That's a meme I am quite fond of and struck by. And it's probably a testament to our times, not in a good way. It's no surprise that people, especially men, are reading less than they have in the past fifty years or so. Beyond that, people are mostly mired in a sea of superficial content which they are constantly scrolling through with the attention span of a gnat.
And I don't mean to be snotty and pretentiously above all that. I am certainly guilty, too.
However, I was recently thinking about a line from David Foster Wallace's profoundly simple commencement speech, "This is Water." As DFW describes the mundane banality of adult life when we are wrapped up in the frustrating tedium of sitting in traffic on the way home from work, he opines that our ego leads us to dwell on the negative. While our natural default setting is to be annoyed at all the other people who are in our way, we do have a choice in how we think about any situation we are in. More importantly we have options in what we choose to think about.
And, that wonderful little epiphany -- easier to acknowledge than to practice -- got me thinking more deeply about how we choose to spend our time and what we choose to think about. It reminded me of another commencement speech, albeit one that was never actually given. It comes from a favorite writer and thinker of mine, Neil Postman. I've used this piece on occasion with my writing students, and it's a valuable piece of advice for how we choose to live. Basically, Postman tells the story of two notable groups of people in the history of western civilization, the Athenians and the Visigoths. And Postman's advice is to choose to be an Athenian, not a Visigoth.
I'd like to think I spend more time practicing the Athenian pursuit of knowledge and wisdom. And, granted, this is to acknowledge that ancient Athens wasn't some utopia of goodness, peace, and wisdom. But we like to live and think by dichotomies for a reason, and in a comparison of better and worse ways to live, the Athenian-Visigoth split is a pretty decent divergence of paths.
I certainly hope I am choosing to be a better person most of the time. And, keeping in mind DFW's advice, I hope I can remember more often than not to choose an attitude of grace and compassion, of empathy and understanding, of caring and kindness, as opposed to living with judgment and suspicion and contempt.
As Longfellow once wrote, "Act that each tomorrow finds us further than today." Here's to getting better, one choice at a time.
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