'Homespun Philosophy': Tips for Living to Take or Leave

goinghome

goinghome

you must not tamper with arrangements
This thread is for wisdom to pass around. If any health conditions are involved, aren't we supposed to add, find a qualified practitioner? Something I can barely describe. What strikes a chord with one won't with others. Post away.

To start, a bookiwook for those among us who find themselves aging:

"“Many of us assume that the more successful we are, the less susceptible we become to the sense of professional and social irrelevance that often accompanies aging. But the truth is, the greater our achievements and our attachment to them, the more we notice our decline, and the more painful it is when it occurs. What can we do, starting now, to make our older years a time of happiness, purpose, and yes, success? At the height of his career at the age of 50, Arthur C. Brooks embarked on a seven-year journey to discover how to transform his future from one of disappointment over waning abilities into an opportunity for progress. From Strength to Strength is the result, a practical roadmap for the rest of your life.”

Subtitled Finding Success, Happiness, and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life, the book apparently contains various personal stories, and refers to some historic icons like Bach, I haven't read it. The blurb drew me in since often the transition could probably benefit from more reflection.
 
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The Dawn of Everything - in India​

David Wengrow (UCL Institute of Archaeology) was invited to two of India’s major literary festivals to talk about his co-authored volume, The Dawn of Everything.

"The Dawn of Everything provides an extraordinary perspective of human history and social evolution, challenging our most fundamental assumptions to reveal a broader scope for human emancipation. Authors David Graeber and David Wengrow study the origins of predominant theories of primitive ancestors, barbarianism, human instinct, the origin of states and civilisations and their ties to the conflict between European society and indigenous discourse."

At Kolkata, in dialogue with the LSE anthropologist Mukulika Banerjee


and with the internationally acclaimed author Amitav Ghosh on the topic: ‘Do we need a new history of humanity?’
 
Why linger here, why turn another page?
Oh! seal with doubt the whole book of the age;
Doubt every one, even him, the seeming slave
Of righteousness, and doubt the canting sage.

Abu'l-Ala Al-Maarri
(tr. Ameen Rihani)
 
Thus shall you think of this fleeting world:
A star at dawn, a bubble in a stream;
A flash of lightning in a summer storm;
A flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream.

The Diamond Sutra
 
A blind man, authentically blind for once, held out his hand: in his posture, his rigidity, there was something that caught you, that made you hold your breath. He was handing you his blindness.

Emil Cioran
(tr. Richard Howard)
 
O threats of Hell and hopes of Paradise!
One thing at least is certain,—This Life flies;
One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown forever dies.

And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
Lift not your hands to It for help—for It
As impotently rolls as you or I.

Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám
(tr. Edward FitzGerald)

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I Sought the Wood in Winter, by Willa Cather​


I sought the wood in summer
When every twig was green;
The rudest boughs were tender,
And buds were pink between.
Light-fingered aspens trembled
In fitful sun and shade,
And daffodils were golden
In every starry glade.
The brook sang like a robin—
My hand could check him where
The lissome maiden willows
Shook out their yellow hair.

“How frail a thing is Beauty,”
I said, “when every breath
She gives the vagrant summer
But swifter woos her death.
For this the star dust troubles,
For this have ages rolled:
To deck the wood for bridal
And slay her with the cold.”

I sought the wood in winter
When every leaf was dead;
Behind the wind-whipped branches
The winter sun set red.
The coldest star was rising
To greet that bitter air,
The oaks were writhen giants;
Nor bud nor bloom was there.
The birches, white and slender,
In deathless marble stood,
The brook, a white immortal,
Slept silent in the wood.

“How sure a thing is Beauty,”
I cried. “No bolt can slay,
No wave nor shock despoil her,
No ravishers dismay.
Her warriors are the angels
That cherish from afar,
Her warders people Heaven
And watch from every star.
The granite hills are slighter,
The sea more like to fail;
Behind the rose the planet,
The Law behind the veil.”
 
goinghome said:

I Sought the Wood in Winter, by Willa Cather​


I sought the wood in summer
When every twig was green;
The rudest boughs were tender,
And buds were pink between.
Light-fingered aspens trembled
In fitful sun and shade,
And daffodils were golden
In every starry glade.
The brook sang like a robin—
My hand could check him where
The lissome maiden willows
Shook out their yellow hair.

