Sunday, November 22, 2020

Tragic Decay

Most of us won’t die instantly in an explosion of blood or a hail of gunfire. Most of us will decay. Most of us are already decaying. Most of us have been decaying for years.

We neither see nor expect explosions; exploding in blood is unexpected and sudden, and therefore tragic.

Like a beloved series that gets cancelled too soon versus a series that jumps the shark. The former is tragic because it was never given the opportunity to flourish. The latter is sad because it has outlived its potential.

There is more time to make necessary observations through decay than through explosion. Living a long life to its natural end is a beautiful blessing. Decay is the natural transformative process of beautiful life into timely death. Though potentially painful, decay is very much preferable to instantly exploding in blood because it allows for valuable introspection in a way exploding in blood cannot.

While decaying with retrospect we can become sad. Sadness is as natural—and contingent—as joy. It is normal to be sad when something concludes because it is joyful when something we like is happening. To earn joy we need to suffer through the sadness. This is a worthy trade-off; we can appreciate the joy more.

We can also appreciate our shelf life through the sadness of decay. It gives us the privilege of ample time to observe transformation and make necessary changes in our life (before it naturally ends). Decay illuminates our heart and mind to Truth, pinpointing the moments of joy and sadness on our inevitable march to death.

I know I said that decay is not tragic, but it is not never tragic. There are two exceptions.

Detroit

Detroit is a tragedy I mistook as a joke. Once called the ‘Paris for the West,’ the Motor City was the fifth largest city in the country in 1950. Cadillac, Ford and General Motors were produced there, providing good union jobs to many of its inhabitants. In the 20s people traveled from all over the country to work in Detroit’s auto industry. The city grew exponentially until the Depression, and then became known as the ‘Arsenal of Democracy’ during World War II as its industry turned from producing cars to producing weaponry.

Today Detroit is an apocalyptic wasteland. Crime and corruption are rampant and the city has been steadily losing population, any city’s lifeblood. From 2000 to 2010, 250,000 people left the city. Where once the city’s population was above 2 million, today it is less than 800,000. Cities usually have an upward, if bumpy trajectory. After the riots in 1967, Detroit has had a downward trajectory.

Only images of Detroit's former architectural glory can imply the depravity of violence and poverty that the poor city has descended.

















What makes Detroit tragic is how is has slowly decayed from its former glory. Cities don’t have lifespans and do not die like humans do. Cities can only change. When they get sick, their death is not inevitable and they do not die mercifully. They toil in the agony of their decay mercilessly. It is the responsibility of the population of said city to observe its sources of decay and make appropriate changes to hamper it, and then reverse it. Cities are kept alive by the population that inhabits them, and the glory of a city reflects the population of the city. Cities only die when the city has been emptied its lifeblood.

Constantinople did not die; it was transformed by Muslim conquest and became Istanbul. (A different kind of tragedy.) Likewise Detroit cannot die, just change depending on the culture of the population that inhabits it.

Detroit grew into glory, then slipped into depravity. It has changed for the worse. Its problems are amendable with hard work and dedication, the ingredients that contributed to Detroit’s rise. Cities do not have to toil in decay permanently; they can change back. Cities are unlike humans in that they are reversible tragedies. Even cities as dysfunctional as Detroit are not without hope.

The Human Detroit

Humans are different than cities because they decay before eventually dying. Most humans decay naturally, but Caitlyn Jenner, the human Detroit, is decaying tragically because she chose to decay unnaturally.



Caitlyn Jenner is a “female” television personality and retired Olympic gold medal-winning decathlete. Caitlyn Jenner is 71 years old, but has only been a “female” for five years. This is because Caitlyn Jenner was once a man named Bruce Jenner, the epitome of male athletic excellence. He was in excellent physical shape and great physical health even up to his transitory surgery from male to female in 2015, at age 66. This unnatural and cosmetic transition from male to female is tragic, like Detroit, because of the unnatural downward spiral of its permanent transformation. Unlike Detroit, which has an uphill battle to return to a shadow of its former self, Jenner’s transformation is a permanent one; once surgically removed, genitals cannot be surgically restored for natural function.

Bruce Jenner cannot be expected to remain the same glorious shape that won him the Olympic Gold medal as he decays in his old age, and no one expected this of him. So why was it necessary for him to physically alter his gender during the course of his natural decay? This is especially tragic—and ironic—for a man that was once an Olympic athlete, whose glorious athleticism was a marvel of human achievement! (This could be an Andy Kaufman style joke taken beyond humor. It is the kind of sick joke made sicker because it is real.) Bruce Jenner’s athleticism is rare, and it glory should be respected until natural death, not altered by a mentally ill whim. That makes Jenner’s gender reassignment surgery an especially heinous crime. There can be no greater insult to his former self and mankind, than what he has done to his body.

Would it have been more merciful for Detroit to be leveled with a bomb (if no humans were harmed) and Jenner to have randomly exploded in blood before giving in to “gender reassignment” than let them each become examples of tragic decay?

Or is there a lesson to be learned?

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