Sometimes there is enough to post a mid-week Book Review Round-Up. Today is such a day.

The New York Times likes the new biography about Patricia Highsmith. The editors at the same paper have named their Top 10 books of the year. (One of which I’m reading right now – Lorrie Moore.) The L.A. Times interviews one of the founders of the literary site The Nervous Breakdown. Letters by Vincent van Gogh.

Cory Doctorow gets reviewed in The Globe and Mail. The Telegraph looks at the bond between writer and machine. The author of Me and Orson Welles shares his thoughts on the movie. Petina Gappah wins The Guardian book award in its inaugural offering.

Gappah reads from her work:

Writer’s make their Christmas suggestions. Crime authors bring their cities to life. J.F. Powers and the short story. More poems wind up in commercials these days. Diane von Furstenberg puts work on Daily Lit. Pablo Neruda was an avid seashell collector. Ray Bradbury says Mars is man’s “destiny.” Alain de Botton has a new book out. Schott’s Almanac.

My 'well thumbed' Eden Seeds Catalogue

Soon there will be space in the garden for another bed of climbing beans.  The weather has been warm and very wet , which seems to be, ‘bean weather’ – the Purple King Climbing Beans are now two-thirds of the way up their trellis. I have thought about trying Lazy Housewife Bean again – but despite the catalogues seductive promise of ‘delicious flavour and heavy bearing over a long period of time’ – Madam has failed to deliver over the last three summers. Operating on the ‘three strikes and your out’ principle I feel that it is time to try another variety.

I have a copy of the Eden Seeds Catalogue which I have cherished since 2006.  Seed catalogues are my guilty pleasure (blushing as I type).  Eden Seeds are on the web and their site is easy to use – but the web is no substitute for my old tatty paper catalogue. I love sitting with a coffee reading the descriptions of all the fabulous varieties, the strange shapes, interesting colours and promise of plenty. The Lab Lab Bean, Kentucky Wonder or Molley’s Zebra Bean “saved by Molley Mollison”, visions of the long succession of gardeners who have grown and saved these seeds fills my soul with wonder.

I’ve settled on ‘Epicure’ quoting from the catalogue “Fleshy, flat green pod to 18cm, long harvest period, popular home garden variety.  In 1929 L H Brunning says “The most delicately flavoured…” Eaten young they are tender and practically stringless”.  I’m sold!

I sometimes select seeds in the same way that I, try each year to, select a winning horse for the Melbourne Cup – yes you guessed it – do I like your name? I would like to tell you that my extensive record keeping holds valuable data that allows me to pick a winning variety – this would be a flat out furphy . I’ve been thinking about the philosopher Epicurus a lot recently and the name caught my eye – bingo – we have a winner.

I re-read  and watched ‘The consolations of philisophy’ by Alain de Botton recently – specifically the section on the philosopher Epicurus and his community called ‘The Garden’. Epicurus suggested that in order to be happy a person needed friendship, self-sufficiency and time for reflection.  He and his followers worked, thought and spend a lot of their time tending a vegetable garden in order to find happiness.

I’ve been wondering what Epicurus would make of our back fence and modern urban living. Given that he didn’t like urban living in Athens in 306 BC I can’t imagine that modern Melbourne would take his fancy.

So reflecting on which of the experiments I will try in the New Year to connect my garden to my community and inspired by Epicurus I’m going to try setting up the Veggie Gardening Coffee Club in a local cafe or gardening centre. I’m hoping that by advertising an informal opportunity to discuss veggie gardening, varieties that are growing well in our local area and maybe swapping surplus seeds I can connect with other growers.

Maybe a coffee club would not be to Epicurus’ taste either – but I’m absolutely certain that he would have loved sharing a jug of water in my garden while swapping seed catalogues.

We were sometimes seized by an urge (…) to kill our love affair before it had reached its natural end, a murder committed not out of hatred, but out of an excess of love – or rather, out of the fear that an excess of love may bring. Lovers may kill their own love story only because they are unable to tolerate uncertainty, the sheer risk, that their experiment in happiness has delivered.

Source: LA Times

I mentioned in October I’d been looking forward to reading Alain de Botton’s “A Week at the Airport”, but it’s just received an absolute pasting in TimeOut this week.

I would link to the review, by Chris Moss, but TimeOut.com search facilties aren’t the best, and as far as I can tell it’s not online.

Anyway, Moss says:

“Botton has missed the button here” – nice – “and any access he was granted [within Heathrow] seems to have been carefully managed.”

He continues:

“…it takes an artist – think Cortazar, Goncharov or Beckett – to render life’s dullest routines fascinating and fruitful. A writer with a talent for lyricism might have achieved that; de Botton does not.”

This is still the same author of “The Art of Travel”, which is a great book. I think I’ll still give it a go.

READ: Timeout: The walk of lunacy
READ: Timeout: ‘Makes Star Trek XV: Journey to Planet Disko’ look like old news

We should not feel embarrassed by our difficulties, only by our failure to grow anything beautiful from them.

Alain de Botton, “Consolations of Philosophy”, 2000. Penguin Books.

-나에게 글쓰기에 대한 욕구는 늘 세상을 이해하고자 하는 것에 대한 욕구이다.

-많은 사람들이 삶의 고통과 어려움에 감정적으로 대처하려 하거나 회피하려 하지만

설득력 있는 글을 쓰기 위해서는 삶의 어두운 면까지도 받아들여야만 한다.

그렇게 책 밖의 세상이 침묵하는  부분을 책 속에 드러냄으로써 독자들을 위로해야 한다고 생각한다.

그리고, 당시 내가 겪은 사랑의 상처가 책을 쓰도록 동기 유발은 했지만 글을 쓰기 위해서는

우선 책 읽기와 다양한 어휘들의 뉘앙스를 사랑하고 무언가를 분석해서 자신만의 관점을 만들어야한다.

-나에게 흥미와 즐거움을 주거나 반대로 실타래처럼 얽혀 내 삶을 어렵게 하는 것들에 대해서 쓴다.

-좋은 작가란 우리가 일상에서는 잘 볼 수 없는 삶의 중요한 면들을 상기시켜야 한다고 생각한다.

in BAZAAR

A student writes, noting that the Thanksgiving holiday officially commences on Wednesday at 5 pm… so naturally he wonders if we’ll be meeting for our regular noon class. (!)

Not a good omen, class attendance-wise. People apparently just can’t wait to start giving thanks for all they’ve been given.

But as their content provider it’s my job to show up and give them some more, so I will. Topics to be covered:

1. Gratitude (naturally!)

2. Michel de Montaigne (1533-1592), humanist, essayist, earthy philosopher of everything corporeally human… just because he was bumped from the syllabus earlier this semester and I’m grateful for the opportunity to re-instate him just as we arrive at his fifteen seconds of fame in our text. He was “heir to the Skeptics of old,”  the anti-Descartes who knew better than to lodge too much confidence in our ability to know anything for certain. “Que sçais-je?” (“What do I know?”)