“How frail a thing is Beauty,”
I said, “when every breath
She gives the vagrant summer
But swifter woos her death.
For this the star dust troubles,
For this have ages rolled:
To deck the wood for bridal
And slay her with the cold.”

I sought the wood in winter
When every leaf was dead;
Behind the wind-whipped branches
The winter sun set red.
The coldest star was rising
To greet that bitter air,
The oaks were writhen giants;
Nor bud nor bloom was there.
The birches, white and slender,
In deathless marble stood,
The brook, a white immortal,
Slept silent in the wood.

“How sure a thing is Beauty,”
I cried. “No bolt can slay,
No wave nor shock despoil her,
No ravishers dismay.
Her warriors are the angels
That cherish from afar,
Her warders people Heaven
And watch from every star.
The granite hills are slighter,
The sea more like to fail;
Behind the rose the planet,
The Law behind the veil.”
Click to expand...
Love that!!!!:hearteyes: adding it to my list if favorite poems!!!!
 
How homespun is Morrissey? How much is he a fictional character, a persona deliberately adopted with the help of accessories including NHS specs, hearing aid. gladioli, blouses and necklaces, and inspiration from literature and culture (Oscar Wilde, Shelagh Delaney etc), which is separate from his everyday self? Has he designed himself, from one stage to the next, and would that be unusual?

In The Dawn of Everything by David Graeber and David Wengrow (see above), the authors argue that contrary to what history claims, people in past millennia often experimented with different forms of social organisation. The writers believe that practises which alter living conditions, enabling people to construct their own realities and exercise more freedom, are most integral to humanness. This suggests people often have the capacity to choose between systems and arrange new ones where needed.

Supporting their view is a book they cite, written in 1936 by the prehistorian and theory synthesiser V. Gordon Childe, entitled Man Makes Himself. This also suggests that human beings have always been engaged in self-innovating projects, presuming basic latitude, which contrasts with common ideas that for thousands of years, people were generally either innocent idiots or brutish idiots, compelled by circumstances, unable to be imaginative in their relationships, lifestyles or cultures.

Morrissey (and Marr) explain the thinking behind some of their self-invention in a video interview sandwiched between songs played live at L'Eldorado, Paris in 1984, as shared by Name in the song thread. The interview is about 2 minutes 40 seconds in -

Is Morrissey's artistic personality play a big attraction, along with his talent for recording it? And can we really make ourselves?
Answers on a postcard!
 
goinghome said:
How homespun is Morrissey? How much is he a fictional character, a persona deliberately adopted with the help of accessories including NHS specs, hearing aid. gladioli, blouses and necklaces, and inspiration from literature and culture (Oscar Wilde, Shelagh Delaney etc), which is separate from his everyday self? Has he designed himself, from one stage to the next, and would that be unusual?

Is Morrissey's artistic personality play a big attraction, along with his talent for recording it? And can we really make ourselves?
Answers on a postcard!
Click to expand...
Well Morrissey himself said in the interview with Larry King that one of his all time favourite Oscar Wilde quotes is;

"We are who we are, having secretly decided who we’d like to be."

Take from that what you will.
 
That Wilde quote certainly seems to bear out the thesis :thumb:

For now, some thoughts from the School of Life on the Best Way to Face Difficult Times
 
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Morrissey - intro to Stretch Out & Wait - Wireless Festival, Hyde Park, London. 4th July 2008​

Earlier that day, I had walked through Hyde Park with an ex, singing lines of TISLTNGO, and Hairdresser,. Weaving through road-works outside, we visited the Oriental Mandarin Hotel for brief refreshment. As drinks were brought to the table, I saw Morrissey glide through at the other side of the room. The drink slipped out of my hand, embarrassingly drawing the attention of staff, and my sense of immobilisation did not lift for the short time we stayed. I'd hope I'd be more calm and collected now. But no harm done. Maybe if I'd heard what he said before this song in time, I'd have chilled a bit. Anyway, never feel pressurised: good homespun philosophy : )
 
More homespun philosophy from Morrissey. Sorry, this is harder to read!

