Pondering Philip Seymour Hoffman

Philip Seymour Hoffman’s tragic death has stayed with me. I have both puzzled over it and mourned it for days now. Famously gifted, endlessly busy with wonderful acting projects, the father of three sweet children, rewarded with plenty of financial resources—and yet, a deep need or perhaps craving, allowed him to test a dark path of self destruction.

Even the most talented of us, those seemingly delighted with their well-earned success, people beaming with what appears to be the things we all want, can still have a profound inner restlessness that desperately eclipses achievements, awards, blessings, and all good things.

I saw a Facebook post where a minister was reflecting about Hoffman. It was an attempt to deal with his death in some sort of religious terms. Someone commented on the piece by stating, insensitively in my opinion, that Hoffman's life ended the way it did because "he didn't have Jesus in his life.”

I find myself exhausted by such banality; as though someone with “Jesus in his life” is exempt from self destruction. I’m sorry but this kind of simplistic Sunday school religion is not useful in times of profound loss however sincere it is meant to be.

There are many Christians today who need to move beyond bromides and feckless ideas about life and death if they expect their beliefs to be taken seriously. Someone as emotionally intricate as Philip Seymour Hoffman cannot be explained by simplistic pious notions such as he was just without Jesus.

And the truth is, none of us can be understood that simply. We’re all more complicated than that.

Philosopher and law professor at New York University, Thomas Nagel, has written: “The point is…to live one’s life in the full complexity of what one is, which is something much darker, more contradictory, more of a maelstrom of impulses and passions, of cruelty, ecstasy, and madness, than is apparent to the civilized being who glides on the surface and fits smoothly into the world.”

This is more precisely how Hoffman lived his life. He reflected so honestly in his acting the inner turmoil, the unanswered questions, the sorrows and regrets, the unhealed pain, the treacherous urges and allurements that often pressed upon him.

There is integrity in living our flaws, in refusing to pretend we are without our own emotional and personal entanglements and issues.

Besides that, none of us really know all of the secrets of others. Every one of us carries incidents, experiences, moments, memories no one else knows anything about. These things make trite explanations of our behavior or our life by strangers, empty, and worse, just harebrained.

Nigerian novelist, Chris Abani, has referred in his writings to a South African phrase called “Ubuntu,” which basically means, “The only way to be human is for you to reflect my humanity back at me.”

Isn’t that so much of what acting is all about? And Philip Seymour Hoffman was one of those actors who did it brilliantly.

The ancient mystics had a saying, “Regard mistakes as teachers, not judges!”

Philip Seymour Hoffman offered that wisdom both in his life and in his death. And neither his life nor his death can be dismissed with easy explanations.

If I had five minutes to evacuate--what would I take with me?

If I was told there was a bomb in my building and I had five minutes to evacuate my apartment I’d grab a grocery bag and quickly toss these items into it: 1. A photo of my grandparents, Mom and Pop and me, when I was 15 years old. I learned what love is made of from them. I learned what it is to be kissed on and hugged in arms so tender they felt like God’s arms. I discovered self worth from those two angels in human flesh. Of all the people in my life, they were the ones who made me feel I counted. Honestly, whatever capacity I have to love others came from them. 2. A sentimental, dog-eared, stars in the margin copy of Pat Conroy’s, “The Prince of Tides.” It is a book I have read three times and often return to for its wisdom. It is a harsh, profoundly tragic novel, the story of a family so broken and tortured by such flawed and wounded people that it is sometimes difficult to turn the next page. And yet it is the story of such Herculean courage and endurance that you want...

I Saw the Delicacy of Life

I was flying Across the deep And I saw the delicacy Of life Wrinkles on the faces Of the old So pure they glistened Like awards The joy of children Running with abandon Their laughter ringing Like chimes in the wind I saw the soft moving waves Across the sea And the trees releasing Their rainbow leaves Birds joined me on my flight And I saw the surface of their wings Adorned with patterns Glorious and unfurled I saw the tears of the sad And the smiles of the glad The suffering in mourning And the celebration of birth As I descended toward the ground Slowly, slowly, softly I saw the gentle grass of the field And smelled the fresh earth It was a perfect landing © 2018 Timothy Moody

Actions Make a Difference

“We make progress in society only if we stop cursing and complaining about its shortcomings and have the courage to do something about them.” ~ Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, Physician/Author Pictured here is Kikuko Shinjo, 89 years old, a survivor of the Hiroshima atomic bomb blast. As a 17-year old nursing student she helped nurse victims of the carnage back to health. Many of them died in her care. She says she holds no grudge against America and encourages interaction between the Japanese and Americans. She has devoted her life to peace, saying, “I want all the people around the world to be friends, and I want to make my country peaceful without fighting.” Today she makes colorful paper cranes and donates them to the Children’s Peace Monument at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.

The Unclad Soul

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