In defense of cowardice
That's what I was going to write about. Over the weekend, Zach and I and some coworkers of Zach's saw Sophie Scholl: The Last Days. This is the second film we've seen with these folks, the first being the documentary Why We Fight and here's the new rule: from now on, the only films we can see with Barbara and Don are animated films with magical unicorns voiced by Freddie Prinze Jr. where people -- and by "people" I mean multi-colored elves or fairies or shit like that -- learn the power of hugging and share a laugh or two when the cartoon skunk or badger or whatever upsets a cart of apples because enough already with the bleak films. God.
Here are films I can't see anymore because seriously, I'm done:
* Films about the Holocaust and Nazi Germany. Especially when they're set in 1943.
* Films about Palestinian suicide bombers.
* Documentaries about people dying and then they actually die on the actual screen.
* Films about female serial killer Aileen Wuornos.
* Films where a small English town learns to love again either through the ballet dancing of one little boy, stripping coal miners, brass-band-playing coal miners, naked English ladies, or kinky boot makers.
Sophie Scholl documents the last few days of Sophie, her brother, Hans, and their colleague Christoph Probst, memebers of The White Rose, as they are caught, tried, and convicted of crimes against Nazi Germany. Their crime? Publishing fliers that spoke out against the war, the tyranny of Germany, and against the systematic annihilation of the Jews.
They were all beheaded.
I was going to write about how I think that sometimes preserving the self is worth cowardice. That you can be much more effective alive than you can dead and martyred. I had a lot of reasons, and I thought they were all convincing and good, and I was going to share them all, and then I read this:
"The real damage is done by those millions who want to 'survive.' The honest men who just want to be left in peace. Those who don't want their little lives disturbed by anything bigger than themselves. Those with no sides and no causes. Those who won't take measure of their own strength, for fear of antagonizing their own weakness. Those who don't like to make waves -— or enemies. Those for whom freedom, honour, truth, and principles are only literature. Those who live small, mate small, die small. It's the reductionist approach to life: if you keep it small, you'll keep it under control. If you don't make any noise, the bogeyman won't find you. But it's all an illusion, because they die too, those people who roll up their spirits into tiny little balls so as to be safe. Safe?! From what? Life is always on the edge of death; narrow streets lead to the same place as wide avenues, and a little candle burns itself out just like a flaming torch does. I choose my own way to burn." -- Sophie Scholl
Here are films I can't see anymore because seriously, I'm done:
* Films about the Holocaust and Nazi Germany. Especially when they're set in 1943.
* Films about Palestinian suicide bombers.
* Documentaries about people dying and then they actually die on the actual screen.
* Films about female serial killer Aileen Wuornos.
* Films where a small English town learns to love again either through the ballet dancing of one little boy, stripping coal miners, brass-band-playing coal miners, naked English ladies, or kinky boot makers.
Sophie Scholl documents the last few days of Sophie, her brother, Hans, and their colleague Christoph Probst, memebers of The White Rose, as they are caught, tried, and convicted of crimes against Nazi Germany. Their crime? Publishing fliers that spoke out against the war, the tyranny of Germany, and against the systematic annihilation of the Jews.
They were all beheaded.
I was going to write about how I think that sometimes preserving the self is worth cowardice. That you can be much more effective alive than you can dead and martyred. I had a lot of reasons, and I thought they were all convincing and good, and I was going to share them all, and then I read this:
"The real damage is done by those millions who want to 'survive.' The honest men who just want to be left in peace. Those who don't want their little lives disturbed by anything bigger than themselves. Those with no sides and no causes. Those who won't take measure of their own strength, for fear of antagonizing their own weakness. Those who don't like to make waves -— or enemies. Those for whom freedom, honour, truth, and principles are only literature. Those who live small, mate small, die small. It's the reductionist approach to life: if you keep it small, you'll keep it under control. If you don't make any noise, the bogeyman won't find you. But it's all an illusion, because they die too, those people who roll up their spirits into tiny little balls so as to be safe. Safe?! From what? Life is always on the edge of death; narrow streets lead to the same place as wide avenues, and a little candle burns itself out just like a flaming torch does. I choose my own way to burn." -- Sophie Scholl
posted by Mike at 9:01 AM
1 Comments:
LOVE that quote.
Here's a similar one that you may have heard. It's from Marianne Williamson (usually misattributed to Nelson Mandela).
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.
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