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From the intro to I Won't Share You, Atlanta, 2019. I wasn't there, but this is a distinctively mellow version.
 
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James Baldwin, in Paris, accompanying a reflection about the benefits of an exile state of mind:

"It was exile he was after – that very particular state in which one is free not to belong anywhere in particular, to escape all tribes in order to be unobserved, anonymous and detached.

It may not always be possible for us to become actual exiles, but we should at the very least strive to become internal exiles, that is, people who can behave like visitors in their own lands, no longer bound by local idiocies, able to cut themselves off from the mean and restricted views of so-called friends or disloyal families, and to grow indifferent to provincial competition and grandstanding..."

https://www.theschooloflife.com/article/how-to-live-like-an-exile/?dm_i=6TU0,RZHL,3VF7RS,3HV8V,1
 
On this journey where time flies with the greatest speed, we put below the horizon first our boyhood and then our youth, and then the space which lies between young manhood and middle age and borders on both, and next, the best years of old age itself. Last of all, we begin to sight the general bourne of the race of man. Fools that we are, we believe this bourne to be a dangerous reef; but it is the harbor, where we must some day put in, which we may never refuse to enter; and if a man has reached this harbor in his early years, he has no more right to complain than a sailor who has made a quick voyage. For some sailors, as you know, are tricked and held back by sluggish winds, and grow weary and sick of the slow-moving calm; while others are carried quickly home by steady gales.​
​
You may consider that the same thing happens to us: life has carried some men with the greatest rapidity to the harbor, the harbor they were bound to reach even if they tarried on the way, while others it has fretted and harassed. To such a life, as you are aware, one should not always cling. For mere living is not a good, but living well. Accordingly, the wise man will live as long as he ought, not as long as he can. He will mark in what place, with whom, and how he is to conduct his existence, and what he is about to do. He always reflects concerning the quality, and not the quantity, of his life. As soon as there are many events in his life that give him trouble and disturb his peace of mind, he sets himself free. And this privilege is his, not only when the crisis is upon him, but as soon as Fortune seems to be playing him false; then he looks about carefully and sees whether he ought, or ought not, to end his life on that account. He holds that it makes no difference to him whether his taking-off be natural or self-inflicted, whether it comes later or earlier. He does not regard it with fear, as if it were a great loss; for no man can lose very much when but a driblet remains. It is not a question of dying earlier or later, but of dying well or ill. And dying well means escape from the danger of living ill.​

Seneca, Epistle 70
 

Viññana Sutta​

Consciousness​

Translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu​

At Savatthi. "Monks, eye-consciousness is inconstant, changeable, alterable. Ear-consciousness... Nose-consciousness... Tongue-consciousness... Body-consciousness... Intellect-consciousness is inconstant, changeable, alterable.

"One who has conviction & belief that these phenomena are this way is called a faith-follower: one who has entered the orderliness of rightness, entered the plane of people of integrity, transcended the plane of the run-of-the-mill. He is incapable of doing any deed by which he might be reborn in hell, in the animal womb, or in the realm of hungry shades. He is incapable of passing away until he has realized the fruit of stream-entry.

"One who, after pondering with a modicum of discernment, has accepted that these phenomena are this way is called a Dhamma-follower: one who has entered the orderliness of rightness, entered the plane of people of integrity, transcended the plane of the run-of-the-mill. He is incapable of doing any deed by which he might be reborn in hell, in the animal womb, or in the realm of hungry shades. He is incapable of passing away until he has realized the fruit of stream-entry.

"One who knows and sees that these phenomena are this way is called a stream-enterer, steadfast, never again destined for states of woe, headed for self-awakening."

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