The Hoosier Philosopher

 I've been talking a lot about Marcus Aurelius lately, and it would only be appropriate to mention the other great philosopher, in this case the Hoosier philosopher, who shaped my early days: my grandfather Herbert, aka Jum, my Dad's Dad. Over the decades in class I've often found myself mouthing some odd aphorisms, which, upon reflection, probably came from my grandfather. A short list of these rules of life would include:

"If you want to run with the big dogs you have to be able to pee in the high weeds." I said this in class decades ago and a student paused and said, "OK, I think I know what that means, but where in the hell did that come from (I was even more pretentious in my youth, trying, vainly, to hide my rustic upbringing)?" I figured out pretty quickly that it was a Jumism that had been lurking beneath the surface, waiting for this moment to emerge.

"Women are like streetcars, if you miss one go to any street corner and they'll be another one along in about five minutes." This came from the man who one day saw a teenage girl, fell in love with her on the spot, married her, and remained married to her until his death over fifty years later. So, yeah, we took it with a grain of salt, although it's not bad advice.

"You'd starve to death with a ham sandwich in your back pocket." OK, not all the advice was positive. Still, it was a folksy, and generally painless, way to point out that I was acting like a dumbass.

Jum was a kind, patient soul who I never saw raise his voice (although, doubtless, my own father might not have the same memory); he's the man I should have turned out to be.

Here's a picture of Jum working in his basement shop. I was allowed to help, and by that I mean he would give me a hammer and nails and a board and I was encouraged to bang on things happily. It's much how I would "help" my grandmother Alice run her country story, which mainly took the form of me sitting behind the counter and drinking Chocola.

Meditations #22

 Life is short, and this earthly existence has but a single fruit to yield - holiness within, and selfless action without.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Six

Lately I've been thinking about this passage quite a bit for a number of reasons. First off, you can see why so many people of faith, no matter the faith, have been drawn to Marcus Aurelius over the centuries. Secondly, and most importantly, what an extraordinarily beautiful and essential message. Truthfully, is this not humans at their absolute best? That is, when we assiduously strive for that peace of green fields inside us all, while also living a life in service to others, aren't we living that "best life" (a term that people throw around so effortlessly without a shred of self-reflection)? Finally, and more personally, this is a passage that I've read countless times over the decades and it never resonated with me the way it does now. As I've grown into a person of faith, and found myself devoting more and more of my time to giving back through volunteering, the natural marriage between "holiness within, and selfless action without" became glaringly apparent. What is the point of any of this if this is not your goal? The point of this can't be to make money or become famous or to impose your will on others religiously. In Islam we are reminded that every act of kindness is charity, keeping in mind that charity is one of the requirements of the faith, one example among many of our attempt to emphasize the same thing that Marcus Aurelius is saying. Once again, MA nails it.

Meditations #21

 I travel the roads of nature until the hour when I shall lie down and be at rest; yielding back my last breath into the air from which I had drawn it daily, and sinking down upon the earth from which my father derived the seed, my mother the blood, and my nurse the milk of my being - the earth which for so many years has furnished my daily meat and drink, and, though so grievously abused, still suffers me to tread its surface.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Five

We never think of Marcus Aurelius is as an environmentalist, and, certainly, in the modern sense he was not, but this utterly poignant reflection on nature would make any modern lover of the environment nod their head knowingly and sadly. Of course the Earth has long suffered from a Stockholm syndrome-like relationship with its kidnappers, that is, humans. Considering what is happening with global climate change it looks like she has finally come to grips with how we have "grievously abused" her and may be packing up to leave. Alice doesn't live here anymore.

Pedro

 It occurred to me that I've never posted a picture of Pedro (that is, Peter, everybody calls him Pedro) who runs the South Burlington Food Shelf.  As I've discussed, I was drawn into the FS, not reluctantly, but with a sense that I was busy and I was only going to play a limited role. And then one day became two days which became three days - and sometimes four (and we're only open three) - and the Advisory Board, and, oh, here's your own key, and . . . Of course, it is a complete joy, and, as my friend Steve and I were discussing yesterday, the FS kept us sane (or nearly sane) throughout the pandemic. Part of the allure is certainly service to the greater community, but I'd be lying if I failed to point out how fun Pedro makes the experience, through Trivia Night (he comes up with all the trivia questions) on Thursday through the final mad rush on Saturday morning. 

Here we are enjoying a lovely afternoon at the St. John's Club.

Meditations #20

 Look beneath the surface: never let a thing's intrinsic quality or worth escape you.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Six

I've just completed the first week of the beginning of my thirty-first year of full-time university teaching (actually, you could stretch that out a few more years because I was teaching a full-time adjunct load, but it was thirty-one years ago that I began to get things like, oh, benefits and healthcare; once again, let's hope that this generation is smart enough to break that terrible link between employment and healthcare). This is a line that I've quoted to my students for years and years, and, truthfully, there can't be many more important lessons than this one. A couple years ago I put in a proposal to teach a first year class based on the Meditations but it did not make the list. At this point in my career I think I'm mainly just viewed by my colleagues as that fossilized remnant of an age thankfully past, someone who willfully and foolishly refuses to die or retire; that professor who thinks students should read the Meditations or Journey to the West or Crime and Punishment. 

Meditations #19

 Think often of the bond that unites all things in the universe, and their dependence upon one another. All are, as it were, interwoven, and in consequence linked in mutual affection; because their orderly succession is brought about by the operation of the currents of tension, and the unity of all substance.

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Six

I'll be heading off to volunteer at the Food Shelf in a couple minutes, and it's during that time period that I feel this passage above most directly. A bad break here or there, horrible untimely news during a doctor's visit, a wreck caused by glancing down to change the radio, and I could change places with our customers at the FS in an instant. We are one community. Somehow along the way we've lost sight of this great truism, partially because of intellectual and spiritual laziness and partially because of agents such as Trump or Fox News which gain power and wealth by generating division and hatred. As I've said before, when I think of the Divine I think of the kindness at the heart of all things, because, with few exceptions, that is the common lot of all humans, until we are taught, too willingly, to hate others.

Swimming Upstream

Over the years the blog has served many purposes, from actually capturing foreign travel experiences to ruminating on Proust or music to actually serving as a tool for personal reflection. I snapped this picture at my apartment complex pool one day (a very good friend and I were swapping exercise photos). It was also important to capture the image because I now spend and awful amount of time swimming. A couple months ago I began a reconfiguring of my diet and exercise regimen, essentially taking a more intentional approach to both. Yes, I'm not going to go quietly into that good night. Swimming is something I should have taken up years ago and, with the exception of a couple months in Abu Dhabi, I simply haven't. Soon, soon, all too soon the weather will turn here in the #YankeeHellhole and I'll have to move the laps inside to the gym, so at this point I think I'm just working on developing muscles, muscle memory, and stamina. About a week ago I had this surprisingly easy swim where I actually felt an odd sense of joy, so I guess I'm figuring out the swimming thing.

This is me tinkering with the setting on my phone; I'd never tried the black and white setting before. I was shooting for film noir and I think I ended up with post-mortem. I've been thinking about buying a nice camera, so this may all be part of the thought process.