Quote of the Day -- Karl Ove Knausgaard

What makes life worth living? No child asks itself that question. To children life is self-evident. Life goes without saying: whether it is good or bad makes no difference. This is because children don’t see the world, don’t observe the world, don’t contemplate the world, but are so deeply immersed in the world that they don’t distinguish between it and their own selves. Not until that happens, until a distance appears between what they are and what the world is, does the question arise: what makes life worth living?

-- Karl Ove Knausgaard

Quote of the Day -- John Steinbeck

People don't take trips—trips take people.

-- John Steinbeck

Quote of the Day -- Maud Casey

I was born with a reading list I will never finish.

-- Maud Casey

Quote of the Day -- Flannery O'Connor

Accepting oneself does not preclude an attempt to become better. 

-- Flannery O'Connor

Quote of the Day -- Annie Dillard

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

-- Annie Dillard

Quote of the Day -- John Maynard Keynes

Ideas shape the course of history.

-- John Maynard Keynes

The Joy of Things

De-cluttering seems to be all the rage these days. Writers and practitioners are becoming wealthy helping people conquer their "stuff."  The Swedes have their death cleaning, the Japanese keep only what gives them joy, and my favorite habit and happiness author Gretchen Rubin writes about Outer Order, Inner Calm.

I admit that both the act of de-cluttering and the end result provide a sense of accomplishment and, yes, joy.  But I have a dirty little secret.  My "stuff" brings me joy, too.  Often on our adventures, our fellow travelers will say, "I'm not buying anything.  We're downsizing.  I don't need any more stuff." Meanwhile, I'm busily filling my suitcase with the perfect picture or knick-knack to commemorate the trip.  And I seldom stop at just one.  

Our house is filled with mementos from our journeys, and they bring us genuine joy.  They help us remember where we've been, what we've seen, and the people we've met.  They are great conversation starters.  And they just make me smile.

But as we travel more, it is becoming a bit harder to remember the stories that go with the things. Even worse, I sometimes can't remember the place -- was it Guatemala or Bolivia? Laos or Myanmar.  And our kids say, "I hope you are writing this down so someday, when you're gone, we'll know where you got all these lovely treasures." What a great sense of purpose to reinforce my renewed habit of writing -- tell the tales of all those things we love and why they give us the wonderful joy of memories.

Quote of the Day -- Scott Turow

Who are we but the stories we tell ourselves, about ourselves, and believe?

-- Scott Turow

Sometimes You Just Have to Start ... Again

I've always intended my blog to be a personal journey, more than a publication. In the early days, right after I retired, I penned entries fairly frequently.  Then my efforts dwindled and ultimately disappeared.  I started again, stuttered, and grew quiet. And for the past several years, I have mostly collected wonderful quotes.  I take great pleasure in paging through and reading them, but quoting others is not a replacement for writing. 
 

Writing, like almost any endeavor, requires commitment and practice. No one expects you to play a musical instrument without practicing. No one expects you to play the cello just because you can play the piano (although being able to read music does give you a bit of a head start). Why is it hard to accept that writing takes practice, too?

I play the piano regularly, with only the occasional hiatus. I take lessons because it gives me structure and the pleasure of playing duets with my teacher Barbara. And I'm noticeably more accomplished than I was 8 years ago when I resumed playing regularly.  My technique isn't as strong as it was in my youth. Alas, my fingers will never be that agile again, but I make up for it with more mature musicality.  Practice doesn't necessarily make perfect, but it definitely contributes to incremental improvement. So, why is it so hard for me to translate that lesson to the art of writing?

My study of the piano has no objective other than pleasure. Although I have occasionally played in public and have contemplated putting together a small recital for friends and family, I am my own most important audience. I do it for myself. I enjoy the effort and the results. Writing should be the same way -- mostly just for me.I read widely and eclectically.  One area I've explored is the study of habits -- both making good ones and breaking bad ones. A lesson I've oft heard repeated is that once you have interrupted a desirable habit, it is even harder to re-establish it than it was to build the good habit in the first place.  Hard, but not impossible. You just have to start.  Take a step.  One day at a time, one line at a time, one blog entry at a time.  

One of my favorite books, back in my technical writer days, was Writing to Learn by William Zinsser.  The subtitle is "How to Write -- and Think -- Clearly about Any Subject at All."  Zinsser's premise is that the act of researching and organizing your thoughts to write clearly is the best kind of learning.  He also posits that the best material is often produced by writers who are initially ignorant about their subject matter, giving them the ability to explain most clearly.  I need to take Zinsser's ideas as my new mantra as I try -- once again-- to build the habit of writing regularly.  I'm writing to learn.  I'm writing to organize my thoughts and think clearly.  I'm writing for me.

Quote of the Day -- Plutarch

An imbalance between rich and poor is the oldest and most fatal ailment of all republics.

-- Plutarch