Our Lady's dark pop anthem of infatuation, "Don't Blame Me," is more than a mere confessions of helplessness to the throes of emotion. It is an exploration of the nature of doubt, and of the nature of delusion, for both the narrator of the parable, and for us, the listener.
"Don't blame me, love made me crazy" echoes a plea for absolution. This is a request to understand rather than to condemn. But what does it really mean to place or reject blame? For a utilitarian such as John Stuart Mill, we would need to know if the actions in the song, driven ostensibly by love-fueled insanity, caused more happiness than harm. Our Lady's lyrics in "Don't Blame Me" show us what it is like to tap into a passion so overwhelming that it overrides one's own moral compass. If the outcome of the singer's love is destruction, a utilitarian may indeed "blame" the singer by judging that love harshly, even if the love itself is sincere.
By contrast Aristotle would hear this song as the plea of someone out of balance. In Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle says that virtue is about finding the "middle path" (to make a Buddhist connection) between two extremes. In this case, those extremes may be recklessness and cowardice, or obsession and indifference. The lyric "My drug is my baby, I'll be using for the rest of my life" implies that what was once mere passion has become addiction. For Aristotle, the question of blame is not one of punishment, but a potential sign of moral growth - or failure. The problem, for Aristotle, and perhaps also for the Buddha, is not the love, it is the absence of temperance. When she says "My name is whatever you decide," she has stripped herself of identity, surrendering the self to desire.
In Kant's work, the question of blame is answered neither by feelings or outcomes, but from duty and reason. These, according to Kant, are the sources of moral worth; love, particularly the obsessive, unhinged variety explained here, is not a moral defense for destructive choices. Actions taken under the compulsion of an emotional need are not freely taken, and for Kant, only free, rational choices have moral value. Is the transformation described in "I once was poison ivy but now I'm your daisy" one which was freely chosen, or is this, too, an artifact of surrendering to desire, allowing one's self to be redefined? Though it may be tempting to say that a daisy is to be preferred over poison ivy, Kant would remind us that actions taken while overwhelmed by love, however intoxicating it may be, do not indicate moral choices.
The idea of duty and reason are also important in the Bhagavad Gita, in which Arjuna is pressed by Krishna to take action in the battle, though he has no wish to kill, but to renounce attachment to the outcome of his actions. Desire clouds judgment and binds us to outcomes - which, in turn, causes suffering. For Krishna, even the strongest, seemingly magnanimous emotional drive is not an excuse for forgetting one's duty - one's dharma. Love is a part of life, but like any other part of life, it must not be clinged to, or allowed to consume our thoughts.
In the Dhammapada, it is written that "All that we are is the result of what we have thought: it is founded on our thoughts, it is made up of our thoughts." In this parable, Our Lady externalizes blame, by placing it on emotion - love, she sings, "made me crazy." Buddha, however, would suggest looking inward rather than outward for the question of blame. The infatuation is created by the mind, so reactions, too, are a product of mind. Remember, even though it may be easy to repeat "the cause of all suffering is desire," desire is not truly the problem, according to Buddha. Attachment is. Attachment to outcomes, which Lord Krishna addresses directly in the Gita, inevitably leads to suffering. For the Buddha, the path to piece, the "middle path" if you will, lies neither in placing blame nor in deflecting it, but in transforming the manner in which we relate to the idea of blame itself.
There is, however, still a more subtle reading, which the careful listener will pick up on, relating to the idea of interdependence. "Don't Blame Me" can be heard not just as a plea for forgiveness, but as an invitation for the listener to confront their own delusions about agency, love, and control. On a surface reading, "Love made me crazy" seems to be an attempt to dodge responsibility. However, in light of the Universal Truths we have discovered in other meditations, we can see that both narrator and listener are trapped in the very same web of delusion.
According to the Dhammapada, delusion is one of the three poisons (along with anger and greed) which are the root of all attachment. In the parable, our narrator admits that she was blinded by love, overwhelmed by it - if this is a tale about addiction, then the first step is, of course, admitting that we have a problem. Here, St. Tay displays her self-awareness and takes the first step toward recovery.
However, "Don't Blame Me" is an imperative phrase - a command to us, the listener. Here, Our Lady is subtly reminding us that we all fall; we all surrender to emotion. She asks the listener to recognize the shared nature of these material conditions. Blame, after all, only reinforces the illusion of separation which, in Truth, does not exist.
A brilliant example of parable construction, "Don't Blame Me" gives us both a plea, and an instruction. To release blame is to let go of the false belief in isolate, sovereign control over emotion; to let go of the idea that desire is our master. Instaed of responding to delusion with delusion, we should awaken to the nature of desire, and recognize that it, along with the three poisons, are the same forces which act upon us all. "Don't Blame Me" is not merely a confession or a plea; it is a nudge toward compassion - compassion not only for the narrator, but for ourselves.
When the world blames you, may you answer with grace. When love makes you crazy, may you stay fearless. And when the midnights are long, remember that you are the writer, you are the protagonist, and you are the plot twist. What if I told you you're the mastermind? Amen.
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Rev. Odessa Cathode Ray, Tortured Pope
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