The past few weeks have been difficult. I have wrestled with many questions. Some have been practical, some have been legal and some have been philosophical. In Martha Nussbaum’s classic book The Fragility of Goodness, she quotes Pindar: ‘But human excellence grows like a vine tree, fed by the green dew, raised up, among wise men and just, to the liquid sky.’
As she explains: This quote raises the important question: do we believe that the excellence of a person is something of that person’s own, for whose possession and exercise that person can appropriately be held accountable?
So like the vine, the health and character of a person is defined by both the “stock” of the vine and the nourishment from without. Over this past fortnight, I have searched my mind and my soul to understand what I am as a person. A father, a husband and a caretaker of mother earth. I dove deep into my painting in an unpremeditated way. At moments I was clearly “in the flow” as I painted. Based on reactions from people to the snippets I posted on my FaceBook page, I struck a few nerves. Interestingly, the most unpremeditated painting gestures were the most “liked” on FaceBook. There was one painting session that I thought lasted for less than an hour but in fact was nearly four.
What does this say to me? The more open we are to fortune and our sense of value the more dependent we are on the “stock” and what is outside ourselves. There is, for me, no willful independence. I am a person bound by experience and my own reactions to those experiences. I observe; I react; I act through writing and painting and drawing. I draw from those that are dead through their work. I draw from those around me by their care. I draw from my Mexican and Mayan neighbors who have suffered greatly throughout history. I seek others who inspire me and push me beyond what even I consider my limits. I tackle fear more fearlessly than I ever have.
Is this the point where my vine withers–or shoots forth to sprout anew? What do I need from others to nurture my vine? Ms Nussbaum poses this question in her book: ‘How can it be reliably good and still be beautifully human.” What role does my reason play in my construction of this next chapter in my life? If I search out the life of self-suffieiency will my vine whither and die without begin fed “by the green dew” of others? Who do I really think I am?
I aspire to make goodness through the power of reason (I love George Santayana’s The Life of Reason.) I want to be safe from “luck” — luck being defined as what happens to me not through my own actions. I want what I make to be what I become—and vice versa. I want my deep focus to unearth unknowns in my drawing and painting that are put there not through “luck” but unconscious deliberateness. This action will mean I can be less (hopefully fully) reliant on external events to shape my goodness. (NB: Here I define goodness as creating what one is gifted to create.)
I also acknowledge the fragility of goodness. We humans are frail. We often seek refuse in the known to shield ourselves from this fragility. What I have discovered in the past few weeks is that my fragility is my strength. My weakness was trying to protect myself rather that let this fragility be a window that reveals my humanness. It is my humanness that will unlock my gifts. The image above reveals both my joy and terror at staring this “goodness” in the face. In other words, staring at myself and starting anew. The image below acknowledges that this will be a lonely adventure but, ultimately, a deeply satisfying one.
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