1. If you have a piece of land that brings you your livelihood, you’ll care for it and be attached to it. Will you love it? Is all the sadness and pain we feel when we lose someone all immoral and testament to our inability to really love?
2. Americans aren’t afraid to speak their minds powerfully, even without giving their opinions a great deal of thought. Isn’t this confidence?
3. Why not be confident in silence and patient observation?
4. Aren’t the riots what we need for us to wake up?
------
1. If you didn’t need your land to survive, would you care about it? When a friend passes, are you sad about losing your friend’s love or losing the ability to love your friend?
2. What happens when an opinion is challenged – can it stand up to scrutiny, or is the alternative put down and made fun of?
3. Do I want to be silent, or do I actually have something I’m scared of saying or doing?
4. Haven’t we learned enough what happens when politics comes down to desperation?
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
confidence, pt. 3
1. If you’re scared of losing something, your devotion to that something is not a choice but a necessity. Every time you feel a little jealousy, you’ve lost some of your clarity and your ability to care. Unfortunately, that kind of intense care is a drug – receiving it can addict you to someone to the point where it’s very tough not to be jealous. When both parties can fight that addiction and remain free, though, it seems that they end up devoting themselves to each other that much more powerfully. Thus is the paradox of confidence: in order to achieve something you truly want, you must be confident enough to not need it.
2. Where has this confidence gone from the United States of America? Over-confidence and pomposity is what we’re known – in a bad way – for, but I see a lot of fear in the States that lends itself to insecure blustering. For example, religiosos declare that there must be a “war on Christmas,” and atheists fight back by declaring how stupid and unscientific all religious people are. The Roe v. Wade debate is similar – each side is terrified that the other will prevail but neither is confident enough to engage the other on its terms. Even if we acknowledge that so many consider abortion to be morally abhorrent, do we need law to prevent it? Is law even the best way to? Similarly, if wide majorities of some states feel so strongly about banning abortion, who are the coasts to impose their morality on them?
3. I would like to strike up conversations with people here, but I simply can’t without some language ability. It’s frustrating but not completely unsatisfying to be alone like this. I could be a bit more confident in my inability to speak French, though. There’s no reason for someone like me to resist asking if someone speaks English – after all, that’s clearly all I speak.
4. What’s somewhat hopeful about globalization is that if we want to avoid the big riots and backlashes that will destroy so much, we need to begin implementing smarter policies (education, tax, energy, labor). Surely some in power that don’t want to lose everything must recognize this. I suppose that’s why Sarkozy won, actually…but it’s not clear that he represents exactly what we need these days…
2. Where has this confidence gone from the United States of America? Over-confidence and pomposity is what we’re known – in a bad way – for, but I see a lot of fear in the States that lends itself to insecure blustering. For example, religiosos declare that there must be a “war on Christmas,” and atheists fight back by declaring how stupid and unscientific all religious people are. The Roe v. Wade debate is similar – each side is terrified that the other will prevail but neither is confident enough to engage the other on its terms. Even if we acknowledge that so many consider abortion to be morally abhorrent, do we need law to prevent it? Is law even the best way to? Similarly, if wide majorities of some states feel so strongly about banning abortion, who are the coasts to impose their morality on them?
3. I would like to strike up conversations with people here, but I simply can’t without some language ability. It’s frustrating but not completely unsatisfying to be alone like this. I could be a bit more confident in my inability to speak French, though. There’s no reason for someone like me to resist asking if someone speaks English – after all, that’s clearly all I speak.
4. What’s somewhat hopeful about globalization is that if we want to avoid the big riots and backlashes that will destroy so much, we need to begin implementing smarter policies (education, tax, energy, labor). Surely some in power that don’t want to lose everything must recognize this. I suppose that’s why Sarkozy won, actually…but it’s not clear that he represents exactly what we need these days…
confidence, pt. 2
1. In order to make any real progress, one needs to be comfortable enough to realize that uprooting what he finds familiar will not destroy him. In other words, he needs to realize that action on those things most dear to him will only shake him briefly. By doing so, he can make priorities without being trapped. A man once told me that to be in love is to be under control. But true love requires the opposite – it requires that one is fully in control of oneself but devoted because he chooses to. Anything else that we dare call love is at least partially controlled by lust and fear.
