Day 132
Though I'm not a believer in Karma in any strong sense (i.e. I don't think there's any kind of real pre-destined equality to human actions and reactions the way you might say there is in physics), but it sure seems that the smartest and best decisions increase your odds of positive reward. Likewise, the wrong decisions often lead to suffering.
When I look back I cannot help but notice that a lot of the actions I regret most ended up biting me in the ass. And the weird thing is, often the action and the unintended consequences are only indirectly related.
Small things make big differences. Four years ago I was wait listed for the music program at UVic. I came very close (in the top 5 or so on the wait list, out of dozens of applicants and only a few positions to fill). Had I made it into music school I'd have different friends today, because most of my current friends I met directly or indirectly through philosophy. This blog probably wouldn't exist. I'd not know of all kinds of ideas to which I'd never been exposed.
On the other hand, I'd be a stellar pianist. The side of me that feels so dearly at home and happy over the ivories would have been developed instead of stifled on account of school work, and work work over the years of the degree. Any decision to do something is also a decision not to do an infinite number of other things.
There's no reason one can't have it all, though, relatively speaking. They say the best things in life never come easy; and at least in my mind the greatest thing we have to spend is our time. Every action, every little thing we do is an expenditure of something priceless. There are moments when I reflect on the countless and unmemorable hours I've spent staring at screens like a zombie, and it shames me. To this day.
So the pianist spends decades holed up, alone with his own frustrations and determination, until at the other end of his life he can finally emerge as a seasoned artist. But is it worth the time? Is it worth the risk? That's always the question.
When I look back I cannot help but notice that a lot of the actions I regret most ended up biting me in the ass. And the weird thing is, often the action and the unintended consequences are only indirectly related.
Small things make big differences. Four years ago I was wait listed for the music program at UVic. I came very close (in the top 5 or so on the wait list, out of dozens of applicants and only a few positions to fill). Had I made it into music school I'd have different friends today, because most of my current friends I met directly or indirectly through philosophy. This blog probably wouldn't exist. I'd not know of all kinds of ideas to which I'd never been exposed.
On the other hand, I'd be a stellar pianist. The side of me that feels so dearly at home and happy over the ivories would have been developed instead of stifled on account of school work, and work work over the years of the degree. Any decision to do something is also a decision not to do an infinite number of other things.
There's no reason one can't have it all, though, relatively speaking. They say the best things in life never come easy; and at least in my mind the greatest thing we have to spend is our time. Every action, every little thing we do is an expenditure of something priceless. There are moments when I reflect on the countless and unmemorable hours I've spent staring at screens like a zombie, and it shames me. To this day.
So the pianist spends decades holed up, alone with his own frustrations and determination, until at the other end of his life he can finally emerge as a seasoned artist. But is it worth the time? Is it worth the risk? That's always the question.
Comments
Secondly, any decision to do something is not "also a decision not to do an infinite number of other things." At least not from any common sense, intentional standpoint. We would be literally paralyzed with indecision, if this weren't the case. Our relevant actions are severely limited by our environmental constraints, personal history, and most of all, breadth of imagination. When we decide on a path, we examine the concrete ramifications of taking that path (vs. others plausible paths) rather than agonize over the abstract alternate universes or destinies we've unintentionally negated. But I shouldn't speak so quickly- these kind of worries still dog me too. I find happenstance and historical contingency very spooky and dizzying subjects to consider. I am keenly aware that life is never fully 'chosen' and it cannot be simply replicated either.
Thirdly: Isn't time as commodity a somewhat inappropriate metaphor? We don't exactly 'give it away' or acquire 'more' of it. We simply inhabit it. Transcending our slavery to time is among the most characteristic themes of art. However, I see that your meaning is what we become or achieve by our intentional use of time. It is often in our moments of becoming (or moments of exhilaration and enjoyment- feelings that can bound up with becoming)when we feel most free of time itself. You might say that frittering away the hours in front of the TV is so shameful because it provides easy engagement/enjoyment- a temporary sense of freedom from the bonds of time- at the cost of demanding an exertion of willpower or effort from ourselves. Thus we become dependent on the TV for an artificial 'freedom', instead of learning to rely on ourselves.