Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Uncle Albert in a Can





François VI, Duc de La Rochefoucauld,
Prince de Marcillac
  (1613 – 1680)
July 1, 2014
Le Duc
  
Uncle Albert writes:

Ah, my favorite nephew,

The weather continues unseasonable, inside and out; sometimes the house lags behind the yard, and sometimes the yard runs behind the house. It rains outside but not in; the sun shines inside but not out; the heat and the cold can’t decide.
            I am not sure why La Rochefoucauld continues to give such pleasure; but we should take our pleasures where we find them. They are few enough, especially compared to our woes, when we add to the real those we imagine. And, the pleasures are fewer as we get older.

v:42
            Nous n’avons pas assez de force pour suivre toute notre raison.

Roughly:
                                                                                  We’re not strong enough to follow our reason without fail.

So, I take it, we shouldn’t expect to. Moreover, we should not only make allowances for our failures in reason, we should also consider what else we might follow: intuition? sentiment? desire? unreason?
            Or, in any given situation, we might simply shrug: “I’m not going to figure this out. So what?” Then, again, there are options: walk away; slice through the knot (or find someone that can); blow a raspberry; get drunk; hire a prostitute; both – get drunk and hire a prostitute; give into our anxieties; weep uncontrollably; take a colonic.
            It helps to have alternatives. And your choice in any given instance will not change history. Likely, it won’t change your own course, if it doesn’t lead you to fall into a pattern. Don’t fall into a pattern, my dear young friend.
            Rather, another alternative before you in every case: Be contradictory. Make sure you don’t fall, or haven’t already fallen, into a pattern. Patterns are frightening, for two reasons. We’re unaware of them. Or, we see them where they do not exist.

My maunderings as always not for your edification but amusement.

Your poor dead mother’s ancient friend,

[signed] Albert


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