2. In New York, no one is worth anyone’s time unless there is a great, proximate reason. Having one pick up your newspaper is only an excuse to talk – it is not a reason to interact. In Paris, though, people walk straight at each other, diverting their paths only right before (and sometimes without avoiding) a crash. And similarly, in Paris people look straight at you, with self-confidence and confidence in you. This is the old American ideal that Walt Whitman wrote about. It’s high time we earned it back.
3. I’ve, while waiting for a friend to show up, been extremely quiet here. The main reason for this is my inability to communicate in this language, but I’ve also made no effort to meet practically anyone in my hostel. I wander the streets, sometimes directed and confident, sometimes down and lost. But the buildings, the art, the statues, the drainage, the green of the street workers, the zillions of cafés, the accents and apostrophes on French signs – all that care and devotion to things that have no up-front measurable value – all remind me that I have a capability, a desire, and an obligation to take such care in my own life. So we should not pretend, as so many do, that dressing well or extolling one’s own culture while remaining ambivalent about others is pompous or prideful. We can pretend that the little things do not matter – that art and the humanities and color and elegance are just-so-happens – but this is denying those things I think are most universal after the basic necessities (food; water; shelter; basic hygiene).
4. As countries with labor willing to work more hours and for less pay begin to compete with places like this which heavily regulates employment, it becomes more difficult for companies to justify doing business here. That’s not to say that such an advanced country doesn’t maintain huge advantages over others – it’s only to say that people who have enjoyed a stable social-democratic state for the past 50 years or are beginning to face some turmoil. Well, they already have, obviously. Immigrants have it tough here, and locals aren’t huge fans of them, particularly those that hail from Muslim countries. It’s definitely a clash of ideals and ways of life as well as of purely economic impacts on each.
2. In New York, no one is worth anyone’s time unless there is a great, proximate reason. Having one pick up your newspaper is only an excuse to talk – it is not a reason to interact. In Paris, though, people walk straight at each other, diverting their paths only right before (and sometimes without avoiding) a crash. And similarly, in Paris people look straight at you, with self-confidence and confidence in you. This is the old American ideal that Walt Whitman wrote about. It’s high time we earned it back.
3. I’ve, while waiting for a friend to show up, been extremely quiet here. The main reason for this is my inability to communicate in this language, but I’ve also made no effort to meet practically anyone in my hostel. I wander the streets, sometimes directed and confident, sometimes down and lost. But the buildings, the art, the statues, the drainage, the green of the street workers, the zillions of cafés, the accents and apostrophes on French signs – all that care and devotion to things that have no up-front measurable value – all remind me that I have a capability, a desire, and an obligation to take such care in my own life. So we should not pretend, as so many do, that dressing well or extolling one’s own culture while remaining ambivalent about others is pompous or prideful. We can pretend that the little things do not matter – that art and the humanities and color and elegance are just-so-happens – but this is denying those things I think are most universal after the basic necessities (food; water; shelter; basic hygiene).
4. As countries with labor willing to work more hours and for less pay begin to compete with places like this which heavily regulates employment, it becomes more difficult for companies to justify doing business here. That’s not to say that such an advanced country doesn’t maintain huge advantages over others – it’s only to say that people who have enjoyed a stable social-democratic state for the past 50 years or are beginning to face some turmoil. Well, they already have, obviously. Immigrants have it tough here, and locals aren’t huge fans of them, particularly those that hail from Muslim countries. It’s definitely a clash of ideals and ways of life as well as of purely economic impacts on each.
confidence, pt. 1
1. Confidence is the basis of everything powerful; it is the beginning to what love lies at the end of. 爱真的需要勇气，我们都需要勇气 (quoted of course from a pop song)。勇气 I suppose means “courage,” but that’s the same thing as what I’m getting at.
