May 13, 2011
Posted in Uncategorized
at 8:49 pm
by Ryan
When I think upon my sins in this fallen state, I am left in a place of great helplessness. The only question I can ask is, “What can I do next time to stop myself?” and the only answer I get is, “it doesn’t matter, you will fall again.” How, then, am I to proceed? Being aware that I will fall again leaves me focused on my wretchedness, despairing for my soul. Being determined to “fix” myself and prevent the next sin leaves me in a world without God, ultimately condemning myself to fall again. I am left, then, with the thought that I must combine infinite sorrow over my sins with infinite hope, through faith and in love, in the mercy of God through the sacrament of reconciliation. Christ will save me, picking me up every time that I fall; it is my task to take His hand every time I am on the ground. And this is truly the free gift of God’s grace—not that I may once be redeemed, but that I may always be redeemed.
Our lives are modeled by Christ, whose life was spent ascending God’s holy mountain. Atop this mountain he shed his blood, that as it descended we might ascend. Jacob dreamed a ladder that could bring men to God and God to man, and it was for this ladder that man was created, that we might be connected with Him. Sin has drawn us from it, and the lives of men were spent searching for it again. Christ as our Lord showed us again where the ladder was and taught us to look up it to heaven. Christ as our sacrifice ascended for us, that from its apex he might extend down a hand to lift us. In this blood that he provided we find our strength to climb to God.
Yet it is not enough for God to offer His hand; we also must accept it. We must make a choice, choosing God over the rest of the world. But a choice is not a choice unless there is a real alternative, something that we must give up in order to get what we want. Each time we fall, each time we sin, we are choosing the world rather than God. Each time we fall, then, we need an opportunity to turn away from it and choose God again. This is the wisdom of God’s plan, the Logos, the reason that has set forth our salvation. The saving hand is found in reconciliation; I must always bee seeking his hand, that I may always be seeking God.
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April 30, 2011
Posted in Uncategorized
at 4:04 pm
by Ryan
Below is a poem that I’ve been writing in the past week or so. The first stanza came to me while driving home for Easter weekend on Maundy Thursday, and the rest came either on that drive or sitting in Eucharistic adoration (an appropriate place to contemplate the Eucharist, I suppose). Enjoy.
Let all men join in confessing
When the meal receives His blessing,
His own flesh Christ is impressing
in the bread and wine.
For the holy elocution
We hear Christ’s own contribution-
His great words of institution,
given to the Twelve.
Through the words the priest has spoken
O’er the bread that will be broken
Comes much more than sign or token
of God’s love for us.
In this transubstantiation,
Offered as our expiation,
We become a new creation-
one with Christ our Lord.
Then, the sacred elevation!
We lift high a pure oblation,
Offered for sanctification
of all who believe.
Now we witness the believing,
Jesus’ sacred meal receiving
And their sinfulness relieving
through the grace of God.
Then will come the meditation
On their souls’ reanimation
Leading to glorification
in our life to come.
Let all join in adoration
Of the fruits of consecration,
Showing proper veneration
for our Lord, the Christ.
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November 9, 2010
Posted in Uncategorized
at 11:54 pm
by Ryan
Over the course of the past few months I have grown ever more devoted to the rosary, to the point that my basic prayer for something that matters to me is a part of it. Which part depends on my time-frame: if I have just a minute or so, I will pray the introductory beads (1 Pater Noster, 3 Ave Marias, and 1 Gloria); if I have more time, it will be a full decade (same pattern with 10 Ave Marias); if a good quarter of an hour, a full third of the rosary (5 decades plus intro, extra prayers, etc.); and if an hour or so, the complete rosary, the Angelic Psalter (15 decades plus the intro, divided over the Joyful, Sorrowful, and Glorious mysteries). One of the components to this is that I have tried to think about how the mysteries affect my life and should move me. Countless words would be needed to fully answer that question, while at the same time the most adequate answer I have is as simple as saying my life should be spent with a rosary in hand and my mind on God; however, this post is about one specific set of thoughts I have had about the rosary. This thought is that the first two sets of mysteries, the Joyful and the Sorrowful, seem to me each to have a meaningful allegorical role in human life: the Joyful lay out the stages of evangelization, while the Sorrowful lay out the stages of forgiveness of sins.
