Tanner Johnson
January 23, 2009
Period #3
Morrie’s Aphorisms
Morrie Schwartz is dead. But even through death he continues to teach the living about, ironically, how to live. Funny how that works out, isn’t it? See, Morrie was a professor of philosophy, so he had spent a good deal of his life pondering the great mysteries of our existence. At an older age, Morrie contracted a disease known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. This is a degenerative disease of the nervous system. So Morrie suffered a long and slow death. During these final months of his life, Morrie was able to do what very few do: he managed to benefit, and make others benefit, from his death. He did this by imparting life lessons he had gleaned from his time on Earth. I, as a reader, never knew Morrie. I wish I had, though. But even from thousands of miles away, years later, and beyond the grave, Morrie managed to teach me something. Many things, to be honest. One such aphorism, or Morrie-ism, was this: “Recognize the difference between what you want and what you need. Your need to feel connected to other people is as vital to human survival as food, water, and shelter.” And he is absolutely right. To me, this little phrase means many things, some of which are common wisdom and others not.
First and foremost: it means that people need to understand the differences between what they need, and what they want. Humans need food and water, but they want a new iPod. This is something I feel is lost on society. Too many believe that material wealth leads to emotional wealth. That’s simply not the case. It is as the Beatles once said, “I don’t care too much for money, money can’t buy you love.” It’s true. In this way, the gregarious hobo may live more happily than the most lonesome rich man. In my short life, I’ve seen this little phrase proven. I had a friend in elementary school, his name was Thomas. His parents had been wealthy, but then they became divorced. He lived with his mother. Problem being, he only had one parent in his life and she had to work to support them. Now, from their previous wealth, Thomas was able to get any new toy he wanted. Anything. I remember he had two rooms (each larger than mine, and I bunked with my little brother!). The first was a typical kid’s room, Batman bed and toys and so on. The second room, however, was nothing but toys. Hundreds upon hundreds of toys littered the floor and every other surface. Many children envied him because he had so much. But I didn’t. He did poorly in school, despite being exceedingly capable, and was never happy. This was because his material wealth didn’t translate into emotional wealth. He wanted toys, but what he needed was a family. Sure he was wealthy, but he had a poor home life. Thomas illustrated for me, at an early age, exactly what Morrie stated so clearly.
The next part of this Morrie-ism is that one must feel connected to other people. By this I derived that reclusion isn’t an option for a person to be happy. More than that, one should not only be social but one should want to be so. This is a cunning point. He managed to divide the difference between merely hanging out and wanting to hang out. Everyone hangs out, but those who benefit most are those that want it. I take this to mean that happiness, from social interaction, comes only to those who want to socially interact. This is a basic idea: people who enjoy something will enjoy that something. But also he points out that social interaction is a necessary field for people to like. Make sense? Take this example: my brother. My brother, Ted, has never been a socialite. He is someone who wants to be accepted by his peers yet doesn’t want to hang out. While he has his field of activities he enjoys, being social isn’t one of them. He is happy in his own way, but it was something no one can share with him. For him to be happy, he has to be doing his own activity alone. This is exactly Morrie’s point; one must be able to be happy with a group. Solitary happiness is no happiness at all. So, when he entered middle school and was assaulted with the overwhelming sense of needing to fit in, he had to review his outlook on what made him happy. Since then he has hung out with more people, acquired the drive to do so, and is now much happier in general. Ted proved Morrie’s point.
Finally, and most crucially to Morrie’s aphorism, is that we (as people) must realize that social interaction is a vital to human survival as food, water, and shelter. This is the most important part of the phrase, and yet is most straightforward. We cannot live without interaction. I watched a documentary once about this very subject. There was a study done where two samples of chimpanzee babies were taken care of. Both were large populations of equal health. The scientists provided the same support for each sample (food, water and all other necessities). The only variable in the experiment was affection. The first group was given love and attention, while the other received none. The first thrived and grew strong. Despite the food and water and health care, the second group began to die. This experiment highlighted, with little doubt, that love and affection are just as important to life as food and water. I saw this and was taken aback. Sure, without interaction one would be less of a person, but I would never have thought they would die of it. It served as a grim wake-me-up.
Morrie Schwartz is dead, but not gone. From his deathbed, this old man was able to tell us more about our lives than we had ever discovered on our own. He imparted this wisdom unto us so that we might live a longer, fuller life. He said many things on many subjects, but what most affected me, personally, was the following aphorism: “Recognize the difference between what you want and what you need. Your need to feel connected to other people is as vital to human survival as food, water, and shelter.” Anyone can take anything he said and do with it what they will. I took this to heart. And with it there, Morrie is not dead.
