I once read of a sign on a long dirt road in central Canada: "Choose your rut carefully. Next exit, 100 miles."
In the spoof movie "Talladega Nights" a Nascar racer (Will Farrell) recalls the words of his stereotypical red-neck drug and drink- laden absentee dad: "There's only first place and last." This gives him the advice for his career - winning is the only thing. Years later when he meets the old man again, the bum tells his son, "Hell no! There's 2nd, 3rd, all kinds of places! I was on peyote at the time!"
I was 25 years old, working in an unsatisfactory job, and staying up late with my mom drinking beer and yapping. At one point she said, in exasperation about something, "You're nothing but a dilettante!" Years later, I stuck to a dead-end profession to finish my PhD way after I should have. No dilettante I! Some time after that, I reminded my mother of what she had said. Her reply: "I did? I don't remember that. That's terrible!"
When to quit and when to stick with it? It's often a hard decision, and perhaps we should not be persuaded by some casual remark made by someone we trust who had just been shooting off his (or her) mouth. Sometimes we have to confront those ruts straight on and make the best decision we can, without background noise.
One of my favorite sayings, one that I have posted here before, is from a Zen monk on the spiritual path: "Better not to start; if begun, better to finish."
With all this advice and non-advice that we take as advice, I often look to my own spiritual path. Until recently, I had silently meditated for decades, but it seemed, after a point, that I was avoiding the social/human condition. It was then that I began to take Catholicism, my natal religion, more seriously. Recently, almost in spite of myself, I have taken considerably deeper leaps into the faith, which have involved me in discussion groups, a publication, and larger programs. As often happens, what seemed rather small and part-time at first has grown into something of a gorilla. It has recently occurred to me that I have now run into the faith I had rejected in my late teens many decades ago, simply because of all the rules, and all those sins that I never really knew that I had had or had wanted to recognize. Part of me wishes to run away and live my old "heathen" life; another part tells me it's too late - you can't live the "Happy Days" 50's again no matter how hard you try - in part because they were never that happy to begin with, but also because what had once seemed real and relevant has been revealed to be shallow and temporary.
Shallow and temporary - the definition of "dilettante." In truth, any real religion taken seriously is an enormous task. It is meant to shatter the complacency of human consciousness - a blind sort of understanding that Christians often call "original sin" - by first showing how shallow and blind the ordinary is, which then opens the door to the new, to the real, to the sacred. Such it is not only for the uncool major religions, but for those exotic new- age-y ones like shamanism. None are for the faint of heart or the dilettante. All require vigilance and sacrifice.
Do we travel on, or turn around before the ruts hold us fast? The question better put is: is where we are good enough? Is where we are going worth the rough ride?
My mom, who is dead now, would know. If she could, she would tell me. Maybe that forgotten word spoken years before was somehow, magically, meant for today. And maybe, as said, sometimes it is best to finish. FK
In the spoof movie "Talladega Nights" a Nascar racer (Will Farrell) recalls the words of his stereotypical red-neck drug and drink- laden absentee dad: "There's only first place and last." This gives him the advice for his career - winning is the only thing. Years later when he meets the old man again, the bum tells his son, "Hell no! There's 2nd, 3rd, all kinds of places! I was on peyote at the time!"
I was 25 years old, working in an unsatisfactory job, and staying up late with my mom drinking beer and yapping. At one point she said, in exasperation about something, "You're nothing but a dilettante!" Years later, I stuck to a dead-end profession to finish my PhD way after I should have. No dilettante I! Some time after that, I reminded my mother of what she had said. Her reply: "I did? I don't remember that. That's terrible!"
When to quit and when to stick with it? It's often a hard decision, and perhaps we should not be persuaded by some casual remark made by someone we trust who had just been shooting off his (or her) mouth. Sometimes we have to confront those ruts straight on and make the best decision we can, without background noise.
One of my favorite sayings, one that I have posted here before, is from a Zen monk on the spiritual path: "Better not to start; if begun, better to finish."
With all this advice and non-advice that we take as advice, I often look to my own spiritual path. Until recently, I had silently meditated for decades, but it seemed, after a point, that I was avoiding the social/human condition. It was then that I began to take Catholicism, my natal religion, more seriously. Recently, almost in spite of myself, I have taken considerably deeper leaps into the faith, which have involved me in discussion groups, a publication, and larger programs. As often happens, what seemed rather small and part-time at first has grown into something of a gorilla. It has recently occurred to me that I have now run into the faith I had rejected in my late teens many decades ago, simply because of all the rules, and all those sins that I never really knew that I had had or had wanted to recognize. Part of me wishes to run away and live my old "heathen" life; another part tells me it's too late - you can't live the "Happy Days" 50's again no matter how hard you try - in part because they were never that happy to begin with, but also because what had once seemed real and relevant has been revealed to be shallow and temporary.
Shallow and temporary - the definition of "dilettante." In truth, any real religion taken seriously is an enormous task. It is meant to shatter the complacency of human consciousness - a blind sort of understanding that Christians often call "original sin" - by first showing how shallow and blind the ordinary is, which then opens the door to the new, to the real, to the sacred. Such it is not only for the uncool major religions, but for those exotic new- age-y ones like shamanism. None are for the faint of heart or the dilettante. All require vigilance and sacrifice.
Do we travel on, or turn around before the ruts hold us fast? The question better put is: is where we are good enough? Is where we are going worth the rough ride?
My mom, who is dead now, would know. If she could, she would tell me. Maybe that forgotten word spoken years before was somehow, magically, meant for today. And maybe, as said, sometimes it is best to finish. FK
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