Consider first the first set of mysteries, the Joyful mysteries (Annunciation, Visitation, Nativity, Presentation, and Finding). The first mystery, the Annunciation, recounts when the archangel Gabriel tells Mary that even without having known a man, she would be with child, a child she was to name Jesus. Many consider this mystery to encapsulate as well the conception of Jesus. The second mystery, the Visitation, finds Mary visiting her sister-in-law Elizabeth, who is with child as well, a child named John that would be called the greatest man born of woman; Elizabeth responds to her arrival by saying “the Lord is with you” and “blessed is the fruit of your womb,” reinforcing what had occurred in the Annunciation. The third mystery, the Nativity, sees Jesus born unto Mary and Joseph and placed in a manger in Bethlehem; my own words cannot compare to the smallest writings on it, let alone the masterpiece of Luke. The fourth mystery, the Presentation of the Infant Jesus in the Temple, sees Mary and Joseph fulfill their Jewish obligation to dedicate their firstborn to the Lord, according to the Law of Moses — a law that said the firstborn of all people is set aside for the Lord. In this mystery Jesus is presented to the Father. The fifth and final mystery, the Finding of Jesus in the Temple, shows Mary and Joseph discovering their twelve-year old Son had stayed in the Temple after a trip rather than having returned home with them. They find Him engaged in discussion with the rabbis, all of whom are amazed with His knowledge, wisdom, and understanding.
Now consider how this applies to one evangelizing about the Lord, about Jesus Christ, Iesus Dominus, Iesus Kyrios. The first step is for the would-be evangelist to have Christ come to life inside of him, much like what occurred in the Annunciation (admittedly in different ways and to a different extent). The second step is for the evangelist to visit with others to solidify his knowledge and understanding of Christ, much like what Mary found from Elizabeth. The third step is to go out into the world and give birth to Christ, keeping Him not for the sake of one’s self but rather sharing Him with the world. The fourth step is to take the fruits of this sharing of Christ and to bring them to the new temple and to the new circumcision — the Church and its baptism. The fifth step is one shared by the evangelist and the evangelized: to seek always after Christ in His temple, the Church, where we will always be astounded by the wisdom, knowledge, and understanding that we find. These five steps map perfectly into the five mysteries, laying out not only the basic path but showing us what steps we must take in order to fulfill our evangelical calling to “make disciples of all the nations.”
The Sorrowful mysteries reveal how we seek forgiveness for our sins, this time following the actions of Jesus rather than His mother, Mary. The first mystery is the Agony in the Garden, when Christ shed tears of blood for the sorrow of what was to come, a necessity brought forth by the sins of the past. The second mystery is the Scourging at the Pillar. In this mystery Christ is beaten with a whip, leaving His body weak and bleeding. The third mystery is the Crowning with Thorns. Now Christ has a painful crown placed on Him and is seated for the mockery and humiliation of the crowd. The fourth mystery is the Carrying of the Cross, when Jesus carries the cross to the place of His death. The fifth mystery is the point and purpose of the faith, without which it would be for naught: the Death of Jesus on the cross.
Compare these mysteries with the process of our own forgiveness, at least as set down for us by our Church, the Bride of Christ. First, we must be sorrowful for our sins, feeling agony over them (and their cost, their side-effects) much as Christ felt agony for them in the garden. Second, we must recognize in ourselves the wounds that are left behind because of these sins–the way that the divine life ebbs out of us as a consequence of our sins, much like Christ’s life-blood poured out from the scourging. Third, we must humble ourselves even as Christ humbled Himself once crowned. We must admit that we have done wrong, that our sins have hurt ourselves and others, that we need the aid of the Lord our God; and then we must humble ourselves even further and admit to another, a priest, what we have done wrong. Fourth, we must take up our own cross as Christ took up His; our cross, though, combines the effort of confessing what we have done with the effort of seeking to make amends for it. Our cross is predominantly our penance. Fifth, we find Jesus dying on the Cross even as He forgives others and commends His spirit to the Lord. This too sets our path, when after confession, absolution, and penance, we must die to death and give our spirit to the Lord, forgiving all who have sinned against us as we promise in the prayer Jesus taught.
