You’ve got a death wish
“On the basis of theoretical considerations, supported by biology, we put forward the hypothesis of a death instinct, the task of which is to lead organic life back into the inanimate state; on the other hand, we supposed that Eros, by bringing about a more and more far-reaching combination of the particles into which living substance is dispersed, aims at complicating life and at the same time, of course, preserving it. “
From The Ego and the Id, Chapter four
On the basis of experience, I’m trying to decide how true are these warring instincts Freud speaks of. The instinct to return to the original, inorganic state, to no longer have one’s being dispersed into myriad other substances and situations (the stakes of life), seems an instinct that, even if is primarily biological, can be mapped onto that existential wish, when life comes to a state of overwhelm and there is simply too much going on, of wanting a ‘reset.’
I use that language all the time. It’s when I feel like the days, gathering their mass of stuff and baggage and situations, all binding themselves to me (or me to them?), seem to have launched me out far beyond myself, and the little kingdom of self which I am accountable for (or hope to be) has been spread too thin for any meaningful, intentional activity. Those days, even a coherent identity seems doubtful.
Eros, on the other hand, the binding, uniting principle of life, is something I can relate to and make sense of. I want to be in the world and connect to it. I don’t want to slip past anything without getting embedded in some group or story or surface, making a mark, become a part of what I know.
Is it true, as Freud says, that “life itself would be a conflict and compromise between these two trends”? He says, “the problem of the goal and purpose of life would be answered dualistically,” meaning, in dialogue between these two instincts.
I’m thinking of meditative practices, how often they are an attempt to return to oneself. Or, how a trip made in attempt to restore one’s spirit or sense of self is often called a ‘retreat’, which of course is a metaphor for ending one’s travels and returning to one’s homeland. In this case the homeland is oneself. But Freud makes the really dramatic argument that the return to self implies, in the greatest extreme, a falling so deeply into oneself (and, consequently, away from the world) that one ceases to be in the world. To die on one’s own terms.
I have always thought about these dueling instincts as styles of life. It’s like Mary, single-mindedly learning and meditating at Jesus’ feet, and her sister, Martha, half-listening, while also tending to the needs of the whole table. Or the monks and nuns whose lives of prayer get exerted into acts of service—a whole existence worked out by that conflict and compromise, in this case, turns out to seem something like peace or wisdom. It’s Plato’s contemplation of the oneness of Being and Aristotle’s subsequent plunging into “the things, themselves.”
Perhaps Freud is right and these modes of thinking and being are coordinated to our biology. But I think this language of conflict might grant more direction for a life well-lived and balanced than many of our maxims and lifestyle trends.
