Page By Page

 "Page by page I slowly and lucidly reread everything I've written, and I find that it's all worthless and should have been left unwritten. The things we achieve, whether empires or sentences, have (because they've been achieved) the worst aspect of real things: the fact they're perishable. But that's not what worries or grieves me about these pages as I reread them now, in these idle moments. What grieves me is that it wasn't worthy my trouble to write them, and the time I spent doing it earned me nothing but the illusion, now shattered, that it was worth doing."

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, ch. 169

So, I'm not the only one who thinks this as they write . . . 

However, I think you can also read this on the broader, more metaphysical, level as well. Yes, Pessoa is reflecting upon writing, but he's also, in a sense, obliquely commenting on life itself. Was any of it worth doing? Like writing, life has only "earned me nothing but the illusion, now shattered, that it was worth doing." But you know, the thing about Pessoa is that, at least in my now multiple readings of The Book of Disquiet, he's not as completely despondent as he seems at first blush. I think he's disgusted and disheartened by the brutish coarseness of life, and thus maybe his inability to bring more beauty into the world. Again, at least in my mind, I think he's definitely inspired by beauty, driven by beauty, desirous of beauty, and in the end I think he achieves this on several levels (and through several heteronyms).

Appreciation

 One of the things that Cyndi and Steve and I often remark upon, quietly and privately, is how few students actually say thank you after the endless work of designing, constructing, and leading one of our student trips. I mean, seriously, it's a very small percentage who show any appreciation, even a grunting thank you. It's their generation, but also a broader societal, cultural foolish notion of promoting education as if its a business, and thus our students are customers, and the customers are always right, so of course they shouldn't be expected to show any appreciation for our "basic" services.

That said, there are definitely students who are extraordinarily appreciative and thankful. Here's a gift that my excellent student Addie, and her parents, sent me after the fall's trip to Jordan. As we'd say in the Midwest: they're good people.

I mean, seriously, a Portuguese cookbook!! The thing is, it wasn't a trip to Portugal, so obviously the students were listening when I reflected on my love for the country (second only to Jordan).

And to top it off, what a lovely note. We certainly don't run these trips for recognition, but it is deeply appreciated when it shows up.

Marley and Marley

 My students clearly have too much time on their hands.

To be fair, Wehmeyer is demonstrably shorter than me.

An Earlier Birthday

 And my former student Miranda sent along this picture from an earlier birthday, in this case in Zanzibar, when I led her class there.

I'm usually opposed to any and all selfies, but I vouchsafe this one.

Birthday Lunch

 Recently I celebrated my 63rd birthday (as is well-documented I don't like birthdays which end in a _3 because you can't pretend that you're still cruising through the previous decade - 63 is clearly 70, and 70 is 100) but this one was lovely. Janet was down in Boston on work-related activities, but my friends Kevin and Marcelle ventured into the wilderness of central Vermont to treat me to lunch at Sarducci's. It was a lovely time.

Kevin philosophizing.

My son thinks Marcelle and I are related mainly because we have the same hair (a gift from my grandmother Maude).

The Weariness of All Hypotheses

 "The countryside is always where we aren't. There, and there alone, do real trees and real shade exist.

Life is the hesitation between an exclamation and a question. Doubt is resolved by a period.

Miracles are God's laziness - or rather, the laziness we ascribe to God when we invent miracles.

The Gods are the incarnation of what we can never be.

The weariness of all hypotheses . . ."

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, ch. 375

The beauty of The Book of Disquiet is Pessoa endlessly observing, reflecting, and asking questions - and leaving us to not answer them as we see fit. 

Marjie and Dave

 One of the great joys of our recent trip west was spending a couple days with my long-time friend Dave (it will be forty years in 2024 - although he, selfishly, doesn't see that as an automatic invitation to make a trip to Namibia with me - to be fair, Jack, who will mark fifty years of friendship in the same year, also refuses to go) and his wife Marjie. If there is anything stranger than me getting married at this point in time it's Dave getting married at this point in time. They are so wonderful together and I could not be happier for them.

This picture was made even more special by Scout, complete with his ugly holiday sweater, photobombing it.

Meditations #38

 "As surgeons keep their lancets and scalpels always at hand for the sudden demands of their craft, so keep your principles constantly in readiness for the understanding of things both human and divine; never in the most trivial action forgetting how intimately the two are related. For nothing human can be done aright without reference to the divine, and conversely."

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book Three

I initially chose this passage because of the opening sentiments, but eventually it was the closing reflections that mean the most to me (which shows how we change - and hopefully grow - with age). Yes, you definitely need to "keep your principles constantly in readiness."  Over the years of this blog, which are now quite a few, I reflected upon what those principles entail. For a long time I would have said that it was mainly the foundational concepts laid out in the Meditations. They still come back to me almost unbidden. Not surprisingly over the last decade I would have enriched that philosophical worldview with concepts from the Quran and the Hadith. Oddly, I think I would have rounded it out with more precise, and literary, reflections from Proust's Remembrance of Things Past and now Pessoa's Book of Disquiet. Of course, MA is getting at something far more profound: that is, it's not simply enough to have read these works; rather, you need to constantly work to incorporate them into your daily life, to make sure that they're not simply quotes that you write down, but instead are treasured and active maxims that shape your life.

