There is a difference between pleasure and goodness. Our cultural ability to mix them up is almost universally in the pleasure = goodness direction, and not the other way around. To say nothing of our inability to derive pleasure from goodness. 

I’ve been somewhat astonished by my and Abby’s capacity to derive pleasure from the difficult moments with Roby. This is not a skill I have traditionally had. When I’m struggling in the woodshop, or at work, I don’t generally find joy in that labor. I find pleasure in finding solutions, but that’s not the same. 

With Roby, I’m just about as happy trying to calm her down as I am succeeding in doing so. There are moments that are hard, moments where if you asked me to jump for joy or pose for a photo I might frown, but that doesn’t mean I’m unhappy, that doesn’t mean I’m not joyful.

I was talking with a coworker today about Quebec City, that’s where I finished the book A Canticle for Leibowitz. I love that book. I love a lot about it, but the thing I love most about it is the lesson about suicide, well, euthanasia, mostly. I don’t feel comfortable discussing people who commit suicide beyond saying that it’s a horrible tragedy. 

Towards the end of A Canticle a number of dirty nuclear weapons consign millions to a long and hideous end from radiation poisoning. So, the government, being rational, sets up industrial scale euthanasia camps to spare their citizens undue suffering. The final chapter of the book follows the efforts of a priest to steal away with a mother and daughter, to prevent them from committing suicide so that he might take care of them while they die horribly. 

On the face of it, that is a ghastly thing to do. It’s almost like he’s causing them suffering by preventing their prevention of it. But here’s the thing that people do not seem to understand:

the purpose of life is not the minimization of suffering and the maximization of pleasure. 

But neither is it about the stoic acceptance of things that are bad. That balance is important. Love the baby while they cry, but feel relief when they don’t, too.