RESOLUTION is the virtue for this week. Interestingly, my friend Ben had the foresight to situate his virtues in an ORDER that would work through an earthquake. Many people will now have to resolve the primary order of their lives, to stay in Christchurch, or to leave.
My thoughts are all over the place on this one, as will be those for many others. I have entertained all kinds of scenarios half-baked, protruding into my consciousness from some deep seated unconscious fear for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, showing my roots and re-establishing the fact that I have gone from immigrant to refugee in the blink of a one minute event that will forever alter how I view things from the arrangement of my books to the space which I may or may not occupy.
Right now I am in Clyde, a safe enough distance to think outside the shake, rattle and roll that my fellow Cantabrians are still forced to live through.
And, while I am here, I have been deploying what I learned many years ago as the Benjamin Franklin process for making a decision, to create a RESOLUTION to which I might adhere (My good friend CW taught me this one). Take a blank piece of paper and put Christchurch at the top and two columns, one for why, one for why not. Write down all the reasons for one, as opposed to the other and see how the numbers stack up. Try as I might to make Christchurch a negative place, it still stacks up for me at this moment, even after all the devastation. The Garden City still blooms deep for me inside my conscious and unconscious soil.
The important thing is to write it down. Trying to keep track of all the things inside one’s head is too difficult and seeing the list in black and white will bring things up from the unconscious and puts them squarely in the frontal lobe. The thing is, is to be honest with one’s self...write down what you really feel to be an asset and a detriment for each space you plan to occupy, do the numbers as many times as you need and then intend to resolve yourself to one space over another with the clear understanding of what will be positive and negative issues, of which there are always both, to live and work through.
In the past few days I have resolved to go back to Christchurch for now, though a few days ago I was searching property advertisements in other parts of the world, I did the Benjamin Franklin process on paper and found, my heart, my head and my life still clings to Christchurch in some pretty stable ways that no earthquake can shake out of me.
I think you will all understand if I don’t bother trying to resolve any other issues at just this moment in time. For now, it is enough for Cantabrians simply to decide, do I stay or do I go....
Monday, February 28, 2011
Order in the Midst of Chaos
Okay, so I am contemplating ORDER in the midst of so much chaos. I mean really, how much more chaos can there be than to have your entire community nearly wiped out and everyone deeply affected by the backlash of an aftershock (seemingly an earthquake) that levies death, mass destruction and irrevocable psychological damage?
The first orderly thing I felt, was the hugs given to me by strangers. I cannot recall ever being held so securely for so long. They just held me and did not let go. In that moment, I began to feel some ORDER coming back. Of course I cried, but that felt exactly what was in ORDER to give me the impetus for the next event.
There was a nudging toward ORDER when I went into a store in Cromwell and the lady making copies for me of an essay written by Laura Mulvey that I was giving to my German friend overheard that I was from Christchurch. Yep, I had updated my status from immigrant to refugee by a natural cycle that had not been around for say 16,000 or 17,000 years, but then, some forms of ORDER take a long time to come through. I went to pay for my copies and she said no charge for that. My sense of ORDER began to come through, there is something to be said for being on the lamb from a heaving piece of earth you once called home. People often give you stuff, not because they have to, but because they want to let you know, there is still some ORDER left. Money is not high priority for the lady whose shop sign said “Going Out of Business”. She could relate entirely. I found ORDER in that, too.
Right now, I am well past ORDER and supposed to be into RESOLUTION, remembering I have allocated only one week per virtue, those weeks go by pretty fast in Christchurch, New Zealand in the midst of an earthquake/aftershock that requires some instantaneous thinking, like Malcolm Gladwell's Blink supersliced can mean the difference between 'being' or 'leaving' in the aftermath of chaos by a snap judgment that might lead to permanent resolution, might not...we shall see after at least a week's reflection...
The first orderly thing I felt, was the hugs given to me by strangers. I cannot recall ever being held so securely for so long. They just held me and did not let go. In that moment, I began to feel some ORDER coming back. Of course I cried, but that felt exactly what was in ORDER to give me the impetus for the next event.
