Alexandersmap

    Tag: Marcel Proust

    • Why This?

      “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes. ― Marcel Proust

      Yesterday I wrote of writing every day no matter what. The streak is very much alive and will be until the day it isn’t. The underlying question is why? Why do this at all? No fame or fortune or other such ego stroke. A blogger can’t even state they’re a novelist. Plenty of helpful people in my life would like me to lump a bunch of these blog posts into a series of books. Honestly, once they’ve been released into the world the words aren’t ours anymore. Perhaps that’s why they come so freely? No paywall or subscription necessary. This is just me in the moment, telling friends what I’ve stumbled upon on my journey.

      Writing is discovery. It’s finding something new within ourselves each day and bringing it to the surface. It’s surprising ourselves and others that we’re still at this thing. It’s the occasional comment from someone you hadn’t realized was paying attention at all. Writing is processing the complexities of the world and our place in it and putting a stake in the ground for who we are at this moment in time. I write these words without truly knowing where they’re coming from. We surf in this way with the Muse, along for the ride pretending we have some measure of control.

      Writing leads to an increased power of observation. It leads to new books and podcasts and small corners of the past that most people drive by on their way to someplace else. If awareness is the key to being present, then self-awareness is knowing when to shut the hell up and understand what is happening in the moment. When we write we’ve channeled that awareness into words. Here’s another time stamp of that dance.

    • Discovering Wisdom

      “We do not receive wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves, after a journey through the wilderness which no one else can make for us, which no one can spare us, for our wisdom is the point of view from which we come at last to regard the world. The lives that you admire, the attitudes that seem noble to you, have not been shaped by a paterfamilias or a schoolmaster, they have sprung from very different beginnings, having been influenced by evil or commonplace that prevailed round them. They represent a struggle and a victory.“ — Marcel Proust

      Wisdom is drawn from experience. We all think we have the world figured out when we’re younger, then realize that we knew nothing as we accumulate experience. What we forget, sometimes, is that someday we’ll look back on today as our younger self too. We all know closed-minded people at any age, assured in their beliefs, blinders on to new ideas and influences. We must avoid becoming so closed ourselves. We must remain an open book, gathering what we may in our brief time.

      We learn the ebb and flow of life, the things in our control and that for which we have no say in the matter. It’s easy to see where we’ve been by how others are navigating that particular obstacle in their own lives. Likewise, we might benefit by turning our gaze ahead to learn how to handle the next stage in our own development. If there’s one certainty in life, it’s that others have been where we’re heading before us. Wisdom is learned through experience, but that experience doesn’t always have to be ours.

      Life is a series of struggles and victories experienced over time. We never have it all figured out, but we just might accumulate enough street smarts to navigate the highs and lows that greet us each day. The view changes over time, and the lessons keep coming. And there we may find that evasive wisdom.

    • Charming Gardeners

      “Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” – Marcel Proust

      Spring in New England is a tricky thing. We pivot from beautiful warm days to snow squalls and bitter wind, often within a few minutes of each other. But the days grow longer and we quietly grow more confident about putting the lawn furniture back out and maybe planting some seeds in starter soil. Basil, cilantro and parsley are each growing in sunny windowsills as I write this, and I’m considering getting the dahlia bulbs going soon. Such is the mind of a gardener.

      Proust writes of a different kind of gardener, of course, but they’re generally one and the same. The people who light us up in social interaction are quiet observers of humanity, readers of eyes and solicitors of smiles. In this particular time when social interaction has been elusive, we haven’t had as much interaction like this, and we’ve never needed it more.

      Spring brings hope to the gardener, and vaccines bring hope for time with those people who make us happy. I’m as ready for a gathering of celebration with friends and family as I am for the smell of fresh cut grass and tomato vines. Confident hugs and hand squeezes and shoulder leans are just around the corner.

      Imagine the days ahead, as a gardener imagines them – life blossoming anew, hope in the air, warm sun on our backs. Breathe in the fresh warm air, turn towards friends old and new, and smile. They could use it – and so could you.

    • Where Would You Most Like To Live?

      A couple of months ago I copied the Proust questionnaire after hearing Rolf Potts talk about it on one of his podcasts. Borrowing from a Vanity Fair segment on the topic, “The Proust Questionnaire has its origins in a parlor game popularized (though not devised) by Marcel Proust, the French essayist and novelist, who believed that, in answering these questions, an individual reveals his or her true nature.”

      Since copying it and dumping it into my drafts folder, I’ve largely ignored it. But today I was so repulsed by the news that I sought it out to pull my mind off of the darkness in the world so often spotlighted by those who leverage it for gain. And I settled on one question from the list that made me pause and think more than any other: Where would you most like to live?

      I think a lot about traveling. And lately, despite extensive home renovation projects this year, I’ve thought a bit about where I’d move to should I really get sick of parking myself in this same place. The answer to this question is easy for some people, but a bit more evasive for others. Where would you most like to live? Somewhere tropical or seasonal? At a beach house? In the mountains with a ski-up condo? A penthouse in the city with a view of the park? Deep in the heart of the action or far, far away from the action? On an island far from the madness of the world? In another country? Close to family or far away from family? In a quiet neighborhood full of kids for your kids to play with? The answer will change with time and circumstances.

      Your stage of life dictates the answer to the question. For twenty years the place I lived was the place I wanted to live. Close enough to the ocean and the mountains. Private enough with the forest nudging insistently on the backyard. In a small town across the border with conveniences all around us and a chance for our children to grow up playing with other kids in the neighborhood for hours at a time. Sure the commute was difficult at times, but there were times when I’d come home to New Hampshire from a frenzied day in Boston or New York and walk the dog with only the stars to keep us company on a quiet night and I’d believe that the answer was nowhere else but here.

      But fast-forward a decade and the kids are adults, the dog has passed, and you chafe at the neighbors a bit more than you should. Is it time to downsize? Or to relocate for relocation’s sake? When I was younger I imagined living along the river or a pond where I could slip a rowing shell or kayak into the water and just go. When I got a bit older my taste turned more to salt water and I thought of a deep water dock as the ultimate attachment to a house. Those friends sailing Fayaway would vote for that house with a deep water dock. They answered the question Where would you most like to live? with a sailboat, but are asking themselves the question again, with the answer being maybe a bigger sailboat. A neighbor is answering the question with an RV and a place to park it when they aren’t on the road. Both answered with mobility.

      Where would you most like to live? The answer often depends on the answer to another question, which is how would you most like to live? A quiet walk outside at dawn to see the sunrise from shore or as you quietly paddle to deeper waters. A trail that leads to another trail that draws you upwards to dance with the sky. A place to someday run and play with the grandchildren. A place big enough to invite others over for conversation deep into the night, but small enough that you don’t spend your days constantly maintaining it. A place to think and a place to be active. A close enough place that’s far enough away. A safe place for others to come home to.

      So tell me, where would you most like to live? David Bowie once completed the Proust Questionnaire and answered this question with “Northeast Bali or south Java”. As for me? Somewhere with dark skies and the Northern Lights. With changing seasons and people who challenge me to stretch and grow and be more than I am now. If you’re going to move you might as well make it a big leap.