2. I picked up the man’s newspaper, and he looked straight at me when he thanked me. Then he, a Parisian of about 50 or 60, broke into easy and casual conversation. I quickly announced that I did not speak his language, but after that I have to learn. Such things could never happen in New York.
3. I’m hiding in a city of people who don’t hide from anyone or anything. No place can inspire confidence and creativity as a place so full of it can. What’s so great about being modest, anyway? What is humility except a willingness to see the other’s point of view and to adapt to it?
4. But if this group of people is really so damn secure, why is it so afraid of change? It may believe strongly in the rightness of its current practices – its attention to detail in culture, its relative (if not by much) imperviousness to commercialism, its patience and openness. And as change approaches – as immigrants flow in and foreign competition strengthens – people are starting to have to make sacrifices they don’t think should be necessary. My guess, though, is that the culture of ease is strong enough to survive even if all of Sarkozy’s proposals go through. I may be wrong. After all, what’s happened to any supposed American culture?
2. I picked up the man’s newspaper, and he looked straight at me when he thanked me. Then he, a Parisian of about 50 or 60, broke into easy and casual conversation. I quickly announced that I did not speak his language, but after that I have to learn. Such things could never happen in New York.
3. I’m hiding in a city of people who don’t hide from anyone or anything. No place can inspire confidence and creativity as a place so full of it can. What’s so great about being modest, anyway? What is humility except a willingness to see the other’s point of view and to adapt to it?
4. But if this group of people is really so damn secure, why is it so afraid of change? It may believe strongly in the rightness of its current practices – its attention to detail in culture, its relative (if not by much) imperviousness to commercialism, its patience and openness. And as change approaches – as immigrants flow in and foreign competition strengthens – people are starting to have to make sacrifices they don’t think should be necessary. My guess, though, is that the culture of ease is strong enough to survive even if all of Sarkozy’s proposals go through. I may be wrong. After all, what’s happened to any supposed American culture?
Monday, January 7, 2008
爱
What else could I write 1200 words on, what else but a word that has no definition and yet, most people agree, exists. What else has filled millions of books and songs and all sorts of media…without ever reaching satisfying conclusion
And where else to write it but in here in this city. Here, where I sit and wait, uninterested in conversation or reality or excitement or air. Here where everything is in flux and nothing is certain. Here about which everything has already been said. Do I believe in it because of a subconscious planted in my brain by movies and poems? It can’t be, simply because I haven’t watched enough or read enough. At least I hadn’t before the first time I made it here. And now, now all I want is to just see my friend.
But in the meantime, I’m supposed to be writing about a concept that I’m scared to even write the name of. What good is that? Okay: I’ll say it. It’s love, which to me encompasses a deep caring and devotion but also a feeling of joy and wonder. To love another person is to see the face of God, by definition.
So it’s all a good thing, right? It’s all fantastic and you can just go around loving everyone.
Except that god damn this is the fucking tritest thing in the world.
Except that there are different kinds and each type can be fucked up if you don’t get it in return.
What the hell does it matter whether you get it back? Unrequited? What the fuck is requited?
It matters – it matters a great deal. Because idealistic as we’d like to be, it’s simply too too painful if we don’t receive recognition and care to recognize and care for someone so deeply. To what extent is the joy o fit all just knowing that you matter to someone? To what extent do you care about the other just to make sure you get something in return? Is it a transaction?
And then there’s 爱情。 Gooood old 爱情. That which pulls people around in circles, makes them silly, makes them hurt so much that its negative incarnation is so powerful as to be addictive.
There’s nothing to say that hasn’t already been said.
Love is eternal. Is that true?
Love is caring
Love is compassion
Love is difficult
Love takes on many forms – different for people serving different roles in one’s life
Seems rather like there’s only room for one supreme lover in one’s mind at a time. One true partner. One #1. One through whose eyes you end up seeing the world. One who truly touches and shifts your point of view.
No, there are plenty of those – but only one that really really matters – second place is usually distant. Too much time, too much care for the second place to be worth anywhere near as much time.