There was a nudging toward ORDER when I went into a store in Cromwell and the lady making copies for me of an essay written by Laura Mulvey that I was giving to my German friend overheard that I was from Christchurch. Yep, I had updated my status from immigrant to refugee by a natural cycle that had not been around for say 16,000 or 17,000 years, but then, some forms of ORDER take a long time to come through. I went to pay for my copies and she said no charge for that. My sense of ORDER began to come through, there is something to be said for being on the lamb from a heaving piece of earth you once called home. People often give you stuff, not because they have to, but because they want to let you know, there is still some ORDER left. Money is not high priority for the lady whose shop sign said “Going Out of Business”. She could relate entirely. I found ORDER in that, too.
Right now, I am well past ORDER and supposed to be into RESOLUTION, remembering I have allocated only one week per virtue, those weeks go by pretty fast in Christchurch, New Zealand in the midst of an earthquake/aftershock that requires some instantaneous thinking, like Malcolm Gladwell's Blink supersliced can mean the difference between 'being' or 'leaving' in the aftermath of chaos by a snap judgment that might lead to permanent resolution, might not...we shall see after at least a week's reflection...
Two Days After An Aftershock
(Published out of sequence...lost this post for a few days, it was written on February 24, 2011)
I've heard it said that three days after surgery is the worse pain. Only a dented brain would contemplate having the worse day ever!
In order to undent this brain, it's time to vacate the premises. Not because of fear of day three, but because it is a good enough time to take a few traumatized folk out of the fold and fling them into an environment that does not rock and roll, so they can all return and feel right about it.
We're going south...south to Cromwell and Clyde to stay at a friend's bach and listen to silence, not statistics that cannot be changed by us, the three fleeing for a few days. Clark, Clive and Kathy are going south together to get ready for the storm of reality that everyone in Christchurch, New Zealand will be feeling for a long time after day three and the pain of the surgery they have received.
The aftershock on February 22, 2011 right before 1:00 PM was the aftershock that felt like an earthquake, no, an atomic bomb, that other aftershocks are yet to come when we all realize that we live somewhere permanently unstable. I am not silly enough to believe that only Cantabrians feel this.
Let's face it, since September 4th, 2010 there have been 4,000 aftershocks to the original quake, to which this one last tuesday was the grim reaper of the pristine record Christchurch had for five months and then, POW, take that, take that and really THINK about it.
Bodies all over the place, in a state of permanent rest or testimony to the natural acts of violence the world can project anytime, any place, anywhere instantaneously, there is no defense other than I didn't do it, it did it to me, aftershocked us throroughly just in case we didn't get it the first time.
When we return, we hope that we can bring our special talents to the forefront that will enable all who will choose to remain in Christchurch no matter what and rebuild a world where residents and visitors alike will feel at home again. How can this happen after the sudden eviction of life, liberty and happiness that 4,000 plus one really mean aftershock can herald?
We feel like people without power over anything in their lives anymore, no, just for the moment, I am sure of this. As Cantabrians, we will rise up like the phoenixes I knew they were when first I met them eight years ago. Kiwi's cannot fly away, they have to stay and make it better.
Meanwhile, Clark, Clive and Kathy are going walk about, just for a little time, and since a little time is nothing compared to a long time to come, we will return and do our part in the clean-up, but for now, when there is nothing we can do but make our own selves better, this is what we must do to reclaim a homecoming that will surely be a testimony of will and reserve that one can always find from Central Otago and bring back to Canterbury.
I've heard it said that three days after surgery is the worse pain. Only a dented brain would contemplate having the worse day ever!
In order to undent this brain, it's time to vacate the premises. Not because of fear of day three, but because it is a good enough time to take a few traumatized folk out of the fold and fling them into an environment that does not rock and roll, so they can all return and feel right about it.
We're going south...south to Cromwell and Clyde to stay at a friend's bach and listen to silence, not statistics that cannot be changed by us, the three fleeing for a few days. Clark, Clive and Kathy are going south together to get ready for the storm of reality that everyone in Christchurch, New Zealand will be feeling for a long time after day three and the pain of the surgery they have received.
The aftershock on February 22, 2011 right before 1:00 PM was the aftershock that felt like an earthquake, no, an atomic bomb, that other aftershocks are yet to come when we all realize that we live somewhere permanently unstable. I am not silly enough to believe that only Cantabrians feel this.
Let's face it, since September 4th, 2010 there have been 4,000 aftershocks to the original quake, to which this one last tuesday was the grim reaper of the pristine record Christchurch had for five months and then, POW, take that, take that and really THINK about it.
Bodies all over the place, in a state of permanent rest or testimony to the natural acts of violence the world can project anytime, any place, anywhere instantaneously, there is no defense other than I didn't do it, it did it to me, aftershocked us throroughly just in case we didn't get it the first time.
