Are an extra hundred words enough to make up for a lost day? No, but seeing old friends may be worth the loss.
Onwards.
During a recent conversation with my martial arts teacher, we discussed certain “life narratives” that we create for ourselves. These narratives shape our lives by giving day-to-day occurrences meaning in a larger narrative. A minor car accident, for instance, is proof our own exceptionally bad luck, or our impossible clumsiness, or a Divine reminder to let go of attachments to the material world, or a million other possibilities. Psychotheraphy, of course, is partly about bringing such narratives to the surface, and engaging in conscious behaviors that help rewrite any undesirable stories. During out discussion he gave language to two more that haunt me, namely the desire to be, or believing that one is, more than human or less than human. Both these narratives have one very worldly effect, exhaustion.
If I am more than human, I do not need the sleep required by mere mortals and can, should, work more hours with more intensity than my peers. The narrative ‘logic’ is at once helpful and harmful. I may, at times, be motivated to keep going despite some obstacle and this may indeed be a good decision. When the drive turns competitive, however, then the source of pleasure turns from doing and finishing work to its quality relative to one’s peers. Even more troublesome, and this is my struggle, is that once motivating narrative transformation into a dictum; why have you stopped working? There is always a chance to do more, and through that possibility enters the guilt of not doing so.
more later…I don’t feel like writing right now
My last post went off track when I realized that Crusoe inadvertently links Christian morality, the Good, with material accumulation, collecting goods, through the loosely cognized term “Use.” While that proved interesting, I would like to return to the moment I meant to focus on yesterday.
The context is the same. Crusoe is pondering Providence, reading the circumstances of his life through Christian morality, when he begins the ironic sermon against Covetousness I touched on yesterday. As Crusoe goes on, however, Use is linked to something even more slippery than the Good and goods, namely thought itself. “Another Reflection,” says Crusoe, “was of great Use to me,” only a moment after he finishes his lecture on Covetousness like this: “All our Discontents about what we want, appear’d to me, to spring from the Want of Thankfulness for what we have” (130). An ascetic reading of these two moments tells us that one should be ever happy because ever thankful for what one has, reflection and its uses. Reflection, then, becomes an itemized good that has Use and, insofar as it is being put to good use, is also the owner’s Good.
Reflection does not necessarily equal reason, rationality or a host of other things. For Crusoe, it seems to me, Reflection is linked with morality if not a moral quality itself. That is, Reflection is taking a God’s Eye view of myself; this is its highest Use and if this God given good is employed in that manner, it is also doing-being Good. And the source of happiness.
The introduction of pleasure into this equation is rather odd. Employing my Reflection, I realize that I should be thankful for what I have including, and perhaps especially, the ability to Reflect itself. If I am thankful, says Crusoe, I am also content. This final move is the oddity, perhaps only because I am collapsing contentment, happiness and pleasure, each of which have their own histories. My terminological sloppiness, however, may be productive here because it allows for the uninstrumental to emerge at the heart of an instrumental equation. In other words, pleasure and happiness are the end points; they cannot, or are not, Useful in the same way that Reflection, or even the Good, is.
This is not simply mental masturbation. As the opening of yesterday’s post indicates, the context––perhaps stakes––of these thoughts lie at the nexus of aesthetics, pleasure, use value, cognition and perhaps, if yesterday’s “good”ness is included, imperialism.
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Unedited
Ever get the feeling that what you have just written is total garbage. Yeah, me too.
Day two of a new discipline is always very hard. I was going to say “the hardest” but that seemed hyperbolic and, more importantly, ran against the realization that every day of a difficult discipline is ‘the hardest’. Lest this exercise turn into a narcissistic admiration of my difficulties, let me turn my attention to two observations made during today’s reading.
First is Robinson Crusoe, which has lovely introduction by J. Donald Crowley in my Oxford World’s Classics edition. Among the many things Crowley’s introduction provides is a nice review of the criticism to date, as it should. Notable among these is Ian Watt’s reading of Defoe’s protagonist as “Economic Man,” the details of which deserve more thought than I have time for at the moment. Watt’s term, however, rose to the surface because some friends and I had been discussing “use value” in relation to both Crusoe and aesthetics more generally. Today’s reading included Crusoe reflecting on his condition, especially his wants.
The section runs for few pages and is encased in a larger discourse on his relationship to Providence, previous “wicked” ways and current repentance. The Island is thus part great punishment, for his past sins, and great fortune, because it brings him closer to God. (Crowley provides a brief history of this paradox, termed “the fortunate fall” by theologians). Amidst these reflections, Crusoe says, “all the good Things of this World, are no farther good to us, than they are for our Use” (129). There are two conclusions to be drawn from this statement. First, given the larger religious context and the diatribe on “Covetousness” that follows, Crusoe suggests that we acquire only what we need and nothing more. Second, there are “good Things” in the world that are potentially “good to us” and these two ‘goods’ are linked by “Use” (129). Things and morality are joined together as “goods” when they are joined in goods that are of Use. This is why Crusoe can remark, without irony or self-awareness, that he is “Lord of the whole Mannor,” “King, or Emperor over the whole country which I had Possession of,” a short paragraph before his discourse against “Covetousness” (128).
Here, then, is a short primer on the “rationale” behind British Imperialism. Crusoe’s anti-covetousness stand is cancelled out by the potential of good Things to be good to him. That is, the world must be explored for good Things, which must then be tested to see if they can be potentially good to us. The natives, of course, are not aware of all the uses of their local stuff and so must be pushed aside for their own good. Even more, they are not using their lives for the ultimate good that is worshipping and serving the Christian Go(o)d; thus, they too can be put to good use. If I become “King, or Emperor over the whole country,” it is not because I am covetous, but because Providence is blessing me for doing Good (with goods); I am simply putting all the good things in the world that can be good to us to good Use.
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Unedited:
None of this was what I was originally thinking about, but hopefully it has done me some good.
W h a t a r e t h e s e t h I n g s ? Disjointed words, broken into letters without homes. The space in between is very personal because it is not empty, but rather filled with the anxiety of perfectionism, fear, and the inevitable failure of one’s abilities to live up to their ideals.
All of this is a rather abstract, perhaps pompous, entry into a simple, personal project: 200 words. Put down two hundred words per day on this blog. Why make a personal project public? Simply because knowing that these words will be ‘out there’ raises the very demons I am trying to exorcise: Judgment and its brother Fear. The prose will have to be readable, perhaps meaningful, and even edited slightly. Whatever is necessary.
Some of the aims of this project have already been stated: discipline, anxiety control etc. Ultimately, however, the purpose is to have no purpose or goal. My hope is that the process becomes its own meaningful end, and enjoyable again. When the ends take over, there is little less enjoyable than being and doing under their authoritarian rule. In this chosen academic life, being and writing are intertwined; perhaps, by disciplining writing I can discipline being and Be without end.
