This has been a recurring pattern of mine with exhausted mind on weekdays, I sometimes consciously don't take in that the zest for life Max's has every second and assume delusion-ally that we both are going to last forever. He will be turning 8 in few weeks and I will be 40 in few months; its about time I slowed down and consciously live that zestful life while that zest lasts.. I made that promise this week to Max. I have realized, I cannot kill the ape inside me but I can control him rationally and unleash him when needed - that's the trick, I need to hone to live amongst fellow primates.
Here is Brainpicking on E. B. White’s Poignant and Playful Obituary for His Beloved Dog Daisy
She was arrested once, by Patrolman Porco. She enjoyed practically everything in life except motoring, an exigency to which she submitted silently, without joy, and without nausea. She never grew up, and she never took pains to discover, conclusively, the things that might have diminished her curiosity and spoiled her taste. She died sniffing life, and enjoying it.
Even David Brooks his column this week wrote about Montaigne.
Montaigne was fascinated by his inability to control his own thoughts. He tried to study his own mind but observed that it was like a runaway horse that presented him with chimeras and imaginary monsters: “I cannot keep my subject still. It goes along befuddled and staggering, with a natural drunkenness.”
"If others examined themselves attentively, as I do, they would find themselves, as I do, full of inanity and nonsense. Get rid of it I cannot without getting rid of myself. We are all steeped in it, one as much as another, but those who are aware of it are a little better off — though I don’t know.”
Montaigne's wisdom is always of tremendous help while living with primates; My old notes from from the book How to Live: A Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at An Answer by Sarah Bakewell that helped me reflect this week:
Keep a private room behind the shop:
On his dog:
I am not afraid to admit that my nature is so tender, so childish, that I cannot well refuse my dog the play he offers me or asks me outside the proper time.
The greatest gift of my life is Max; he teaches me everyday what matters in life. I am neither the first student to learn from a non-human nor I will be the last. I am simply so damn lucky to have crossed paths with Max on this planet.
Here is Brainpicking on E. B. White’s Poignant and Playful Obituary for His Beloved Dog Daisy
She was arrested once, by Patrolman Porco. She enjoyed practically everything in life except motoring, an exigency to which she submitted silently, without joy, and without nausea. She never grew up, and she never took pains to discover, conclusively, the things that might have diminished her curiosity and spoiled her taste. She died sniffing life, and enjoying it.
Even David Brooks his column this week wrote about Montaigne.
Montaigne was fascinated by his inability to control his own thoughts. He tried to study his own mind but observed that it was like a runaway horse that presented him with chimeras and imaginary monsters: “I cannot keep my subject still. It goes along befuddled and staggering, with a natural drunkenness.”
"If others examined themselves attentively, as I do, they would find themselves, as I do, full of inanity and nonsense. Get rid of it I cannot without getting rid of myself. We are all steeped in it, one as much as another, but those who are aware of it are a little better off — though I don’t know.”
Montaigne's wisdom is always of tremendous help while living with primates; My old notes from from the book How to Live: A Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at An Answer by Sarah Bakewell that helped me reflect this week:
Keep a private room behind the shop:
Some of his answers to the question of how to live are indeed chilly - mind you own business, preserve your sense of self, stay out of trouble, and keep your room behind the shop.
Guard your humanity:
Guard your humanity:
Astrologers now warn of "great and imminent alterations and mutations", but they forget the simple fact that, however bad things are, most of life goes on undisturbed. "I do not despair about it."
Philosophize only by accident:
Philosophize only by accident:
In taking up his pen he did not set up for a philosopher, wit, orator or moralist, but he became all these by merely daring to tell us whatever passed through his mind, in its naked simplicity and force.
Be ordinary and imperfect:
Be ordinary and imperfect:
I set forth a humble and inglorious life; that does not matter. You can tie up all moral philosophy with a common and private life just as well as with a life of richer stuff. Our being is cemented with sickly qualities... whoever should remove the seeds of these qualities from man would destroy the fundamental condition of our life.
On his dog:
I am not afraid to admit that my nature is so tender, so childish, that I cannot well refuse my dog the play he offers me or asks me outside the proper time.
The greatest gift of my life is Max; he teaches me everyday what matters in life. I am neither the first student to learn from a non-human nor I will be the last. I am simply so damn lucky to have crossed paths with Max on this planet.
Perhaps some of the credit for Montaigne's last answer should therefore go to his cat - a specific sixteenth century individual, who had a rather pleasant life on a country estate with a doting master and not to much competition for his attention. She was the one who, by wanting to play with Montaigne at an inconvenient moment, reminded him what what is was to be alive. They looked at each other, and just for moment, he leaped across the gap in order to see himself through her eyes. Out of that moment - and countless others like it - came his whole philosophy.
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