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As a member of a generation characterized by a deluge of competing information, skepticism, doubt, cynicism, and moral confusion, I have always taken great comfort in knowing that there was always a light in the darkness, a proverbial voice crying out in the wilderness: that of the late Rick James. If your first impulse is to point out that Mr. James (though admittedly one of the great minds of the 20th Century) is not technically a member of our generation, I would be obliged to counter that neither are Gandhi nor Mother Theresa. In the 80's, as most of us were being born, the aforementioned addled sage teamed up with the equally prolific Eddie Murphy to create the pop sensation "Party All the Time." It is a tragic tale of a man whose girl, as the chorus so heartbreakingly conveys, "wants to party all the time." Substitute the word "girl" for "generation" (the bard always did possess such a subtle skill for metaphor) and one arrives at a profoundly apt anthem for our time.  We in fact do want to party all the time, and our holiest days, Friday and Saturday Nights, are nearly always filled with drunken revelry of some sort. Parties are given a unique position of prominence: they represent the culmination of our hopes and a lifeline from the drudgery of daily existence. If we are going to assign our parties this essential role in our lives, might not the party culture deserve another look?
To say that our generation is spiritually bankrupt would be both excessive and inaccurate. But it is fair to say that traditional means of spiritual expression – church, prayer, ritual, dogma – no longer hold our collective interest. In what sense then are we "spiritual?"
The best sense that I've come across comes from Joseph Campbell. He states that the primary purpose for religious and spiritual practice is to open oneself to an experience of truly feeling “alive.” It is in this spirit that I think we find ourselves investing in the party culture that pervades our generation. The desire to revel in youth and excess - to drink one's fill and stay up until sunrise - lies at the heart of our weekly attempts at merriment both during college and into adulthood. Our collective impulse to party stems therefore not from mere boredom (though it may at times appear that a cure for boredom is all we seek), but from a desire for something beyond the banality of our weekly existence. There is a profound reason that we like to feel drunk: we want to soar. A party is one of the most incredible opportunities for unbridled joy afforded us. A party is a manifestation of hope. Liberation Theologians, who find themselves dealing daily with the most inhumane and deplorable forms of injustice, write of the unimaginable power which the world's poorest gain from their parties. In the face of indignity and bruising oppression, the indigent find strength and communion with one another in the unity of celebration. I mention this not to invoke class war or piously foster feelings of guilt, but instead to help emphasize just how utterly sacred parties can be. Whatever one's religious persuasion, a party promises to transcend the often stinging insult of the prosaic day to day. For a young 20-something trapped amidst the perils of Elvis Costello's "working week" (which he knows "don't thrill you" and he hopes "don't kill you") a party offers salvation; a chance to remember the sanctity of your youth and beauty. For these are more than merely bacchanalian qualities; they are avenues through which one can embrace that feeling of truly being alive. Traditionally parties were thrown to celebrate events. Celebration reminds that there is much to be happy about. It reminds that there is much to be thankful for and that's what a party ought to really be about. It's why everybody loves a wedding. Being mindful of celebration keeps the sense of elation which a party fosters alive. I fear that we, as a generation, have largely lost touch with that will to celebrate. Inevitably, there is an opportunity to get drunk with your friends every weekend and that removes the sense of urgency and purpose that a good party should have. We're all guilty of complacency; of getting comfortable at parties. But wouldn't it be nice if each party brought with it a unique and ecstatic experience rather than a minor lift from the day to day? More often than not, our parties are nothing more than crunk-fests: we merely go through the motions of gaiety without consciously embracing the experience of joy. One takes the requisite number of shots to get the job done, chats up the usual suspects, makes an attempt (so often a feeble one) to hook up, and spends the next day nursing a headache. We forget that partying is important: it matters. Let’s hold ourselves to a higher standard. Henceforth, let us remember to truly celebrate. This article in no way intends to advocate a return to temperance or even to moderation really. Rather it aims to return the glory to our weekly excesses. Let us party with purpose and with vigor. Let us dance and sing and read poetry and look at the stars and eat like gourmands and embrace the glory of our youth. We need parties. They offer perhaps the only form of palpable salvation that remains to us. And, if we will only let them, they shall liberate us from the realm of the mundane, elevate our consciousness, and exalt the power of our humanity. Cheers, brethren. - Jack Moxon Illustration by Gustaf von Arbin |
