Eternal
recurrence is one of Friedrich Nietzsche’s more far-fetched concepts and thus
one that philosophers have long looked at askance. And yet it remains an
attractive concept and has a powerful effect in works of fiction--usually in
corrupt but nonetheless enlightening forms.
The
nut of Nietzsche’s idea isn’t hard to understand. Here is an explanation from The
Gay Science:
What if a demon crept after you one day or night in your loneliest solitude and said to you: ‘This life, as you live it now and have lived it, you will have to live again and again, times without number; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and all the unspeakably small and great in your life must return to you, and everything in the same series and sequence.
The basis for the idea is that in the vast expanse of infinite time a finite number of matter particles rearranging themselves in finite space will at some point fall into the same forms and repeat everything in exactly the same way. According to William Kaufmann in Nietzsche, scientists have shown this is not necessarily true, but Nietzsche was less concerned with whether eternal recurrence actually happens than he was with what it would mean to someone to believe it were true:
Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who thus spoke? Or have you experienced a tremendous moment in which you would have answered him: ‘You are a god and never did I hear anything more divine!’ If this thought gained power over you it would, as you are now, transform and perhaps crush you.
I
wrote about this before in my post “Amor Fati and the Birth of a Child,” in
which I discussed how the birth of my son and his continuing presence in my
life causes me to accept everything that has happened in my past, both good and
bad. He is my “tremendous moment,” and a demon whispering in my ear that I must
repeat my life with all its sufferings over again would be a god to me for he
would also be giving me the chance to re-experience all those precious moments
with my son.
Eternal
recurrence features heavily in Irvin D. Yalom’s When Nietzsche Wept, a
novel that tells the story of what might have happened had Josef Breuer, one of
the first psychoanalysts, applied his “talking cure” to a despairing Nietzsche.
As the two meet and discuss life, Breuer at times becomes the analysand and
Nietzsche the analyst. When the philosopher suggests his “thought experiment”
of eternal recurrence, Breuer is horrified. He cannot bear the thought of
revisiting all of life’s indignities (career angst, marital infidelity, etc.),
but the idea has a therapeutic effect on Nietzsche.
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