In the age of Big Pharma, we have, of course come to medicalize such
thoughts — not to mention just about every other whim and pang. When I
once confided with a physician friend that one of my children seemed to
overheat with anxiety around tests, he smiled kindly and literally
assured, “No need to worry about that, we have a cure for anxiety
today.” On current reckoning, anxiety is a symptom, a problem, but
Kierkegaard insists, “Only a prosaic stupidity maintains that this
(anxiety) is a disorganization.” And again, if a “speaker
maintains that the great thing about him is that he has never been in
anxiety, I will gladly provide him with my explanation: that is because
he is very spiritless. ”
Kierkegaard understood that
anxiety can ignite all kinds of transgressions and maladaptive behaviors
— drinking, carousing, obsessions with work, you name it. We
will do most anything to steady ourselves from the dizzying feeling that
can take almost anything as its object. However, Kierkegaard also
believed that, “Whoever has learned to be anxious in the right way has
learned the ultimate.”
In his “Works of Love,”
Kierkegaard remarks that all talk about the spirit has to be
metaphorical. Sometimes anxiety is cast as a teacher, and at others, a
form of surgery. The prescription in “The Concept of Anxiety” and other
texts is that if we can, as the Buddhists say, “stay with the feeling”
of anxiety, it will spirit away our finite concerns and educate us as to
who we really are, “Then the assaults of anxiety, even though they be
terrifying, will not be such that he flees from them.” According
to Kierkegaard’s analysis, anxiety like nothing else brings home the
lesson that I cannot look to others, to the crowd, when I want to
measure my progress in becoming a full human being.
--from Mockingbird.
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