On purposefulness

A certain difference is found among ends; some are activities, others are products apart from the activities that produce them.  Where there are ends apart from the actions, it is the nature of the products to be better than the activities.

Somebody once explained to me that the difference in social attitude that distinguishes North Americans from Europeans, can best be summarised by considering the different ways in which representatives from these two cultures attempt to explain certain feature of their society.  Europeans, it is said, explain the present in terms of the past: “we do it this way because …”, is followed by some history, providing the antecedent causal story.  North Americans, by contrast, are said to explain the present in terms of the future: “we do it this way because …”, is followed by setting out some purpose, the pursuit of which orientates both current and subsequent actions.

I’m not really persuaded by this story of alleged cultural difference.  Among people I know, conservatism is common but evenly spread on both sides of the Atlantic, and pragmatism, although rarer, also exists on both continents.  Nonetheless, while dismissing the simplistic generalisation, it is worth noting that the character of this social attitude is important, since it helps shape many of our values and major life decisions.   Do we try to stay true to something in our past – whether personal, ancestral or cultural – or is our loyalty tied up with some aims and objectives that are not yet achieved, but that we are working towards?

At one extreme, there are people who believe in fate or destiny: we can but fulfil what was determined for us before we were born.  Our future is simply the unfolding of some genetic or astrological blueprint, from which there is no escape.  At the other extreme is a form of radical existentialism, which says that every morning we start our lives anew, and each choice we make, while it might be influenced or shaped by the past, should be a point of radical departure.   Most of us do not inhabit these extremes: we value the past, and acknowledge its influence on us, but we also want to be free to choose the most important goals that we work towards in life.

I think – indeed, I hope – that I am not greatly influenced by or beholden to the past. I find the study of history interesting, not least because it helps to show – in a precautionary way – the extent to which so much of contemporary life is held tight by the clutch of tradition, and the extent to which so many of my contemporaries are dulled by the ‘anæsthetic effect of custom’ (to borrow a phrase from Marcel Proust).  In the main, many of us, by default, avoid becoming the masters and mistresses of our own destiny, too easily satisfied with keeping the world more or less as we inherited it from our parents.  Today is much like yesterday, tomorrow will be much like today.

I am increasingly tempted by the pragmatist extreme, to want to make the world anew every day.  My conviction is growing that habit is death.   Last January, I visited the Kilauea volcano in Hawai’i, which has subsequently entered a phase of more vigorous eruption (please note, logicians consider post hoc ergo propter hoc to be a fallacy).  The hard, black volcanic rock that covers the lava belt, which runs from the crater to the sea, appears as ancient as the earth itself, but is in fact only thirty-five years old at most.  Walking across this lava, I realised that the earth’s crust is, in places, being made anew every day.  The creation story is still not over.

Living each day without regard for anything that went before seems impractical.  We cannot make everything new every day, just as we cannot re-build a boat at sea all at once.  We need to work gradually, one part of our lives at a time, holding some things stable while other things are changed.   The question is whether we work hard to re-fashion and improve the major things – our character, our values, our friendships, life goals – or whether we limit ourselves to the superficial – our clothes and hair, our phone company, the music in our earphones.

In his writings on ethics, Aristotle – cited above – observes that there are some activities that are valuable in themselves and others that are valuable because they are means by which to achieve a more valued goal.  When we pursue a course of action that leads towards a desired outcome, the outcome is better than the actions that led us to it.   Well, maybe.  There are some cases – simple examples, like queuing to buy a ticket, and life changing examples, like under-going chemotherapy – where no-one would willingly undertake the action unless it held out the promise of a benefit upon completion.  There are many means that are valued only for being means.

But there are other parts of our lives, where the means and the ends are entwined in more complicated fashion, where the pleasure and the value come from the pursuit of the goal as much as from the achievement of the goal.  The pleasures of exercise, or work, of friendship, are not to be found in some elevated teleological purpose, but in the activity itself.  These are goals that cannot ever be achieved, completed, perfected or consumed: they are like the horizon line, ever receding as we make progress towards it; they are the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the absence of which detracts nothing from the beauty of refracted light.

