challenges and the people who want them

I have come to the conclusion that it is actually impossible for human beings to challenge themselves in a truly significant way. (Of course, that all depends on what you define as a significant challenge. I'll get to that.) This has been a passing reflection at various difficult times of my life, but I began thinking about it more recently due to a new show I've been watching, Leverage.

It's a fun show of a team of insanely competent thieves contracting to do ad hoc Robin Hood gigs, getting revenge on the rich and powerful on behalf of the poor and powerless who they've ripped off somehow. Which does explore the theme of challenge, because the show keeps piling adversity upon them so that they actually have to work to overcome. And everyone is seriously at the top of their respective game. And this all creates challenge- and character-related issues. Which is quite entertaining. But that's not what made me start thinking about this.

The "big guy" character, Eliot, is played by Christian Kane (yeah, the guy who played Lindsey on Angel, who sang that song in the karaoke bar, and – as it turns out – actually has a country rock band). Now, one of the very fun aspects of this show is that one of the show's creators, John Rogers, blogs about writing and producing the show, and also does q+a on his blog after each episode airs. So in the process of reading this blog and checking out a few of Kane's songs on YouTube, it turns out that Christian Kane is what we Aussies affectionately call a "mad bastard". Who spits. I have a very unclear idea of what that interview is about, apart from the spitting. Cowboys? YES. Inspiring more of a reaction of morbid intrigue than "hellooo, nurse", though. Mind you, I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Aussies, right? We generally like this kind of guy, as long as he's not full of himself. (We often are this kind of guy, especially with the help of beer. Russell Crowe is not atypical, people.) And Kane mostly comes across likeable. YMMV, although I doubt he cares very much.
Anyway, reading some of the stories and the way he conducts himself got me to thinking about the kinds of people who just keep pushing to find the next big challenge, the next big thrill, whatever. Mind you, there's a difference between thrill-seekers and challenge-seekers, even if the activities overlap, and it's all there in the name; I'm much more interested in the challenge side of it. To my mind, this kind of person pursues challenges to learn more about themselves, usually their limits, rather than the high or the thrill itself. And it happens in more arenas than the drinking, brawling, spitting, hoodsurfing ones, although I understand those are popular in some circles. I myself have done almost none of those, but for much of my life I'd launch myself at whatever daunted me, so either I'm projecting this guy's motivation or I'm recognizing it. (Obviously, I think it's the latter. I could be wrong, but....)

I grew out of this kind of thing, though. Mostly. And here's why: it doesn't really work. Not for what we really want it to do. I mean, yeah, we do learn about ourselves through the challenges we chase and engage. We learn how to deal with things, and some strengths and weaknesses. And we become very – sometimes infuriatingly – confident. But based on my experience and observation of the phenomenon, what we really kind of want is to be taken down, to find something which we can't beat, because that's what we don't know about ourselves – who we are when we're totally defeated, who we are when we hit something which we can't survive and remain the way we were.

Evan Esar said, "Character is what you have left when you've lost everything you can lose." That's the basic idea, here; to shed everything it's possible to, somehow, and then see what's left. I get the feeling that most people don't do this, but I don't know. I've never asked. I just know (because I was one, and I've known a few others) that there are some who do. And the reason we do is because it's very hard to find. It's one of the themes of Fight Club; "How much do you really know of yourself if you've never been in a fight?" Which is ... definitely a more male approach.

Like I said, it doesn't work. We don't know how to challenge ourselves for that kind of thing. We're not wired right. The way we see ourselves and the world dictates the challenges we perceive, which are not the ones which will truly strip us down. So we just keep pushing harder and further, and it becomes more and more meaningless. Eventually we either jump over the edge into self-destruction, or we settle for just enjoying ourselves out on that edge, or we give up altogether, but we never really find what we want.

The challenge we seek can never come from within ourselves, because it's always subject to our own limitations, which is what we're trying to get outside of. It's a terrible thing to have to live within your own limits. It has to come from someone else, an external agent. But that's a problem, too; that someone else has to be bigger and stronger and capable of making us submit. Consistently. Without destroying us. And part of the reason we're on this quest is because we haven't found that yet.

And me? It stopped for real when I finally submitted to God. And man, he took me on the ride of my life (literally) and it's not going to stop. Ever. It's fantastic. He hit me and broke me and ground me down to nothing but who I am, and just keeps refining that. He took me far beyond what I could ever know of myself from the inside. And the brawl with the world finally means something, actually does something real and eternal; Jesus Christ is a brilliant battle commander. (Well, the perfect one, really; so.) After doing the other kind for twenty-five years of my life, the difference is extraordinary and worth every scar.