Friday, March 23, 2012

The Father of us All



Blog is a portmanteau word; that is, it’s a mashing up of two other words, in this case web and log.  So, by definition, a blog is something written for the web.  But I’m going to extend that definition just a bit.  I do this with the probably specious logic that if the web had been around 432 years ago, “The Father of Us All” would have written for the web.  But of course that wasn’t the case, so Michel Eyquem de Montaigne wrote his blogs for publication, his only way of sharing them.  But in any modern sense of the word blog, blogs are what Montaigne wrote.

Montaigne is generally credited with being the first to use the term essay to describe his writing, drawing from the French word essai, meaning trial or attempt.  And that is exactly what he set out to do in his essays: attempt to understand himself.  And through himself understand something of the world.  The continued popularity of his essays attests to how well he succeeded.

Everything is grist for Montaigne’s verbal mill.  Most importantly, his main topic is “How to Live”; or, more accurately, how to live a good life, a correct or honorable life.*  And in the exploration of that seminal question, he wrote about the major perplexities of life: how to cope with the fear of death; how to you deal with the loss of a dear friend; how to live with failure.  But he also wrote about the minor perplexities of life: how to cheer up a sad friend; wondering what his cat is thinking; and what to do if a friend thinks a witch has cast a spell on him.  The answers he found came from examining his own life--and sharing that life with us, his reader.

The tower on his estate where Montaigne wrote his essays.

And it’s a fascinating life!  We find out he likes melons, “that he prefers to have sex lying down rather than standing up, that he cannot sing, and that he loves vivacious company and often gets carried away by the spark of repartee”* and oh so much more.

Montaigne doesn’t have an agenda; he’s not pushing some point of view.  The Montaigne at the beginning of the essays is not the same Montaigne we find at the end.  He often comes up short of definitive answers.  But the reader of these essays will not come away unchanged.

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Some selected quotes, located on-line:
--“When I play with my cat, who knows if I am not a pastime to her more than she is to me?”
--“A man who fears suffering is already suffering from what he fears.”
--“Age imprints more wrinkles in the mind than it does on the face.”
--“On the highest throne in the world, we still sit only on our own bottom.”
--“When I am attacked by gloomy thoughts, nothing helps me so much as running to my books. They quickly absorb me and banish the clouds from my mind.”
--“There is nothing more notable in Socrates than that he found time, when he was an old man, to learn music and dancing, and thought it time well spent.”
--“I speak the truth, not so much as I would, but as much as I dare; and I dare a little more as I grow older.”
--And perhaps his most famous: “Que sais-je?” (What do I know?)
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*I encourage you read a delightful and insightful book about Montaigne by Sarah Bakewell: How to Live: Or a Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer. There are many translations of Montaigne’s essays; I use the M. A. Screech translation, available most everywhere, including as an e-book.

Friday, March 16, 2012

The Tao of Blogging


And so I return to blogging.  My last entry was December 28, 2011.  I quit mostly because I had to figure out how to deal with losing my website software from Mac; it’s moving into the “cloud,” or, since it’s an Apple gizmo, the iCloud.  I still have only the foggiest notion of what that means.  But I do know that in June, all my previous blogs and my web site are going to disappear.  Don’t panic!  I’ve saved them all and will be publishing them--and starting a new web site.  Ah, I hear a great collective sigh of relief.  I am gratified.

But from the last blog to this one has given me some time to think about why I do these blogs.  All kidding aside, it’s not because of a thunderous demand for them; in fact, my readership over the years mostly consisted of a few close friends.  And yet here I go again.  Why? 

I think the answer is, quite simply, that I write these because I enjoy writing them.  We clearly don’t need another blog out there.  In 2008 there were 184 million blogs; the number must be exponentially higher now.  I grow weak thinking about it.  It hardly seems worth the effort.  A grain of sand on a very big beach.  And yet here I go again.

I can’t even argue that it’s some sort of immortality; once I’m gone, these blogs will disappear. And I certainly can’t argue that this is great prose; I hope it’s adequate, but I have no higher hopes than that.  And yet here I go again. 

I do hope some will read these blogs.  If you’re interested in my life in Chicago, the events I go to, my thoughts on politics and culture and . . .  Well, this blog isn’t restricted to subject. It will go where it may.  And when.

I’ll end this blog--and begin the blogs--with a quote from the Tao Te Ching (the Cleary translation), which in its wonderfully paradoxical way states my goals:

81.
True words are not beautiful,
beautiful words are not true.
The good are not argumentative,
the argumentative are not good.
Knowers do not generalize,
generalists do not know.
Sages do not accumulate anything
but give everything to others,
having more the more they give.
The Way of heaven
helps and does not harm.
The Way for humans
is to act without contention.