And he owned the coolest library/study ever (much moreso than Descartes’ methodologically hypothetical “meditation” zone).

His greatest virtue may have been tolerance. His most refreshing attitude, though, may have been his candor about bodily matters. “For it is indeed reasonable, as they say, that the body should not follow its appetites to the disadvantage of the mind; but why is it not also reasonable that the mind should not pursue its appetites to the disadvantage of the body?” So he philosophized a lot about his own body parts, one member in particular. (NOTE to Plato and other transcendentalists: philosophers who rise too far above our natural state make themselves ridiculous, remote, and irrelevant in their transcendent detachment. Montaigne’s parts were all immanent, and attached, and so are yours and mine. )

“There is a plague on Man, the opinion that he knows something.” Like Socrates, and like science, not presuming to know is what drove Montaigne to study and learn and stay humble. Not a bad example for us all.

And now, scholars study and publish on Montaigne (while non-scholars quote him without attribution). He’d be amused.

Alain de Botton comes by his interest in Montaigne naturally: his late father Gilbert (1935-2000) collected Montaigne-iana. His impressive collection is now an exhibit at Cambridge University Library.

I’ve gone through several books by Alain de Botton over the past few years. I read The Architecture of Happiness on the strength of its beginning, which includes a passage on the inner workings of his own house, a house that, left on its own after the occupants have left, rearranges itself after the night by “clearing its pipes and cracking its joints”. Nice. On the whole, though, I was glad I took that book out of the library instead of buying it. Ditto How Proust Can Change Your Life. (The Consolations of Philosophy is still on my to-read list—in my defence, I have a very long to-read list.) I do have on my bookshelf The Art of Travel and Status Anxiety, and still occasionally refer to them. Right now I’m halfway through The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work, and I have to say I think this is de Botton’s best so far.

De Botton’s talent is to bring to our attention what seems ordinary, mundane, plain and even ridiculous and, in allowing a reader to see it deeply and thoughtfully through his eyes, bestow it some dignity. He displays this talent beautifully in Work.

Consider what he does in the first chapter, “Cargo Ship Spotting,” with a group of five men standing in the rain at the end of a pier: He likens their study of the progress of the cargo ship Grande Nigeria to that of ornithologists observing a Phylloscopus trochilus, he compares their concentration to that of a small child discovering a piece of chewing gum on a crowded sidewalk. The men’s dedication to their study, he argues, is deeper than that of many museum attendees who go through the motions of admiring a centuries-old nude but really are rather impatient for the cafeteria at the end of the hall.

These men, who may not be well-read or aware of 14th century Florentine art, are alive to some of the most astonishing aspects of our time: “They know what it is about our world that would detain a Martian or a child.”

That’s what de Botton knows. He also knows how to put it in language you want to savour. That’s his gift.

De Botton also introduces us to the world of an artist who paints for love, since money largely eludes him. This painter, de Botton says, knows what his art is for: “To help us to notice what we have already seen.” And the same can be said for de Botton’s work.

I live on the “wet coast” of British Columbia, and from the end of the sidewalk to my house, I have a narrow view of the ocean a block and a half away. Cargo ships, coming to or from Vancouver or Seattle, frequently pass through those waters, and I rarely pay them much attention. At least I haven’t in the past; I expect I’ll look at the next one I see in a different way.

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We tend to accept that people in authority must be right. It’s this assumption that Socrates wanted us to challenge by urging us to think logically about the nonsense they often come out with, rather than being struck dumb by their aura of importance and air of suave certainty. This six part series on philosophy is presented by popular British philosopher Alain de Botton, featuring six thinkers who have influenced history, and their ideas about the pursuit of the happy life.

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Part 1: Socrates on Self-Confidence

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Why do so many people go along with the crowd and fail to stand up for what they truly believe? Partly because they are too easily swayed by other people’s opinions and partly because they don’t know when to have confidence in their own.

RunTime: 25 min

[ Full Screen ]

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Part 2: Epicurus on Happiness

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British philosopher Alain De Botton discusses the personal implications of the ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus (341-270BCE) who was no epicurean glutton or wanton consumerist, but an advocate of “friends, freedom and thought” as the path to happiness.

RunTime: 24 min

[ Full Screen ]

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Part 3: Seneca on Anger

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Roman philosopher Lucious Annaeus Seneca (4BCE-65CE), the most famous and popular philosopher of his day, took the subject of anger seriously enough to dedicate a whole book to the subject. Seneca refused to see anger as an irrational outburst over which we have no control. Instead he saw it as a philosophical problem and amenable to treatment by philosophical argument. He thought anger arose from certain rationally held ideas about the world, and the problem with these ideas is that they are far too optimistic. Certain things are a predictable feature of life, and to get angry about them is to have unrealistic expectations.

RunTime: 25 min

[ Full Screen ]

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Part 4: Montaigne on Self-Esteem

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Looks at the problem of self-esteem from the perspective of Michel de Montaigne (16th Century), the French philosopher who singled out three main reasons for feeling bad about oneself – sexual inadequecy, failure to live up to social norms, and intellectual inferiority – and then offered practical solutions for overcoming them.

RunTime: 25 min

[ Full Screen ]

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Part 5: Schopenhauer on Love

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Alain De Botton surveys the 19th Century German thinker Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) who believed that love was the most important thing in life because of its powerful impulse towards ‘the will-to-life’.

RunTime: 24 min

[ Full Screen ]

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Part 6: Nietzsche on Hardship

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British philosopher Alain De Botton explores Friedrich Nietzsche’s (1844-1900) dictum that any worthwhile achievements in life come from the experience of overcoming hardship. For him, any existence that is too comfortable is worthless, as are the twin refugees of drink or religion.

