{conviction}

Odd as it may sound, I've always been a bit too good at getting my point across.  I like toying with words; figuring out all the nuances of their meaning, taking note of cultural perception, and throwing out expressions with multiple meanings just to see which one people are the most likely to contextually latch onto. An inability to communicate isn't really a failing in our family, and for me in particular, I like my words to be surgical in their precision.
However, at the same time, a lack of linguistic ambiguity can get troublesome at times. When it's easy to be manifestly clear on exactly what you mean, it also means that if you change your mind the transformation is glaring. Technically that shouldn't be a bad thing. After all, the ability to admit when you're wrong is admirable, indicative of "strong moral fiber" and the like. But in the real world, where perception rules as king, things grow trickier.
People don't take kindly to those that change their minds. Take politics, where a track record is easily traceable, there are few things more ridiculed than a politician who has "more waffles than a House of Pancakes." Theoretically the ability to admit you were wrong is admirable, but, as soon as you descend into messy real life people don't like people that change their minds, and they don't trust them.
It's an intriguing issue. Nowadays we like songs that boast "Baby I was born this way" and "I'm never changing who I am." Consistency and conviction are strengths; indecisiveness and flexibility are the traits of snakes and liars. In "Serenity" a priest uses his dying breath to urge the protagonist "I don't care what you believe in, just believe in it."
This bothers me. I don't like people who vacillate, but, at the same time, there are few things that frustrate me more than those who refuse to explore ideas that may contradict what they think. (And when I say "explore ideas" I mean "seriously consider that there may be some truth to them, or at least make an honest effort to understand the thought process behind them." Not "grit your teeth and grouse your way through it.") Personally, I like reading articles that throw a wrench in my convictions, they force me to step back and make sure I really understand what I believe; it's my version of a morning sudoku puzzle.
When the Liberal Education movement was revived in the nineteenth century the ideal was to teach people to think for themselves. Education was no longer merely about teaching people how to read; it was about liberating men from believing something simply because someone "said so" and everybody "thinks so" and to teach them to evaluate what is and isn't true for themselves. When I hear professors talk about a liberal education being meant to give students an opportunity to "explore other subjects that they wouldn't necessarily study on their own" I want to throw a textbook at their heads. Aside from being a rather horrible selling point, it's simply wrong.
Studying the liberal arts is not supposed to be about checking out a bunch of subjects so you can discover that even though you thought you'd be a lawyer you've decided to instead get a degree in Medieval Literature. It's about learning how to learn for the rest of your life by producing a person who is "open-minded and free from provincialism, dogma, preconception, and ideology; conscious of their opinions and judgments; reflective of their actions; and aware of their place in the social and natural worlds." It is meant to teach you to have convictions because you are convinced, rather than because you are stubborn.

In the end, I think that is the way to strike a proper balance between conviction and persuasion. Quite simply, be conscious of what you believe and why, and take the time to be aware of what arguments exist in opposition. After all, "the one who states his case first seems right, until the other comes and examines him." You should believe things because you fully understand them, not because you read a rousing article promoting one side of the issue. "The false is forever in the lead in everything.  . .[and when] people marry themselves to the first tale told. . . no room is left for the truth."

In order to be a person of conviction rather than merely an obstinate one, you must have a full understanding of a matter; and if you don't, then you have no business arguing for or against it. The world of misinformation is made of third-hand accounts.
We are quick to take sides and so reluctant to part from them, but "maturity is recognized in the deliberateness with which a person adopts a creed."

Sources: JibJab, Lady Gaga "Born This Way," Imagine Dragons "It's Time," Serenity, "The Meaning of a Liberal Education," The American Association for the Advancement of Science, Proverbs 18:17 ESV, Baltasar Gracian.

[trees are beautiful, why don't you photograph trees?]

Dick Avery: I do what I do for a living, it has to do with supply and demand. You'd be amazed how small the demand is for pictures of trees. 

I like trees...

This realization struck me while I was outside reading (my appreciation of trees, of lack thereof, is not typically a matter to which I devote much contemplation): I have become one of those people who like trees.

In the past, trees have always been, quite simply put, trees. They're quite nice at times, but really, what kind of person sits around philosophically meditating on them? When I was twelve and saw Funny Face for the first time I loved Dick Avery's wry comment. Liking, or indeed, loving trees was something best left to those who were reaching to find meaning and pleasure in life. If you can't deal with the complexities of humans and their potential, love trees.

So you can imagine my astonishment when, all these years later, I came to the realization that my view of life, beauty, pleasure, and serenity has become, in this innocuous way, fundamentally changed. I like trees: as ideas, as objects, as a presence. All these years later I have evolved into being exactly what as a child I found odd, laughable, and mildly pitiable.

It was a disconcerting thought at first. I am of the opinion that children often possess a razor sharp insight through the ludicrousness into which adults rationalize themselves. When I notice my opinion shifting I try my best to question both myself and what caused the change. My father says that the word "rationalize" is exactly what it sounds like,  it's coming up with a "a rational lie." I hate the idea that I might methodically lie to myself out of a desire for comfort; the mere thought horrifies me.

But trees, it's rather innocent sounding isn't? I don't feel laughable or pitiable for it. I believe I am far more complex and aware now than I was at the age of twelve, and therefore, hardly in need of "reaching" to find meaning in life. I like people, both in the abstract and in actuality. There is no pantheism or worship of Gaia involved in my newfound appreciation of arbores in et ex silvis.

I simply find trees to be lovely. I could give you a long list of reasons why; they are beautiful, they are serene, they have as much variation as most people, the sound of the wind rushing through their leaves is delightful... but now I do sound silly and really none of those thing are actually part of my rational.

The older I get the more concerned I become with the thought of missing or not properly appreciating things simply because they have always been there. I get so caught up in the future, in quantifiable facts, failures, irritations, complications, and "knowing things" that I forget to stop, look around, and appreciate the exquisite things that are always there. The paintings that have been on the walls since childhood, the colour of the clouds at sunrise...

I feel that as a child I was spoiled with beauty to the point that I could discriminate against that which was every day... but now, it's been so long since I had the time to stop and study a tree, that when I finally find the time to look, I'm staggered by all the beauty I'd forgotten.

I like trees, and I'm alright with that. And I don't think I'm childish for realizing it is alright to love something simple; I think I am growing up.

letter to ________ {mary oliver}

You have broken my heart.

Just as well. Now

I am learning to rise

above all that, learning

the thin life, waking up

simply to praise

everything in this world that is

strong and beautiful

always---the trees, the rocks,

the fields, the news

from heaven, the laughter

that comes back

all the same. Just as well. Time

to read books, rake the lawn

in peace, sweep the floor, scour

the faces of pans,

anything. And I have been so

diligent it is almost

over, I am growing myself

as strong as rock, as a tree

which, if I put my arms around it, it does not

lean away. It is a

wonderful life. Comfortable.

I read the papers. Maybe

I will go on a cruise, maybe I will

cross the entire ocean, more than once.

Whatever you think, I have scarcely

thought of you. Whatever you imagine.

it never really happened. Only a few

evenings of nonsense. Whatever you believe--

dear one, dear one--

do not believe this letter.

Date a girl who reads {Rosemarie Urquico}

Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.