Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Gratitude for Charlie Sheen


I prefer Martin Sheen to Charlie Sheen.

In fact, I prefer his brother Emilio Estevez as well. The wayward son of the dignified actor and Catholic social justice activist has of late demonstrated what appears to be mental illness, and the press is hitting him with a fervor it hasn’t enjoyed since the OJ days.


Granted, Sheen has a penchant for drama and hyperbole. He loves to hear himself speak. And on the annoyance meter, he has surpassed Tom Cruise, and has perhaps matched Mel Gibson. But before we jump on the haters bandwagon, perhaps we can take some time to see a little of ourselves in Charlie Sheen’s raging ego. Let’s look at some recent quotes of his.

“I am special, and I will never be one of you.”


Most adults would never say this. But there are times, when we are feeling defensive, when this thought pops up like an unwelcome Netflix ad on our computer screen. To say, “I will never be one of you” is to also say, “You will never be one with me.” Separateness and alienation from each other is one of humanity’s most grave illnesses. How does it feel?


“The only thing I’m addicted to is winning.”

If one has an underdeveloped sense of self, winning at something can provide a needed shot of dignity. However, in the rat race, winning comes at a cost. For one thing, there is usually a loser if there is a winner. As well, losing or not attempting to win helps establish humility, one of the highest virtues a person can attain.

We should also note Sheen’s use of the word, “addicted.” Addictive behavior is destructive behavior that is indulged in to distract one from unpleasant but important feelings. If one never deals with such feelings—grief, remorse, hunger, loneliness, shame—one will never develop a robust human character; one will not have the capacity for empathy.


"I have one speed... I have one gear—Go!"

True, most of us don't go on epic benders, "banging seven-gram rocks and finishing them," but how often do we get so caught up in what we're doing—our "one gear—Go!"—that we don't stop until our body literally shuts us down? Is there that big a difference between high-stakes partying and workaholism?

"I think the honesty not only shines through in my work, but also my personal life. And I get in trouble for being honest. I'm extremely old-fashioned. I'm a nobleman. I'm chivalrous."

And you are so luminous that you don’t cast a shadow.

Whenever one says “I am” and follows it with a positive attribute, such as “awesome,” “honest,” “generous,” “talented,” etc., it needs to be said with humility and the knowledge that one is “not-that” at the same time. I am honest and I am a liar. I am talented here but inept there. I am awesome but I am an idiot. I’m chivalrous but I wish to manipulate you by having you feel guilty or obligated to me.

In the same way, if one is given to self-hatred and would disparage himself or herself, the positive attributes are in the shadow realm. I am stupid and I am also brilliant. I am unfaithful but I am also loyal. I am lazy but I am also disciplined.

Owning your shadow is tough work, but it’s absolutely essential if one is to be a highly functioning human being.

"They'll wake up one day and realize how cool dad is. And, you know, signs all the checks on the front, not the back. And you know, we need him and we need his wisdom and his bitchin'-ness."


There’s a shadow side to love: that if I do something for good you, then you must love me back, or that you will do what I want you to do, behave how I want you to behave, or be who I want you to be.
A wise man I once worked with shared with me how he was raising his young son to be self-sufficient and powerful, not so that he could take care of his father but so that he could take care of his own children.

Love never comes from a person; rather, it flows through each person and is either received or it isn’t. Like water, it continually moves and is either absorbed or keeps flowing.

So, a little compassion for Charlie Sheen might be in order. And maybe even a little gratitude for the mirror he presents us with, if only we are willing to look into it.