The years teach much which the days never know.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson
Emerson on Small Mercies, the True Measure of Wisdom, and How to Live with Maximum Aliveness
--by Maria Popova, syndicated from brainpickings.org, Aug 03, 2015
“To
finish the moment, to find the journey’s end in every step of the road, to live
the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom.”
In
contemplating the shortness of life, Seneca considered what
it takes to live wide rather than long. Over the two millennia between his
age and ours — one in which, caught in the cult of productivity, we continually
forget that “how
we spend our days is … how we spend our lives” — we’ve continued to tussle with the eternal
question of how to fill life with more aliveness. And in a world awash
with information but increasingly vacant of wisdom, navigating the maze of
the human experience in the hope of arriving at happiness is proving more and
more disorienting.
How
to orient ourselves toward buoyant aliveness is what Ralph Waldo Emerson (May 25, 1803–April 27, 1882) examines in a
beautiful essay titled “Experience,” found in his Essays
and Lectures (public
library; free
download) — that bible of timeless wisdom that gave us Emerson on the two
pillars of friendship and the key to
personal growth.
Emerson
writes:
We
live amid surfaces, and the true art of life is to skate well on them… To finish
the moment, to find the journey’s end in every step of the road, to live the
greatest number of good hours, is wisdom. It is not the part of men, but of
fanatics … to say that the shortness of life considered, it is not worth caring
whether for so short a duration we were sprawling in want or sitting high. Since
our office is with moments, let us husband them. Five minutes of today are worth
as much to me as five minutes in the next millennium. Let us be poised, and
wise, and our own, today. Let us treat the men and women well; treat them as if
they were real; perhaps they are… Without any shadow of doubt, amidst this
vertigo of shows and politics, I settle myself ever the firmer in the creed that
we should not postpone and refer and wish, but do broad justice where we are, by
whomsoever we deal with, accepting our actual companions and circumstances,
however humble or odious as the mystic officials to whom the universe has
delegated its whole pleasure for us. If these are mean and malignant, their
contentment, which is the last victory of justice, is a more satisfying echo to
the heart than the voice of poets and the casual sympathy of admirable
persons.
Indeed,
Emerson highlights the practice of kindness as a centerpiece of the full life,
suggesting that our cynicism about the character and potential of others — much
like our broader
cynicism about the world — reflects
not the true measure of their merit but the failure of our own imagination in
appreciating their singular gifts:
I
think that however a thoughtful man may suffer from the defects and absurdities
of his company, he cannot without affectation deny to any set of men and women a
sensibility to extraordinary merit. The coarse and frivolous have an instinct of
superiority, if they have not a sympathy, and honor it in their blind capricious
way with sincere homage.
An
equally toxic counterpart to such self-righteousness, Emerson argues, is our
propensity for entitlement, which he contrasts with the disposition of humility
and gratefulness:
I
am thankful for small mercies. I compared notes with one of my friends who
expects everything of the universe and is disappointed when anything is less
than the best, and I found that I begin at the other extreme, expecting nothing,
and am always full of thanks for moderate goods.
In
a sentiment almost Buddhist in its attitude of accepting life exactly as it
unfolds, and one that calls to mind his friend and Concord neighbor Thoreau’s
superb definition of success,
Emerson bows before the spiritual rewards of this disposition of gratefulness
unburdened by fixation:
In
the morning I awake and find the old world, wife, babes, and mother, Concord and
Boston, the dear old spiritual world and even the dear old devil not far off. If
we will take the good we find, asking no questions, we shall have heaping
measures. The great gifts are not got by analysis. Everything good is on the
highway. The middle region of our being is the temperate zone. We may climb into
the thin and cold realm of pure geometry and lifeless science, or sink into that
of sensation. Between these extremes is the equator of life, of thought, of
spirit, of poetry, — a narrow belt.
Only
by surrendering to life’s uncontrollable and unknowable unfolding graces — or
what Thoreau extolled as the
gift of “useful ignorance” — can we begin to blossom into our true
potentiality:
The
art of life has a pudency, and will not be exposed. Every man is an
impossibility until he is born; every thing impossible until we see a
success.
Or,
as a modern-day wise woman admonished in one of the greatest
commencement addresses of all time,
it pays not to “determine
what [is] impossible before it [is] possible.”
A
century and a half before Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert illuminated how
our present illusions hinder the happiness of our future selves, Emerson
adds:
The
results of life are uncalculated and uncalculable. The years teach much which
the days never know… The individual is always mistaken. It turns out somewhat
new and very unlike what he promised himself.
This
article originally appeared in Brain Pickings and is republished with permission. The
author, Maria Popova, is a cultural curator and curious mind at large, who also
writes for Wired UK, The Atlantic and Design Observer, and is the founder and
editor in chief of Brain Pickings.
Be The Change: One way to
live fully is to let go of what you're holding onto tightly. Ask yourself what
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