Kaos, part 2

In that same conversation Pirandello says to his mother’s spirit: as long as you lived, I knew that I lived for you. He means that he lived in her mind; that is to say, that someone – his mother – was thinking about him. And the thought that his existence mattered to someone – to his mother – was important to him; just how important he realizes only now that she is gone.

It is an interesting thought; I am sure many people, perhaps most, relate to it. Why they should, seems mysterious to me. I don’t think I do. I am glad not to be in the minds of most people I know; I prefer not to dwell on the few in whose minds I am present. Usually their thoughts are not benign. The very fact that they think about us means that they want something from us. I would prefer they didn’t.

Not to mention the dependency implied: that our well-being, self-confidence, contentment should depend in any way on other people’s internal states seems to me – derogatory. It amounts to a concession: the concession of our individual autonomy. That Pirandello – a great writer – should experience such states may seem surprising – why do great men need other, lesser men for contentment? But it should not be surprising. The search for greatness, just as the writing of literature, is a kind of solicitation of other minds. By its very fact the would be great concede how really small they are.