But what can I offer anyone else? Is it worth trying when a positive joyous bliss doesn’t arise in the first few days? Is it worth searching when all you have is an inkling of what you might discover? It is worth it, if you believe people are worth gambling on. I believe they’re by far the most worth gambling on.
It is worth it and leaving things unspoken is often best.
Proving yourself over and over is everything. It’s not just knowing something is there. It’s nothing if you do nothing.
Jealousy and fear create a haze of pain and unease. There is no reason to doubt. If someone cheats, it may be painful, but it is no reason to leave. Why shouldn’t each cheat? Cheat? If you’re ready to leave, that’s one thing. But to get it on with someone else? That seems quite natural.
I’m halfway, and I’ve said nothing.
I’m going to fill a book with this? Clearly the answer is no. Time for slightly more discipline.
I used to think that everything would work out one day and that love would find me and everafter I could devote myself to a girl who would do the same for me, gracefully and effortlessly. And with that premise in mind, I over and over again judged every girl against this standard, wondering whether I could spend my life with her without being scared or worried about anything.
Eventually I recognized that high expectations were leading to pain and fear. The fear of losing something so potentially perfect very much clouded any chances I had at something approaching that. This hasn’t really changed; what’s changed is my recognition of the pathologies.
“Falling in love” is weird because it implies that you’re collapsing into something that you get stuck in. Yet it really does feel that way, in terms of the compulsion to give and care and recognize and engage. So once you recognize that something is possible with someone, you want completely to take it to its limit. You want to give her everything and in turn to get everything. All else is put in its proper context and okay to take lightly. Meaning in everything, though, becomes magnified because of the confidence and beauty and care that you receive.
I will end this here.
And where else to write it but in here in this city. Here, where I sit and wait, uninterested in conversation or reality or excitement or air. Here where everything is in flux and nothing is certain. Here about which everything has already been said. Do I believe in it because of a subconscious planted in my brain by movies and poems? It can’t be, simply because I haven’t watched enough or read enough. At least I hadn’t before the first time I made it here. And now, now all I want is to just see my friend.
But in the meantime, I’m supposed to be writing about a concept that I’m scared to even write the name of. What good is that? Okay: I’ll say it. It’s love, which to me encompasses a deep caring and devotion but also a feeling of joy and wonder. To love another person is to see the face of God, by definition.
So it’s all a good thing, right? It’s all fantastic and you can just go around loving everyone.
Except that god damn this is the fucking tritest thing in the world.
Except that there are different kinds and each type can be fucked up if you don’t get it in return.
What the hell does it matter whether you get it back? Unrequited? What the fuck is requited?
It matters – it matters a great deal. Because idealistic as we’d like to be, it’s simply too too painful if we don’t receive recognition and care to recognize and care for someone so deeply. To what extent is the joy o fit all just knowing that you matter to someone? To what extent do you care about the other just to make sure you get something in return? Is it a transaction?
And then there’s 爱情。 Gooood old 爱情. That which pulls people around in circles, makes them silly, makes them hurt so much that its negative incarnation is so powerful as to be addictive.
There’s nothing to say that hasn’t already been said.
Love is eternal. Is that true?
Love is caring
Love is compassion
Love is difficult
Love takes on many forms – different for people serving different roles in one’s life
Seems rather like there’s only room for one supreme lover in one’s mind at a time. One true partner. One #1. One through whose eyes you end up seeing the world. One who truly touches and shifts your point of view.
No, there are plenty of those – but only one that really really matters – second place is usually distant. Too much time, too much care for the second place to be worth anywhere near as much time.
But what can I offer anyone else? Is it worth trying when a positive joyous bliss doesn’t arise in the first few days? Is it worth searching when all you have is an inkling of what you might discover? It is worth it, if you believe people are worth gambling on. I believe they’re by far the most worth gambling on.
It is worth it and leaving things unspoken is often best.
Proving yourself over and over is everything. It’s not just knowing something is there. It’s nothing if you do nothing.
