Meditation on Hatred

I was reading a poem by Charles Bukowski today (see end of post) when I realized something.

I know it feels natural to let hatred flow, to be indiscriminate in your condemnation of everything that is opposed to you. Everyone does it. You don’t think you do? Just think of that one band you hate. Yeah, that one. GOD, they’re annoying right? Their crime always seems to end up being that maybe, somehow, their ineptitude distracts a gullible audience long enough that they miss the truly amazing art that can only be found in other places.

(This doesn’t just have to apply to music. There are so many things in this world that just seem so irritating or overrated that hatred seems to follow them wherever they go)

But no one ever stops to think why it is exactly that we hate what we hate. Sure, sometimes the reasons are rational; maybe the band in question has horrible production, maybe their music is trite and boring (to you). But if you really question your own opinions, most of the time this seemingly reasonable hatred stems from another place.

This is why whenever I catch myself in a cycle of cynicism and criticism, I resist the urge to be a completely negative person who can’t enjoy life and instead try to gain some perspective. Attempting to really understand why someone enjoys something so much does wonders for your world view.

It makes me wonder about things like Haiti…not to place judgment on anyone, but how many people do you think are genuinely worried about Haiti? How could they be? How could they possibly imagine that kind of horror? The only way you can even begin to understand how terrible that must be is to try to put yourself in someone else’s shoes. Which is exactly what this poem did for me.

And before I become too much like “the preachers” in it, I want you to read The Genuis of the Crowd by Charles Bukowski.

Think about it.

The Genius Of The Crowd
Charles Bukowski

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art