One of the hallmarks of a man of self-esteem, who regards the universe as open to his effort, is the profound pleasure he experiences in the productive work of his mind; his enjoyment in life is fed by his unceasing concern to grow in knowledge and ability – to think, to achieve, to move forward, to meet new challenges and overcome them – to earn the pride of a constantly expanding efficacy.

A different kind of soul is revealed by the man, who, predominantly, takes pleasure in working only at the routine and familiar, who is inclined to enjoy working in a semi-daze, who sees happiness in freedom from challenge, struggle or effort: The soul of a man profoundly deficient in self-esteem, to whom the universe appears as unknowable and vaguely threatening, the man whose central motivating impulse is a longing for safety, not the safety that is won with efficacy, but the safety of a world in which efficacy is not demanded.

Still a different kind of soul is revealed by the man who finds it inconceivable that work, any form of work, can be enjoyable, who regards the effort of earning a living as a necessary evil, who dreams only of pleasures that begin when the workday ends, the pleasure of drowning his brain in alcohol or television or billiard or women. “The pleasure of not being conscious”: The soul of a man with scarcely a shred of self-esteem, who never expects the universe to be incomprehensible and takes his lethargic dread of it for granted, and whose only form of relief and only notion of enjoyment is the dim flicker of understanding sensations.

Still another kind of soul is revealed by the man who takes pleasure, not in achievement, but in destruction, whose action is aimed not at attaining efficacy but ruling those who have attained it: The soul of a man so abjectly lacking in self value, and so overwhelmed by terror of existence, that his sole form of self-fulfillment is to unleash his resentments and hatred against those who do not share his state, those who are able to live as if by destroying the confident, the strong and healthy, he could convert impotence to efficacy.

From The Psychology of Pleasure by Nathaniel Branden

In a milieu of strangers, the people who witness one's actions, declarations, and professions usually have no knowledge of one's history, and no experience of similar actions, declarations, and professions in one's past; thus it becomes difficult for this audience to judge, by an external standard of experience with a particular person, whether he is to be believed or not in a given situation. The knowledge on which belief can be based is confined to the frame of the immediate situation. The arousal of belief therefore depends on how one behaves - talks, gestures, moves, dresses, listens - within the situation itself. Two people meet at a dinner party; one tells the other he has been depressed for weeks; to the degree the listener as audience can judge the truth of such statements only by the way the stranger enacts the feeling of depression, to the degree appearances like this have an "urban" quality. The city is a settlement in which such problems of enactment are most likely to arise as a matter of routine.

- From the chapter "Roles" in The Fall of Public Man by Richard Sennett

Labours of love

It takes 10,000 hours of practice to become a skilled carpenter or musician - but what makes a true master? Richard Sennett on the craftsman in us all.

The word "craftsman" summons an immediate image. Peering through a window into a carpenter's shop, you see an elderly man surrounded by his apprentices and his tools. Order reigns within: parts of chairs are clamped neatly together, the smell of wood shavings fills the room, the carpenter bends over his bench to make a fine incision for marquetry. The shop is menaced by a furniture factory down the road.
The craftsman might also be glimpsed at a nearby laboratory. There, a young lab technician is frowning at a table on which six dead rabbits are splayed on their backs, their bellies slit open. She is frowning because something has gone wrong with the injection she has given them; she is trying to figure out if she did the procedure wrong, or if there is something wrong with the procedure.

A third craftsman might be heard in the town's concert hall. There, an orchestra is rehearsing with a visiting conductor; he works obsessively with the string section, going over and over a passage to make the musicians draw their bows at exactly the same speed across the strings. The string players are tired, but also exhilarated because their sound is becoming coherent. The orchestra's manager is worried: if the visiting conductor keeps on, the rehearsal will move into overtime, costing management extra wages. The conductor is oblivious.

The carpenter, lab technician, and conductor are all craftsmen because they are dedicated to good work for its own sake. Theirs is practical activity, but their labour is not simply a means to another end. The carpenter might sell more furniture if he worked faster; the technician might make do by passing the problem back to her boss; the visiting conductor might be more likely to be rehired if he watched the clock. It's certainly possible to get by in life without dedication, but the craftsman exemplifies the special human condition of being engaged.

Continue reading.

"It is often assumed that those who wander are condemned to restlessness, and that the certainty of identity and self are the markers of surety, confidence, success that all of us must strive towards. There is security in solidity, in strong foundations and structures, in finding your groove and being set in your way of life. In following tradition, in keeping within boundaries, within the womb of your society and its ways.

Wandering, on the other hand, is taken to be inconclusive, an indication of confusion and unknowing. Yet, isn't it through our wanderings that we chance upon insights and experiences that teach us in ways our regular lives wouldn't, and isn't our confusion often what provides the impetus to grow in a new direction? In transcending tradition that we come to know the real scope of our potential, in breaking boundaries that we catch a glimpse of our true nature?"

- Swati Chopra "Dharamsala Diaries"

Never to forget

To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and vulgar disparity for life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.

- Arundhati Roy