Wednesday, May 21, 2008

there are two kinds of people in the world...

At times, I feel a little like a fish out of water. In Moscow, I loved the discussions and debates, the papers and the books, and all the nerdy things that made up my college education; but back here in Canada, that sort of thing seems to be looked down on. I was talking to one of my co-workers the other day, and he was talking about a relative who was into philosophy. "But that's not for me," he said. "I'd rather do something."

As if philosophy isn't doing something. I know what he means, though. He means doing something physical, rather than just sitting around, doing (for all he can see) absolutely nothing. It's a rather interesting kind of snobbery, though, if you think about it. We look down on people who read, who like to debate philosphical or theological issues, who enjoy discussing hypotheticals. I've even heard people up here bragging about how they don't read, how they haven't picked up a book in years. Of course, the opposite type of snobbery is still very real. Those who read regularly often mock those who make a living doing seemingly menial tasks, the "common" people, the ordinary citizens.

It would be nice to see a more balanced appreciation for these two types of people. After all, we aren't all exactly the same and we shouldn't all try to have exactly the same careers. If we all just "worked" or if we all just "thought", the world would be a very boring place. We ought to recognize our need for both careers, and show gratitude for those who have chosen a path different from our own. The philosphers or theologians should not see themselves as having a loftier vocation than the garbage man, but the garbage man shouldn't mock the very real work that these thinkers do. And it might help to go over to the other side once in a while. I'd like to see a professor with his hands dirty or a oilfield worker with a book in his hand. Wouldn't that be amazing?

Saturday, May 3, 2008

happiness meditation, #3

He stands at the bow of the ship, his whale-bone leg resting firmly in its hole, and watches the men at work. One young sailor seems particularly happy this day, whistling a merry tune as he walks the deck. He must be one of those romantics, the captain thinks; one of those men who sees sailing as an adventure, who thrills at the thought of waves and surf, who dreams of far-away ports and exotic lands, for whom "the great flood-gates of the wonder-world [had] swung open"; and there he was, cheerfully doing his work while the captain, their fearless leader known for being "desperate moody, and savage sometimes", glowered at them over the railing "with a crucifixion in his face." He hears the songs, the excited cries of the sailors, but he cannot understand their happiness. To himself, he mutters, "All loveliness is anguish to me, since I can ne'er enjoy. Gifted with the high perception, I lack the low, enjoying power; damned, most subtly and most malignantly! damned in the midst of Paradise!" What the captain wants, what would truly make him happy—the Whale!—consumes his every thought, his every waking and sleeping moment, this single "unachieved revengeful desire." And so he watched his crew, sees their joy, their complete happiness in their toil; he observes the fulfillment of their pedestrian wants, until he can no longer stand it. His voice cracking, his shaking finger pointing at the young man he first noticed, the words spewing from his lips: "Thou art too damned jolly!"

* All quotes from Herman Melville's Moby Dick.

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