As a college student I was fascinated by philosophy. Having returned from 8 months in Germany in
1975 with a reasonable competency in the language, I took a series of three
courses at Stanford in German philosophy called Deutsche
Geistesgeschichte. One of the books we
read was Nietzche’s The Birth of Tragedy. This was Nietzsche’s first significant
work. At the time he was under the spell
of Richard Wagner, the great opera composer, and the spirit of Wagner’s music
was undoubtedly a big influence on Nietzche’s thinking. The full title of the book was actually “The
Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music”, though it is generally known by the
shorter title.
In this book Nietzsche argued, among many other topics, that
art, and indeed the human condition, was a struggle between Apollonian and
Dionysian forces. For Nietzsche,
Apollonian is used to describe the light-filled, measured and rational impulses
in man. Apollo, of course, is the god of
light, and is also associated with refined beauty and aesthetic taste. Apollonian character attributes are those
that express individuality, control, refinement and intellect.
Dionysus, on the other hand, is the God of the wine harvest
and the festival, of uninhibited, often sensual release and inebriation. From Nietzsche’s perspective, Dionysian
impulses connect us to a more primitive state of being, without the rigid
boundaries of individuality, allowing us to connect to the energy and
intoxication of a communal life force.
For Nietzsche, and here I agree from my own experience,
music is primarily Dionysian in its effect, allowing us to transcend our egos
and individuality to experience a state of primordial unity and experience a
rush of pure, ecstatic emotion.
But the Dionysian is also seen in other aspects of culture –
in our efforts to lift ourselves out of the tyranny of the day-to-day and the
sometimes stultifying effect of our disciplined, sober lives. Drinking, eating, dancing, laughing, sex,
sport, gambling all have elements of the Dionysian, because they challenge the
order and restraint of our lives. Dionysus
offers chaos, excess and ecstasy as an anti-thesis to Apollo’s discipline and ‘know
thyself’ restraint. Dionysus encourages
total immersion in contrast to Apollo’s maintenance of a critical intellectual
and aesthetic distance.
Isn't this dialectic, though presenting us with a lifelong
contradiction of impulses, the very source of life’s most sublime moments? Doesn't the art of living consist of finding the proper
balance, not suppressing one or the other?
For surely those who view the Dionysian as sinful and try to
order their lives in a purely Apollonian manner become dry husks of human
beings with no ecstasy and a very narrow scope of joy. And those who totally indulge the Dionysian lose
the edges of their individuality and self-control, slipping into the abyss of
debauchery and hedonism.
But balancing the dialectic is not an equation or a recipe in
the battle of life. There is no formula
for success and there is risk at every juncture. We careen from one corner of the ring to the
other, a self-righteous, arrogant creature on one side and an inebriated, profligate
mess at the other. It is naive to hope
for perfection, for order, for peace, for harmony. Life is a struggle.