Appreciating rainbows and also train wrecks

We are marked by the ability to appreciate rainbows and train wrecks.

Beauty is easy to love. That which is pleasing to the senses is pleasing to the heart. We delight in good looks, intelligence, charm, niceness. We gravitate toward warmth and find ourselves readily in awe of beautiful landscapes and scenery. We enjoy humanitarian stories and endings where everyone gets to live happily ever after because these reflect all the good things left in the world. Outside of the books, movies, and shows that we consume, we even search for this “happily ever after” in our own lives.

Beautiful things, good things—these are what fill us with hope and make us smile.

But tragedy? It’s strange how people can enjoy that sometimes. Why on earth would someone marvel at news of the devastation wrought by Supertyphoon “Yolanda” and continuously keep tabs on the death toll and pictures of the destruction, even though the sight turns their stomach? Why is the story of Romeo and Juliet so beloved until now, when it’s essentially a tale of two young lovers whose passion and ignorance lead to their deaths? Why do people read sad books and listen to sad music over and over again, even though they know these lead to the reinforcement of more heartbreak? Nowadays, people consume depressing news and experiences voluntarily, even when it makes their stomach twist and eyes water.

The appreciation of tragedy, I think, is something more cerebral in nature. We see dead bodies and starving children, and our first reaction at the sight of such misery is to cry, with a lump in our throat and our chest aching with sympathy. But the more we actually think about it, the more we can’t help but marvel at the strength of the disaster that caused this whole mess, marvel at the power of nature. We watch a movie on Romeo and Juliet, and while we despair at the ending, we can’t help but admire the love that the two characters shared. We are hurt when we are lied to, but beneath all the hurt, there is a part of us that’s amazed at the amount of thought that went into that lie, and we wonder what kind of person would go through such an effort. It’s sick, but we’re amazed anyway, because good lying takes skill.

It would be easy to say that the world is becoming a cynical place. We live in a society where bad news is expected and good news has become such a novelty that we’re always surprised to read and hear such a thing. In fact, whenever good news is broadcast, there is always that one person who casts a pall of gloom over the lighthearted atmosphere by posting a negative comment or griping about something or other.

We enjoy laughter and lighthearted banter, but are riveted by drama and scenes of domestic arguments and people drunkenly slapping others in bars. It’s like a train wreck: horrible to look at, but at the same time, we can’t look away.

Perhaps cynicism has something to do with it, but I’d like to believe it’s more than that. We hate the destructive stuff, but on some level we can still appreciate them because they are lessons. They teach us that things can go wrong, that people don’t turn out the way we expect them to, and that life has a habit of pulling the rug out from under our feet more than once. They remind us that, for all our superiority, we are not invincible. They make us feel all sorts of terrible things and make our minds go to so many places, reminding us how wide the spectrums of human thought and emotion are. With these feelings and thoughts, they remind us that we are human and so, so very alive.

They also make us wiser. Pain demands to be felt, as John Green would say. But pain also demands to be learned from. We take note of what went wrong, and we hurt from them, but we, with any luck, also do what we can to make sure they don’t happen again. Sometimes our methods work; sometimes they don’t. But we try anyway, and we keep learning and hoping even though sometimes it is so hard to move forward. We may never be totally invincible, but we can still do our best to make sure that our armor is as strong as it can possibly be.

Tragedy, most of all, makes us appreciate beauty. Knowing darkness enables us to see light as a treasure. Without it, we would not value the beauty and shortness of life. How many of us (especially those living in the Visayas) have said how grateful and lucky we are for our lives after the earthquake and typhoon hit us? We are flawed creatures: Too often we act recklessly, forgetting that time and change wait for no one. Sometimes, it takes something bad to happen before we are anchored to reality again. More than that, tragedy instills in us the need to extend this appreciation to others.

This year’s Christmas season may culminate a year filled with natural and social disasters, but it also brings an even stronger sense of family, sharing, and giving. In person and on various media platforms, we see an outpouring of support for the survivors of disasters and of life’s unfairness in general. Everywhere, Christmas parties are being done away with or downgraded so that the budget can be donated to those who need it more. Seeing the horrors of the world with our own eyes not only reminds us of how fortunate we still are in spite of everything, but also reminds us of our responsibility to care for our fellow Filipinos by sharing what we can.

All in all, we love train wrecks just as much because they remind us of how important rainbows are.

For us to be able to see beyond the pain of tragedy and treat it, not just as a lesson in wisdom and gratefulness but also as a reminder to care, is astounding. It takes little to appreciate good things, but to be able to appreciate the ugly side of life takes a lot of strength—sometimes, strength we don’t even know we have. Then again, sometimes strength is the only thing we have, and it is amazing what wondrous things can come out of seemingly hopeless moments.

Mia Larainne L. Dueñas, 21, is a student of linguistics and literature at the University of San Carlos.