From The Chronicle of Higher Education, a surprising historical metaphor for the difficulties we face in making good use of the Internet.
The metaphor is Nero's court, and the model for success is one Gaius Petronius Arbiter. He is supposed to be the guide for how to deal with these massive feasts without being numbed by them. The model is better than the others around Nero's court; and yet, as the end of the piece shows, ought to be deeply alarming. Decadence has a high price for even the best human soul.
I'm thinking about this in terms of last weekend's forced detachment from the world. Along about Sunday, I realized that there must be some interesting news about how the South Carolina primary had gone -- the matter was much debated the week before, and here it had been over and done with and I had no idea how it had turned out. Instead I was rereading a work of history on an old Anglo-Saxon blood feud, and enjoying it. I had forgotten the author's insights into how Northumbria was divided, and how that fit into the question of feuds and politics in the generation before the Norman Conquest.
It may be that the real answer is not in refinement of decadence, but in periodic detoxification. I like to take to the road at times in the year, and go for a while into the mountains or some wilderness. It is always good, but much of the year it is not available -- we are expected to remain connected at all times for professional reasons. I have managed to resist this more than many, but even I feel often required to be abreast of the situation, the latest detail.
The table groans, and so do we.
I've commented to people a few times recently how sometimes I feel like having email, for all it's benefits, sometimes feels like a curse. They seem a bit taken aback at the thought, so accustomed to hearing nothing but adulation of the internet age and all it's brought us. I suppose we could extend this idea to the conveniences of life that pulled us out of drudgery- indoor plumbing, sewer systems, electricity, HVAC and so on, and how when we don't chop our own wood for heat, or struggle against rodents, bugs and disease for our vegetables, or have to kill for our meat, we start to become detached from nature and the lessons hard learned over millenia in understanding her and her ways, and how that put perspective on our personal view of the universe.
ReplyDeleteI agree with those who stress that gratitude is essential for happiness. With too much ease there is always the danger of too little gratitude.
There's a middle ground, though: I do heat my house with firewood that I've cut and split myself. (So does DL Sly, as I recall). I can do that because of the existence of chainsaws: I don't have a big enough family on site to do it with traditional saws.
ReplyDelete(Although once Grim Jr., as Bthun put it, gets a little bigger... well, and I do own a two-man saw.)
So there's something like a happy medium to be had.
"I've commented to people a few times recently how sometimes I feel like having email, for all it's benefits, sometimes feels like a curse. "
ReplyDeleteDouglas, I'm with you and Grim in the general sense of that glued to the electronics notion. More specifically, every time I venture out in the pickup and narrowly avoid encountering a person texting or yapping on their cell phone instead of attending to the proper operation of their motor vehicle, I curse.
"I do own a two-man saw."
Heh. That prodded me towards a fond old memory of my dad introducing me to sweat and hard labor on one end of a two man crosscut saw. Grim Jr. will fondly recall your introducing him to the same, one day, no doubt.
Yes, that's what my mother used to tell me, too: "Someday you'll thank me for this."
ReplyDeleteHeh...
ReplyDeleteOh, don't get me wrong- thank God for modern conveniences- I'm just suggesting that if we aren't careful, those gains can have a downside, and it takes only a little work to keep things in perspective.
ReplyDeleteFunny, but I think I got from my Dad the sense of working outside in the yard as recreation and/or therapy as much as work. I suppose that's as it should be.
"Funny, but I think I got from my Dad the sense of working outside in the yard as recreation and/or therapy as much as work. I suppose that's as it should be."
ReplyDeleteAfter spending a significant portion of a lifetime toiling in offices and/or building without windows in order to accumulate filthy lucre, I will agree that indeed, that is as it should be, lest we become like the Morlock.