When we return, we hope that we can bring our special talents to the forefront that will enable all who will choose to remain in Christchurch no matter what and rebuild a world where residents and visitors alike will feel at home again. How can this happen after the sudden eviction of life, liberty and happiness that 4,000 plus one really mean aftershock can herald?
We feel like people without power over anything in their lives anymore, no, just for the moment, I am sure of this. As Cantabrians, we will rise up like the phoenixes I knew they were when first I met them eight years ago. Kiwi's cannot fly away, they have to stay and make it better.
Meanwhile, Clark, Clive and Kathy are going walk about, just for a little time, and since a little time is nothing compared to a long time to come, we will return and do our part in the clean-up, but for now, when there is nothing we can do but make our own selves better, this is what we must do to reclaim a homecoming that will surely be a testimony of will and reserve that one can always find from Central Otago and bring back to Canterbury.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
This Week Was Supposed to be Order
Not sure if my friend Ben ever experienced an earthquake (aftershock for those who adhere to political correctness) during the week he was contemplating ORDER. But, this week I have been doing both. The outstanding irony is that my book for this contemplation project is still lying in a heap after the aftershock that felt more like an atomic bomb, hit Christchurch, New Zealand on February 22, 2011. I gave up on some types of order that day, but there are certainly others I have been embracing wholeheartedly.
Interestingly, my first memory of the word ORDER is as a small child mimicking what must be some metaphysical rrhythmic sound bit to stick in my childish head to provoke me to yell on the school playground, "Order, order, order in the court!" I was never sure what ORDER the court was seeking, or what the court was, I simply knew that silence followed and silence was the contemplation for last week. So, does this mean I am going backwards? Don't we all wish we could go backwards on some days?
Sadly, we can't.
For those of us living through these past five months in Christchurch, New Zealand...ORDER means trying to find meaning in our lives on the backside of a major earthquake on September 4th, 2010 with not one death, 4,000 aftershocks later with one more event on February 22, 2011 that appears to remove permanently, any semblance of ORDER for Christchurch. Many people are dead and much of the iconic landscape is gone forever. But ORDER...ORDER is still here and ever more necessary to contemplate and that is why Clark, Clive and I are leaving for a few days to collect ourselves, contemplate what needs to be done and then... come back and help rebuild Christchurch one brick at a time.
I think my friend Ben would approve of us taking a few days off to contemplate ORDER before we begin.
Interestingly, my first memory of the word ORDER is as a small child mimicking what must be some metaphysical rrhythmic sound bit to stick in my childish head to provoke me to yell on the school playground, "Order, order, order in the court!" I was never sure what ORDER the court was seeking, or what the court was, I simply knew that silence followed and silence was the contemplation for last week. So, does this mean I am going backwards? Don't we all wish we could go backwards on some days?
Sadly, we can't.
For those of us living through these past five months in Christchurch, New Zealand...ORDER means trying to find meaning in our lives on the backside of a major earthquake on September 4th, 2010 with not one death, 4,000 aftershocks later with one more event on February 22, 2011 that appears to remove permanently, any semblance of ORDER for Christchurch. Many people are dead and much of the iconic landscape is gone forever. But ORDER...ORDER is still here and ever more necessary to contemplate and that is why Clark, Clive and I are leaving for a few days to collect ourselves, contemplate what needs to be done and then... come back and help rebuild Christchurch one brick at a time.
I think my friend Ben would approve of us taking a few days off to contemplate ORDER before we begin.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Shhhh.....
In my silence, I can see more. Much more than I do while speaking. Hence, my friend Ben's practise to consciously refrain from participating in trifling conversation. For years I have been trying to do this very same thing, only say that which benefits others or myself, and even with my practise, I seldom achieve the results I hope to see. However, I am convinced that the effort makes a significant difference and though I often fail to word my conversations to be as beneficial as I would like, I wonder how much worse it might be without the effort applied to speak beneficially and with certain control. With that thought, I often give myself some credit so that I do not give up the effort, when others write me off as a 'no-hoper', I recognize they cannot see me trying internally. There is no spyware for that, though often, people say to me...
'I know what you are thinking...'
Yesterday, in my silence, I wrote the things that go into places no one sees. Unless they use spyware or live inside of me, and last time I checked, there was only one of me in there. Many facets of that oneness, but one me, always. This is the meaning of the 'one god', I believe. I believe I am responsible and the only source of control for all that I might say, but how often I hear others say to me...