To put this another way, the problem with goals or purposes is that either we achieve them – in which case our lives are left bereft of meaning, without challenge and structure – or we fail to achieve them – in which case we are left unhappy.   To be purposeful, in the truest sense, not only do we need to set our own goals, but we need to set some important goals that are unattainable, whose value lies in their pursuit rather than their achievement.   We need to create some of our world anew every day and we need to be sure never to complete it.

The seventh day can only be a fast lane to unhappiness.

 

Orality and history

I went for a walk with Gordy last spring and met an oral historian.  I was impressed; I studied history at university, but it was “traditional” history – reading texts and crafting narratives which attempted to weave a credible story of how it is that events in the past came to happen, with the goal more broadly of understanding the process by which events unfold at any time, including our own, including tomorrow.  Oral history was mentioned peripherally – mostly in discussions on historiography, the study of history as a discipline – but it was almost casual.  Meeting a real, live oral historian was pretty cool, and meeting one with a dog and a child who lived in Maine was mind-blowing; it was like hearing rumors for years that a famous movie star lived in your town, and then you run into Bill Murray and it turns out he hangs out at the dog park, too.  Or to put it in my son’s terms, who’s now reading Harry Potter, it’s like being a muggle but finally getting to meet a wizard and realizing that yes, there are places like Hogwarts where it’s normal to be one.  (Not that that in any way means he’s getting the Hogwarts Castle Lego set for Christmas, mind you.) Continue reading “Orality and history”

Thanksgiving

I took my son to his second favorite steakhouse for dinner on Monday.  His favorite steakhouse shares a name with the neighbour who lived behind my apartment several years ago, when I first moved back to Seattle from London.  The neighbor was a poor gentleman with a history of drug problems; he had dealt with them, mostly, and was a wonderful partner.  My son thought he was terrific, and he watched over him (the neighbor watched my son, that is) several times.  The steakhouse was over the lake on the east side of King County and the cheapest steak they served was roughly a hundred dollars a plate.  For my birthday one year, I took the backyard neighbor, my upstairs neighbor, and my son for dinner at the steakhouse.  It was a glorious meal and reminded me that the United States was only slightly less racist than it was in 1876.  But my backyard neighbor got an amazing steak, with sides, and we all got the opportunity to tweak management.  It was a good day, although I still feel awkward about it.  The backyard neighbor wasn’t comfortable, even though he felt kind of amazing being able to invade the land of white privilege.  The idea of it was, though, that white privelege would have been comfortable with the backyard neighbor.  I was wrong, and that still kind of bothers me.

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Trading partners

I’ve been thinking a lot about international trade recently.  For those of you who don’t know me well, this requires some explanation.  First off, I’m a nerd, and thinking about complex issues makes me happy, and reading and writing about them, modelling them, solving out equations which express them – yep, all of that makes me happy.  Giggly, actually.  Second, trade has been in the news a lot lately, what with tariffs and the like being strewn about willy-nilly, so to the extent my nerdish pondering at any moment is driven somewhat by what’s in the news, trade would naturally occupy some sort of a place (on that note, I’m also thinking a lot about pumpkin recipes).  Third, and perhaps most importantly, international trade – and its counterparts in international finance and immigration – impacts me really personally.  I worked outside the US for almost seven years and harbor deep hopes that I will do so again someday – but the general trends and operating mechanics which enable and restrict flows of capital, labor, and goods between countries will play a big role in deciding whether or not I’ll have an opportunity to do that.  So the recent eruption of a good old fashioned 19th century tariff war, combined with increasingly strident tones about people who “Aren’t From Here”, has me thinking a lot.

Continue reading “Trading partners”

Wet Wisdom

Learning how to swim well is good analogy for learning how to live well.  In both, every part of your body has to move ‘just right’ to go through the water – or through the essence of water – as efficiently as possible.  In that sense, swimming well is much more complex than I initially thought.  But it is very rewarding!