There are other wonderful notes in the rosary, as in all of Christ’s life, from the way He was born to a manger, a feeding-place (for animals) — a precursor to the Eucharist He would initiate — to the resurrection, the revelation of His Lordship over life in its entirety, and therefore over death as well. One could muse on the way that Simeon told Mary during the Presentation that her heart would be pierced, even as we later find Christ pierced on the cross. We could take an example from Mary’s service to her pregnant sister-in-law Elizabeth, a service given not long after discovering her own pregnancy; just as we could take an example from Jesus, who followed the Psalms and the prophecies of Isaiah in refusing to speak out against those who wrongly condemned Him. But for the purposes of this work, we can consider just the path laid out by the rosary, the path teaching us to bring others to the Lord and to seek always after forgiveness.
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July 3, 2010
Posted in Uncategorized
at 11:47 pm
by Ryan
I have a group of friends that hosted a 4th of July party today (yes, on the 3rd of July; don’t ask). For the invite one of the group rewrote the Gettysburg Address to fit the concept of a party invitation. In response, though I never gave them the card (oops), I put on a thank you card a rewritten version of “O Captain! My Captain!” (which, of course, was about Lincoln and thus fitting for the invite). My words are below.
O Captains! My Captains! our cheerful day is done;
The party lasted out its time beneath the falling sun;
Its end, I hear, is very near; the people are exhausted;
They show good cheer and drink their beer and drinks from vessels frosted.
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the moisture in my eye,
When finally comes our time to part
And I must say goodbye.
O Captains! My Captains! rise up to words of praise!
Rise up–for you we raise a cheer–for you we give hoorays;
For you I write these words of thanks–for you the yard is crowded;
For you we come together at this feast so highly touted.
Here Captains! dear ladies!
The time to go is nigh;
For now, as sure as Hades,
We all must say goodbye.
My Captains do not answer, on couches they relax;
I scarcely think that they can stand, so deeply were they taxed;
The yard survived us safe and sound, its job is closed and done;
The victor yard, we hope unscarred, comes in with object won.
Exult, O halls, and ring, O phones!
But I with wistful sigh,
Collect the words I now intone
As I must say goodbye.
Also, here is a limerick I wrote in my time running my department’s weekly party. The party is called “TG” to explain some terms. This is edited to correct mistakes in the original email (and to fix a few rhythm problems).
There once was a student in grad school
Who learned every* fact, theorem, and rule.
All day he did work,
Then got out to shirk
And went looking for proof he was still cool.
He went to the first bar he passed
And talked to a lovely young lass.
She seemed a hard sell,
But he thought it went well
Until she said she’d put him in a cast.
The pattern continued all night
(Even after they turned down the light).
Everyone he would meet
Would soon get to their feet;
He thought, “Man, this just can’t be right.”
Since he’d already made reservations
For his plans during summer vacation
He thought maybe he
Should go to TG
And practice casual conversation.
The plan couldn’t have gone any worse
(Bet you didn’t expect that this verse!)
The chances were nil
That he’d pick up this skill
And the women he met were all terse.
But while there he would always have fun,
He could sit, eat, drink, and talk a ton.
He made some new friends,
And to this day he sends
Emails about TG to everyone.
I hear there will be one this Friday,
and the room can’t be far out of your way.
We’ll have beer and food,
So please don’t be rude;
Just stop by at TG–you might stay.
*Note: The student cannot officially claim to have learned any facts, theorems, or rules. He needed a rhyme, though, and he does have poetic license. Honest. Maybe it’s in his other coat. He swears he saw it just yesterday.
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June 3, 2010
Posted in Uncategorized
at 1:22 am
by Ryan
I want to keep these in an online (and thus more accessible and durable) format, so here are two poems I wrote recently, or at least one and a half.
