Pursuit of Happyness

Thought I saw that movie already. Remembered bits and pieces and the overall story. Watched it tonight. Most of it was new. Did I see a preview? No, I remembered too much for a preview. Finally figured I must have seen it on an airplane, rummy from lack of sleep, hurtling through the night a few miles above the Pacific. Looked up from my book or laptop or catnap now and then, put on the headphones awhile, went back.

It’s an exhausting story. And the period of homelessness makes me want to fund shelters (except of course my systemic instincts kick in, damn them). I appreciated seeing Rev. Williams in his uncredited role as himself. I felt like a slacker and a slob watching the Will Smith character stay so focused in spite of adversity.

Focus is not my friend. Sometimes I feel I can barely accomplish anything anymore. Now would not be a good time to age out of my career but it wouldn’t surprise me if it happened within the next few years anyway. The younger guys care more, and are interested more in technology, and aren’t distracted by second-half yearnings to go find themselves. They have small children and thus strong protective instincts that override any individualist angst. Mine just need college funding and a place to park.

There was an instant when the director ran a convertible full of laughing yuppies past a long line of homeless men lining up outside the shelter at Glide Memorial. I feel like the paper-thin people in the convertible – except I’m not laughing. Not even smiling. I have my huge house and my convertible and occasionally the unbelievable privilege of experiencing the magic that hurtles one through the night a few miles above the Pacific just to go talk to men wearing suits. But other than the laughing part, I’m just as paper-thin as the people in that half-second scene. Just as thin and just as likely in a callow moment to ignore if not dismiss the people lining up for a warm place to sleep.

Systemic instincts. Compassion vies with practicality. Surely the discipline Nature imposed on Man in his days in the forest shouldn’t be discarded entirely. Why not? Not sure. Everyone deserves a hand without regard to why, at least sometimes. But I’ve an inarticulate instinct that insists there is no compassion in giving a man a fish every single day the rest of his life. Teach him to fish and if he won’t learn, leave him free to choose his own lessons.

I don’t know. I only know that charity without end leads to the Roman mob clamoring for their bread and circuses and pulling down and trampling the praetor who denies them this newly inalienable right. That is not the direction of a society with a future.

The main character muses that Thomas Jefferson was an artist, for proclaiming not happiness as a right, but the pursuit of happiness. A vital distinction. But apart from discussing the nature of rights, it’s also a reminder that happiness itself is fleeting, and sometimes we are only really happy when pursuing it.