"The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves."
It occured to me last night how little I know.
I understand this to be a part of the process of attaining "wisdom"; first comes the realization that as an individual my contribution to any body of knowledge extending beyond knowledge of my own self is negligible. Additionally,when I consider that we as people may not ever feel satisfied that we "know" ourselves, the knowledge we can contribute is even less and the feeling of insignificance grows. This doesnt have to be a gloomy idea, despite the way it sounds. Merely a sort of reminder to actually listen, occasionally, to something besides the sound of one's own drivel. Although the tune from ones own instrument often seduces the musician most potently.
We were engaging in a lively round of post Paulaner discussions when I realized my dog is smarter than I am. She probably wonders what my purpose could possibly be besides providing over-priced, low calorie kibble each day to her. What she knows is far more valuable and constitutes a potentially more pure form of wisdom.
Yes, I said my dog is wise. She doesnt spend a lot of time worrying about, well, anything. She appears worried when I remove a toy from her jaws and dangle it, squeaking, a few inches above her snout. However that really isn't worry so much as expectance and anticipation. I, on the other hand, worry about the order of items placed on the kitchen counter-top. I worry about whether my alarm, which I already checked fifteen hundred times this week, will REALLY still work another day. My brain is full of gears and patterns and diagrams and math and grammar and planning and philosophy. Not in that order, necessarily, and never ever in the same order twice. The wheels in her little brain have one gear and revolve around the gathering of food and a comfy place to sleep.
Of course we have all heard about the wonderful world of dogs and their superiority to humans derived from the lack of essential survival gadgets they require, and I don't want to get into it anymore. I can't help but draw the comparison between Cappie; such a supremely easy-to-please creature, and Me; thought-vomit boy with unattainable expectations for everyone, especially myself. And (cough) that makes me (cough) happy. It's true: we have to earn a living to support our habit of collecting stuff and feeding ourselves and clothing ourselves and, and, and... While we are earning these wages we might as well try to feel like we contribute something to our environment or our sphere of influence in some way, right? Some people, myself included, attempt to kill two cuddly, little birdies with one stone: pursue employment that align with ideals, talents, interests, or all three. And the real magic? I convince myself that this is worthy by using the term Ambition. I am ambitious and therefore I strive for lofty goals that give me heartburn and a receding hairline.
I should probably not sound so negative, because I really do believe in what I strive to become. I really believe in my expectations, however unrealistic everyone attempts to convince me they sometimes are (I dont believe it to this day). Introspection can be healthy and probably its ok to brain-vomit like this sometimes. Occasionally, after a dopplebock, milk stout or crisp, hopp-filled winter ale, the consciousness driving the lives we find ourselves sustaining needs to slap us around just to make sure we still have that Jungian pulse intact. That we continue to achieve not only for the sake of achieving, but to understand our dogs better.
And then we will have cookies.