The Pitfalls of the Life of Adventure

The Pitfalls of the Life of Adventure

Reflections on the Desire for Adventure, and the Value of Homecoming

I want to start this set of reflections in a somewhat unusual place: a Japanese animated comedy that has recently become a favorite of mine, The Disastrous Life of Saiki Kusuo. 

Saiki Kusuo being thwarted in his hopes of normalcy.

The plot centers on the daily life of an extremely powerful psychic. In the very first episode, Saiki Kusuo addresses the audience, commenting that people probably think his life is fantastic and glamorous. He then bluntly informs the viewer that his life is miserable because he has all these powers. He feels cut off from normal experiences, like the joys of achievement, or even simple surprise. He can always hear people's thoughts which means he always hears their deepest thoughts. He has x-ray vision, which makes all but a casual glance or a view through a screen a gruesome parade of fleshless bodies. Neither does he take advantage of his powers for his personal profit (usually), as he has a strong sense of moral rectitude. He is left with ennui and the ever evasive goal of trying to live an absolutely normal existence in the midst of godlike power.

The entire tone of the show is obviously ridiculous, and it plays off many of the tropes of more standard anime genres. In particular it is kind of an inverse "slice of life" show, following a super-powered character living with extreme effort a very normal life. The show, while far from being anything like "high art" is successful as a comedy, and for our purposes it does offer a valuable insight into our nature: if we had super-powers and wish fulfillment at our finger tips we would likely not be any happier.

This brings me to my main theme, that of the naivete of the desire for a life of adventure. It is very common in our escapist fantasies to long to be heroes, demi-gods, and supermen. The problem is that this would not make us very happy, at least not for very long. There have been a great many reflections on this theme both historically and recently, the film Bruce Almighty furnishing another example, though not one we will here explore.

G. K. Chesterton put it very well in his book Heretics. While discussing the subject of progress and the Nietzschean superman, Chesterton extols the value of being small. He comments that, in the best of ancient popular literature, the giants are not heroes to be emulated. Quite the contrary, they are monsters, or in Chesterton's more insolent rhetoric, vermin, to be exterminated. That is the lesson of Jack the Giant Killer; the small and the brave conquers the big, strong, and wealthy. And most importantly, Jake is brave precisely because he is small and his adversary great. As Chesterton notes, human life is defined by paradoxes like this. Courage means something to us precisely because we are small. Likewise a real feeling of romance, of adventure, is only possible for the one who is small and humble. The great wit notes that it is only humility, that strangest of Christian virtues, that enables mankind to look at the stars with wonder, for if we exalt ourselves to a point of thinking we "understand" the heavens we become earthbound. By becoming giants we become impoverished. Likewise, by seeking adventures we enter monotony and disappointment.

It is just this reality that we often find hard to understand. We are surrounded by such banality, such monotony in our daily lives that we long for an adventure, a change of pace. It becomes easy to admire a life-style of adventure in such conditions. This is where Saiki steps in to say, "be careful what you wish for."

The problem with admiring the adventure is that we begin to lose sight of its temporal nature. In the life of the hero of a fantasy story it is the "most interesting piece". It is the height of the action of the heroes life, if the story is any good. Yet if we contemplate actually being in the thick of such a story we would be in torment. The adventure only gains its proper content when understood as the middle of a life, even a minor piece of a story that begins earlier, and often ends much later, if the story is not a tragedy. Truly, Bilbo Baggins was right to bother and befusticate burgling! Adventure is indeed a nasty uncomfortable thing that makes one late for dinner. An adventure is not valued for the danger and the daring do; it is valued for the homecoming.

Without seeking to be callous, I think this sheds some light on the recent celebrity suicides, in particular that of Anthony Bourdain. He had what appears to be an ideal life-style, filled with travel, adventure, and fame. Yet, I am here speculating, I think it likely that his deep depression stemmed from the lack of a home to return to. At the height of No Reservations, Bourdain was newly married with a young daughter. Yet at the end of his life he had lost this familial center. I don't know the circumstances or the darkness that led to his end, but it certainly makes sense that this may have contributed to his tragedy.

In Memoriam, Anthony Bourdain

Adventure then is a false goal. It is mistaking a means for an end. Adventures are the means to something greater: the return to peace and normalcy. We can see this in all the great adventure stories. In the Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship enters upon its mission not to gain glory but to win a peace, even if only for a space, for their families and friends. In the Oddysey the goal is to get back to Ithaca. Aeneas seeks a place to establish his household gods in fair Italia. We may say that the Grail Quest of Arthurian myth was in many ways an adventure for its own sake. Yet it is precisely this longing for unneeded adventure in Arthur and his knights that leads to the destruction of Camelot and the tragic end of its promise.

Adventures are for something, the go somewhere. It is in the very name; it is derived from advenio, to come into. They are a long journey to the place of rest. It is precisely the tragedy of a character like Saiki that he cannot in fact be normal, he is doomed to a life of perpetual pilgrimage towards a normalcy he cannot seem to reach. Yet it is precisely his adventures for the sake of normalcy that form much of the charm and humor of the show. He makes accidental friends with a variety of misfits and faces the ups and downs of social and family life including embarrassing parents and an annoying sibling. If the character were more self-aware he would realize how normal, in spite of everything, his life is. It is not hard to imagine that this is the case for many of us, only aware in tiny flashes of the achievement of our goals and content for but an instant in them. It is certainly Saiki's case, and will be however long his life (or merely the series) runs.

  

How does this relate to the earlier point about being small and humble? It enables the humble man to orient himself rightly. The proud and giantesque man incorrectly points his sails in the direction of greatness. In truth giving up greatness he would gain not only true greatness, but rest. For the hero is the one who achieves greatness in spite of his weakness, by his courage and strength in the face obstacles for the sake of putting aside his deeds of valor. This is the attitude especially of Christian life. In the life of the Lord, who is the model and archetype for all humanity, the adventures and perils are endured toward an end; the redemption of creation from corruption and death. It is a move from the dark perimeter, the place of destruction, to the center where peace and rest are restored. This is precisely, for Christians, the entire motion of history from the creation to the establishment of the Kingdom in glory. It is a grand adventure, and it ends like every adventure should: "and they all returned home happily ever after."

I hope the Saikis of the world, who are wearied by their greatness, find the strength to be small and to return home.