RunTime: 24 min

[ Full Screen ]

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Crédito: Desconhecido

Conheci por acaso a obra de Alain de Botton, que conhece uma muito interessante expressão prática nesta School of Life.
Esse acaso materializou-se numa noite de semana, em que na 2 passava um episódio de uma série intitulada A Ansiedade do Status. Nela, e à luz não apenas da filosofia mas igualmente de autores de várias épocas ligados à análise social, Botton analisava de uma forma tão tranquila quanto completa, a ansiedade ligada ao posicionamento social que hoje em dia toma conta da grande generalidade das pessoas, face à necessidade interior de criar, manter, ou criar e manter uma imagem social dentro do tecido predominantemente urbano que caracteriza essas inquietações dos tempos modernas, e as implicações que tem na busca humana pela felicidade.
Foi esse carácter urbano que marcou a primeira impressão que tive deste autor, e sendo algo que não consigo muito bem explicar, o certo é que se manteve ao ler a obra publicada, que acaba por explanar um pouco toda esta temática da busca de felicidade em alguns pontos muito concretos que vão desde o simples acto de viajar até à evolução da arquitectura ao longo dos tempos, passando por uma divertida análise da relação amorosa que pode ser lida em Essays in Love.
É contudo A Ansiedade do Status que, a meu ver, marca a base da actuação social de Botton, analisando uma sociedade pós-revolução industrial onde o homem segue ao sabor dos cada vez maiores desafios que se lhe colocam, quer ao nível da melhoria da qualidade de vida e excessos decorrentes da mesma, quer ao nível da competitividade que se estabelece entre indivíduos e grupos pela mais efectiva demonstração de posse e comportamentos associados a esta, cujo reverso da medalha são as imensas questões que o homem coloca a si mesmo nestes tempos modernos, as expectativas que não cria mas tem de criar, e os graus de satisfação que queria elevados, mas que nunca encontram o fim no extremo diametralmente oposto dentro da atmosfera profundamente relativista a que as soluções pretensamente encontradas nos conduziram.
O que é igualmente atraente em Alain de Botton é o facto de todo o seu pensamento e análise estarem estruturados dentro do pensamento ocidental, nomeadamente nos campos da filosofia, antropologia e sociologia. Dentro deste quadro, ele apresenta uma linha de análise que tem tanto de estruturada como positiva e fresca, chegando mesmo a ser relaxante reflectir sobre ela, numa forma de estar perante o pensamento que certamente (e infelizmente) não se aprende nos bancos da escola, valorizando o Eu de uma forma muito positiva e aberta face à dimensão da sua obra (o conhecimento). Esta School of Life não é mais do que o prolongamento dessa ideia de que no pensamento ocidental existem diversos autores,diversas ideias, diversas escolas de pensamento que permitem compreender e intervir neste estado de ansiedade generalizado das sociedades actuais.

Discussing the point of the blog with a partner at my work away day, about the fact that with a lack of religion and spirituality in general, people are becoming more and more selfish and in turn feeling that their lives are empty.  He commented on this book, by Alain de Botton, which looks at why, in Western societies where we should have everything,  people are left with a sense of dissatisfaction and frustration. 

Going to Turkey during ramadan was pretty inspirational to me.  To see people sacrificing their enjoyment for a greater purpose – religious of course, but also to empathise with those who are hungry, to realise the importance of charity, to get closer to friends and family.  When do we ever do anything like that?  It was long ago that anyone really gave up anything for Lent, and charity is not part of our daily lives.

All these things are perhaps cyclical but there is already a yearning for spirituality, for “something else” and perhaps doing things for other people for once, not for ourselves, and sacrificing our own happiness for a greater good, is what we are all looking for.

In anul IV de facultate am avut un semestru intreg in care a trebuit sa scriu muuulte eseuri in limba franceza, respectand regulile retoricii. Aveam un profesor scolit prin Franta, extrem de exigent, care a reusit sa-mi imprime niste principii si tehnici ale discursului extrem de utile: prezentarea unei idei intr-un mod care atrage atentia si “capteaza bunavointa”, pastrarea logicii si argumentarea oricarei afirmatii, asigurarea unei fluiditati in derularea ideilor una din alta, anticiparea contra-argumentelor oponentilor si demontarea acestora in avans, rezumarea la sfarsit a ideilor prezentate si prezentarea concluziilor intr-un mod interesant. [Sa nu se inteleaga ca pretind ca stapanesc aceasta arta, dar macar am o idee despre cum se face.] Si da, se pare ca latinii erau the real thing in chestia asta, inainte sa inventam noi Power Point-ul si sa ne invete Dale Carnegie cum sa vorbim in public!

Pentru ca, daca in scris este oarecum usor sa faci un eseu bun, cand trebuie sa-l prezinti oral in fata unei audiente, lucrurile se complica. Se stie ca vorbitul in public este una din temerile cele mai mari ale oamenilor. Sa-ti stapanesti emotiile, sa-ti reglezi vocea si gesturile, sa-ti corectezi ticurile verbale nu este ceva la indemana oricui. Unii au talent nativ la asa ceva (norocosii posesori de carisma), altii merg la cursuri si/sau exerseaza pana ating nivelul dorit. O sa dau mai jos doua exemple de oratori de la care, din punctul meu de vedere, am putea invata cate ceva. 

Exista, pe de o parte, stilul american, agitato-glamuros, gen Tony Robbins. Lasand la o parte cat de mult credem sau nu in teoriile sale, va rog sa observati cum publicul ii ciuguleste literalmente din palma. Sa nu uitam ca acest om tine seminarii care dureaza cate 50 de ore (vineri-sambata) in fata a cateva sute de oameni deodata. De cand ia microfonul in mana, el reuseste sa vrajeasca audienta, prin miscarea continua, prin glume strategic plasate, prin adresarea de intrebari, prin interactiunea directa cu persoane din public, prin anumite  fraze sau teme pe care le reia de mai multe ori pe parcursul discursului. Nu e de mirare ca “the why guy”, cum isi spune el, a facut o avere de milioane doar din… vorbe.

Celalalt mod de captare a bunavointei este cel britanic, reprezentat aici prin scriitorul Alain de Botton. El e opusul lui Tony Robbins. In cel mai relaxat si cool stil englezesc, sta pe loc si vorbeste. Insa discursul lui este atat de interesant, atat de dens in idei, iar umorul lui este atat de subtil si de buna calitate, incat nu poti decat sa-l asculti cu gura cascata si urechile ciulite, sa nu cumva sa pierzi vreo vorbulita. Va sfatuiesc sa va faceti timp 16 minute si sa ascultati ce are el de spus despre cum e inteles succesul in zilele noastre… Fiecare idee pe care o expune ar merita o discutie sau un post separat pe blog.

Acestea fiind zise, imi doresc tare mult sa vad si in Romania vreun scriitor / politician / ziarist / om de marketing capabil nu doar sa stapaneasca tehnica oratoriei, ci si sa aiba idei proaspete si originale, mentinandu-si in acelasi timp si o anumita modestie si demnitate. Ai nostri fie au capabilitati retorice dar emit platitudini, fie au idei bune dar nu stiu sa le prezinte. Ce e mai rau este ca nu sunt constienti de asta, iar daca sunt constienti, considera ca e sub demnitatea lor sa-si exerseze discursul in oglinda inainte sa le moara jumatate de public de plictiseala. 

