Heath Ledger Wins Golden Globe And Continues To Ignite

Last night, Heath Ledger won a Golden Globe, but this is not about that. This is about the contradiction inside all of us and that old tenacious rage to burn down the confines of stasis and be something more or less - to just be, seemingly no matter what it is, Something Else.

This dual image of Ledger stopped me cold. This handsome, contented young man juxtaposed by his startling representation of maniacal insanity. These are just two of his faces. How many more did he have? Don't get me wrong. I'm no Heath Ledger worshipper. I don't toss around the genius word as if it's applicable to every flash of brilliance. But I do admit to hearing the news of his passing last January and thinking gently and slowly, like an old woman soulfully pierecd by yet another indication of impermanence, "Oh no. Why? Why did you go up in flames, Heath Ledger?"

It's well documented that Ledger was having difficulty sleeping, sometimes only two hours a night. But make no mistake. You don't mix oxycodone, hydrocodone, diazepam, temazepam, alprazolam, and doxylamine all in the name of getting some shut-eye. The insomnia does arouse interest, though. Makes me wonder. Does not being able to sleep indicate some need of the dark?

Does the dark come get you?

Instead of conceptualizing addiction as some complex issue of brain physiology, a disease, and/or a moral issue, thereby abstracting it into some incomphrehensible topic for the experts, we might be better served by personifying it and investigating how it works in our lives, in the lives we actually live. I nominate Ledger's Joker for the new personified face of addiction.

Let's imagine there's a Joker jangling around inside each of us. What does he want? Why, in the midst of all our constructive actions, in spite of the lives we try to build, does that alien figure emerge in the dark and make so many messes? Stay with me. Maybe you're not swallowing handfuls of opiates and tranquilizers. Maybe you're not engaging in compulsive anonymous sex. Ever been to Vegas? No. Of course not. These sound like problems all those other people have. Those weak-willed Jokers with no self-control.

It's January 12th. How are those New Year's resolutions panning out for you?

What could it possibly mean that we break promises we make... to ourselves? I have promised myself not to eat that, to go to the gym, to keep that money in my pocket because I'm saving it for something more cautious and prudent.

What does the Joker want? He is averse to any rational explanation. He knocks down everything we think we want with the wave of his hand. And then? Then he laughs.

The treatment of addiction has come a long way since 1935. Thank you Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob Smith. Thank you for some vital steps down the path. But lately all our efforts have been geared toward brain chemistry and a trained eye on neurotransmission; we're using the very precise tools of the same rationality that the Joker defies. 

These disciples of Science could all stand to gain some insight from Alfred's attempt to explain the Joker to Batman: "Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."

What stake do we have in watching the world burn? What stake do we have in jumping in that fire ourselves?

Congratulations, Heath Ledger. Rest In Your Fire.