The word “stress” has infiltrated the minds and conversations of Americans with force and connotation. Though newly ubiquitous, the idea of stress is neither trendy nor temporal. It has come to define anxieties and struggles common to all humans (and other creatures) in all time.
Stress, as we define it, is horrible. It eats away at our joy, our peace, and yet it is such a common affliction that there is very little sympathy reserved for it. If one member of a community contracts a disease, or suffers from a disorder, the rest of the community is stirred by the stark contrast. In comparison to their unafflicted lives, this afflicted life seems especially in need of sympathy, of compassion. But if a whole community suffers from a syndrome, even if it is painful and oppresive, that unique compassion loses its glow. So it is with stress. So many of us are gripped by stress, and yet for that very reason it is stripped of its woeful dignity.
Stress is also horrible because it is both immediate and evasive.
The original, basic meaning of stress had to do with pressure or tension being applied to objects. A piece of wood can only handle so much pressure, or stress, before it snaps in two. While stress is being applied to that piece of wood, the fibers of the material are in tension, on the verge of snapping. These descriptions perfectly apply to the sensation of “stress” that we suffer. We feel what seems to be our organs twisting, our pulse quickening, our muscles gathering, and we wonder nervously if we are going to somehow break. Though pyschologically related, stress is equally physical.
And yet, despite its felt immediacy, stress is also evasive. As it spreads through every part of our being, we have great difficulty locating its source. We struggle to localize it, to contain it, and thus deal with it directly. But success in diagnosing stress would require a free and supple mind, which is rarely available in the midst of the affliction. It attacks us fully and directly, and yet it eludes our reach.
This tension robs us of time, serenity, focus, and pleasure without any substantiation. We are contorted in anxious anticipation through whole years of our lives, feeling as though we bear great unmet responsibilities and debt, and knowing little of how to fulfill or repay. We secretly believe this sickness might exist to keep us on track, but it has stilted our development in all areas, and has only served to distract from noble goals.
Maybe stress is a culturally derived social syndrome. In a country with vague capitalistic mantras about staying ahead of the market and showing your value, perhaps we’ve acquired an equally vague response, one not nearly clear enough to act upon. And so that general, Willy Loman-esque belief in some greater American existence keeps us biting our nails to the grave.
Maybe stress is naturally derived. Some compensation for the survival of the species, as many naturalists would suggest.
Maybe its spiritually derived. We’ve corrupted ourselves, each other, and the earth, and are torn from our Source of existence and direction, and so our bones are unsound with unnamed grief and terror of damning consequences.
Maybe we have too many coffees and candies.
Your thoughts?
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the seakettle settler 
Stress
Posted in philosophy, social commentary, tagged anxiety, health, pressure, theology on February 2, 2010| 2 Comments »
The word “stress” has infiltrated the minds and conversations of Americans with force and connotation. Though newly ubiquitous, the idea of stress is neither trendy nor temporal. It has come to define anxieties and struggles common to all humans (and other creatures) in all time.
Stress, as we define it, is horrible. It eats away at our joy, our peace, and yet it is such a common affliction that there is very little sympathy reserved for it. If one member of a community contracts a disease, or suffers from a disorder, the rest of the community is stirred by the stark contrast. In comparison to their unafflicted lives, this afflicted life seems especially in need of sympathy, of compassion. But if a whole community suffers from a syndrome, even if it is painful and oppresive, that unique compassion loses its glow. So it is with stress. So many of us are gripped by stress, and yet for that very reason it is stripped of its woeful dignity.
Stress is also horrible because it is both immediate and evasive.
The original, basic meaning of stress had to do with pressure or tension being applied to objects. A piece of wood can only handle so much pressure, or stress, before it snaps in two. While stress is being applied to that piece of wood, the fibers of the material are in tension, on the verge of snapping. These descriptions perfectly apply to the sensation of “stress” that we suffer. We feel what seems to be our organs twisting, our pulse quickening, our muscles gathering, and we wonder nervously if we are going to somehow break. Though pyschologically related, stress is equally physical.
And yet, despite its felt immediacy, stress is also evasive. As it spreads through every part of our being, we have great difficulty locating its source. We struggle to localize it, to contain it, and thus deal with it directly. But success in diagnosing stress would require a free and supple mind, which is rarely available in the midst of the affliction. It attacks us fully and directly, and yet it eludes our reach.
This tension robs us of time, serenity, focus, and pleasure without any substantiation. We are contorted in anxious anticipation through whole years of our lives, feeling as though we bear great unmet responsibilities and debt, and knowing little of how to fulfill or repay. We secretly believe this sickness might exist to keep us on track, but it has stilted our development in all areas, and has only served to distract from noble goals.
Maybe stress is a culturally derived social syndrome. In a country with vague capitalistic mantras about staying ahead of the market and showing your value, perhaps we’ve acquired an equally vague response, one not nearly clear enough to act upon. And so that general, Willy Loman-esque belief in some greater American existence keeps us biting our nails to the grave.
Maybe stress is naturally derived. Some compensation for the survival of the species, as many naturalists would suggest.
Maybe its spiritually derived. We’ve corrupted ourselves, each other, and the earth, and are torn from our Source of existence and direction, and so our bones are unsound with unnamed grief and terror of damning consequences.
Maybe we have too many coffees and candies.
Your thoughts?
Read Full Post »