A chastening quote:
"When a book leaves your hands, it belongs to God. He may use it to save a few souls, or to try a few others, but I think that for the writer to worry is to take over God's business." --Flannery O'Connor
Which makes me want to read her stuff. Is it good?...Is it depressing? Maybe I'll read it after I get moved.
Yes, I'm moving. I'm packing up and going to Missouri at the end of this month. So here's another rumination. This morning as I was driving to work, I was actually thinking (amazing!) -- about the word "habit." I've just looked it up in the OED (which I'll miss sorely when I leave here), and the note says: "The sense development, as seen in Latin and the modern languages taken together, is thus: orig. Holding, having, 'havour'; hence the way in which one holds or has oneself, i.e. the mode or condition in which one is, exists, or exhibits oneself..." But let that be for a moment. I was driving to work. I was thinking about moving, and about my habits. There are all kinds of habits, but we usually only talk about the bad ones. And I thought how much it misses the mark to tell people just to stop doing it. People can't just stop. So then I thought about our word "habit" and the French word "habiter" -- "J'habite a Londres" or, "I live in London." (Just imagine the accent marks, you French-major purists.)
People can't just stop a habit, because the habit is where they live. And moving stinks. I've moved a lot throughout my (relatively short) adult career, and nothing is more depressing, exhausting, wrenching, and did I mention exhausting? You have to get boxes and decide what to pack and what to throw away. You have to inconvenience yourself living without that one book you know is packed at the bottom of box 5 of 10. You have to take all your pictures off the walls. You have to throw away stuff you didn't know you still had. You have to uproot yourself spiritually from your settled haven. And then you have to sweat loading it onto trucks and trekking to your new abode. And then, you have to do that whole process backwards.
Moving sucks. If I want to stop a habit, I have to clean up my mental house. Then I have to sort everything in my head and pack. Then I have to go without things until I get to the new place. Pictures down from the walls, fridge cleaned out, silverware packed.... And how do I know that the new place is going to be safe, or good, or helpful? Moving away from one habitation and into another is difficult. It needs courage and patience and help from people who love you. And a big long nap when you get the chance.
"Breaking the habit" isn't positive enough. "Moving house to a new habit" is better. You can think of your new prospects. You can remind yourself it isn't done in one easy step -- and stop thinking of all those phantom people who do it in a snap. Leaving one place means arriving at another. You clean out your demons and replace them with something else instead.
Well, I feel somewhat comforted now.
"When a book leaves your hands, it belongs to God. He may use it to save a few souls, or to try a few others, but I think that for the writer to worry is to take over God's business." --Flannery O'Connor
Which makes me want to read her stuff. Is it good?...Is it depressing? Maybe I'll read it after I get moved.
Yes, I'm moving. I'm packing up and going to Missouri at the end of this month. So here's another rumination. This morning as I was driving to work, I was actually thinking (amazing!) -- about the word "habit." I've just looked it up in the OED (which I'll miss sorely when I leave here), and the note says: "The sense development, as seen in Latin and the modern languages taken together, is thus: orig. Holding, having, 'havour'; hence the way in which one holds or has oneself, i.e. the mode or condition in which one is, exists, or exhibits oneself..." But let that be for a moment. I was driving to work. I was thinking about moving, and about my habits. There are all kinds of habits, but we usually only talk about the bad ones. And I thought how much it misses the mark to tell people just to stop doing it. People can't just stop. So then I thought about our word "habit" and the French word "habiter" -- "J'habite a Londres" or, "I live in London." (Just imagine the accent marks, you French-major purists.)
People can't just stop a habit, because the habit is where they live. And moving stinks. I've moved a lot throughout my (relatively short) adult career, and nothing is more depressing, exhausting, wrenching, and did I mention exhausting? You have to get boxes and decide what to pack and what to throw away. You have to inconvenience yourself living without that one book you know is packed at the bottom of box 5 of 10. You have to take all your pictures off the walls. You have to throw away stuff you didn't know you still had. You have to uproot yourself spiritually from your settled haven. And then you have to sweat loading it onto trucks and trekking to your new abode. And then, you have to do that whole process backwards.
Moving sucks. If I want to stop a habit, I have to clean up my mental house. Then I have to sort everything in my head and pack. Then I have to go without things until I get to the new place. Pictures down from the walls, fridge cleaned out, silverware packed.... And how do I know that the new place is going to be safe, or good, or helpful? Moving away from one habitation and into another is difficult. It needs courage and patience and help from people who love you. And a big long nap when you get the chance.
"Breaking the habit" isn't positive enough. "Moving house to a new habit" is better. You can think of your new prospects. You can remind yourself it isn't done in one easy step -- and stop thinking of all those phantom people who do it in a snap. Leaving one place means arriving at another. You clean out your demons and replace them with something else instead.
Well, I feel somewhat comforted now.
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