Jealousy and fear create a haze of pain and unease. There is no reason to doubt. If someone cheats, it may be painful, but it is no reason to leave. Why shouldn’t each cheat? Cheat? If you’re ready to leave, that’s one thing. But to get it on with someone else? That seems quite natural.
I’m halfway, and I’ve said nothing.
I’m going to fill a book with this? Clearly the answer is no. Time for slightly more discipline.
I used to think that everything would work out one day and that love would find me and everafter I could devote myself to a girl who would do the same for me, gracefully and effortlessly. And with that premise in mind, I over and over again judged every girl against this standard, wondering whether I could spend my life with her without being scared or worried about anything.
Eventually I recognized that high expectations were leading to pain and fear. The fear of losing something so potentially perfect very much clouded any chances I had at something approaching that. This hasn’t really changed; what’s changed is my recognition of the pathologies.
“Falling in love” is weird because it implies that you’re collapsing into something that you get stuck in. Yet it really does feel that way, in terms of the compulsion to give and care and recognize and engage. So once you recognize that something is possible with someone, you want completely to take it to its limit. You want to give her everything and in turn to get everything. All else is put in its proper context and okay to take lightly. Meaning in everything, though, becomes magnified because of the confidence and beauty and care that you receive.
I will end this here.
Monday, December 31, 2007
insatiable curiousity
What is the point of poetry or of MCs bragging about how great they are? Why celebrate oneself or speak in passionate generalities?
Poetry is rap without rhythmical context – so it’s that much harder and that much more specific.
Whitman is power and the original MC. He’s Immortal Technique speaking in a different age in another culture.
Understanding the beauty and force that is one’s self, devoid of its impermanent outside influences, makes me question whether no self exists. I imagine a blue circle, a tiny notional thing that takes up no space. That circle permits me to choose and cannot be penetrated by absolutely anything.
Now take away the circle, and what changes? Everything can then be penetrated, and my power of choice disappears. But this is not the case – nothing that happens to me and no judgment passed can ever destroy my care or my beliefs or my ability to choose. No, only my own weakness in faith in myself can cloud those things.
Faith in the soul and nonchalance about its scientific existence can tackle the problem pragmatically. The question of yes or no, of existence or not, is unimportant when compared to one’s own belief. Proof is impossible and unnecessary.
Poetry is rap without rhythmical context – so it’s that much harder and that much more specific.
Whitman is power and the original MC. He’s Immortal Technique speaking in a different age in another culture.
Understanding the beauty and force that is one’s self, devoid of its impermanent outside influences, makes me question whether no self exists. I imagine a blue circle, a tiny notional thing that takes up no space. That circle permits me to choose and cannot be penetrated by absolutely anything.
Now take away the circle, and what changes? Everything can then be penetrated, and my power of choice disappears. But this is not the case – nothing that happens to me and no judgment passed can ever destroy my care or my beliefs or my ability to choose. No, only my own weakness in faith in myself can cloud those things.
Faith in the soul and nonchalance about its scientific existence can tackle the problem pragmatically. The question of yes or no, of existence or not, is unimportant when compared to one’s own belief. Proof is impossible and unnecessary.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
five days
How can five days go by so quickly? This calls for a discussion of what I'm learning I lack too much of: discipline and resolve.
A couple of years ago, my grandfather gave me a small piece of paper with some advice that his father gave him. "Do not be benevolent" stood out, but let's leave that aside for a moment. “Remember dates, details, and minutia” got me too, as I’ve for so long been so terrible at it. What the hell is the point of remembering little factoids, emotionally void specifics, or painfully descriptive items that distract from the big picture? I still feel that way.
But the note – I don’t have it on me at the moment, and I’m running out of the lines clearest in my head – also demanded that one think through each thought to its end. And it probably – again, I’m falling down on the details – prescribed one living up to promises and being honest.
There’s no replacement for honesty and reliability in this world. Niceness and good intentions will never match it. And one cannot be truly honest or reliable without making sacrifices and choosing discipline over spiritual ease.
