Many months ago, as I was working my way through the pre-Socratic philosophers, I was reading my Heraclitus, loving him. Then suddenly, I came across this concept of his:
Strife is justice.
Those three little words socked me in the chest and took my breath away. It seemed to contain truths on so many levels.
I started one essay on it, but couldn’t find an ending. I started another, and couldn’t end that one either. So I just began avoiding Heraclitus. And then because I hadn’t finished Heraclitus, I, in my perfectionistic obsessive way, felt I couldn’t move on to the next pre-Socratic in line. I was stymied.
The reason I couldn’t finish the essays was because there was a nagging hole in my “Strife is justice” belief—and i didn’t want to face it and have another belief crumble without something to replace it.
See, I’ve always believed that if you work hard, you will prevail. Hard work (strife) doesn’t mean you won’t fail. It just means you will eventually get your reward (justice) if you keep trying. It may not be the justice you expected, but it will come.
That belief has pushed me through hard times and rallied me when I was tiring, lagging behind. And it’s given me courage to set off on new paths, take risks, because I felt confident I would get my reward.
It works on metaphysical and material levels, on personal and communal levels, except for one nagging thing: Some people seem to win their reward without having much or any strife. Some people just waltz up to the front of the line.
Doesn’t that punch a big hole in the whole “strife is justice” thing if that can happen?
In writing my other essays, going into the various applicable levels of it, I came up with myriad excuses to justify my clinging to the concept while watching some escape it:
Maybe they had already striven and have fully earned it. Maybe they will have to strive to hang on to it, without having the tools all the strivers have already learned and practiced. Perhaps they won’t meet their justice in this life, but it will still come.
All true, but also all unsatisfactory in closing the mammoth believability gap that question opened.
So lo these many months I have seen and quietly noted instances proving that “strife is justice” indeed, but with no explanation for the exceptions coming to me, to allow me to complete my essays.
But today I found that a new friend was also struggling with the concept of justice. It upset her that, in a certain instance, justice was not swift nor assured. I could sympathize, but something in me still made me confident that it would come, although maybe she would never learn of it or know the full extent of it.
With those thoughts rambling around my brain, still feeling silly I was trying to keep the nagging question at bay, I popped in a good old country CD, Lee Ann Womack’s I Hope You Dance, and click! A little light turned on.
I’ve always listened to the title song and imagined sending its lyrics out into the ether to dear ones, and today was no different…until I thought, wait, what about me? Why don’t *I* try to more actively live that way? Why can’t I sing that song to myself? (in a non-narcissistic way, of course!)
Read the simple lyrics. Listen to them. See if you can guess where I’m going with this:
It’s all about strife, striving and doing it in the most beautiful, challenging, purposeful, gratifying, graceful manner you can. The joy, satisfaction and pride of that kind of strife is its own justice.
Listening to those lyrics it occurred to me that I was looking at it all the wrong way. If I live my life according to the “Strife Is Justice” precept, going along, working hard—or not working hard and knowing I have only myself to blame for not getting any reward—does it change things for *me* if someone else gets a freebie tossed their way? Does it give me an excuse not to strive? Or, should I be like some others who mainly strive to get in with the people that always get let into the club while everyone else waits behind the rope?
Does it affect my justice? No. Because nothing is owed to me, and life is not a zero-sum game. Just because one person gets their justice doesn’t mean there’s no justice left for me.
It’s the age-old liberal trap that I was falling into. That it’s unfair, gosh golly! I could try to game the system, get some freebies, arrange my life choices so that I can continue to receive those freebies. Or I can get out there and strive like hell. I can fall on my face, but I can pick myself back up. I can open up my world, my opportunities by getting out there.
It doesn’t change things for my life if I worry about what’s happening with other people’s lives, whether they are getting the harsh justice they sorely deserve.
Instead I need to wake up each morning, and strive. I need to go for the gusto and live like the lyrics in Womack’s beautiful song.
If I attack each day in that manner, I shape my own justice. I control my frame of mind. I can love, I can forgive, I can live. I don’t have to permit others to drag me down. I can exercise my hope and optimism and courage, and gain the strength to hang on tight in times of trouble—and maybe have a little extra left over to help pull others along when they need a hand.
All the others that appear to be getting strife-free rewards won’t be waltzing by me in line, because I won’t be in any line waiting for my justice. I’ll be dancing to it myself.
P.S. In searching for a suitable YouTube copy of I Hope You Dance with the lyrics shown, I came across this video that some guy put up his own thoughts instead of the lyrics. He has some nice things to say, some of them relevant to “Strife Is Justice.”