First, a poem for a friend who moved away:
Take heart! Keep your heart
on this day that we part;
let not a tear slip your eye.
Just let sadness pass
and instead raise a glass
to the joyful times gone by.
To touch our lives so
before you had to go —
a great gift it was we had!
If there is loss here
then our loss is more dear
so for us should all be sad.
Take heart! Keep your heart
on this day that we part;
sweet sorrow it need not be.
If leave here you must
then please leave here and trust
that ever your friends are we.
Go forth from this place
with an uplifted face
and please with fondness recall
the time you did spend
in the City of Wind
and the joy you brought us all.
Second, a few lines written as goodwill for a friend who got married; with more time, there may be something here:
May the Lord in love and grace
Bless you both in every way.
That when you see each other’s face
You see the love you share today.
May your love help you to weather
All the trials life will give
That you will find your days together
Are the best you ever live.
May naught on earth dissever
The holy vows you share
That you spend your days forever
In each other’s loving care.
I won’t follow these up with a promise for more frequent posts, but maybe leave everyone with the hope that there are more to come.
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August 27, 2009
Posted in Uncategorized
at 1:44 pm
by Ryan
In the world of political discourse, liberty is naturally opposed to equality of outcome. This is because, as one friend put it, the freedom to succeed is also the freedom to fail, and since some will thus succeed while others fail, the natural result of liberty is inequality of outcomes. For lovers of liberty, this is no problem—equality of outcome, they say, is not the equality that matters; rather we should care about equality of opportunity, of treatment, or any other “of ___” such that the phrase means that the reins of the government do not weigh differently on different individuals. Indeed, true liberty necessitates such an equality. However, some in the discourse have become enthralled with the concept of equality of outcome, ignoring the fact that, for instance, the only way for Michelangelo and myself to have the same outcome as artists would have been to cut off his hands (inequal treatment), and even then I would wager he wins. As charges of socialism abound in the current environment, it is worth pondering the natural tension between liberty and equality. As a lover of liberty, here is a defense of liberty. I leave the defense of equality of outcome to one who prefers it. (Note–when used hereafter, equality means equality of outcome.)
One of the most powerful rhetorical clarifications in modern history was that of FDR when he announced his four freedoms, two of which were positive—freedoms “of” something—and two of which were negative, or freedoms “from” something. We think of the most fundamental civil rights, the freedoms of our First Amendment, in terms of the former: freedom of assembly, freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of the press. We will be a much happier people and much better nation when we recognize instead that the most powerful way to recognize these freedoms are instead as freedoms from these various things. We did not throw off the British chains of tyranny and taxation to burden ourselves with new chains of speech, assembly, religion, or the press. The most powerful and effective consequence of our right to affirm, to say “yes”, is the ability to say “no” instead; indeed, without this ability, the “yes” is meaningless. The most powerful part of our freedom of religion is not our freedom to believe any religion we choose but the freedom not to believe those we do not choose. The fifth amendment right against self-incrimination recognizes and affirms this basic principle: the most powerful part of our freedom of speech is not the set of words we are allowed to say but the sets of words that we are allowed not to say.
Making these decisions, the decisions of what to affirm and what not to affirm, can be difficult. It should be. Liberty, and success under liberty, accept no payment short of the best we have within us. Liberty requires courage, equality accepts cowardice. Investments follow the same basic principles, whether they are investments in business or investments in the future of humanity. Without risk there is no reward. Without failure there is no success. Here again the negative is the important part: the freedom to succeed necessitates the freedom to fail. Accepting this freedom is an exercise in courage. Any cowardly person can huddle in squalor with the rest of mankind, but in doing so no glorious monuments of mankind would be built, be they cathedrals or skyscrapers. To advance, to improve, we must venture out—out into the vast ocean in search of new continents and new riches; out into the cloudy skies with the kite that will revolutionize the world; out into the night to hang lanterns in a church or to ride the countryside with warnings of danger. To advance, to improve, we must venture out into a world of danger. And when we lose our courage, when we lose our nerve, when we demand safety nets at every turn, then we fall back to the equality those nets ensure.
