Tess Canfield, Writer

I’d Do Anything for... Skepticism? (But I Won’t Do That)

Over the last few months I’ve gained a deep appreciation for Meat Loaf. Not meatloaf the beefy slab whose time as an acceptable form of dinner rightfully ended in the 20th century. I’m talking about The Bat Out Of Hell himself, Meat. Loaf.

It started back in April, when I read this thread and learned that Meat Loaf had a lifelong collaborator named Jim Steinman, who had sadly passed away. Steinman wrote all of the epic rock opera hits that made Meat Loaf famous, and during a feverish haze from my Covid vaccine, I got sucked into the drama by going down the looong rabbit hole that is the history of the song “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now.” I even got Stephen (hubs) reeled into the whole thing and we watched insane live videos of Meat Loaf back in the 70s, learned that Bat Out of Hell sold 45 million copies, and wondered why, as huge fans of Freddie Mercury and Queen, we never got into it until now.

Why am I talking about this? Well, for purposes of this essay, I want to quote the title of one of Meat Loaf’s most infamous songs, also written by Jim Steinman: I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That). 

What exactly is the “that” for which Meat Loaf sings? We may never know. (Although the music video suggests that as a motorcycle-riding cousin to Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Meat Loaf will not turn his love/duet partner into a vampire for love.) Regardless, I’ve come to realize that I have my own “that” in my life.

But before I get into, well, “that,” you may be tempted to pause and watch the video. I’d recommend it. Here. I’ll wait.

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Now that you’ve had that experience for the day, let’s talk about social media! Groan. I know. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot, specifically my long lost Instagram account. After taking many months off from regular posting, I figured out why I lost my desire for it. I do want to start it up again. At least in some form.

When I started my Instagram account for writing, I intended it to share bits of my thoughts and writings, as well as quotes and other things that inspired me. At the time, I had a not-great novel that I subconsciously knew was going nowhere. (I know now that it was my practice book - a way for me to see if I could even finish something like a 300+ page document and enjoy the process.) Still, the novel wasn’t all bad, and as someone brand new to writing fiction, it was nice to share something online, even on out-of-context, bite size bits of my writing, and get a little positive feedback from friends and a few kind strangers. 

In addition to sharing my practice novel, I also had all these pithy little thoughts floating in my head. Or rather, I had lots of disjointed, random thoughts in my head that I attempted to write in a pithy way. I did this so they would stop gnawing at me; each post, a tiny little exorcism. And the quotes from books, movies, etc that I shared in between were always something that resonated with the mire in my head. The quotes gave me a small bit of validation like, yeah, that’s a good way to phrase this weird feeling I have, too. 

Here are some examples:

As you can see, most of my posts fluttered in gray area, paradox and nondualism—often promoting skepticism and asking big questions with no single answer. Subconsciously, this was my best path to personal growth, my way of constantly challenging myself, and reforming my mindset as a recovering protestant conservative know-it-all when it comes to what’s Right or Wrong. Reminder: Enneagram 1 here. My path to growth and maturity is spending time in a moral gray area and reworking my many close-handed beliefs to become more relaxed, accepting and tolerant.

Then 2020 happened.

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What does moral gray area mean when a pandemic hits and society needs *very clear* instructions on how to keep each other safe? I, a person who actually enjoys understanding all sides to an argument, was shocked (still am) to see things such as mask mandates, social distancing, and basic medical advice up for debate. As BLM took the forefront, suddenly the gray area seemed like a very useless, even dangerous, place to be.

No one needed a healthy and secure white lady posting her navel-gazing thoughts and questions about life and the cosmos. And while I made efforts to share and amplify the advice from medical professionals and the voices of BIPOC, I knew I needed to spend more time listening, rather than falling into the traps of performative allyship. 

So in effort to be helpful and practical in the online world, Stephen and I started 50freebooks.org and I mostly gave up on my pithy philosophical posts, throwing myself into my manuscript that I’m querying now, leaving behind anything intentional with my social accounts. 

But I won’t lie, I felt a little bad about abandoning that IG profile. It’s just a teeny corner of the internet, but I had worked hard on it. I was consistent for a long time, putting in a lot of hours to post things that I truly pondered or cared about, resisting the temptation to post cliché motivational quotes that I knew would get more likes. It was also a kind of mini-journal for me. As someone with a terrible memory who’s never been consistent at traditional journaling, it was nice to look back and have a small record of the thoughts and things I had gone through.

And I want to get back to sharing the books, movies and music that I enjoy. I know it’s a basic human trait, but I like telling people about the things I like. There should be a specific word for the unique joy and validation one feels when someone else enjoys something you’ve recommended to them. The opposite of schadenfreude, per se. You know what I mean if you were ever like me, making a mix CD for a friend and two weeks later singing to all the songs together. It’s a wonderful thing.

