Everything that seems to us imperishable tends towards decay; a position in society, like anything else, is not created once and for all, but, just as much as the power of an Empire, is continually rebuilding itself by a sort of perpetual process of creation, which explains the apparent anomalies in social or political history in the course of half a century. The creation of the world did not occur at the beginning of time, it occurs every day.
Marcel Proust, The Fugitive, pp. 685-686
"The creation of the world did not occur at the beginning of time, it occurs every day."
My excellent friend Steve Wehmeyer likes to tell this story. Two years ago we were walking around Stone Town on the island of Unguja and we were talking about how I had dragooned him into going to Zanzibar in the first place. At that point something like the following conversation took place:
GS: "We should really combine two classes together and come back here in January, and for two weeks and not just one."
SW: "Yeah, sure, that would be amazing if we could somehow make that happen."
GS: "Oh, it's already real. I've imagined it. Everything else is just details."
SW: "Thank you, Lawrence."
Steve, of course, was, gently, giving me a little grief by calling me Lawrence, as in Lawrence of Arabia. I also get the occasional "Nothing is written." To be fair, I've earned the abuse, and certainly much more. I do tend to think that everything is possible, and that no idea is too big, and that once you've imagined the big, crazy idea all that's left is filling in the details. And as it became clear that we were going to be able to put together two classes for a year-long experience with a two week trip in January, I said to him (I'm paraphrasing, but only a bit), "You know what would be cool? What if we put together four classes with a trip over January? We could have thirty students and four professors? No one's ever done that." His response: "Nothing is written." So, about next year's trip to Zanzibar with four professors . . .
Marcel Proust, The Fugitive, pp. 685-686
"The creation of the world did not occur at the beginning of time, it occurs every day."
My excellent friend Steve Wehmeyer likes to tell this story. Two years ago we were walking around Stone Town on the island of Unguja and we were talking about how I had dragooned him into going to Zanzibar in the first place. At that point something like the following conversation took place:
GS: "We should really combine two classes together and come back here in January, and for two weeks and not just one."
SW: "Yeah, sure, that would be amazing if we could somehow make that happen."
GS: "Oh, it's already real. I've imagined it. Everything else is just details."
SW: "Thank you, Lawrence."
Steve, of course, was, gently, giving me a little grief by calling me Lawrence, as in Lawrence of Arabia. I also get the occasional "Nothing is written." To be fair, I've earned the abuse, and certainly much more. I do tend to think that everything is possible, and that no idea is too big, and that once you've imagined the big, crazy idea all that's left is filling in the details. And as it became clear that we were going to be able to put together two classes for a year-long experience with a two week trip in January, I said to him (I'm paraphrasing, but only a bit), "You know what would be cool? What if we put together four classes with a trip over January? We could have thirty students and four professors? No one's ever done that." His response: "Nothing is written." So, about next year's trip to Zanzibar with four professors . . .
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