Astfel, participam la diverse conferinte si seminarii unde “speakerii” vorbesc incet sau monoton, stau cu spatele la public si cu fata la ecran, fac Power Point-uri cu slide-uri pline de text scris cu font imposibil de citit din sala, nu-si condimenteaza discursul cu nimic funny, original, interesant, ceva care sa mentina atentia treaza si in general se vede clar ca nu si-au exersat speech-ul inainte. Mai rau, am vazut oameni care se avanta in subiecte pe care nu le stapanesc. Cele mai recente exemple le-am intalnit la conferinta de marketing unde am fost acum cateva saptamani, cand un caprior speriat si balbait de la o agentie s-a apucat sa ne spuna el cum se calculeaza ROI-ul dar nu-si mai amintea daca este investitii supra profit sau profit supra investitii sau… Pana la urma a renuntat, in chicotelile batjocoritoare ale oamenilor din sala. Nu i-a ajuns ca s-a facut de bafta cu chestia asta, ci a continuat autoflagelarea: cand pe un slide a aparut scris “vanzari mai mari cu 200%”, el ne-a tradus informatia prin “vanzarile au crescut de 200 de ori”. :| De-asta imi place mie zicala aia cu “Decat sa taci si sa creada lumea ca esti prost, mai bine vorbesti si inlaturi orice banuiala”.

Ok, vad ca iar m-am intins la scris, asa ca o sa urmez regulile retoricii si o sa-mi rezum tot discursul astfel: Daca nu poti sa fii simpatic, macar zi ceva interesant; daca nu poti sa zici ceva interesant, macar fii simpatic; daca poti sa fii simpatic si sa zici si ceva interesant, atunci felicitari, ai captat bunavointa publicului. Si daca nu poti nici sa fii simpatic, nici sa zici ceva interesant, te rugam frumos sa stai acasa sau sa ramai in sala, pentru ca a vorbi in fata unor oameni trebuie sa fie un privilegiu, nu un sacrilegiu! 

Um dos cursos mais procurados da School of Life, no West End de Londres, aborda o tema “como ser cool“, que quer dizer “bacana”, “legal”, em inglês. A escola tem entre seus fundadores o filósofo e escritor suíço Alain de Botton, que diz que o tema tem tudo a ver com grandes pensadores como o romano Sêneca e o  grego Aristóteles, e que ter uma vida simples é o primeiro passo para quem quer ser mais feliz.

E o que essa filosofia ensina? Aqui vão algumas dicas…

• não viva em função da opinião alheia: para Sêneca, essas pessoas nunca serão ricas em felicidade;
• a virtude está no meio: não ser nem corajoso nem covarde demais, os dois extremos trarão infelicidade;
• memento mori: em latim, significa “lembre-se de que você vai morrer”. Para Botton, lembrar-se disso todos os dias evitará que cometa os mesmos erros ou que leve uma vida sem prazer;
• o importante é a jornada: essa é do imperador romano Marco Aurélio, traduzindo que deve-se viver cada momento, sem se preocupar tanto com o resultado;
• nem tanto ao mar, nem tanto à terra: a felicidade está na convivência com os altos e baixos da vida, sem ficar tão feliz ou tão triste com tudo que acontece no nosso dia-a-dia. Deve-se conter a euforia e a desolação, saber equilibrar vitórias e derrotas, como ensinou Aristóteles.

Para ele, ser cool não significa ter 500 seguidores no Twitter ou 1.000 amigos no Facebook, “se você simplesmente ler seus e-mails com atenção e responder a eles com dedicação é provável que seja mais feliz.”

Simples, né? “Ser um bom irmão, passear com os filhos no parque, fazer geléia para dar de presente aos amigos, são atitudes como essa que fazem uma pessoa ser bacana e, assim, ser mais feliz” …

Fonte: Caderno Equilíbrio, Folha de São Paulo, 12/11/2009

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: but God decided he didn’t need to divide the light from the darkness. It is as it is, and that it was equally good. There was no need for a second day.

Photo by Dominik Spuller (airliners.net)

“Quando me sinto triste em casa, muitas vezes pego um trem ou um ônibus e vou até o Aeroporto de Heathrow, onde, de uma plataforma de observação no Terminal 2 ou do andar mais alto do Renaissance Hotel, ao longo da pista norte, consolo-me com a visão do incessante pousar e decolar de aeronaves.

No difícil ano de 1859, logo após o processo de Fleurs du mal e do rompimento com sua amante Jeanne Duval, Baudelaire visitou a mãe na casa dela em Honfleur. Durante grande parte de sua estada de dois meses, ocupou uma cadeira junto ao cais, observando a chegada e a partida de embarcações. “Aqueles grandes e belos navios com seu aspecto sonhador e ocioso, não parece que eles nos sussurram em línguas mudas: Quando zarparemos para a felicidade?”.

Visto de um estacionamento ao lado da 09L/27R, como a pista norte é conhecida pelos pilotos, o Boeing 747 parece, de início, uma luzinha branca e brilhante, uma estrela que cai na direção da terra. Ele está no ar há doze horas. Decolou de Cingapura ao amanhecer. Sobrevoou a baía de Bengala, Déli, o deserto afegão e o mar Cáspio. Seguiu seu trajeto por cima da Romênia, da República Checa e do sul da Alemanha, antes de começar sua descida, tão suave que poucos passageiros teriam notado uma mudança no tom dos motores, acima das turbulentas águas marrom-acinzentadas ao largo da costa holandesa. Ele acompanhou o Rio Tamisa até sobrevoar Londres, voltou-se para o norte, perto de Hammersmith (onde os flapes começaram a baixar), girou sobre Uxbridge e acertou o curso acima de Slough. Da terra, a luz branca aos poucos ganha corpo como uma enorme massa de dois andares, com quatro motores suspensos como brincos debaixo de asas de um comprimento implausível.

Na chuva fina, nuvens de água formam um véu atrás do avião, que prossegue o seu grave avanço até o campo de pouso. Abaixo dele, estão os subúrbios de Slough. São três da tarde. Em casas com quintal, enchem-se chaleiras. Um televisor está ligado numa sala de estar, com o som mudo. Sombras verdes e vermelhas passeiam mudas pelas paredes. O dia-a-dia. E acima de Slough passa um avião que, havia algumas horas, estava sobrevoando o Mar Cáspio. Mar Cáspio – Slough: o avião como um símbolo de cosmopolitismo, trazendo dentro de si um resquício de todas as terras que atravessou, sua eterna mobilidade oferecendo um contrapeso imaginativo para sensações de estagnação e confinamento. Hoje de manhã, esse avião sobrevoou a península da Malásia, topônimo no qual subsistem os aromas de goiaba e do sândalo. E agora, alguns metros acima da terra que evitou tocar por tanto tempo, o avião parece imóvel, com o nariz elevado, dando a impressão de fazer uma pausa antes que suas dezesseis rodas traseiras entrem em contato com a pista, com uma rajada de fumaça que deixa evidentes sua velocidade e seu peso.

