Sunday, July 24, 2011

Excerpts from "This I Believe," Part 3

Because what's better than reading at the beach? (Many things. Alas, this book is actually good and I enjoy reading it.)


(Allison, Jay, and Dan Gediman. This I Believe: The Personal Philosophies of Remarkable Men and Women. New York: This I Believe, 2006. Print.)

- "...it was okay to be perplexed, to be torn by issues, to look at the world and not feel inadequate because it would not sort itself out cleanly. In the company of the confident, I had always envied their certainty...But in time, I came to accept, even embrace, what I called 'my confusion,' and to recognize it as a friend and ally, no apologies needed."
As I was reading this, I couldn't help but think that it exactly pertained to me. Namely with matters of religion. I've always had uncertain beliefs, and I've been certain of my uncertainty, but I've never actually embraced it. I've had talks all the way up and down the spectrum about God and religion and what have you, but have maintained my "we can't really ever know" belief. I usually regress to Candide's philosophy of cultivating our garden and not worrying about philosophizing, but I find these talks to be a sort of way of shaping my beliefs, and fine-tuning what they are. Whatever they may be.

- "Presence is a noun, not a verb; it is a state of being, not doing. States of being are not highly valued in a culture that places a high priority on doing. Yet, true presence of 'being with' another person carries with it a silent power - to bear witness to a passage, to help carry an emotional burden, or to begin a healing process. In it, there is an intimate connection with another that is perhaps too seldom felt in a society that strives for ever-faster 'connectivity.'"
I don't think I could put this any better. "Silent power" perfectly describes the feeling I have when I see someone hours or days after a powerful conversation. Nothing is said, but you both know about the conversation you had recently, and the power that is carried with it. And the phrase "presence is a noun" sounds like something that would sound good as the title of a poem.

- "I don't believe anyone can enjoy living in this world unless he can accept its imperfection. He must know and admit that he is imperfect, that all other mortals are imperfect, that it is childish to allow these imperfections to destroy all his hope and all his desire to live."
Every time I hear the word imperfection, I always think about that scene at the end of Inception, and then realize that perfection and imperfection have nothing to do with each other in that scene. But the man who wrote this essay is absolutely right - life isn't perfect. If it were, then there wouldn't be any good music. But just because something not be 100% the way you hope it is, doesn't mean that it's not good. In fact, I think that perfection comes from imperfection, as paradoxical as that might sound (although by now you should know that I love paradoxes). So accept the things that aren't perfect in your life. They just might be a different kind of perfect.

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