of them are to push something else way. Humor often pushes something else away. It’s a defense. A very sophisticated one.

In thinking about how Robin Williams lost his hope, it is this thought that lingers in my mind. Where does the comedian go when it’s HIS turn to feel understood? It’s a complicated question. Much of humor, the best kind of humor, taps into a uniquely shared sense of perspective that makes people think about the world in a new way. The best kinds of humor leads us to a deeper understanding about the world, ourselves, and our shared absurdity.. The most enduring comedians tap into this. Robin Williams tapped into this.

And yet there was something more to him as well.  When he chose to do something serious we were completely captivated. Watching ‘Good Will Hunting’ you knew he was the kind of person that knew about the light AND the dark. You don’t turn in that kind of performance without knowing about what it’s like to feel real pain. It’s what made him so interesting. Sure he could be manic and crazy, but he could also be introspective and vulnerable. There were a lot of emotions rattling around inside that man.

And yet in the end, it wasn’t enough. Those who have experienced mania know there is an equal and opposite side of the coin called depression, and there’s not a much lower place a person can go. What goes up must come down. Robin Williams knew this. He was with his old friend John Belushi on his last day on earth. He knew about using drugs and alcohol to try and beat back the emptiness. Knew it was a temporary fix that in the end just made the echo chamber a little more vast and empty. He did it anyway, as many people who struggle with addictions do.



And in the end he lost his way. Does it detract from all the laughter he brought to the world? Somehow subtract from the aggregate boost in human happiness his comedy brought to this mortal coil? No. No it doesn’t.  It just reminds us that all of us are human, and at our most vulnerable moments, we all want a lot of the same things, despite any appearances of money, fame, or whatever. We all want to be understood. Some of us


don’t make it easy for others. A lot of comedians fall in this group. Where does Pagliacci go when HE needs a boost?


Hug a funny person in your life today.


They may be fighting a battle you know nothing about…

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Lost (My own kind of paradise)


Lost

Mind on a permanent vacation
The ocean is my only medication
Wishing my condition ain't ever gonna go away

Cause now I'm knee deep in the water somewhere
Got the blue sky breeze blowing wind through my hair
Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair
Sunrise there's a fire in the sky

Never been so happy
Never felt so high
And I think I might have found me my own kind of paradise 
Zac Brown band- Knee Deep   

Not until we are lost do we truly begin to find ourselves
Henry David Thoreau

There's always a choice brother
Desmond- Lost



Writing this from the beach in New Zealand.  It sounds nice I know. And it is! When I send people pictures or post them online, I often get remarks like, ‘that looks like paradise' or some variation on that theme. And in a way, it is. From the perspective of physical beauty it’s really hard to find places like this, and this entire country is full of them.




But.. There’s always a but. (I like big buts and I cannot lie)



There’s a thing about living in paradise that nobody tells you. I speak from some experience here having worked in five national parks as a young man in some of the most beautiful places in my own country. And this secret?


You get used to living in paradise after a while. The oceans become less spectacular, the mountains a little less majestic, and the trees a little more mundane. It’s happened to me over and over again in my life. I fall in love with a place, live there for a while, then get adjusted to it. Eventually I leave and go somewhere else.


Then I spend a lot of time dying to go back...



Before you think I’m crazy, I can assure you there is actually a term for such a process called the 'hedonic treadmill'. It describes how people have a kind of set point when it comes to happiness, and how most of us regress back to this set point eventually regardless of a change in place or circumstance. It’s interesting stuff.





In thinking about this idea, I found myself reflecting on the characters from the TV show “Lost” who also woke up to find themselves in paradise. The problem is they couldn’t wait to get out of there, and I think the show highlights a powerful kind of lesson. Damaged people in paradise are still damaged people, and waking up in a new place does little to the deeper circuitry of our wiring. We still are who we are, and although a change in geography can certainly be a wonderful and transformational thing, we are who we are.


Thinking about this as it relates to my own life has been important. Two months here and I’m still at the beach every day, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. Little irritations have begun to creep back though as the newness of this world begins to wear off a little. I honk in traffic, get irritated by long lines, and snap at people on the phone sometimes. I forget my newfound sense of awareness and lose my way. Soon enough I'm back spinning on that treadmill like most of us do.



And yet in these moments, I TRY and remember there is an antidote to this problem. Mindfulness. To be aware of life as it’s happening and stay in the moment. Being in a beautiful place is very helpful in this regard. It reminds us that we’re not so important. That there are powerful and mystical places in the world where our litany of silly complaints mean very little. That’s where living in paradise can be nice. It’s a constant reminder to slow down, take stock, and center yourself into the moment. It’s why most people have such powerful moments of awareness and comprehension when they travel.


So for me, I am once again reminded that most of the power to live a happy life is my own, and that I can slip backwards into indulging life’s little irritations, or I can stop and smell the ocean. The battle never ends, regardless of where you are on the map.


Now if you’ll pardon me I’m going to stop whining, slow down, pour another glass of wine and contemplate the ocean.




Nice to be off the treadmill for a while...