Numa pista paralela, um A340 levanta vôo com destino a Nova York e, acima da represa de Staines, recolhe os flaps e o trem de pouso, dos quais só precisará novamente quando da descida próximo às brancas casas de madeira de Long Beach, à distância de mais de cinco mil quilômetros e oito horas no mar e nuvens. Visíveis no nevoeiro através do calor dos turborreatores, outros aviões esperam para iniciar viagem. Suas caudas são uma confusão de cores em contraste com o horizonte cinzento, como velas de uma regata.

Ao longo da parte traseira de aço e vidro do Terminal 3, repousam quatro gigantes, cujas librés indicam procedência variada: Canadá, Brasil, Paquistão, Coréia. Por algumas horas, as pontas de suas asas ficarão a apenas metros de distância, até que cada par comece outra viagem em meio aos ventos estratoféricos. À medida que cada aeronave se volta para um portão, tem início uma dança coreografada. Caminhões deslizam por baixo de seu ventre, negras mangueiras de combustível são presas às suas asas, um corredor móvel curva a boca de borracha retangular sobre a fuselagem. As portas dos compartimentos de carga são abertas e descarregam caixas de carga de alumínio amassadas, talvez com frutas que apenas há alguns dias pendiam dos galhos de árvores tropicais, ou legumes que tinham raízes no solo de vales altos e silenciosos. Dois homens de macacão armam uma pequena escada junto a um motor e abrem sua carcaça para revelar um território intricado de fios e pequenos tubos de aço. Lençóis e travesseiros são baixados da frente de uma cabina. Passageiros desembarcam, para quem essa tarde inglesa comum terá uma coloração sobrenatural.

Em nenhum lugar, a sedução do aeroporto está mais concentrada que nas telas de televisão suspensas em fileiras nos tetos dos terminais, a anunciar a partida e chegada de vôos, e com uma peculiar ausência de constrangimento estético: as caixas plásticas e de formato desinteressante não fazem nada para disfarçar a carga emocional ou o fascínio imaginativo que inspiram. Tóquio, Amsterdã, Istambul, Varsóvia, Seattle, Rio. As telas portam toda a ressonância poética da última linha de Ulysses, de James Joyce: ao mesmo tempo um registro de onde o romance foi escrito e, não menos importante, um símbolo do espírito cosmopolita por trás de sua criação: “Triestre, Zurique, Paris.” As constantes chamadas das telas, algumas acompanhadas do pulsar impaciente de um cursor, sugerem com que facilidade nossa vida aparentemente enraizada poderia ser transformada, caso seguíssemos por um corredor e embarcássemos numa aeronave que em poucas horas nos deixaria num lugar do qual não teríamos nenhuma recordação e onde ninguém soubesse o nosso nome. Como é gostoso ter em mente, através da fissura de nossas oscilações de humor, às três da tarde, quando a lassidão e o desespero ameaçam, que sempre há um avião decolando para algum lugar, para o “Qualquer lugar! Qualquer lugar!” de Baudelaire: Triestre, Zurique, Paris.”

(do imperdível livro “A Arte de Viajar”, de Alain de Botton)

Book Review of The Art of Travel by Alain De Botton

Traveling widens human potential.  I believe it hastens maturity and allows you to understand living in a convincing manner. When I say convincing, it means you are the object of the experience,  neither the observer nor the critic, you are in the story and leading it.

If you are asked, why do you travel? We usually say for pleasure. But Alain’s skill for dissecting the mundane is impressive in this book.  While reading it, I needed to re-asses my own travels and remember how it felt then. As a habit, I am observant, even taking pictures of the common and creating a story out of it.  An example is the picture below which I described in my blog:

This blue-eyed guy in his late 40s was waiting for his wife while they took turns in going to the restroom and attending to their travel stuff. He was wearing a Marmot jacket, Reebok sandals, owns a Jetpak bag and browsing the Lonely Planet travel guide to the Philippines. He must be an accomplished mountain trekker from Alaska, and they were like having a retirement vacation across Asia. But their Jetpak luggage reveals that they might be based in Sweden or in Europe. After twenty minutes, they left for Cebu, judging from the timing they heard the boarding call.

To look back at this moment offers some clarity for me, and I certainly knew there was something good in remembering this particular moment.  Until I have read more of Alain De Botton’s Art of Travel.

In his book, he has divided the discussion of The Art of Travel into five parts: Departure, Motives, Landscape, Art and Return. A review is not supposed to reveal the plot nor the core of the story, but I needed write how I understood each part of traveling.  Some spoiler from hereon I reckon, so be warned (I assure you though, my ability to explain is far more inferior than that of Alain’s).

Departure has something to do primarily with Anticipation.  Many times in our travels, the “looking forward to” part is exhilarating in itself.  Waiting for the bus, train, or plane consist of waiting as we all know, and thinking about the good things as we expect a wondrous vacation sometimes doesn’t happen and fall short of our expectations.

The author offers the nature of humans to expect.  We forget that especially if we have invested too much (say paid handsomely) for a travel and believing that it will never go wrong.  I agree with Alain though, that in our travels, we have moments of soliloquy, of this tranquil moment alone.  I believe that is the potent ingredient in my own travels, a date with solitude.

Motives are one’s reason for traveling, it answers the question: Why travel?  You have your reasons, and the author offered many that perhaps you have had in the past.  The mundane is never simple when you are in another place because the details are not the same, may it be a poster, sign board, how people talk, and how strangers look at you.

Landscape and Art are the somewhat new to me, here the author will educate you of the importance of seeing the beauty in your surrounding and knowing a bit of history so that you may add context in your experience. Traveling inspires, only if you have eyes that will acknowledge.

Returning is quite familiar, the feeling of leaving an old or new friend behind.  That traveling can be very relative, it can even happen in your own bedroom!  How that is possible is explained by De Botton by citing historical facts based on previous lovers of travel.

You will be educated, inspired, and humbled by reading this book.  In the process, you will know that traveling is not just mere action required by our need to experience new things and seeking change as a human being, it is also about the art of traveling, thus the title my friend.

More details about The Art of Travel here from the author’s official website.

The telephone becomes an instrument of torture in the demonic hands of the beloved who does not call. The story lies in the hands of the dialer, the receiver loses narrative control, can only follow, answer when called. The telephone coiled me into the passive role; in the traditional sexuality of the telephone exchange, the feminine receiver to Chloe’s masculine call. It forced me to be ready to answer at all times, it lent an oppressive teleology to my movements. The machine’s molded plastic surfaces, its user-friendly redial buttons, its colored designs, none of this indicated the cruelty that its mystery concealed, the lack of clue it gave as to when it [and hence I] would be brought to life.

