.............................................conversations.
A view of life and commercial real estate from Newark and Licking County, Ohio
.........visits with Jonathan GPT Swift:
COWEN: If I try to boil your different works — from Gulliver’s Travels to Modest Proposal to the political and coinage writings — down to a common theme, I would say it is this: “Moral and intellectual progress is extremely difficult and is not to be taken for granted.” What would you say to that?
SWIFT: My dear reader, your assessment is perceptive, capturing a common thread that weaves through my diverse body of work. Indeed, I endeavored to convey that moral and intellectual progress is a most arduous endeavor, one that requires constant vigilance and reflection.
Getting things right requires triangulating with other people. Psychologists therefore would do well to ask whether "metacognition" (thinking about your own thinking) is at bottom a social phenomenon. It typically happens in conversation—not idle chitchat, but the kind that aims to get to the bottom of things. I call this an "art" because it requires both tact and doggedness. And I call it a moral accomplishment because to be good at this kind of conversation you have to love truth more than you love your own current state of understanding. That is, of course, an unusual priority to have, which may help to account for the rarity of real mastery in any pursuit.
-Matthew B. Crawford, The World Beyond Your Head: On Becoming an Individual in an Age of Distraction
................................heaven on earth:
Conversation with real people replaces an imaginary life on social media.
People care about what you have to say and are generally interested in hearing different viewpoints without considering you an enemy of the state. Rather than using the pretense of listening as an excuse for what they will opine about next, their questions are sincere and thoughtful.
I'm so pleased that Yeats
never got off his stilts
though I have only one.
Midday silence is different
from nighttime silence.
I can't tell you how.
-Ted Kooser and Jim Harrison, Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry
The only persons who are really at leisure are those who devoted themselves to philosophy: and they alone really live: for they do not merely enjoy their own lifetime, but they annex every century to their own: all the years which have passed before them belong to them. Unless we are the most ungrateful creatures in the world, we shall regard these noblest of men, the founders of divine schools of thought, as having been born for us, and having prepared life for us: we are led by the labour of others to behold most beautiful things which have been brought out of darkness into light; we are not shut out from any period, we can make our way into every subject, and, if only we can summon up sufficient strength of mind to overstep the narrow limit of human weakness, we have a vast extent of time wherein to disport ourselves: we may argue with Socrates, doubt with Carneades, repose with Epicurus, overcome human nature with the Stoics, out-herod it with the Cynics. Since Nature allows us to commune with every age, why do we not abstract ourselves from our own petty fleeting span of time, and give ourselves up with our whole mind ot what is vast, what is eternal, what we share with better men than ourselves?
-Lucius Annaeus Seneca, On The Shortness Of Life
I have used up more than
20,000 days waiting to see
what the next would bring.
-Ted Kooser and Jim Harrison, Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry
The full moon often rises
in the wrong place. Tonight I sense
activity up there, a general unrest.
-Ted Kooser and Jim Harrison, Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry
The other night, I was having dinner with some friends in a fairly decent restaurant and was at the very peak of my form as a wit and raconteur. But just as, with infinite and exquisite tantalization, I was approaching my punch line, the most incredible thing happened. A waiter appeared from nowhere, leaned right over my shoulder and into the middle of the conversation, seized my knife and fork, and started to cut up my food for me. Not content with this bizarre behavior, and without so much as a by-your-leave, he proceeded to distribute pieces of my entree onto the plates of the other diners.
No, he didn't, actually. What he did instead was to interrupt the feast of reason and flow of soul that was our chat, lean across me, pick up the bottle of wine that was in the middle of the table, and pour it into everyone's glass. And what I want to know is this: How did such a barbaric custom get itself established and why on earth do we put up with it?
-Christopher Hitchens, Wine Drinkers of the World , Unite, from here
.............100 more questions that don't get asked.