'You made me...'
You cannot deny responsibility for others' actions that they believe you responsible for. You can only remain silent and wait for them to seek their own participation in silence.
Shhhh...you can not tell this to anyone that doesn't already know it.
'I know what you are thinking...'
Yesterday, in my silence, I wrote the things that go into places no one sees. Unless they use spyware or live inside of me, and last time I checked, there was only one of me in there. Many facets of that oneness, but one me, always. This is the meaning of the 'one god', I believe. I believe I am responsible and the only source of control for all that I might say, but how often I hear others say to me...
'You made me...'
You cannot deny responsibility for others' actions that they believe you responsible for. You can only remain silent and wait for them to seek their own participation in silence.
Shhhh...you can not tell this to anyone that doesn't already know it.
 |
| My Morality Board inspired by Ben Franklin |
Sunday, February 13, 2011
This Week's Virtue is Silence...
And no, that does not mean you will not hear from me. What it means is that I will concentrate on saying only those things that may benefit others or myself; avoiding trifling conversation. Albeit 'trifling' is completely subjective, my subjects will be what I deem to be most worthy of what needs be said out loud.
I will have to think as consciously as I can before I speak and write ever more carefully. Judging from my own calculation of how well I did with temperance last week, this week will feel like a year I am sure.
My morality board is paying off though. I have avoided six candy bars, a pack of cigarettes, abstained totally from drinking ever again (as one glass of wine at the cricket match left me sick for two days) and my pants are loser providing an easier leg lift onto the kitchen bench to stretch out my fingers toward the freezer.
Silence...perhaps I shall negotiate today as my one day to not speak at all...a Gandhi holiday, to which, I am certain we could all benefit from, if only we all chose the same day. And since this is merely a fantasy to consider, I shall leave now and challenge myself to the reality of how silence can really improve my life and those who surround me and consider what topics are worthy of discussion always.
I will have to think as consciously as I can before I speak and write ever more carefully. Judging from my own calculation of how well I did with temperance last week, this week will feel like a year I am sure.
My morality board is paying off though. I have avoided six candy bars, a pack of cigarettes, abstained totally from drinking ever again (as one glass of wine at the cricket match left me sick for two days) and my pants are loser providing an easier leg lift onto the kitchen bench to stretch out my fingers toward the freezer.
Silence...perhaps I shall negotiate today as my one day to not speak at all...a Gandhi holiday, to which, I am certain we could all benefit from, if only we all chose the same day. And since this is merely a fantasy to consider, I shall leave now and challenge myself to the reality of how silence can really improve my life and those who surround me and consider what topics are worthy of discussion always.
Travelling Round New Zealand
One of the things I have always appreciated most whenever travelling around NZ is the opportunity to meet people from all over the world that come to NZ on a working visa to work in the orchards and see what life is like here, as opposed to there, wherever there may be.
This weekend, on our quick trip from Christchurch to Dunedin, then onto Cromwell to watch my super-son’s* cricket match, my husband and I met a woman travelling on her own from Berlin. We stayed up until almost 2AM (so much for temperance) talking nonstop about her version of what life was like for her and her family in Germany and cross-comparing my husband’s family life here in NZ, as well as my own family roots in the USA.
One thing we all had in common was our awareness that our educations were all limited by our individual national recollections, which the German woman translated by tapping on her head and saying...
“How does one say it”, tap, tap, tap...
“Brainwashing”, I offered up...
“Yez...that tis it!” as she pounded the table.
I had to throw temperance to the wind as this was a rare and ‘one off’ opportunity to share with another human being what we each found being in this world to mean. She is a pacifist, as am I...and, that is not something I stumble across very often. The table was the only thing we agreed need be beaten in this life now, past or future. I felt emboldened for having met her. Thank you my new friend, you know who you are.
Now about my super-son*, which is what I prefer to call him as opposed to a step-son. A super-son is one you inherit by marriage, not to be trodden upon, but appreciated for the unique advantage of not having had to push them from one’s own body, but merely embraced as one of the many opportunities life offers up without physical pain. I enjoyed watching his cricket match, the first match I have ever seen, being under the misguided impression that cricket was boring and impossible to understand, coming from baseball indoctrination.
I found that I liked watching cricket and can see that it will afford me many moments in the future to learn new strategies of how to play chess with a funny looking bat.