People like to talk about gains and losses, assuming that the gain of one is the loss of another—that gains, therefore, prevent equality. This assumption clearly is not true—even in helping my friends do various things while accepting no payment, I gain better friendship and make everyone’s life a little better. However, there is truly one area in the affairs of man where the pie is fixed, where the game is zero-sum, where the gain of one is the loss of another, and that is in the ability to influence or control the actions or decisions of another. Here another’s gain in the ability to control my actions is indeed my loss. By broadening the concept of gain, though, even this analysis is wrong. For in considering the broader effects we see that my loss here is society’s loss, my gain society’s. Forget the dull concept of economic multipliers; the greatest multiplier is the one that takes the gains in one man’s life and extends them over all he encounters.
Our fathers sought two things in founding our nation, equality from God and liberty from man. For a time, they achieved both. Sometime after, we changed our desires to be liberty from God and equality from man, and in all the years since we have achieved neither. The fears that changed our desires led to the fall, for there are only two surefire ways for equality, two ways to make all buildings the same height. One is to raise all to the same height. This option is generally unaffordable. The other is to lower all to the same base. This option we should hope to be generally unacceptable. But when fear of Icarus’ fate makes us put away our wings, we trap ourselves in the prison he died having at least escaped.
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June 9, 2009
Posted in Uncategorized
at 4:59 pm
by Ryan
One of my favorite lines in the original Star Wars movie is one that is almost never recognized for being so perfectly placed. While one of the Y-wing bombers is making his run down the trench of the Death Star, he gets warned about enemy pilots nearing him and feels obliged to put everyone else at ease. He accomplishes this feat by drawing out the phrase “Almost there…almost there…” The tone of voice passes on a sense of hope-specifically, hope that no one else will call him on the fact that it will be about 5 more minutes of screen time before he gets anywhere close to being “there” (the end of the trench, in his case), which in the battle is a very long time.
As it turns out, Evanston is “almost there” for Chicago. With Northwestern’s campus being on the lakeshore and having a little island that juts out into the water, this makes for some great views. Here’s a fairly boring shot of Chicago from the north Lakeshore. Imagine the sunset, when the sky is painted colors that, as Terry Pratchett so perfectly stated, professional artists would call “tacky.”
That line, chosen as today’s blog post title, is also appropriate as I contemplate the end of this first year. In the exact same way as the pilot in Star Wars, I can say “Almost there” about classes, about summer, about prelims, about any number of things. I am, in fact, almost there. Almost, but not quite, and it’s the not quite that perfectly fits the movie frame as well-a few days, a few weeks, seems short but in effort left to be put forth is a very long time.
The TAs for our classes have been wonderful. One of them, probably my favorite TA all year, was giving us advice and discussing with us where we are after this first year of classes. He told us that we should all feel as if we have grown a lot as economists, and he’s right, we have (well, we domestics who knew nothing until this year have; I’m not too sure about a few of the students who already have masters degrees). He also made sure to qualify that we may not have grown as people, and there again he was mostly right…
Now, as the “almost there” implies, we are on the home stretch. That wise TA referred to this first year as a marathon, and we’re at the last half-mile or so. The problem is that the last half mile is an uphill sprint. Now the difficult work begins. Now the panic begins (or continues for those of us with average ability like myself who have worried all year). Now the fun begins.
Because now is when the pressure starts. In sports this time is referred to as the time “when the lights come on,” when everyone is watching and what happens matters. Adrenaline starts pumping as the tests get distributed. Determination meets panic with that first glimpse of the questions, and the victor of that split-second stalemate often determines the outcome of the battle. Cool, level-headed reason? That is the first casualty of this vicious war. This is thinking as hard and fast as you can, searching the back recesses of your mind for that problem that was kind of like this for inspiration, for that day in class when he mentioned that one term, what was it again, I know it was about this. Telling yourself that you don’t have to get done with all of the math in the first 5 minutes but knowing that if you don’t try then you won’t get done with any of it in the whole 2 or 3 hours. Thinking during each test that each problem is only a battle, not the war, and you can lose a battle but win the war, then realizing that each problem was more like a skirmish and each test a battle, but this is a war that must be won with total victory. As the battle rages, the effort drops with fatigue, and the warriors consult the clock in a vain attempt to coax more of the eternal scarcity: time. 5 minutes to go.Almost there…
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April 26, 2009
Posted in Uncategorized
at 5:54 pm
by Ryan
So I totally failed at my promise to update this more often. You people need to hold me accountable-stop paying for your subscriptions until I publish more.