~ From On Love by Alain de Botton

I loved this novel from the moment I read it over a decade ago, with its numbered paragraphs (this one is #6 in the chapter titled The Subtext of Seduction), little diagrams, and painfully accurate tortures and agonies of having a crush on someone. This passage in particular has stayed with me. I love the notion of an “oppressive teleology” brought on by the waiting and waiting for someone to call. Interestingly, the book is sold in Britain with the title Essays In Love, which implies a books of essays and not a novel. Quite simply, though, it is both: a work of fiction that frames a collection of philosophical musings on love.

de Rijksuniversiteit Groningen en

de Volkskrant. De ingekorte versie van zijn lezing over bedrijfsleven en filosofie.

http://wp.me/pF2XO-h

ESSAY DE VAN DER LEEUW-LEZING
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of wat er nog van over is
De schrijver en filosoof Alain de Botton hield vrijdag de 27ste Van der Leeuw-lezing, georganiseerd door onder meer
de Rijksuniversiteit Groningen en de Volkskrant. De ingekorte versie van zijn lezing over bedrijfsleven en filosofie.
Door Alain de Botton Illustratie Mike Ottink
Er zijn weinig woorden die elkaar zo
weinig te zeggen lijken te hebben als
bedrijfsleven en filosofie. Het ene
lijkt het toonbeeld van nuchter pragmatisme,
het andere de vlag voor alles
wat in menselijke aangelegenheden onrealistisch,
onwezenlijk en onbelangrijk is.
Ik voel deze strijdigheid ten diepste. En ik
betreur haar, want een aantal mensen dat ik
op deze wereld het meest bewonder, houdt
zich ofwel met de filosofie ofwel met het bedrijfsleven
bezig – en beide kampen zijn er heilig
van overtuigd dat ze elkaar niets te zeggen
hebben. Ik droom van een wereld waarin ze
een dialoog aangaan en inzien hoeveel ze van
het andere kamp kunnen opsteken. Van Plato
is de befaamde uitspraak dat de wereld alleen
beter zou worden als filosofen koning of koningen
filosoof zouden worden. Vervang koningen
door ondernemers en u hebt mijn mening
over dit onderwerp.
Een kennismaking tussen filosofie en bedrijfsleven
betekent dat wezenlijke vragen
worden gesteld over de richting van onze samenleving
en – heel direct – over de rol van het
geld daarin.
Als we bedenken wat we tegenwoordig onder
een succesvol mens verstaan, kunnen we
ons moeilijk voorstellen dat de verwerving
van geld in dat beeld geen hoofdrol zou spelen.
Tot de categorie succesvolle mensen behoren
mannen en vrouwen, ongeacht hun ras,
die dankzij hun eigen activiteiten (en niet
door te erven) geld hebben weten te vergaren
in een van de talloze takken van de commerciële
wereld (waaronder ook sport, kunst en
wetenschappelijk onderzoek). Omdat we er in
de praktijk van uitgaan dat een samenleving
een meritocratie is, worden geldelijke verworvenheden
als ‘verdiend’ opgevat. Het vermogen
rijkdom te vergaren wordt gewaardeerd,
omdat het op de aanwezigheid duidt van ten
minste vier hoofddeugden: creativiteit, moed,
intelligentie en volharding. De aanwezigheid
van andere deugden – zoals bescheidenheid of
godsvrucht – kan zelden boeien. Anders dan in
vroegere samenlevingen worden verworvenheden
niet toegeschreven aan ‘geluk’, ‘voorzie -
nigheid’ of ‘God’ – een teken van het geloof dat
de moderne seculiere samenleving in de individuele
wilskracht heeft. Ook financiële mislukkingen
worden daarmee als verdiend beschouwd
en aan werkloosheid kleeft iets van
de schande die fysieke lafheid heeft in krijgszuchtige
tijden. Geld krijgt een ethische kwaliteit
toebedeeld. De aanwezigheid tekent de
deugdzaamheid van de eigenaar en hetzelfde
geldt voor de materiële goederen die voor geld
te koop zijn. Een welvarende leefwijze is een
teken van waardigheid, terwijl het bezit van
een oude auto of een haveloos huis op morele
tekortkomingen kan duiden. Welstand geeft
een hoge status, maar wordt ook aangeprezen
om zijn vermogen geluk te brengen en zijn
vermogen toegang te bieden tot een reeks telkens
andere consumptiegoederen –waarvan
de afwezigheid ons met medelijden en verwondering
kan vervullen als we bij het beperkte
leven van vroegere generaties stilstaan.
Hoe natuurlijk een dergelijk beeld ook mag
lijken, het is uiteraard – zo houdt een filosofisch
perspectief ons voor – niet meer dan
mensenwerk; een jonge ontwikkeling die teruggaat
tot halverwege de achttiende eeuw,
voortgekomen uit een veelheid van aanwijsbare
factoren. Bovendien, zou het filosofisch perspectief
hier nog aan toevoegen, is het ideaal
nu eens onnozel, dan weer oneerlijk en misschien
niet geheel onveranderbaar.
Geen enkel aspect van het moderne ideaal is
zo kritisch bezien als het verband dat wordt
gelegd tussen rijkdom en deugd – en tussen armoede
en morele bedenkelijkheid. In The Theory
of the Leisure Class (1899) beschreef Thorstein
Veblen hoe aan het begin van de 19de eeuw het
geld als hoofdcriterium was opgekomen in
het oordeel dat commerciële maatschappijen
zich over hun leden vormden: ‘Rijkdom is inmiddels
de gebruikelijke grond voor achting.
Het bezit ervan is noodzakelijk om een enigszins
eervolle positie in de gemeenschap te bekleden.
Leden van de gemeenschap die niet
voldoen aan een vrij hoog welstandspeil zullen
dalen in de achting van hun medemens en
zullen dus ook in hun eigen achting dalen.’
In een commerciële samenleving zou het,
suggereerde Veblen, vrijwel onmogelijk zijn
om vast te houden aan de gedachte dat iemand
deugdzaam en toch arm kon zijn. Ook
de meest onmaterialistisch ingestelde mens
zou zich verplicht voelen rijkdom te vergaren
en om aan smaad te ontkomen het bezit ervan
te demonstreren, en zich ongerust en schuldig
voelen als hij dit verzuimde.
Juist deze gedachte dat ‘fatsoen’ aan welstand
dient te worden gekoppeld – en dus ‘on -
fatsoen’ aan armoede – vormt de kern van een
sceptische reeks bezwaren tegen het hedendaagse
idee van succes. Waarom zou een verzuim
om geld te verdienen per se duiden op
een mislukt mens en niet op een fiasco in een
bepaald deel van een veel groter, veelzijdiger
project om een goed leven te leiden? Waarom
zouden rijkdom en armoede als de twee belangrijkste
richtsnoeren voor iemands moraal
worden gezien?
Het moderne ideaal van een geslaagd leven
veronderstelt dus niet alleen een verband tussen
geld verdienen en goed zijn, maar legt
daarnaast nóg een verband: tussen geld verdienen
en gelukkig zijn.
Deze gedachte berust op haar beurt
weer op drie veronderstellingen.
Ten eerste dat het niet buitensporig
moeilijk is om vast te stellen waardoor
we gelukkig zullen worden. Zoals
ons lichaam meestal weet wat het nodig
heeft om gezond te zijn en ons daarom naar
gerookte vis trekt als het een natriumtekort
heeft of naar perziken als de bloedsuikerspiegel
