"Life is hard" - Profound encouragement from three unlikely words
I've written here at length previously about Club Hallelujah, a now defunct bar which used to be my favorite haunt in Niigata City.
"Life is hard" were three words from the owner of this bar, in which I have since found great encouragement.
It was my birthday. Maybe five years ago. Two friends and I were at Hallelujah having drinks, listening to Junji's records. It was a nice night. Little did I understand that there was a little ball of pain inside that was working its way out. It would later emerge wildly into the open air and dissolve in the ether that night.
We had been talking about taxes, and my newfound love for anarchism. I had mentioned to K, one of my friends there with me, that taking money from folks essentially at the point of a gun was robbery. He and V had been telling me things like "yeah, but everybody kinda needs to do their part." I had taken my newfound discovery very seriously, and could not understand how these guys, two of my closest friends here in the city, couldn't see what I meant.
Yeah, but I mean, do you support me being put in a cage if I choose to keep what is mine!?
The conversation got somewhat heated. Perceived pressures from all areas of my life began to flood to the surface. We got louder. Well, maybe I got louder and K and V just kind of matched my volumes with counterarguments and observations. I was a new Voluntaryist, and was in that phase where you really can't understand how everyone else cannot see the--what seemed to be--the obvious discovery of profound truth I'd just come across. Taxation is theft.
They both started peppering me with protests at a more rapid frequency. The stressors and frustrations I had been dealing with in so many areas of my life joined the now silently momentous avalanche. Even my closest friends now seemed to be cold, unfeeling strangers. At some point, I don't recall when exactly, my voice cracked. The alcohol had thinned not only my blood, but also my composure and defenses. I looked down. The table and the candles turned into an impressionist painting. The tears broke, and then the flood was unstoppable.
K's eyes became wet with tears also as he saw me crack. V, my other friend became somewhat silent. The tear-filled protests and ejaculations which followed are a blur to me now. K handed me a tissue. I was embarrassed, but the momentum of the emotive energy was already a river flowing through me. It went on and on. I wondered from that silent space deep within where all of this had come from. Was coming from. At some point, after many buildings had been destroyed, and the tsunami had run its course through my shanty town of social composure, I rebuilt myself enough to find silence.
Junji had been watching us from behind the bar the whole time. Hearing my snot-choked protests and sloppy, wailing confusions. When the three of us silently made our way over to pay the bill, and I had handed Junji my 20, he looked at me, and I said "I'm sorry." He just gave me a slight smile and a very connective glance, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, and said, in a gentle voice, "life is hard."
I was thinking on those words today. I knew they weren't bullshit coming from him. He'd been through his share of shit. I realize today that those words, at that low moment for me, meant more than any cheap pep talk or feigned compassion ever could have. He got straight to the root of it. It was an affirmation from another human being who knew that shit is...well...hard. He validated me in that moment, thought my actions seemed likely wildly emotional and silly from an outside perspective. I was deeply encouraged by that genuine expression of validation he gave to me that night. Life is hard, and the recognition of this reality made life more bearable. Easier for me.
V and K are still my friends, and I now understand the miscommunications that had happened that night more clearly. When we got down to the bottom of it all, I realized that all I had really wanted to know was one thing: do you care about me? The answer, as far as I can tell, is yes. Immensely. And they understand that robbery is robbery. The conversation had just derailed, and my passions and the spirits just kind of...made a mess of the canvas. Albeit, a colorful and beautiful mess in hindsight. A Monet of human pain and weirdness on a birthday night out.
I did have to apologize for all the names I decided to call them that night. That part wasn't pretty. Somehow, though, they've forgiven me. I continue to preach the truth that taxation is nothing more than extortion, but now with a little bit of perspective added. Folks can't always latch onto this immediately. Like anything. Everyone is on their own journey, and we kind of need to meet people where they are at to connect, and if we'll ever change any minds.