You were paying for your subscription, right?
Given that I wanted to write this as a break from studying for my second and third tests of the quarter, this won’t be long. Thus, instead of deep thoughts, we’ll have random (read: really, really shallow) thoughts.
- (Women, please ignore this point.) Have you ever really gotten a good look at your own nose and ears? I think of myself as a fairly observant person (though I know a certain commenter would disagree), and I randomly noticed and paid attention to those this past week to great surprise. For instance, I could not have told you the proper shape of either of those two on me. After paying a little more attention to how they look, you get a better appreciation for how cartoons and comics have approached drawing them-they look less ridiculous than a first look a would suggest.
- I have been saying for years that I would be in much better shape if I had just found a product like an exercise bike that would connect to my television or video game and demand exercise so that I could keep watching/playing. It turns out there already was such a product. Alas, my brilliant ideas have, as usual, been stolen by others.
- Food Network (and cooking shows on other networks) have finally gotten back into my tv schedule, and I’m starting to understand why they drive me crazy: everything on there looks so tasty, then I remember that a) I don’t know how to cook in half those methods; b) I always wind up watching them either right after I’ve had something terrible (so I feel regretful) or when I haven’t eaten in a while but don’t have time to make something right now (so I get jealous); and c) the shows always make me think that I’m going to be one of those guys who can prepare his own meals (well, beyond making sandwiches, steaming rice and veggies, and grilling meat-which is actually a pretty tasty meal in its own right). Right now, I’m watching a show profiling steakhouses, after having eaten what I must say was a rather terrible lunch, and that does not make me a happy camper.
- Apparently, weather works on a 1-week cycle here during spring. 3 weeks ago we had rain from Saturday night through Monday night, and then a week of sun, and then the same. That same pattern is still holding right now. The problem with this is that I am on a softball team that is supposed to play on Mondays, and it looks again like we will be canceled, so I still haven’t played a game. That said, at least the practices are good exercises?
- And finally, a correction to a George Bernard Shaw/Bobby Kennedy quote: Some people see the world as it is and ask why. Others see the world as it could be and ask why not. I see both and ask, “Why aren’t more people laughing?”
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March 18, 2009
Posted in Uncategorized
at 12:35 pm
by Ryan
A few regular readers have requested that I put something up here, as it’s been officially more than one month since the last post, and let’s be honest, that was hardly a groundshaker. Fear not, you visitors of the blogoshpere (not to be confused with the Blagosphere, which is the sphere around former Illinois governor Rod Blago-something-I-can’t-spell into which no politician will enter. The sphere has a radius of about 40 feet, based on pole-touching commentary (“I wouldn’t touch that with…)). Today, you feast again. And by feast, I mean you get to read and then think “Well, that’s another (3-10 minutes, based on reading speed) of my life that I’ll never get back.”
I just finished my finals for this semester, and I must say that I felt about as well as I did last quarter for two of the classes, and much better than I did about the third. Fortunately the third was my worst last year, so I should be looking for a better grade distribution this quarter. We’ll see.
I feel obliged to point out at this point that I’m operating on minimal sleep over the last 5 days, since I had 3 finals over the past 3; last night, I had maybe 4 hours of sleep, so I’m not entirely sure my higher brain is actually functioning right now. In other words, this post was written almost entirely on autopilot.