But I write this knowing full well that I do lack discipline, and that knowledge is so painful as to be crushing at times. Shame leads too quickly to embarrassment, which leads far far too quickly to inaction.
The discipline I speak of is of the following type:
For example, at a dinner recently, I sat across from my friend’s girlfriend. I had no reason not to ask her the question, “what is your better job?” as she had two and I was quite curious, but probably mostly about one. Afraid of a bored response, I simply occasionally joined in the current conversation.
For a better example, I didn’t know what to do with my niece today. She doesn’t quite trust me yet, as I’ve only been around for a day. But I’d promised to help take care of her. I got up late and did little, simply because of my fear of her fear of me and my fear of her father’s potential unease.
For a more natural example, I play games or write about Bill Richardson instead of doing the work I need to get done. My brother tells me that sometimes people at his store will cut blocks of the more expensive cheese first, thinking they will eventually get around to the parmesan. But what really needs doing is the parmesan, as customers go through it like crazy. He drew this analogy, not me: we have to prioritize the parmesan.
But there is a fundamental problem. In order to improve, I must recognize and understand the root of my mistakes. In doing so I can also recognize whether indeed they are mistakes at all or good decisions with some basis. Yet also by noticing this I can become quite intensely frustrated with my own seeming inabilities. And this frustration can frighten me away from being more bold and disciplined.
Discipline requires boldness. It requires not shying away from a bad reaction or an intensely uncomfortable five minutes. It requires linking an expected result intelligently with a present action and carrying out that action with intense passion. When the goal is so far far away, when it’s uncertain, it’s easy to drop the passion and do something else. We have to be, somehow, passionately involved in cutting parmesan cheese. If we are not, we will continue to fall down.
But this brings me only 60% of the way through my past five days. So shifting gears,
Presents lie under the Christmas tree beside me, and it amazes me that I’ve been terrible at choosing presents. Me, a man so supposedly devoted to the well-being of others. What good are presents, anyway?
Maybe it’s time to bring up the benevolence thing. If one engages the world with only his own well-being in mind, he must eventually realize that hedonism in its simplest sense – pursuing corporal pleasures – has its limits. At least that’s what I’ve been told. I’m so repulsed by the idea in the first place, given the switching off of compassion and thought it must require – and perhaps scared of it as well – that I’ve never tried it.
So instead one would actively engage with the world and do exciting, powerful things regularly regardless of the direct consequence to others. He would make his mark and live powerfully and strongly. He would understand others’ pain but not seek to alleviate it. He would ruthlessly strike down anyone who stood in the way of his goals, given that the act of striking them down did not make him still worse off.
And as I know, compassion, bravery, and honesty make up the best and strongest bridge to this kind of life. That’s fun to imagine in the abstract, but rather tough when faced with a group conversation about disease prevention or architecture.
But the boiling passionate care doesn’t seem to subside, no matter how often I fail it. Something is lit and has been for a little while now. I’ve doused it with money and with pretend knowledge of water policy and with lots and lots and lots of food, but it’s here and I feel it getting stronger.
I’ve channeled it towards people I know. I’ve given people more time and more patience and more respect and more questioning. I’ve channeled it towards a fucking presidential candidate of all things. I’ve yet to channel it towards myself as the prospect both frightens and confuses me.
My presents are meant to challenge as that’s all I think I can really provide. I’ve never wanted to satisfy base urges or to give people what they already know they want. If Christmas is about love, which it should be, I should give challenging gifts in a loving, attention-paying spirit. Gone will be the days now when I mass-buy and decide later. I will choose specifically and with care. Next are the parents’ birthdays and then the brother’s.
A couple of years ago, my grandfather gave me a small piece of paper with some advice that his father gave him. "Do not be benevolent" stood out, but let's leave that aside for a moment. “Remember dates, details, and minutia” got me too, as I’ve for so long been so terrible at it. What the hell is the point of remembering little factoids, emotionally void specifics, or painfully descriptive items that distract from the big picture? I still feel that way.
