What Exactly is Courage?
February 2, 2014
Philip Seymour Hoffman
Oh man, no. Not him. I loved that guy.
I was so struck by the news this morning of PSH’s death, and am so, so sorry he’s gone.
I didn’t really know him. Obviously. It’s not like I know anything about him, just what I’ve seen on the screen and read. But, there was something about him.. something about his face, his size, his unkemptness, that made me really like him. He seemed willing to be all in. Willing to be exposed. I may not really know him, but to me he was: Balls out. Smart. Vulnerable. Messy. Willing.
Acting, of course. I liked the way he nailed his characters. People called him a courageous actor. In real life, he seemed generous and gentle. Even in rage, there was a decency. Even in his intense weakness, there was a resolve.
But it looks like that resolve fell short.
He seemed brutally human, not in-your-face human, demanding you to take notice, but unapologetic. Not like people who make a living out of their neuroses, or whose personas are built around their vulnerabilities and insecurities and it’s all about them. He was just human, and flawed. I felt like he was honest in his struggles, knew his demons, tried to shore himself up against them, especially the one.
But ultimately didn’t.
It just feels like.. damn. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t fight it enough, couldn’t fight them back..demon addictions. He couldn’t be lucid and present enough in that moment to say No, I’m not going to do that, there are people who love me. Maybe he didn’t love himself enough. Maybe he didn’t love his life enough. The good wasn’t good enough and heroin beat him.
He succumbed, he knew he might, he feared he might, or feared he would. He knew he might not be there for his kids.
Feel so bad for the people who must have loved him, especially his mom and kids, who were so trumped by his addictions.
He put himself out there, he was an insightful, nuanced, yes, courageous actor. He was intelligent, even brilliant, maybe even genius. He knew how to reach the darkness of his characters and express it fully.
I thought he was brave in his humanity, brave in his acting.
But he wasn’t brave enough.
It takes a special kind of courage to stay present enough to know the enemy, to recognize it when it comes bidding, to fight it off because there is a greater, sweeter purpose. Maybe the sweetness is a child, maybe the greater purpose is your own damn self. Maybe you’re worth fighting for. Maybe life is.
If there’s sweetness, why isn’t that enough? Holding your child. The feeling of warm sun on your face. The smell of pine in dry mountain air. The sound of a banjo. Slow dancing in the arms of someone you love. Whatever it is, what makes a person forget those things? Because, you know, it’s all there is, this is all we get, this one walk on the planet at this one moment in time.
Whatever makes a person forget those things, i’m so sorry.
People with addictions, I have a question: Is it not a choice? At any given moment, with clarity, can a person say no, if only in that moment, no, I’m not going to do that? And isn’t the challenge to just keep making that choice? Are they not the most courageous among us–those who manage to keep the demons at bay by saying, in that moment, no?
I just don’t know what a person who is addicted does if he wants to live.
I’m sorry because I really liked him.
It’s just achingly sad.
RIP PSH.
Life of Wry 
February 3, 2014 at 8:46 am
The sentiments are right. The expression is wrong. I need to dig deeper to find the right words.
I am gratified, as I read more and hear more (an Esquire Magazine article this morning, and an NPR story) that my instincts about PSH are right. Tens times over, right. But my ability to capture that in words is lacking.
Pardon my obsession here. It’s not really an obsession as much with a man (I don’t even know), but it is an obsession with tragedy and the human condition. I think I could not see him in Death of a Salesman. I’d die of heartache, truly. I’m hurting now and, you know, I don’t even know the guy. Really hurting. It’s weird.
I think it’s a good process to work on the writing though, to find the words to express it. I know them when I see them, so it’s not a question of being in touch with the feelings. I’ll either be a writer and find those words, and be able to express them, or I won’t. So.. worth trying… to, you know, see if I have it or not.
February 3, 2014 at 10:04 pm
I share your impression: “something about his face, his size, his unkemptness, that made me really like him. He seemed wiling to be all in. Willing to be exposed. I may not really know him, but to me he was: Balls out. Smart. Vulnerable. Messy. Willing. “
February 4, 2014 at 9:47 am
Your post is a beautifully written elegy and inquiry.
I’ve been musing about addiction, about how it afflicts so many people in so many ways… how it permeates our society. We live in a culture addicted to chemicals, yes, like drugs, alcohol and sugar. Also addicted to achieving a certain body form, to accumulating more and more stuff, and to being constantly connected and occupied. Increasingly, I think busy-ness is an addiction that numbs us, keeps us from feeling our pain, alienation and despair. It also keeps us from taking action on what really matters.
I’m now living in a hotspot of addiction – to luxury goods, work, and technology. Singapore is filled with people who either flaunt their designer bags and exotic sports cars or long for them. Typical workdays and workweeks are ridiculously long. And on buses and trains, in restaurants and malls, and in the street, it seems everyone is glued to their mobile devices. Is this the same as physical addictions to drugs, alcohol, or sex? No, and yet….
So you wanna dive in? Understand more? We recently watched a powerful movie that beautifully weaves themes of grief, addiction, and love. Halle Berry and Benicio Del Toro in ‘Things We Lost in the Fire’… ‘Flight’ with Denzel Washington (2012) is another one that has addiction at its core, this time, alcoholism.
And a book… oh god, Allen and I read a enlightening, harrowing, heartbreaking story – Beautiful Boy: A Father’s Journey Through His Son’s Addiction. After this memoir, author David Sheff wrote Clean: Overcoming Addiction and Ending America’s Greatest Tragedy. http://davidsheff.com/clean/ Haven’t read that one yet. If you want to learn more about this hugely complicated, hugely important issue, Sheff is a great place to start.
February 4, 2014 at 11:24 am
Thanks, LL. This has long been a fascination, under a larger umbrella of tragedies of the human condition. Those seem like great suggestions/resources.
This morning I read another take on addictions.. this one from a woman who posts under the name “Ruthless Compassion” on fb (she’s a therapist somewhere back east, writes books, does seminars.. don’t know too much about her, but have really liked her posts). She takes what she says is a more controversial stand, which is to posit that it’s not an “illness” as people, these days, are quick to say it is, rather something that grows out of unmet needs. It was only a paragraph-long post, so it was very generalized and there was not much to conclude, but what little I read resonated.
Thanks for reading, commenting. (As always.)
March 29, 2015 at 4:09 pm
Who I sometimes consider the love of my life went the same way nearly five years ago now. Even though we had only been somewhat casually back in touch over her final year, and very infrequently the thirty years preceding that, there was a time in our youth when she was “the whole of my life and my life was whole” (an excerpt from my postmortem poem to her). What you wrote Kari in your concluding paragraphs so deeply resonates with me and how I feel towards this self-induced tragedy that scored me so. Sometime when I’m doing the most mundane things I may happen to think of her and would I could ask her – wouldn’t doing even this with me now be so much a better alternative?