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 Early this year I read the classic novel Middlemarch by George Eliot (the pen name, of course, for Mary Ann Evans), a book that many say is one of the best novels of the English language. I’m not sure I felt that way about it—at nearly 800 pages, the read was a bit grueling. But as I flipped back through it this week and looked at my underlines and notes, I read this quote:

“But scepticism, as we know, can never be thoroughly applied, else life would come to a standstill.”  

It’s the line that prompted me to sit down and write this brain dump right here.

We’re obviously still dealing with the pandemic (ahem: get the jab), police brutality and systemic racism. Able-bodied, privileged, cishet white people like me? We have a lot more work and accountability here, and need to continue to actively work to build a society where everyone can be healthy, safe and successful. 

This means so much more than Instagram. It means action, support, speaking up, and uplifting others with time, money and resources. Doing real things to make a real difference for people that have been given less by society, history, the government, genetics or life—in whatever way that may mean. 

To be clear: I’m still a full believer in the benefits of skepticism. I believe in relooking, rethinking, and reexamining just about everything. But as Eliot deftly wrote, we can’t play skeptic to all things in life. If people are suffering, if there are experts in their fields saying this is how we take care of each other in this time of crisis, if someone is telling you they’re in pain, skepticism only stops life. Get the information, yes. Study and understand, yes. Then believe and act accordingly. 

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As I contemplate skepticism, you might be wondering if I forgot about Meat Loaf. Friend, I have not. But as I was writing this essay and looking up photos of my new hero, my heart sank as I came across this headline: Climate change denier Meat Loaf says Greta Thunberg is 'brainwashed'. Then, in another article, Meat Loaf went on the record saying that Donald Trump was “intelligent.” 

Sigh. 

My brief but brilliant spark of joy for Meat Loaf... dimmed. It is hard to believe that a man who has been in films like Rocky Horror Picture Show and Fight Club, could get stuck in conservative political traps. But I don’t have all the answers. And I’m not planning on writing about cancel culture, accountability culture, or what to do when our heroes turn out to be, well, less than what we’d hoped. At least not today. 

But then I thought about Jim Steinman. After all, his death was the catalyst for my Meat Loaf appreciation. He was the one who wrote all the epic songs like “I Would Do Anything…”, “Bat Out of Hell”, plus “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now”, “Total Eclipse of the Heart” and more. I’m no songwriter, but as someone who also spends a lot of time putting words to the page, it would be pretty daft not to give equal acknowledgement to Jim. 

I couldn’t find any record of his political leanings, but even if they were also problematic, you still gotta give some credit to the guy who made a career sitting somewhere in the middle of Queen, Andrew Lloyd Webber and Labyrinth, writing 10 minute power ballads and internationally known rock opera anthems. That’s a hell of a way to spend a life, if you ask me.

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I can see now that my personal growth has been less like a path and more like a pendulum. (Much like my love for Meat Loaf.) I grew up with traditional dualistic thinking and I worked to separate myself from that, only to realize that some dualism—those clear, unmoving lines between good and bad, right and wrong—are still necessary. They may not be as necessary for my personal and spiritual path, but they’re necessary when it comes to helping people get free. 

But there has to be a way for the pendulum to settle into the calm center, so I can move forward, rather than swinging endlessly from mindset to mindset. What I want to find is balance. To know when dualism is useful to bring peace by way of justice, and to know when non-dualism is useful as a way to bring peace by way of acceptance.

Because I do believe down to the marrow in my bones, down to my soul, that the road to peace and healing is finding a balance between dualism and non-dualism, and I believe the best way to find that balance is through contemplation. Yes, Enneagram 1s like me especially need these things for growth, but we all do. Contemplation is not a passive stance to take. It must be active and intentional, both individually and collectively. I don’t know much, but I know that. 

What does this mean for my little, insignificant Instagram account? I’m still figuring it out. I expect that when I start posting again, it’ll seem contradictory; one day posting, question everything, the next day posting, believe survivors. But if you know me at all, then you know that I do love a good ol’ fashioned paradox.

After all, that’s what people are: walking paradoxes with all sorts of ideas and personalities into each fleshy vessel we call a body.  

At least for now, when it comes to skepticism, I’ve found my “that”. It doesn’t exactly have the same Jim Steinman zing, but here it is: I Would Do Anything for Skepticism (But I Won’t Do Anything that Questions the Lived Experiences of Marginalized People or Puts Those With Lack of Power at Further Risk)

Pour one out for Jim. Get vaccinated. Black Lives Matter.

- Tess Canfield, August 2021 via The Latest