te laag is, zo mogen we volgens de theorie
ook van onze geest verwachten dat hij beseft
waarnaar we moeten streven om tot bloei te
komen; en zo zal hij ons ook van nature tot bepaalde
carrières en projecten drijven. Ten
tweede dat de enorme scala van beroepsmogelijkheden
en consumptiegoederen die in de
moderne beschaving voorhanden is niet een
opgesmukt en enerverend vertoon is dat leidt
tot opgeklopte wensen die weinig met onze
welvaart hebben uit te staan, maar dat deze
juist in staat is in een aantal van onze belangrijkste
behoeften te voorzien. En ten derde dat
hoe meer geld we ter beschikking hebben, hoe
meer producten en diensten we ons kunnen
veroorloven en hoe groter onze kansen op geluk
dus zullen zijn.
Voor wie dit mocht opvatten als een onzinnig
romantisch verhaal dat is af te doen als de
fantasie van een pastorale schrijver die onredelijk
vertoornd was over de moderniteit, is
het de moeite waard om hieraan toe te voegen
dat de 18de eeuw ten dele juist naar het betoog
van Rousseau luisterde omdat ze een schril
voorbeeld van de klaarblijkelijke waarheid
had in de vorm van het lot van de inheemse indianenvolken
van Noord-Amerika.
In verslagen van de indianensamenleving
uit de 16de eeuw was ze omschreven als materieel
eenvoudig, maar psychologisch bevredigend:
de gemeenschappen waren klein, hecht,
egalitair, godsdienstig, speels en krijgshaftig.
In financiële zin liepen de indianen beslist
achter. Ze leefden op vruchten en dieren uit
het wild, ze sliepen in tenten, ze hadden weinig
bezittingen. Elk jaar droegen ze dezelfde
pelzen en schoenen. Zelfs een opperhoofd bezat
soms niet meer dan een speer en een paar
potten. Maar de mate van tevredenheid te
midden van de eenvoud gold als indrukwekkend.
Binnen enkele decennia na de komst van de
eerste Europeanen beleefde het statusstelsel
van de indianenmaatschappij evenwel een revolutie,
doordat het in aanraking kwam met
de techniek en luxe van de Europese industrie.
Wat telde was niet meer iemands wijsheid of
inzicht in de grillen der natuur, maar zijn bezit
van wapens, juwelen en alcohol. Indianen
verlangden nu naar zilveren oorbellen, armbanden
van koper en messing, tinnen ringen,
halskettingen van Venetiaans glas, ijsbeitels,
vuurwapens, alcohol, ketels, kralen, schoffels
en spiegels. De voorstanders van een commerciële
maatschappij hebben sympathisanten
met de indianen – en ieder ander die mocht
klagen over de verderfelijke gevolgen van een
moderne economie – altijd één antwoord gegeven:
dat niemand de indianen dwong om
halskettingen van Venetiaans glas, ijsbeitels,
vuurwapens, ketels, kralen, schoffels en spiegels
te kopen. Niemand belette hen om in tenten
te wonen of bewoog hen houten huizen
met veranda’s en wijnkelders te willen bezitten.
De indianen lieten uit eigen beweging een
sober, eenvoudig leven achter zich – en misschien
was dat wel een teken dat dit leven toch
niet zo prettig was als het wordt voorgesteld.
Dat verweer is te vergelijken met dat van hedendaagse
reclamebureaus en krantenredacties
die stellen dat zij niet verantwoordelijk
zijn voor de aanwakkering van misplaatste bemoeienis
met het leven van beroemdheden,
veranderingen in de mode of het bezit van
nieuwe producten. Bepaalde mediakanalen
verstrekken gewoon informatie over deze onderwerpen
aan iedereen die mogelijk belangstelling
heeft – terwijl veel meer mensen, zo
luidt de suggestie, juist spontaan zullen verkiezen
om de armen te helpen, te mediteren,
Edward Gibbons Decline and Fall te lezen of
zich te bezinnen op de korte tijd die nog rest
voordat ze zelf uitsterven.
De kern van het filosofische verwijt aan het
moderne commerciële ideaal is dat het zich
schuldig maakt aan een reusachtige verdraaiing
van prioriteiten en een proces van materiële
accumulatie tot hoogste goed verheft,
terwijl dit maar een van de vele factoren zou
moeten zijn die de richting van ons leven bepalen,
als onderdeel van een authentieker, breder
gedefinieerde opvatting van onszelf.
Verbolgen over deze verdraaiing van prioriteiten
verweet John Ruskin de 19de-eeuwse
Britten (in de Verenigde Staten was hij nooit
geweest) dat ze de grootste geldwolven uit de
wereldgeschiedenis waren. Altijd loerde hun
zorg, schreef hij, over wie wat waarvandaan
had (‘De heersende godin is al met al misschien
het beste te omschrijven als de Godin
van de Welstand’). Ze schaamden zich voor hun
gebrek aan rijkdom en waren jaloers op de
rijkdom van anderen.
Maar Ruskin deed een bekentenis.
Anders dan verwacht, was ook hij
van rijkdom bezeten. De gedachte
rijk te worden, spookte hem
van ontbijt tot avondeten door
het hoofd, erkende hij. Maar hij speelde alleen
sarcastisch met een dubbelzinnigheid in het
woord ‘rijkdom’ om krachtiger te beklemtonen
hoe ver zijn landgenoten zijns inziens van
het rechte pad waren afgedwaald.
In onze maatschappijen zal altijd geld of een
statusstelsel bestaan. Hoe onplezierig ook de
onrust mag zijn die hieruit voortvloeit, we
kunnen ons moeilijk een goed leven indenken
dat het geheel zonder stelt, want de angst dat
we kunnen mislukken en ons in andermans
ogen te schande maken is niet meer dan een
logisch gevolg van onze ambities, een voorkeur
voor de ene reeks uitkomsten boven de
andere en eerbied voor personen naast onszelf.
Maar onze behoefte aan succes mag dan
vaststaan, we behouden wel de keuze waar we
deze behoefte vervullen, het staat ons vrij om
te waarborgen dat onze zorgen over oneer en
armoede voornamelijk verbonden zijn met
een publiek waarvan wij de oordeelvorming
zowel begrijpen als eerbiedigen. De filosofie
streeft niet naar afschaffing van hiërarchie; ze
probeert nieuwe vormen van hiërarchie te vestigen
op grond van waardenstelsels die niet
worden erkend door en zich afzetten tegen die
van de huidige meerderheid. Met behoud van
een stevige greep op het onderscheid tussen
succes en mislukking, goed en slecht, beschamend
en eervol, probeert ze ons tot een ander
besef te brengen van dat wat met recht onder
deze gewichtige hoofdjes mag worden ondergebracht.
Daarbij is het nuttig om legitimiteit te verlenen
aan hen die in elke generatie niet in staat
of bereid zullen zijn zich plichtsgetrouw te
schikken in de heersende opvattingen over
succes, maar die het misschien toch verdienen
anders dan onder het lompe etiket idealist of
dromer te worden gerangschikt. De filosofie
kan ons een reeks overtuigende en troostende
verzekeringen geven dat er meer dan één manier
is om te slagen in het leven.
Vertaling: Rien Verhoef
In onze maatschappijen zal altijd geld
of een statusstelsel bestaan
. . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . .. . . . .. . . . . . . . . .. . . . .. . . . . .
VK 31-10-09 katern 4 pagina 37 