So that is the opening section, but what about the closing one? This is what Islam has brought to my life. It has also deepened my understanding of the Meditations. Before my conversion I don't think I would have understood how "intimately" the human and divine are related. Now I feel that you can not begin to understand one without the other - and thus understand life without either. 

Back Again

Somehow, for the first time in almost three years, since the dawn of the COVID age, I managed to lead a student overseas trip. Naturally enough, it was to Jordan. Obviously, there will be many pictures on the way. It was a beautiful trip, although also a very frustrating one (mainly because of my continued physical decline).

One of the students snapped this picture of me on the rock ledge above Suleyman's camp, looking out over the Wadi Rum. I'd like to think that I'm looking at my screen to post pictures of the students on the parents Facebook page so that they know their little darling are alive - but I was probably just texting Janet or checking on my fantasy football teams.

Spiritualized Into Night

 Interlude

"This dreadful hour when I shrink to being possible or rise to mortality.

If only the morning wouldn't dawn. If only I and this alcove and its interior atmosphere where I belong could all be spiritualized into Night, absolutized into Darkness, so that not so much as a shadow of me would remain that would taint, with my memory, whatever lived on."

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, ch. 185

I've sometimes proposed that Neil Young is the rock artist of the liminal space. By that I mean that so many of his best songs dwell in that space in between worlds ("There is a town in north Ontario, with dreams, comfort, memory, despair"). I guess I would make the same argument in regards to Pessoa.  So much of his work exists in between the internal and external worlds, between beauty and ugliness, between the sacred and the profane. Of course, this means I need to turn the lens back on myself and reflect upon why I'm drawn to artists like that. Or maybe the argument is not that specific - maybe all artists dwell in their own liminal spaces?

Metallic Age of Barbarians

 "In this metallic age of barbarians, only a relentless cultivation of our own ability to dream, to analyze and to captivate can prevent our personality from degenerating into nothing or else into a personality like all the rest."

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, ch. 369

Every time I think I can't love Pessoa's The Book of Disquiet more I turn another page, and, well, love it more. It still amazes me that I made it to age sixty-two without reading The Book of Disquiet. I'm definitely going to teach a class centered around Pessoa, both the book itself and his poetry (and that of his heteronyms). His desire to dream, to pursue a pure internal life, in opposition to "this metallic age of barbarians," seems even more important now than he wrote these words nearly a century ago. The last two and a half year of physical decline have left me tired and frustrated, but maybe my shrinking physical world is not necessarily a terrible thing if it allows me to delve more clearly and cleanly into my own internal world, my own dreams.

Love

 "We can die if all we've done is love."

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet, ch. 234

This is both a highly atypical and also appropriately typical statement from Pessoa. It's atypical, I would propose, because Pessoa knew desperately little about love. Apparently he never actually had sex, although he kissed a few times, and he may or may not have been in love once (she was in love with him, but his love for her is much more complicated to ascertain). It's typical, I would argue, because it's, well, typically opaque. Is Pessoa discarding the importance and beauty of love or exactly the opposite? I guess it resonated with me right now because I simply assumed that, in my early sixties, I was done with that glorious tomfoolery. Maybe it's enough to head out the door while you're in love with someone, no matter how brief the time you have together, as compared to reflecting back upon a lengthy lost love. I'm not certain the answer, but I also feel very blessed at the moment.

Travels

 Once the power returned we were able to make our planned holidays trips. First we made our way to visit Janet's family (more on that soon) and then off to Indiana to see mine. It was a manic trip, but a profitable one.

I was able to sit down for long chats with my Dad (pictured here with one of the three cats that seem to perpetually surround him) on three straight days. Like most fathers and sons we have our issues, but I think we're in a good place. After our second chat I told Janet that I thought we had spent the time "saying goodbye without saying goodbye."

We also swung by Indianapolis to see my brother Eric and his long-time partner, Linda. It was way too brief of a visit, but still a lovely one.

Gimme Shelter

 As I've noted in the past, over the last couple decades I've spent a number of strange times in strange places, especially, it seems, during holidays: being wished Happy 4th of July by a border guard as I crossed from Croatia to Montenegro; killing the better part of a birthday in the Istanbul airport; laying on the sand in the Jordanian desert, next to a broken down bus, on a birthday; many Thanksgiving meals in the Wadi Rum; celebrating New Year's Eve on a plane on the way to Iceland; driving across the Namibian desert on a birthday - and on and on. That said, maybe my strangest holiday related event was sheltering in the Calais Elementary School on Christmas Eve. Now, to be fair, we had a place to stay in the cabin, but I had Janet drop me off so that I could charge up the portable battery we had just purchased (CPAPs and power outages do not go well together). While there I had to fill out a form explaining why I was using the shelter. Happily, I was just passing through, but it brought home once again the unfairness and heartless at the heart of so much of life in America. We had ended up there because the electricity had gone out in our cabin for thirty-six hours (actually, we skated, many of our neighbors had it much worse). Driving by the closed Maple Corners Store I saw this sign out front: "Shelter at the EHS - Heat, Soup, Charging."

It was a great place to hang out, although I don't know where folks went at 8:30 p.m. on a Christmas Eve with no electricity.