About a year ago I read The Catcher in the Rye. I've been haunted, intermittently, by the famous climactic passage: "Then the carousel started, and I watched her go round and round... All the kids tried to grab for the gold ring, and so was old Phoebe, and I was sort of afraid she'd fall off the goddam horse, but I didn't say or do anything. The thing with kids is, if they want to grab for the gold ring, you have to let them do it, and not say anything. If they fall off, they fall off, but it's bad if you say anything to them."
When I look at life with a little bit of detachment, the quest for the gold ring seems so futile and depressing. One person wins the gold ring; everybody else fails. Even the person who wins the gold ring only really wants it because other people also want it. Probably it brings them no lasting joy anyway.
One thing that fascinates me about Christian saints is that sanctity is completely non-competitive. I'm inclined to think the same applies to holy people of other faiths, although I think they are ultimately barking (or not barking) up the wrong tree. At least they are not trying to grab the gold ring.
(I've just realized that most critics see the gold ring as a symbol of maturity and adulthood. Maybe they are right. I think my reading of it is reasonable, though-- especially given Salinger's Buddhist leanings. Although it doesn't seem like only one person can win the gold ring, literally speaking.)
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