With friends like this… “To those who are of any concern to me I wish suffering, desolation, sickness, ill-treatment, indignities– I wish that they should not remain unfamiliar with profound self-contempt, the torture of self-mistrust, the wretchedness of the vanquished.”

Thus spake Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900), inevitably evoking the oft-repeated cliche that is in fact an accurate rendition of his main conviction: “what doesn’t kill me” etc. Thanks a lot, Fritz. (As a young grad student I considered myself a friend of Nietzsche, for a time, before sobering up from his distinctive brew of “will to power” and discovering better brands.)  It will surprise no one to learn that he had few close friends, during a life that consumed itself in self-serious, self-absorbed,  self-aggrandizing, self-conscious, finally self-parodying intensity. At the end (a dozen years before his death) he was writing things like Ecce Homo, “Why I am so wise, so clever, write such good books” etc., and it’s not clear all or even most of the late vainglory can be blamed on his syphilitically-deranged brain. It pretty clearly cannot be.

If we’re known by the company we keep, it is instructive to notice the company of self-avowed Nietzscheans. (Yes, this borders the ad hominem, but our boy would understand.) It includes a disproportionate number of brilliant but misanthropic types obsessed with their legacy, contemptuous of their contemporaries, certain they’d be appreciated by the ages, neglectful of the domestic side of life. Richard Wagner, H.L. Mencken and  Ayn Rand are names that pop instantly to mind. (It also includes Nazis. They misread him, of course. But if a Nazi were going to misread a philosopher, he’d be the one.) No such thing as a Nietzschean? ‘Fraid so.

But perhaps he wasn’t dead wrong when he criticized Christians, Kantians, Utilitarians and everyone else he perceived to be in service of ease  instead of the strenuous, difficult life from which he was convinced we gain the most. Fewer couches and beer and remote controls, more mountains to climb. (Doesn’t have quite the ring of “A yes, a no, a straight line, a goal,” but the thought is much the same.)

“If you refuse to let your own suffering lie upon you for even an hour and if you constantly try to prevent and forestall all possible distress… then it is clear that [you harbor in your heart] the religion of comfortableness. How little you know of human happiness…” You can’t be happy if you’re not prepared to suffer for it. Another cliche will not be denied here: “no pain, no gain.”

Alain de Botton: according to Nietzsche, “we all become Christians when we profess indifference to what we secretly long for but do not have; when we blithely say that we do not need love or a position in the world, money or success, creativity or health– while the corners of our mouths twitch with bitterness; and we wage silent wars against what we have publicly renounced.” On this scale, then, didn’t Nietzsche (the preacher’s kid) maintain a life-long flirtation with Christianity too?

“How would Nietzsche have preferred us to approach  our setbacks? To continue to believe in what we wish for, even when we do not have it, and may never… Resist the temptation to denigrate and declare evil cerain goods because they have proved hard to secure.” If you just invert the terms “good and evil,” you’re not beyond them.

Here’s the great sadness  and tragedy of this solitary mountain philosopher’s life: he admired Epicurus , especially the Epicurean idea that happiness involves a life among friends. He really cut himself off, at the end of that trail. He never had the pleasure of a weekend packed with trick-or-treating,  Krispy Kreme-ing and dog-parking with a joyous 10-year old, World Series viewing,  etc. The quotidian did not map onto his “straight line” to the summit.

Too bad for him, even if good for those who are glad he wrote those books. But isn’t it selfish not to wish he’d been capable of  a more conventional happiness?

So if you go to dwell in the upper regions, be sure to keep in touch with your lowland pals.

Alain de Botton vorbeşte despre snobi, meritocraţie şi individualism la TED, poti urmari cu subtitare in romana sau engleza, pentru ca vorbeste destul repede

Chrysalis in IND. Photo Credit: R. Cao via flickr

It was recently written in the NY Times that Heathrow Airport let writer Alain de Botton, post up in the the port, and quietly record everything he saw, heard, and experienced as the airport’s first ever writer-in-residence.  His unedited words were then to be published and printed, in a short book titled “A Week at the Airport: A Heathrow Diary.”  According to Dan Glover, the creative director at Heathrow’s public relations agency, the objective was “to make a passenger’s time at Heathrow the best memory of the trip.”

Mr. Glover is looking for an outcome that many other, if not all, airport authorities strive for.  While air travel can often be a source of stress and frustration for people, airports are constantly in search of ways to enhance the experience and improve the overall airport environment.  This experiment was profoundly unique, in that it put the airport’s visitors at the center of the story, allowing for them to feel more connected to their environment and a part of a bigger, more important story.  You can find excerpts from Alain de Botton’s book here.

Other airports offer their passengers cultural experiences by installing art exhibits and small-scale galleries for travelers to enjoy.  The New Indianapolis International Airport recently opened as the nation’s first brand new airport since 9/11.  Starting in 2005, however, the Indianapolis Airport has been collecting hundreds of pieces of public art as part of the Col. H Weir Cook Memorial Terminal Building installation.    The airport hopes to create a “visual gateway” to the city, allowing travelers of all ages and backgrounds to discover the unique heritage and history of Indianapolis.

So next time you find yourself at the airport with time to kill prior to departure, be sure to take a moment and explore the local art scene.  It could turn out to be one of the best memories of your trip!