A Musing on Quiet Desperation

Have you ever read a quote that you had a visceral, physical reaction to? Made you stop and re-read? Maybe even put the book down and just stare at the wall?

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country…”

And continuing a bit further:

“A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind.”

Thoreau published Walden in 1854, making an observation on dissatisfaction throughout society. He observed unconscious living, people becoming enslaved to the things that they believed improved their lives; expectations and societal norms.

Thoreau argued that people become ‘tools of their tools’, unable to live a life of fulfilment thanks to the construct of society. In Thoreau’s time, it was survival and social expectations. Subsistence farming was common practice, even as the world was beginning to industrialise.

Was he right then? Is he right now? I think the answer is yes, perhaps, even more true today than in 1854.

Today, we aren’t burdened to survive. Our burden is abundance.

An abundance of choice and possibilities can quite easily become paralysing. From choice of entertainment to food, possessions to experiences or careers, the list of abundance is endless.

We experience freedoms that Kings of old couldn’t even dream about, yet many of us still feel a quiet sense of being trapped.

Why? Because freedom creates responsibility. In a world full of opportunity where we can change our identity at the drop of a hat, every path unexplored is one of regret.

We hold ourselves accountable for choosing the ‘right’ path when there are thousands to choose from.

Quiet desperation has become the norm.

How often do you have the same conversation, somewhere along the lines of:

‘Hey mate, how’s work?’

‘Flat out, don’t even have time to think’

‘I’m exhausted’,
‘I’m tired’,
‘I’m so busy’,
‘I need a break’,

We’ve gotten to a place if you’re not barely keeping your head afloat, those around you think something is up. If work isn’t busy, are you about to get fired? Is your entire livelihood at risk? Are you about to go bankrupt?

We’re busy, but are we deluding ourselves, keeping busy to avoid our reality?

We don’t often escape ourselves.

Solitude is a rare luxury.

Thoreau walked in the woods with a notebook, letting his thoughts and observations come to him. No one to get a hold of him, nothing to distract him other than his surroundings and head noise.

If we walk in the woods, our phone and headphones come with us. We’ll bop to music, throw on a podcast, or have it just in case someone needs me.

Shower thoughts are a real thing, one of the final frontiers of quiet time with the self, though I’m sure I’m just unaware of some shower products to numb us. There are no podcasts, no shows, no music. Just the hot water and your thoughts.

Desperation no longer looks desperate.

Being desperate used to mean you’ve hit rock bottom. You could see the desperate people. Now, it can be disguised as a full calendar.

Take two lives.

Person A is clearly miserable, the mate at catch-ups hating what they’re doing, complaining about work, the girlfriend, their health and wishing for a different life.

Person B:

has a house,
two healthy kids,
good marriage,
annual overseas holiday,
meets friends at the pub regularly,
Often says they’re ‘living the dream’,

And yet, Person B is trapped, getting dragged downstream by commitments and expectations that they never actually wanted.

Does any of that scream quiet desperation? Person A is aware, and Person B may never know, having been unconsciously defanged, made impotent by the distractions available to us.

Reading Thoreau left me with a different question;

Did we choose this life?

I would never suggest that modern people live harder lives than Thoreau’s contemporaries, because that claim would be absurd. It’s my observation, however, that we’ve become outstanding at disguising quiet desperation with productivity, success and distractions.

We often live a life that we have fallen backwards into rather than one that we’ve consciously pursued, which leads me to question: at what point do we stop choosing?

No one consciously chooses to give up their agency; it happens one decision at a time. One more year in the job. A bigger house. Chasing the dream when work settles down. Every decision makes sense.

We get caught up in the river of expectations, norms, choices and distractions, gently yet relentlessly pushed downstream day by day for years. Then one day, we might read a quote or have a conversation where we’re shocked into resurfacing, look around and think ‘how the hell did I get here?’

I’ve been swept up plenty in my life, and each time I surface, I pop my head out of the water and realise it’s happened again. I always tell myself that from now on, I’ll keep my head up, be conscious and present.

I tell myself every time that maybe this time will be different.

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This post was previously published on Musings of a Half-Wit.

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