Monday Aphorism: On Being Called an Elitest

Yesterday a friend told me that I am an elitist; that I drop ideas and abandon old friends as I move on in my life.

I said, no, at first, thinking he meant I was snotty and arrogant, and I feel that I am neither to any particular degree.

But he is correct. Unless there is some pedagogical  reason, some rethinkings, some…something seeming new…

I have had already many conversations, been involved in the myriad plots of novels and of life; I don’t want to rehash them forever.

I am not in love with my own history, nor totally entranced with the words I wrote yesterday.

I want to grapple with new challenges. I want to grasp at life’s chances, each and every day…with very little rest and diversion.

I don’t deny that anyone and everyone else can move along with me.

Most don’t want to, for many reasons: they are not ready to move on, or are afraid of…an uncertain or unclear future, not knowing what there could be; or they are already satisfied; or…

I would rethink with those who want to know, and converse with those who want still to engage in life’s struggles.

But I need to feel that I am serious, to live life seriously; prepared to engage in discussion and argument, and move…on…forward, with a sense of directedness, always demanding.

I try to be the observer of life’s simplicities and complications, and wonder which is which.

I want to think large, globally, to see the patterns quickly, to deepen compassion and understanding without abandoning humanity: the world’s or my own.

My skills, always limited, require honing and practice and care, lest others dissuade my purpose.

Elitist, I am, mostly about my own history. Yes, it is all me, but how to choose which memories to rethink, which to hold in abeyance. How is forward, next, expansive?

Not loving my own youth, it is how I arrived, the path which chose me.

The path of elitism – now some form of code word – travels the edge of the abyss between being worshipped and being understood.  For me, it – my elitism – is either wanting to be understood…or the abyss.

What do the others want, that they decide who I am?

  • Mike Stucker

    I love this one. It isn’t that others can’t join you for the ride. But many are not adventurous enough or are perhaps set in their ways. A wise man once told me that it is the most interesting people that never know what they want to be when they grow up. They just keep trying different things. You only live once and this life goes by so fast. So enjoy the moment but never be afraid to abandon what you have completely and catapult yourself to new lands. I really like this one dr. Sarles and I really enjoy Next Places. I read it on occasion at nighttime. It relaxes the soul. Have a great one buddy!

  • Mike Stucker

    I love this one. It isn’t that others can’t join you for the ride. But many are not adventurous enough or are perhaps set in their ways. A wise man once told me that it is the most interesting people that never know what they want to be when they grow up. They just keep trying different things. You only live once and this life goes by so fast. So enjoy the moment but never be afraid to abandon what you have completely and catapult yourself to new lands. I really like this one dr. Sarles and I really enjoy Next Places. I read it on occasion at nighttime. It relaxes the soul. Have a great one buddy!

  • Mike Stucker

    P.S. That hiking trail in the picture looks amazing!!! Where exactly is that?

  • Mike Stucker

    P.S. That hiking trail in the picture looks amazing!!! Where exactly is that?

  • Gus

    Harvey, this photograph is very apt. The man, the observer, is looking back on the path that took him to where he is. Or is he looking ahead to where that path may lead? It’s hard to say. The tall stand of larch dwarfs him, humbles him, as there’s no telling how tall the trees climb—their tops reach beyond the frame of the picture. This man is limited, yet his background appears to be limitless. Maybe that’s the problem with appearances; they mislead, and we misfollow.

    Whether into the past or the future, the man in this picture is looking away from us. Standing by himself in the presence of the magnificent trees, he is alone, but is he lonely? I don’t see any evidence of anxiety in his posture. And are these trees really as magnificent as they appear? Is this a forest he’s in, or a tree farm? Does it matter? Is he lost? Or is he faithfully following the only path that will lead him out of here? So much lies in the fuzzy gray area. The world contains so many paradoxes, but I think it’s largely because we have limited or confused ways of looking at relationships. Is this what you mean by trying to observe life’s simplicities and complications, and wondering which is which?

  • Gus

    Harvey, this photograph is very apt. The man, the observer, is looking back on the path that took him to where he is. Or is he looking ahead to where that path may lead? It’s hard to say. The tall stand of larch dwarfs him, humbles him, as there’s no telling how tall the trees climb—their tops reach beyond the frame of the picture. This man is limited, yet his background appears to be limitless. Maybe that’s the problem with appearances; they mislead, and we misfollow.

    Whether into the past or the future, the man in this picture is looking away from us. Standing by himself in the presence of the magnificent trees, he is alone, but is he lonely? I don’t see any evidence of anxiety in his posture. And are these trees really as magnificent as they appear? Is this a forest he’s in, or a tree farm? Does it matter? Is he lost? Or is he faithfully following the only path that will lead him out of here? So much lies in the fuzzy gray area. The world contains so many paradoxes, but I think it’s largely because we have limited or confused ways of looking at relationships. Is this what you mean by trying to observe life’s simplicities and complications, and wondering which is which?

  • Harvey Sarles

    Mike and Gus,

    Thanks for your comments: how to be, how to move on without yielding some important aspects of one’s self and one’s being. Not easy! I think it takes momentous play mixed with seriousness of great dimension. I’ll send you my “Zarathustra’s Mountain” which I wrote recently, and tries to grapple with these questions, which argue continuously between “themselves.”

    Harvey

  • Harvey Sarles

    Mike and Gus,

    Thanks for your comments: how to be, how to move on without yielding some important aspects of one’s self and one’s being. Not easy! I think it takes momentous play mixed with seriousness of great dimension. I’ll send you my “Zarathustra’s Mountain” which I wrote recently, and tries to grapple with these questions, which argue continuously between “themselves.”

    Harvey