The Full Catastrophe

Originally published on my Wordpress blog 12.14.2019

Ah, yes, The Full Catastrophe.  And no, I'm not talking about the bestselling book on mindfulness written by Jon Kabat Zinn.  Not at all.  From my limited research, the phrase seems to have first appeared in the 1964 movie Zorba the Greek.  The movie was based on the 1946 novel The Life And Times Of Alexis Zorba by Nikos Kazantzakis but the phrase "the full catastrophe" doesn't appear in the book.  Instead it is first voiced in  the movie by the colorful, bigger than life character Zorba (played by Anthony Quinn). Zorba has become acquainted with Basil, an Englishman who has inherited a mine in Crete. The two of them are traveling in a boat on the way to the island when Basil asks Zorba if he is married. Zorba laments, in accented English, "Am I not a man? And is not a man stupid? I'm a man, so I'm married. Wife, children, house--everything. The full catastrophe."  (Here's a short clip:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9Dy_5zMfEM)

A wife, children, house, - everything.  The full catastrophe.  He's pretty concise there but I've always thought that Zorba , if he had time, would have included a lot more examples of the full catastrophe.  To me the expression means all the feelings, trappings, possessions, all the good and the bad moments inherent in being a human being.  Each life has its own full catastrophe, its own collection of minutia that qualify for the full catastrophe.  The package is infinitely full.  As Walt Whitman said, "Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes." Some parts of the package are common to many human beings - the spouse, the children, the house - but so many other parts are unique to the individual.  My full catastrophe includes:

• A deeply unquenchable curiosity about that which is unknowable
• An appreciation for anything that inspires a laugh out loud moment
• A grand fondness for good pizza and for iced tea (not necessarily at the same time)
• A hypersensitivity to noise
• A pervasive awareness that time is limited (time in this life, anyway)
• A body that yearns for movement and activity even as it screams at me, "Enough!"
• Eight siblings who mean the world to me
• A childhood that included tree climbing, camping trips, baseball, fish on Fridays, a moon landing, pinocle, financial stress, beater cars, and books, books, and books
• A high regard for the stillness and silent beauty of dawn
• A thread-like connection to emptiness
• An aversion to telephones
• A for-the-long-haul sweetheart and partner who shows love by taking care of the details
• A colossal fear for the future of the planet
• All opportunities to be outside and away from crowds
• A space of my own in which to create art
• A desire to travel and, in the same instant, a reluctance to travel (I contradict myself, just like Walt above)
• Scars
• Headaches
• A love/hate relationship with yoga
• A daily writing practice
• Bicycle rides!
• Surviving the transition from parent of little kids to parent of adult children
• An antipathy for crowded spaces
• A lifetime membership in the Fred Rogers Fan Club
• Two offspring who make me proud every single day
• Substantial gratitude for health, for family, for friends.
• Confidence in the youth of the world who regrettably have to save the planet
• Yup, chocolate ( homemade cake and homemade chocolate chip cookies especially)
• The loss of my parents and the disconnect that the loss requires
• An inconsistent relationship with "what will be, will be"
• An awareness that everyone has a story and I am curious about all of them
• Memories, so many memories, accompanied by tears, by smiles, by both

Let's end on that note.  Sure, one could go on and on.  A human being is infinite and they DO contain multitudes.  This started out as an exercise to remind myself that every life is a story.  Every life has high points and low points.  Every life is mysterious, fascinating, and complex.   And here's the funny thing.  We think we're so different from each other but human beings are 99.9% identical in their genetic makeup  (this from the National Human Genome Research Institute).  Really.  How come we cant't focus more on our similarities?  Our shared pain, grief, joy, pride, memories?  Why can't we grieve together and celebrate together?  And I don't mean in a Hallmark way or courtesy of "Black Friday" and every other marketing gimmick?  I mean why can't we see our pain in "the other"?   Why can't we acknowledge that human beings want the same thing?  They want their basic needs (food, a place to call home, medical attention when needed) met.  They want to be seen and heard by others. They want to be satisfied with their lives.   They want The Full Catastrophe.