Junji is back in town now after a year away in Hawaii. He's opened a new bar. I'm shopping for vinyl now as an opening present for him. I can't wait to go back and enjoy his musical wizardry and massive record collection once again. The thing I enjoy most though is not the cool music. That's a huge part of it. But the whole reason the music he plays is good is because he's connected with life. He reads the lyrics. He gets it.
~*~
~KafkA
Graham Smith is a Voluntaryist activist, creator, and peaceful parent residing in Niigata City, Japan. Graham runs the "Voluntary Japan" online initiative with a presence here on Steem, as well as DLive and Twitter. (Hit me up so I can stop talking about myself in the third person!)
Speaking of lyrics - I think you get it, too. I actually did a review of your album live on D.live but something messed up my audio and by the end of the stream I realized that it was all static. Anyways, point being is that those lyrics in your songs are freaking deep, man. Happy diseases has songs that made me wonder about myself and my relation to the world around me. Maybe I'll do another review soon and this time I'll make sure my audio set up properly...
Thanks man. That would be great. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.
Amazing story,life is Hard;these three words have capture a full picture of life without risk and difficulties life is useless and human has the ability to fight against all the hurdles which comes in his life and this quality show human differ from other creations.
To listen to the audio version of this article click on the play image.
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You are right @kafkanarchy48 life is very hard it has alot of difficulties and turns.
Its good story. arts is wonderful .
Not sure if it's a smart idea to put politics in between you and your friends. I mean, come on, how can you ask them such a question:
Perhaps rephrasing it works out the dilemma: Is it smart to put someone very productive behind bars where he can't be productive anymore?
No, it doesn't and it also doesn't put your friends into a situation they don't deserve to be in.
Nah, it was all in context. We talk about philosophical things all the time. It’s a totally fair question even now, it just was a bad night to try and actually discuss it.
Not politics at all, either, to be fair. Quite the opposite.
Regardless of a person’s perceived productivity or lack thereof, it is immoral to cage a human for not paying one money.
Well, if this caging might be applied if there is a contract containing that rule in case of a non-payment. If you consider the legal system as extension of every contract and you accept it implicitly by signing it, then there is a legal base for a potential caging. Question is how this applies to taxes: Is entering a public road with your car (or the possibility for you to do so) like signing a contract with the government that charges you for using it by taxing your income? In case of yes, then the government does have the right to cage you for non-compliance. Or perhaps take away your car if you enter the public road with it.
If I force you to pay for a service you did not consent to use or pay for, is that moral, even if you have no choice but to use the "service" to live? Of course not.
My parents always used to say "Life is hard in the United States" a phrase they had taken from their Filipino friends. Most people here don't have any servants. I have a theory that anarchists really just don't like their parents. Usually people who hate the government really hate their fathers. Maybe that is why it is so emotional?
The theory I am working on is most individual anarchists have been harmed by 'society' in some manner(or maybe even harmed in full view of society). In the context of 'justice' this becomes very problematic.
Not justice in a 'law and order' sense of external social constructs, but justice in the sense of an individual construct. Once a society has failed multiple times in the area of justice it is logical to start assigning the principle that society is not interested in justice in terms of individual justice.
I suppose the reason it looks emotional, is there is no escape from the thing or people that harm* you, and when friends or family support the harmful system, it makes them look associated to it.
FTR, I didn't hate my father, grandfathers or mother.
*harm in a subjective manner
Could be, perhaps they have fought with city hall or fought the law and lost. That can be upsetting.
The term 'upsetting' lacks nuance.
City Hall, The Law, there are many, many social constructs that can create problems in justice.
Let's say there was some squishy concept like 'right to self defense' and a social construct banned your right to self defense. Would that still be only bothersome in your views?
It kind of comes down to a question of who owns social objectivity and how much skin they have on the line.
You tell me
So that would be inconsistent to maybe making sure everyone has a permit to use self defense.
Are we having fun with social objectivity yet?
a permit?