But the note – I don’t have it on me at the moment, and I’m running out of the lines clearest in my head – also demanded that one think through each thought to its end. And it probably – again, I’m falling down on the details – prescribed one living up to promises and being honest.
There’s no replacement for honesty and reliability in this world. Niceness and good intentions will never match it. And one cannot be truly honest or reliable without making sacrifices and choosing discipline over spiritual ease.
But I write this knowing full well that I do lack discipline, and that knowledge is so painful as to be crushing at times. Shame leads too quickly to embarrassment, which leads far far too quickly to inaction.
The discipline I speak of is of the following type:
For example, at a dinner recently, I sat across from my friend’s girlfriend. I had no reason not to ask her the question, “what is your better job?” as she had two and I was quite curious, but probably mostly about one. Afraid of a bored response, I simply occasionally joined in the current conversation.
For a better example, I didn’t know what to do with my niece today. She doesn’t quite trust me yet, as I’ve only been around for a day. But I’d promised to help take care of her. I got up late and did little, simply because of my fear of her fear of me and my fear of her father’s potential unease.
For a more natural example, I play games or write about Bill Richardson instead of doing the work I need to get done. My brother tells me that sometimes people at his store will cut blocks of the more expensive cheese first, thinking they will eventually get around to the parmesan. But what really needs doing is the parmesan, as customers go through it like crazy. He drew this analogy, not me: we have to prioritize the parmesan.
But there is a fundamental problem. In order to improve, I must recognize and understand the root of my mistakes. In doing so I can also recognize whether indeed they are mistakes at all or good decisions with some basis. Yet also by noticing this I can become quite intensely frustrated with my own seeming inabilities. And this frustration can frighten me away from being more bold and disciplined.
Discipline requires boldness. It requires not shying away from a bad reaction or an intensely uncomfortable five minutes. It requires linking an expected result intelligently with a present action and carrying out that action with intense passion. When the goal is so far far away, when it’s uncertain, it’s easy to drop the passion and do something else. We have to be, somehow, passionately involved in cutting parmesan cheese. If we are not, we will continue to fall down.
But this brings me only 60% of the way through my past five days. So shifting gears,
Presents lie under the Christmas tree beside me, and it amazes me that I’ve been terrible at choosing presents. Me, a man so supposedly devoted to the well-being of others. What good are presents, anyway?
Maybe it’s time to bring up the benevolence thing. If one engages the world with only his own well-being in mind, he must eventually realize that hedonism in its simplest sense – pursuing corporal pleasures – has its limits. At least that’s what I’ve been told. I’m so repulsed by the idea in the first place, given the switching off of compassion and thought it must require – and perhaps scared of it as well – that I’ve never tried it.
So instead one would actively engage with the world and do exciting, powerful things regularly regardless of the direct consequence to others. He would make his mark and live powerfully and strongly. He would understand others’ pain but not seek to alleviate it. He would ruthlessly strike down anyone who stood in the way of his goals, given that the act of striking them down did not make him still worse off.
And as I know, compassion, bravery, and honesty make up the best and strongest bridge to this kind of life. That’s fun to imagine in the abstract, but rather tough when faced with a group conversation about disease prevention or architecture.
But the boiling passionate care doesn’t seem to subside, no matter how often I fail it. Something is lit and has been for a little while now. I’ve doused it with money and with pretend knowledge of water policy and with lots and lots and lots of food, but it’s here and I feel it getting stronger.
I’ve channeled it towards people I know. I’ve given people more time and more patience and more respect and more questioning. I’ve channeled it towards a fucking presidential candidate of all things. I’ve yet to channel it towards myself as the prospect both frightens and confuses me.
My presents are meant to challenge as that’s all I think I can really provide. I’ve never wanted to satisfy base urges or to give people what they already know they want. If Christmas is about love, which it should be, I should give challenging gifts in a loving, attention-paying spirit. Gone will be the days now when I mass-buy and decide later. I will choose specifically and with care. Next are the parents’ birthdays and then the brother’s.
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