If You Gaze into an Abyss, The Abyss Will Gaze Back into You

On the importance of gratitude, joy, and serenity when battling monsters

I feel like I spend a lot of time here complaining about things. Well – there’s plenty to complain about. But balance is everything, and too much scathing invective can wear the writer down as well as the reader.

There’s a palpable thrill in taking shots at hypocrisy, corruption, and evil. It is cathartic for the writer and vindicating for the reader – I vent my frustration and anger, and you get that reassuring feeling of knowing you’re not going crazy, you’re not alone, and that others see the absurdity of our world just as clearly as you do.

But as Nietzsche famously said, “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”

The struggle against evil is arduous and beset on all sides by liars, charlatans, and cowards. It can be a thankless and lonely road. It can leave one feeling incensed at the injustice of it all, watching degeneracy and weakness being applauded while the righteous are jeered at.

It wears us down. It can also breed a habit in the individual akin to an addiction. Anger feels good – it releases pleasing neurochemicals that stimulate and motivate us. Sneering at and mocking things that we know to be vile feels really good, and most humans take great pleasure in this pursuit. The vicarious thrill of our enemies’ ill fortune also is a powerful intoxicant – what the Germans call schadenfreude.

But all this righteous anger can end up turning us into that which we fight against and so it is critical that we stop and smell the roses from time to time.

For me this is partly about taking time out from my normal routine which has me buried in politics and popular culture most of the time – thus feeding the monster. But it’s also about gratitude.

In my previous piece, I took harsh aim at The Company and the cringey Return to Office narrative. By ‘The Company’ I was referring to the corporate world in general, but I drew on recent experience at the company where I work, and as such it was a personal narration as well as a critique of the system at large.

I realized after publishing that it had not provided me with quite the catharsis I was expecting. Why not? I had completed a suitably sardonic takedown of a mendacious aspect of the white-collar world that has been irritating me for some time. So why did I feel less than satisfied?

Having ruminated on this I’ve realized it is because I left out a crucial aspect of the equation. I care little for company – but I love my team.

Here is where Nietzsche’s words ring true. They are a warning not to become so embroiled in our battles that we are blinded to the inevitable good in any situation – if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

Here also resides the kernel of gratitude – that miraculous seed of hope and happiness that, if practiced daily, can guard one against the darkness that lurks in all of us. When we can look around and count our blessings, refocus on what is directly before us, the equation balances, the loop closes – yin and yang.

I was reminded of this most recently on one of my days in the office, ironically. After a couple of hours’ banter with my three closest workmates, my spirits were soaring, and in fact, when it came time to return home, I had a tangible moment of regret.

The lads and I have a great time when we’re together and if you’ve ever worked as part of any kind of team, whether in the corporate world or elsewhere, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. Truth be known, we get very little actual work done when we’re together in the office (another compelling reason for retaining the working from home model) and the repartee and laugher that abounds is a glorious thing – one of the true joys of life.

I care little for the company and I believe people who profess loyalty to the company they work for are in the grips of some form of Stockholm Syndrome, for companies are, by definition, psychopaths. The Company does not care about the individual, to The Company we’re just numbers, and The Company will extract all it can from us if we allow it to and give not a second thought to cashiering us when the balance sheet dictates.

But the people in the company, that’s a different story.  The friends we make in these jobs we’re compelled to have – they’re very special, and worthy of one’s frequent prayers of appreciation.

In this way, I take care as I fight the monsters that in the process I do not become a monster. In this way I take care to avert my gaze from the abyss and see the flowers that bloom around its edges.

I care little for the company, but I love my team.

This simple truth can be scaled up also – in much the same way, we can take a very dim view of the state of our city, nation, or the world at large, but still find great joy at a community level – and I have found that, often, this joy expresses itself through service.

I have written before about the volunteering work I do for Jab injuries Australia. In this community I have been inspired by the selflessness and courage of regular folk whom I’d never have known had we not been thrust together by a monstrous act of evil, and the time I give up helping this endeavour is an expression of joy.

In much the same way, I feel the work I do at the company I do for my workmates. Ultimately it is not the paycheck nor loyalty to the company that drives the work I do there, but my love for the team. They rely on me and trust me, as I trust and rely on them. Trust and reliability – it’s a fragile and beautiful thing. It’s a joyous thing – and again, my joy finds expression in the service I offer up to my teammates.

At work we’re currently doing final edits on the most recent edition of the company magazine. I’ve been busy lately and distracted by a visit from my parents (the first in some years thanks to the fraudulent Covid crisis and the ludicrous lockdowns) and I had decided that I didn’t have time to do a full proofread of the document this time around – there were four other copywriters on it, so surely I could skip it on this one occasion…

But after seeing the lads in the office the other day, and rediscovering that kernel of gratitude (as I do every time I see them) I came home and sat down at my desk and didn’t move for over two hours, until I’d completed that proofread. And thank heavens I did too because I found a whole lot that they’d missed.

And that’s what team work is all about – they needed my eagle eye. They rely on me. And had I not taken the time to proof the magazine, I’d have let them down. It’s not the company I care about letting down so much, it’s my team, my community, my people.

There is a savage and exhilarating joy in battling the monsters of this world, but like any intoxicant, this joy, when consumed in large amounts over long periods of time, can twist one into a damaged and dysfunctional being.

Rage is addictive, and our anxieties crave this potent drug – it helps focus our minds and isolate our fears so that we may begin to transcend them. But true ascension cannot be attained by way of rage alone, it requires the other piece of the puzzle – the forbearance to accept the imperfection of the world and the serenity to rejoice in the blessings at hand.