Existential Vomit

The Vexed Man, Franz Xaver Messerschmidt

The writer sometimes picks a fight with a stranger. He admits that there is no rational provocation from the other, it just happens about once a year. 

The mother loves her child, she really does, but when she discovers that her son forgot his homework assignment for the hundredth time, she screams.

The heavy man loses track of how many beers he drinks while watching the game. He watches in a bar so that he can be included in the camaraderie with the others as they cheer and boo and criticize the referee’s calls. The rush of the crowd when the game is over lets him feel alive, and he loses himself in burning a couch, climbing streetlights, and shouting obscenities at the moon into the early morning.

The business woman gets in the car and becomes antagonistic. All of the slower drivers are incompetent invalids, all of the faster drivers are homicidal maniacs. Her horn blares frequently to punctuate each of her perceived injustices.

There is energy—it demands to be released. There is too much oppression of the soul, the soul revolts against this unnatural restraint. But the effort is put in minimally to release the energy peacefully, and nothing is critically examined, it is just released when the pressure is too much. There is a bomb of potential simmering below the surface, a nagging need to express the self, the being, the worldview. This might result because there is a need to feel the animal fight, to belong to a social group, or even just identify as an agent alive with significance. Some practice existential expression in various forms. Others repress, ignore, or choose bad faith to turn from the rational, which has consequences on the soul and the body. Emotions exist, which need to be thrown somewhere, an expenditure of energy and a reaction as a result. No more than the volcano can be kept simmering, the sneeze withheld, the turmoil in the stomach turning—the existential being needs to exert itself on the world by exercise or by force.

Those who lack some routine healthy expression of their being risk erupting without control. They seem quiet, even calm perhaps, they rather keep to themself and are usually passive in most interactions. But this is easily suspicious to the practiced skeptic. Their quiet passivity is a façade. The façade can be either easily scratched or meticulously cultivated, but many do not take enough of an interest to explore beyond it, especially the subject themself. The existential self is repressed, out of fear of ugliness, fear to be seen, fear of existing. 

The fear of existing is no more naturally kept bottled up than the contents of Pandora’s jar. Human beings are rational, social creatures, with characteristics of creating, dialoguing, learning, speaking, writing, constructing, sharing, and exerting themselves. To repress these activities is to make impotent the natural and essential activities of what it is to be human. The impotency is artificial, and thus withholding is not sustainable even for the most practiced in repression. The tension builds with each provocation. Each challenge, move from domination towards subjugation, even a bite of the tongue leads to increased pressure within. One desires harmony and identity with others, and generally would rather keep the peace than express personal needs. But there is only a certain level of tolerance. Once it is reached, something has to give. 

Here traditional medicine wisely pinpoints the centers well, for instance in the study of the chakras, according to the associated mode of repression. The pressure is evident for example in the jaw muscle for those who do not speak up without invitation. 

But no volcano roars indefinitely underground. At some point the buildup turns into a blowup. The eruption looks different in different cases. The body can refuse to repress physically any more and perhaps a muscle or a joint seizes up or gives out. Maybe the eruption is more outward and violent, like a scream or a punch. The soul can refuse to repress any more and cry, refuse to get out of bed in the morning, or stop producing or reacting to joy, reward, celebration, love. The mind can refuse to repress anymore and reject obligations, relationships, or roles with a speech, quitting a job, telling someone off. The more repression, the more violent the eruption, even burning bridges along the way, without regard for consequences.

Watch out for the violent, the threatening, those who assert their existence with their voice or their fists. But observe more interestingly those who repress these urges. At some point, all of that pressure can become too much. Be suspicious of the quiet monk. He could be simmering.

Heads, Franz Xaver Messerschmidt