Aesthetic Emotions

Why is it when we see a dead body in the street we have one reaction, but when we read of death in literature, or see it in the theatre, we have another?

Is it simply because we know one is real while the another is not? Is it simply a mental suspicion that predisposes us to apathy when we read death in literature or watch it in the theatre? Or is apathy even the proper term? Perhaps it's an impasse, imposed unto us by progression of unnatural dictation of series of Hollywood residues and the efficacy of printmaking that lead to democracy of ethos? I'm not sure if the previous sentence even makes any sense, but what I'm inquiring is whether the over-stimulation in today's society disadvantages us to become disillusioned and uncoordinated, often minimizing what we truly feel, or ought to feel.

Ideas versus emotions.

I first heard about Haiti the day after their first earthquake of 7.0 magnitude. Truthfully, my initial response was a bewilderment. I marveled at such vigor. A 7.0 magnitude earthquake could decidedly alter the landscape of the place within few seconds. And it did, which cost hundreds of thousands of peoples' lives. The latter realization came to me as secondary.

When we see a dead body in the streets, we are likely to elicit a fear response or an avoidant behavior. When we see a dead body in the theatre or read them in literature, the reactions vary. Sometimes death is portrayed as a gruesome, merciless art, as often depicted in wars. Sometimes the subject of death is about mortality and immortality. In some, death may simply belong to the circle of life. In some, death seems beautiful and worthwhile. And although rare, sometimes death is even celebrated. And accordingly, our hearts may feel stained, anxious, peaceful, warm, and so on.

So why was it that I did not immediately empathize with the Haitian victims? Is it as simple as an evolutionary disposition, that abstract words and thoughts were not part of Mother Nature's agenda for nurturing our emotions? Or perhaps the issue is unique to me, along with few others? Or could further psycho-analysis reveal that this entire blog post is just an intellectual displacement to insulate myself from painful heartaches of possible empathy?

Maybe. But I'll save the self-diagnosis for later.

In life, idea and emotion come separately. Mind and passions revolve in different realm and capacity of our lives. It's rarely coordinated; it's a mess. And it's usually at odds, rarely as steadfast as we hope them to be. Often, your intellectual life prepares you for emotional experiences although you're rarely ready for them. And in a sense, your emotional life prepares for your intellectual life as well. But the two are rarely in unison. They're conflicting in nature. But in those scarce moments when the two fuse, you are overwhelmed by aesthetic emotions. An epiphany for the soul occurs. Reason alone won't be able to explain, nor any word will be sufficient to describe. In a broader context, it's love, whether it'd be familial love, unconditional love, or romantic love. Inherently, empathy is comprised.

It wasn't until I started browsing through the photos and the news of the second earthquake when my heart took empathy. People's homes and lives marred by natural disaster, I feel as though any sentiments I lift up and any prayer I give, however earnest, will still be seemingly superficial or inconsiderate.

Although significantly small, my heart and prayers go out to Haiti.

Photography by Carlos Barria via Boston.com (click for more photos)