 

First, if you refuse to swim, if you don’t move at all, chances are that you will drown under your own weight.  If you move a little bit, chances are that you will stay afloat and drift with the water’s current.  But to move as little as is required to survive is not really swimming; just like existing is not quite living.  In both cases, if you dare to choose a direction, chances are you will get there eventually: but maybe not before you exert yourself past your physical limit and stamina.

 

In learning how to swim, you have to recognize what is going on; you have to be aware of your body and how it is positioned in the water.  The water is the force resisting you, the force which you must harness to move forward. You make yourself healthy and svelte; so that your mass of flesh – your embodied intentions – is as dynamic as possible.  You lengthen your movements; so that with every stroke, you reach as far as you possibly can.  And you don’t reach only with your arms, but also with your shoulders and torso.  And you can’t forget your legs, which must continue to paddle while you focus elsewhere; each part of your body obeying a different rhythm and yet acting all at once.

 

In swimming, you want to stay centered – mindful – and perfectly aligned with your chosen direction: for every movement that is even slightly misaligned is a waste of energy.  To counteract a misstep, you end up flailing: your correcting movements straying further and further from your natural stoke.  If you find yourself lost in this loop of over-compensating moves, you are better off slowing down, find your inner axis, and aligned yourself with where you want to go.  Then move afresh as you naturally would.

 

To learn how to swim is also an intense breathing exercise.  In other sports, you’re told to focus on breathing to make sure that your muscles have enough oxygen for their tasks.  In swimming, you must plan ahead every breath simply to avoid choking yourself! But even something as essential as breathing can unbalance you.  For when I breath, I sometimes get off-kilter.  After three strokes, there is still too much air in my lungs and I need to exhale and then inhale, which takes way too long !  And by the time I am done, my arms and head are in the wrong spots.  And I’m flailing again.

 

When that happens, it is tempting to simply stop.  Chances are that the water is shallow enough to just stand in place.  At last, you can take deep breaths and let the water massage your skin.  There is no shame in standing still.  But that is not exercise.  That is not swimming.  That is not living to the fullest.

 

In swimming, success or failure is not black-or-white.  To be sure, if you get to where you want to go, then you certainly achieved your goal. It might not be the goal you ‘ought’ to have pursued, but that is a different question altogether.  You can also be successful if you swim faster than you could before; the few shaved seconds proving that you have learned something new about yourself.  Any knowledge gained is worthy too.  If you are Micheal Phelps, you won the genetic lottery.  His success is not so much all the gold medals that he earned, but the fact that he was smart enough to find out what he was best suited for, and training hard to become all that he could be.  But if you too are swimming to the best of your abilities, putting as much stamina in each stoke as you have in you to give, then your swimming is a success.  In both swimming and living, success is to make the most of the body and energy we have to work with.

 

I enjoy being in the water because of how it makes me feel: calm and serene.   Like in my mother’s womb, I can feel my body’s weightlessness and yet I know that I am surrounded by resistance.   I start where the water ends, and I end where the water starts.  I know that I am not of the same essence as the water, because I need the air and the land above it to live.  Yet the endless repetition of movements creates within me a deep meditation: my mind wanders but can’t act because my body is already busy with its swimming.   So the mind wavers between focus on the task at hand – the body, the water, the movement, the direction – and random thoughts emerging from pure unconsciousness.

 

For a few months now, I’m working on swimming well.   I share a coach with other drop-ins at the Aquatic center.  I like when Jim explains swimming to me.  When I change a movement and it makes other muscles hurt, then I know that I getting better.  He likes to teach me because I am able to intellectually ‘see’ what my movements should be.  And I am mindful enough to embody his advice, in my arms and legs and lungs…

 

Learning how to swim well is not done instantaneously, but Jim is a patient coach. So once a week, Jim drills me – and my fellow ‘retirees’ – to expand our energy as efficiently as possible. What Jim values most is consistency: swimming the last 50m with as much heart as the first.  So I keep going back: to learn how to swim well and to do more with the body and the time I have on this Earth.  Because, with a good technique, a commitment to be mindful of both what you do and what you should do, and a sustainable pace, one can get very far indeed!