A few weeks ago, one of my fellow grad students mentioned that in his time getting a philosophy degree in undergrad, he came to realize that the last 40 years of philosophy focus not on the traditional primary question of philosophy, how ought man live, but on a more basic question: ought man live? He has since parlayed that into jokes about waking up at 7 to go to 9am classes that put you to sleep, saying that on some of those days he finds himself in class wondering if he answered the question wrongly. But the very fact that this question can be asked, let alone receives the full intellectual force of philosophy in discussing it, is disturbing to me.
My favorite author, G.K. Chesterton, wrote in Orthodoxy that there was a danger inherent in man’s ability to think, and that was the ability to think things that end up destroying the capability of man to think. Ayn Rand in Atlas Shrugged, a book much in vogue right now amongst conservative pundits and followers of political discussion, discusses man as being capable of, through thoughts that ignore or dismiss reality, bringing about his own destruction through actions he believes are for the best. (Ayn Rand believed that redistribution-”looting”-was the thought, because it brings about the gradual destruction of the society that makes modern life possible. I’ll ignore the veracity of that claim for now.) Chesterton, though, was concerned with precisely this question, that we can think ourselves out of being thinking creatures, and so think ourselves out of existence, in a way. He wrote, to paraphrase, that there is a thought that makes further thought impossible.
If ever there were a thought that makes further thought impossible, it must have come from the mental process that originates with considering the question “ought man live” to be a legitimate, non-trivial question. If ever there were a self-evident truth, it must be that the answer to “ought man live” is an unequivocal “yes.” Oscar Wilde wrote that man does not appreciate sunsets because man cannot pay for them (to which Chesterton brilliantly responds that man can pay for them-man can pay for them by not being Oscar Wilde). Generalizing the sentiment, behind the question of “ought man live” is the thought that man does not fully appreciate the joys, the benefits of life because man cannot pay for them; to which my reply is “surely at the very least one must pay for these joys by living.” Chesterton made arguments about ordinary morals justifying extraordinary sentiments; that now I must start off by claiming that ordinary life is necessary to justify ordinary sentiments is unthinkable.
I admit that I am unabashedly pro-life, and my justification for it is that every moment one has alive is one more moment in which one can realize the beauty and joy of existence and in so doing be motivated to find one’s own method of payment for the ability to experience something that great. For myself, this realization came after reading Orthodoxy and stopping to think about everything in the world. As a cynic by experience and pragmatist by nature, I am sometimes astounded to notice how generally happy and pleased I have become with the world-I remarked to a friend earlier this week that I must be the most upbeat cynic in the world. All of that comes from the fundamental realization that existence is wonderful. I say realization, not belief, because I do not accept that this is merely a belief but insist it to be a truth.
Some men, through the force of their personalities, have conquered unconquerable foes, won unwinnable battles, or beaten unbeatable odds. I will never be one of those people, I have resigned myself to accept. But I do sometimes hope that the force of my love for life can inspire others, if not to greatness, than at least to understand the beauty I see in and the joy I take from the world around me every day.
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February 17, 2009
Posted in Uncategorized
at 12:11 am
by Ryan
We all are tested at times. For me, at this particular moment, the tests were literal ones: macro, micro, and metrics (or as I like to call them, the 3 Ms of economics). If you are lucky enough to know when you are being tested (and thus know when you are finished being tested), you can do what any sane person would do: celebrate. Which leads me to a question: what do you do when you finish midterms? If your answer was “drink a bottle of wine (over about 6/7 hours, so no serious side effects) and score 672,000 on Text Twist after playing it from 4:10-11:30”, then give yourself a gold star. If you just guessed “play Text Twist,” or “play video games” in general, I suppose you get a silver star.
Come up with my entire afternoon somehow and I’ll grant a platinum star.
So now, after 2 weeks of, well, adrenaline and sleep, I get to relax. The problem is, I’m slowly starting to forget how to do that. I suppose I know that it involves not doing things that take effort, either physically or mentally, but most of the things I enjoy doing involve effort in one of those two dimensions. I suppose I’ll remember how this works at some point.
Well, 12:15 is time for bed even for grad students whose classes barely start before noon, so that’s all for now. More soon.
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