One of my favorite albums, if not my all-time favorite, is Pink Floyd’s The Wall. Released in 1979, I was fourteen when the rock opera made its debut. I didn’t really appreciate its full meaning at the time. It would take half a decade before I had a full appreciation of the album and its underlying storyline. When I was in college in the mid-80s, I had the opportunity to see the movie based on the album. During that decade, movie theaters often showed select features such as The Wall as part of what they called midnight madness. Beginning after 11 p.m. when regular films ended, fans would gather late at night - typically on a Friday or Saturday - to view non-mainstream pictures. While I was familiar with the music and had listened to many of the songs in the ensuing years, it wasn’t until I saw the movie that I developed a full appreciation for Roger Waters’ work. The movie brought the lyrics to life and resonated with me in a way few albums ever had.
The movie and album recount the story of a man, Pink, who, due to a series of untoward life circumstances common to us all, builds a metaphorical wall around himself, hence the title. Insulated, he is protected from the wiles of the outside world - namely people and their accompanying issues. Although hidden behind his wall and out of others’ grasp, he cannot escape the judgment of his own conscience. Toward the end of the story, he succumbs to introspection and self-analysis, with his conscience serving as a judge who rules he must tear down his wall as punishment for his crime - pushing everyone away and isolating himself. What I found particularly relevant and applicable to my life is the overarching theme that the process of isolating oneself - that is, building a wall - is often followed by tearing it down and then rebuilding it. Perhaps due to my personality or the time in which I grew up, I tend to push people away - outside my wall. I take comfort inside the confines of my three-foot world so to speak. As the story progresses, one song depicts this sentiment.
Sitting in a bunker,
Here behind my wall
Waiting for the worms to come
In perfect isolation
Here behind my wall
Waiting for the worms to come
The worms represent his conscience, by the way. Since seeing the movie in 1986, I have listened to the album more times than I could possibly estimate with any degree of accuracy. I’ve seen the movie many times too. The album provides solace and a place of refuge for me during difficult times, when life’s road gets bumpy. Like a comfortable chair, I quickly ease into the music and lyrics, applying them to my life. They reassure me that my selected isolation is warranted and indeed necessary. A survival mode of sorts, the switch in my brain is flicked, I push everyone out of my life, beyond the boundaries of my wall, and seal it shut. Like the lead character in the movie, Pink, I sit content behind my wall in perfect isolation. Having done this many times, I no longer wait for my conscience to work its way through, convict me, and pronounce judgment. No, I’ve learned how to silence my inner voice and keep it at bay for an extended duration, something Pink was unable to do.
The passage of time changes one’s perspective on life and what gives it value and meaning. Perhaps its decreasing duration gives pause that allows for introspection, evaluation, and a degree of insight not found in youth. Whatever the case, with more sand on the bottom of the hour glass than on the top, my perspective on life has - evolved, shall we say. Gone is the folly of youth and the foolish pursuits that often accompany it. Such nonsense has been replaced with what some might refer to as wisdom. I prefer to think of it more as knowing what’s important - and what isn’t. Many “rules of success,” as they’re touted by pundits and gurus, include saying no to people. The chief reason for doing so is to eliminate distractions and maximize the amount of time one can dedicate to the pursuit of goals and achievement, which ultimately lead (or should lead) to success. Well, that’s basic reasoning, if you think about it. By safeguarding time and hoarding it, like money, one should be able to concentrate on the more important things in life.
An easier method, I’ve found, is simply to isolate yourself. That eliminates the need to say no to everyone. By pushing people out of one’s life, distraction is, for the most part, eliminated. So, what’s behind the wall, you ask? Hmm. Good question. Well, I suppose it depends on the individual. For me, what resides behind my wall is the perfect insulation of my own little world - a world replete with memories, both good and bad, and free-flowing thought spewing from the fountain of my imagination. There is also an abundance of loneliness. Not to be confused with being lonely, mind you. No, loneliness has nothing to do with being lonely. It has everything to do with feeling like I don’t matter. Now I know what you’re thinking. This sounds like depression, right? Hold the Prozac, please. Loneliness is the byproduct of insulation. After all, how can one have a sense of value or meaning if there is no one to affirm it? Much like Pink, construction of my wall was done as a response to the many circumstances life hurls at us all. No one is immune from the scars this life freely provides. We all suffer at some point. It’s fundamentally part of the human equation and can no more be avoided than death.
No, no. At some point, whether in our youth or later in life, we experience a setback, a loss, some type of tragedy, the passing of a loved one, or extreme disappointment. We strive for a perfect life - perfect by our definition. However, we are incapable of controlling every aspect of our lives as well as those of others. Life, as they say, happens. When it does, we react. For some, like me, we grab bricks and mortar and begin the process of building our wall, a wall whose foundation was laid during childhood unbeknownst to us. During those tender moments when we quarreled with a chum, disobeyed our parents and were aptly punished, felt awkward around our friends, or didn’t quite fit into the crowd. That is the time construction begins, when a base layer is unwittingly fabricated, where it lays in wait for the day when it will rise to an indeterminate height and provide the insulation and isolation we so desperately seek.
Sure, some will eventually tear it down, destroying a significant portion so that others are visible beyond its confines. It’s never completely eradicated, though. Such action would be foolishness because it will invariably be patched and erected again, over and over, as part of life’s unrelenting bombardment. At a certain point, some people grow tired of repeating the destruction/construction process and choose to leave the wall intact. Relegated to their isolation (in perfect isolation), they bask in the solitude that only loneliness can provide. Solitary sojourners, they meander through life hidden behind their wall, never fully visible. Insulation is a tradeoff of sorts, where one willingly chooses to abandon people and sever relationships in exchange for tragedy’s absence and the peace it affords. Why, you ask? Because at some point we’re all dealt a dose of life that is too painful to swallow. The feeble pain of isolation is minuscule compared to life’s wiles and circumstances.
My wall has “no trespassing” and “keep out” signs conspicuously posted at even intervals. An added measure, they ensure my isolation will not be interrupted. Over the years, I’ve pushed many people out of my life - family members who abandoned me, friends who just stopped communicating, former co-workers who were no longer interested in keeping in touch. Oh, sure it could be argued that I erected my wall prematurely, but that is not the case. Had it not been for repeated attempts to keep the relationship alive, I would not have mixed the mortar and laid the bricks. In fact, long after it was somewhat obvious the plug on the relationship had been pulled, I didn’t give up. I desperately attempted to resuscitate it to no avail. The wall was quite necessary, I assure you. More than just providing a needed layer of insulation, it served as notice to passersby who might be inclined on a rare chance encounter to make a half-hearted and disingenuous attempt at sincerity.
There are a few, though, who stand outside the wall, don climbing shoes and chalk up in preparation to scale it. In preparation, the top is lined with razor wire. A formidable structure that keeps most away, the wall is not impervious no matter how well fortified it might appear. Which is why only the discerning make it to the top, where they can peer beyond its boundaries and search for me among the ruins. Hidden in plain sight, they see my smile and hear my laughter, oblivious to the cavernous expanse that separates us. Such is the nature of the wall. Robin Williams once said: “All it takes is a beautiful, fake smile to hide an injured soul and they will never notice how really broken you really are.” Disappointment, heartache, failure, severed relationships, and loss are the composite of the wall. Hidden in plain sight, it bears the simple appearance of a smile and a laugh and quickly goes unnoticed. You see, at some point, we all seek the solace of our own minds and echo the sentiment captured in Pink’s farewell:
Goodbye cruel world
I’m leaving you today
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye all you people
There’s nothing you can say
To make me change my mind
Goodbye.
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