I must mention that my husband and I took our ‘fur kids’ with us. Now that we are two adults on our own again, with no children at home to take with us, Mr. Taffy and Tuppy, are now our privileged guests on mad dash weekends away. They loved it and we found taking the dogs to be much easier than carting children. There were no arguments, car sickness, or endless requests, just lots of wagging tails and tales of our own making, without the interrupted versions of childish versions that suggest we didn’t do one thing they thought fun.
We will take them again.
This weekend, on our quick trip from Christchurch to Dunedin, then onto Cromwell to watch my super-son’s* cricket match, my husband and I met a woman travelling on her own from Berlin. We stayed up until almost 2AM (so much for temperance) talking nonstop about her version of what life was like for her and her family in Germany and cross-comparing my husband’s family life here in NZ, as well as my own family roots in the USA.
One thing we all had in common was our awareness that our educations were all limited by our individual national recollections, which the German woman translated by tapping on her head and saying...
“How does one say it”, tap, tap, tap...
“Brainwashing”, I offered up...
“Yez...that tis it!” as she pounded the table.
I had to throw temperance to the wind as this was a rare and ‘one off’ opportunity to share with another human being what we each found being in this world to mean. She is a pacifist, as am I...and, that is not something I stumble across very often. The table was the only thing we agreed need be beaten in this life now, past or future. I felt emboldened for having met her. Thank you my new friend, you know who you are.
Now about my super-son*, which is what I prefer to call him as opposed to a step-son. A super-son is one you inherit by marriage, not to be trodden upon, but appreciated for the unique advantage of not having had to push them from one’s own body, but merely embraced as one of the many opportunities life offers up without physical pain. I enjoyed watching his cricket match, the first match I have ever seen, being under the misguided impression that cricket was boring and impossible to understand, coming from baseball indoctrination.
I found that I liked watching cricket and can see that it will afford me many moments in the future to learn new strategies of how to play chess with a funny looking bat.
I must mention that my husband and I took our ‘fur kids’ with us. Now that we are two adults on our own again, with no children at home to take with us, Mr. Taffy and Tuppy, are now our privileged guests on mad dash weekends away. They loved it and we found taking the dogs to be much easier than carting children. There were no arguments, car sickness, or endless requests, just lots of wagging tails and tales of our own making, without the interrupted versions of childish versions that suggest we didn’t do one thing they thought fun.
We will take them again.
 |
| Tuppy |
 |
| Mr Taffy under cover |
 |
| Mr Taffy |
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The Painting of Ben's Virtues
It was on the hottest day I have ever experienced since moving to New Zealand eight years ago. One of those days that found my friend and I huddled out back of my house in the only pure shade we could find. My friend was painting her beautiful Maori/Pakeha soul onto a long piece of hardy board left over from lining the inside of my fence, while I had been painting my displaced immigrant soul on a matching panel. Ben's virtues of temperance, silence, order, resolution, frugality, industry, sincerity, justice, moderation, cleanliness, tranquility, chastity and humility were bouncing around in my head.
Panting from the heat I looked at my panel titled "Underwater Cactus" and realized it was too hot to paint a watery scene, the paint was drying on impact and the affect I was seeking was rather slippery, so I grabbed a new panel and laid it down on the ground, standing over it and inscribed Ben's virtues onto it as fast as I could and decided to call it my "Morality Board".
My beautiful friend looked up from her passionate pallette and commented,
Oh, I like that, it looks like it is written in blood.
How affectionate I am for my friend that always seems to know exactly what I am after.
For three days now I have been contemplating daily the first attribute of Temperance: Eat not to dullness, drink not to elevation. I have four more days to go and find myself sweating blood at what new finds I will see as I discover my own unconscious embedded intemperances. They are not just food and drink, though food has always been a problem for me until I first came to New Zealand and began a regime of eating like a Kiwi instead of a Midwestern American. I thought I was going to starve for the first month and I can remember my children looking at their plates like I was joking. But, I had a new man (now my husband) in my life and I was trying to take on his practises. I lost twenty pounds in no time!
But, the real weighty issues are the intemperances I find inside myself, not just on a hot day, but every day, that have been building for many years simply because I did not have my "Morality Board" written in what looks like blood to remind me. In three days I found enough intemperate reactions to life inside myself to know that not only will this be a long year, but there are many years to come which all need my continuing checks and balances that my friend Ben has selected for me, which I wholeheartedly agree, is a good enough way to remind me how unconscious I have been and always will be.
