Donald Satz discusses whether or not the human condition is subjective:

>This is such a subjective issue which clearly is influenced by a person's
>background, present mode of living, and prospects for the future.  The
>human condition is one thing to the Queen of England, quite another to a
>starving child in an underdeveloped country.

The Human Condition is hardly subjective!  It is its objectivity and
timelessness that makes it *the* "holy grail" for artists, because while
everyone is affected equally by its existence, very few people can
capture--let alone articulate how its ramifications make us *feel.*

Ian Crisp writes:

>Nevertheless, it is undoubtedly true that there is more "great art" -
>music or any other kind - concerned with sadness, despair, grief, and
>various other kinds of unhappiness than there is concerned with happiness.

While I *wasn't* sleeping while working on my degree, I was fascinated
by the musings of my psychology teacher who wondered why there is more
music written in the minor mode than in the major.  She went on to explain
that it could be a response to an undefineable "thread of sadness" that
runs through our entire existence because we, as humans, strive for 1)
unconditional love, 2) eternal youth and health, and 3) complete knowledge.
While we do enrich our lives trying to reach these goals, they are, of
course, frustrating impossibilities that can yield much sadness,
apprehension, and pain.

One of my favorite lines is from Wordsworth, who wrote:

   "To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often
   lie too deep for tears."

It's easy enough replacing a damaged fender, a burnt-down house; or pulling
yourself together after failing a class or losing a job; but the loss of
a loved one, or the self-awareness of your own impending death, or the
love-affair that just wasn't meant to be--these are surely *unresolvable*
and *universal* pains felt equally by both a queen or a starving child.
(The Human Condition)

It is during these times in our lives that we turn to the great artists.
The 4th mov't of the Mahler 9th comes to mind: while Mahler so poignantly
tells his own story about his impending death, he consequently speaks
poignantly for the rest of us--somehow this is comforting.

In the same way that we feel better by going to the doctor just to hear him
say, "you have a cold," when we all ready knew we had a cold and there's
nothing that can be done about it; we run to artists and musicians for the
same reasons.

John--out of breath--Smyth