So, on the flip side of my "Morality Board", I have decided to paint it black (and yes, you may think of the song here)...and, write in chalk the things I know I need to watch out for on a day to day basis that can be added to and erased more easily than writing them in blood.
Panting from the heat I looked at my panel titled "Underwater Cactus" and realized it was too hot to paint a watery scene, the paint was drying on impact and the affect I was seeking was rather slippery, so I grabbed a new panel and laid it down on the ground, standing over it and inscribed Ben's virtues onto it as fast as I could and decided to call it my "Morality Board".
My beautiful friend looked up from her passionate pallette and commented,
Oh, I like that, it looks like it is written in blood.
How affectionate I am for my friend that always seems to know exactly what I am after.
For three days now I have been contemplating daily the first attribute of Temperance: Eat not to dullness, drink not to elevation. I have four more days to go and find myself sweating blood at what new finds I will see as I discover my own unconscious embedded intemperances. They are not just food and drink, though food has always been a problem for me until I first came to New Zealand and began a regime of eating like a Kiwi instead of a Midwestern American. I thought I was going to starve for the first month and I can remember my children looking at their plates like I was joking. But, I had a new man (now my husband) in my life and I was trying to take on his practises. I lost twenty pounds in no time!
But, the real weighty issues are the intemperances I find inside myself, not just on a hot day, but every day, that have been building for many years simply because I did not have my "Morality Board" written in what looks like blood to remind me. In three days I found enough intemperate reactions to life inside myself to know that not only will this be a long year, but there are many years to come which all need my continuing checks and balances that my friend Ben has selected for me, which I wholeheartedly agree, is a good enough way to remind me how unconscious I have been and always will be.
So, on the flip side of my "Morality Board", I have decided to paint it black (and yes, you may think of the song here)...and, write in chalk the things I know I need to watch out for on a day to day basis that can be added to and erased more easily than writing them in blood.
Monday, February 7, 2011
My Friend Ben
I have been reading Benjamin Franklin by Carl Van Doren published in 1938 by The Viking Press. I am not through it yet and already, I feel I must write about it. It is a book I was allowed to take for free from the University of Canterbury in Christchurch, New Zealand on February 2, 2011, between 11:00AM and 2:30PM during a book giveaway. As you might imagine, there was a host of us there sporting boxes.
My husband, daughter and I wheeled our free book selections out on office chairs with swivel wheels that were also a part of the giveaway. We each had selected from our own preferences. My husband’s was history and geography, my daughter’s was science and literature, mine was American studies and literature. How could I do any better than with a book written about Benjamin Franklin?
Today is only five days later and I have already begun a painting in relationship to the American I always admired superficially, having owned a copy of Ben Franklin adages that sat on my coffee table for many years. About his life, I knew relatively nothing other than a story of a kite, lightning, electricity and moral fabric tossed about through adages slurped randomly. I knew I liked Benjamin Franklin, but I really didn’t know why. Call it intuition, or not, if the thought frightens you.
I’m finding I was savvy to feel rather kindly toward Ben, even if he validated a few things that make me cringe with my political correctness lens that hasn’t yet been fully deleted (I’m working on it with a little help from my own Junto, a scheme I have adopted from Ben who adopted it from Cotton Mather). Ben’s industrious capacities cannot be denied, he accomplished a lot before the advent of light technology, and he had to use ink and type and set it and before that, create what was to be said, he was a one man google-anonymous-blogger without the light show and the quickness, but will all the punch.
I mean, I really admire this human being, the way he was being, inside of where he lived and when, and even now, I would like very much to be locked into an elevator with Benjamin Franklin for awhile, it would not prove onerous, but uplifting, perhaps to the next floor of my own conscious participation with the world I live in. That is why I am determined to paint part of what I learnt about him that makes me like him so much, a plan for living, a list of desirable virtues he longed to groom in himself, a list complete as twelve things, or so he thought, until a good Quaker friend pointed out his many instances of lack of humility, to which Benjamin had to agree when he viewed what must be repeated with the acceptance for others’ opinions.
The list went from twelve to thirteen then. Obviously messing up the mathematical beauty of how it fit into taking Ben through the list one at a time for a week, for twelve weeks, to begin to repeat again and make way to practice all traits for a month of each year at its conclusion, but nevertheless, it works well to remember humility before going back through the original twelve again, lest we forget our requirements to be parrots. And, the original list with the addition is herewith set out as the desirable virtues our young Benjamin set off to instil in his internal world:
1. Temperance: Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation. 2. Silence: Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation. 3. Order: Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time. 4. Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve. 5. Frugality: Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing. 6. Industry: Lose no time; be always employed in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions. 7. Sincerity: Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 8. Justice: Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty. 9. Moderation: Avoid extremes, forbear resenting injuries do much as you think they deserve. 10. Cleanliness: Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or habitation. 11. Tranquillity: Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable. 12. Chastity: Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dullness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation. 13. Humility: Imitate Jesus and Socrates (Benjamin Franklin by Van Doren, p. 88).
Now, I am committed to attempting this exercise throughout the year 2011 to see what I can see inside myself surfacing daily under scrutiny by my own conscious act. Temperance, I have but one day today followed and realized that once I met my limit of three fudgsicles, I resorted to placing my foot upon the kitchen bench and stretching out the desire to finger the remnants inside the freezer. Woe, is me, I do not drink, but man can I eat when contemplating. I must take up a race to the other side of the house to keep my date with number one on day one, this is going to be a long year.
More on the painting next time...
My husband, daughter and I wheeled our free book selections out on office chairs with swivel wheels that were also a part of the giveaway. We each had selected from our own preferences. My husband’s was history and geography, my daughter’s was science and literature, mine was American studies and literature. How could I do any better than with a book written about Benjamin Franklin?
Today is only five days later and I have already begun a painting in relationship to the American I always admired superficially, having owned a copy of Ben Franklin adages that sat on my coffee table for many years. About his life, I knew relatively nothing other than a story of a kite, lightning, electricity and moral fabric tossed about through adages slurped randomly. I knew I liked Benjamin Franklin, but I really didn’t know why. Call it intuition, or not, if the thought frightens you.
I’m finding I was savvy to feel rather kindly toward Ben, even if he validated a few things that make me cringe with my political correctness lens that hasn’t yet been fully deleted (I’m working on it with a little help from my own Junto, a scheme I have adopted from Ben who adopted it from Cotton Mather). Ben’s industrious capacities cannot be denied, he accomplished a lot before the advent of light technology, and he had to use ink and type and set it and before that, create what was to be said, he was a one man google-anonymous-blogger without the light show and the quickness, but will all the punch.
I mean, I really admire this human being, the way he was being, inside of where he lived and when, and even now, I would like very much to be locked into an elevator with Benjamin Franklin for awhile, it would not prove onerous, but uplifting, perhaps to the next floor of my own conscious participation with the world I live in. That is why I am determined to paint part of what I learnt about him that makes me like him so much, a plan for living, a list of desirable virtues he longed to groom in himself, a list complete as twelve things, or so he thought, until a good Quaker friend pointed out his many instances of lack of humility, to which Benjamin had to agree when he viewed what must be repeated with the acceptance for others’ opinions.
The list went from twelve to thirteen then. Obviously messing up the mathematical beauty of how it fit into taking Ben through the list one at a time for a week, for twelve weeks, to begin to repeat again and make way to practice all traits for a month of each year at its conclusion, but nevertheless, it works well to remember humility before going back through the original twelve again, lest we forget our requirements to be parrots. And, the original list with the addition is herewith set out as the desirable virtues our young Benjamin set off to instil in his internal world:
1. Temperance: Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation. 2. Silence: Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation. 3. Order: Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time. 4. Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve. 5. Frugality: Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing. 6. Industry: Lose no time; be always employed in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions. 7. Sincerity: Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 8. Justice: Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty. 9. Moderation: Avoid extremes, forbear resenting injuries do much as you think they deserve. 10. Cleanliness: Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or habitation. 11. Tranquillity: Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable. 12. Chastity: Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dullness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation. 13. Humility: Imitate Jesus and Socrates (Benjamin Franklin by Van Doren, p. 88).
Now, I am committed to attempting this exercise throughout the year 2011 to see what I can see inside myself surfacing daily under scrutiny by my own conscious act. Temperance, I have but one day today followed and realized that once I met my limit of three fudgsicles, I resorted to placing my foot upon the kitchen bench and stretching out the desire to finger the remnants inside the freezer. Woe, is me, I do not drink, but man can I eat when contemplating. I must take up a race to the other side of the house to keep my date with number one on day one, this is going to be a long year.
More on the painting next time...
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