Weeding and Watching

gardening When people tell me that philosophy isn’t their thing, I figure they can’t possibly mean philosophy as I define it. Some other kind of philosophy must unimpress them. I don’t think I could do without it, nor would I want to, though I think in various ways, not only philosophically. Philosophy, as I understand it, involves not only questioning a premise but building a structure of questions. For instance, what questions do we need to ask, and in what sequence, to arrive at a better understanding of happiness? I enjoy thinking and reading about such topics, discussing them with others, and going off on my own to think some more. This isn’t  just fun; to an extent it informs how I live.

But when it comes to gardening, I throw down the gloves. I am not a gardener! Some, hearing this, may assume I have misunderstood gardening, since gardening (as they understand it) goes rake in rake with joy. But no, I  do not like gardening. I am not supposed to spend extended time in the sun; beyond that, I dislike the crouching and the continual feeling (usually confirmed by others) that I’m doing something wrong: that I failed to pull up a weed or succeeded in destroying an important legume.

All that said, I enjoyed some modest gardening in Fort Tryon Park yesterday. The volunteer shift was from 10 to 2; I lasted from 10 to noon. I felt bad about leaving early, but then I thought: isn’t that better than not volunteering at all? For those two hours, or most of them, I enjoyed the weeds and lilies (listen to Hannah Marcus’s gorgeous song by that title). It’s possible to stretch beyond my preferences without going to far: to garden just enough, not to the point where I never want to garden again. Also, within those limits I didn’t have to worry about having to extricate myself; the extrication was built in. I could stay true to the “hardly ever.”

IMG_3668 Today, with some friends, I watched the partial eclipse from Central Park. Many had gathered with special glasses, cylinders, colanders, and other instruments; others stopped by and asked to borrow glasses. We were thronged with excitement and curiosity; I could not have wished for a better crowd and sky. I thought about how these two things go together, the weeding and the watching. To make such a gathering possible, someone had to pull the weeds and clean the litter. Someone had to work out some basic natural philosophy. That person didn’t  have to be someone else; it could be any of us, if we went beyond our usual hesitations and complaints. Then again, no one, given free choice, really has to do what he or she dislikes doing. My only point is that it’s possible and, within limits, possibly even fun.

IMG_3672Thus beauty and labor depend on each other. There would be no point in gardening if it didn’t give people a garden, no point in philosophy if it didn’t open up understandings. It’s easy to delegate the labor to others, but it’s more satisfying to take part, within reason. Short shrift may bite and sting, but a short shift may save the day.

In this last picture, a woman is holding a colander so that the eclipse will project onto the paper below. Others stand by and photograph the paper. The dogs fixate on other things, whatever those may be. People pass through the park. We start to think of things we have to do. Time and schedule press in. Sun and moon slowly let go of each other.

I made a few changes and additions to this piece after posting it.

  • “To know that you can do better next time, unrecognizably better, and that there is no next time, and that it is a blessing there is not, there is a thought to be going on with.”

    —Samuel Beckett, Malone Dies

  • TEDx Talk

    Delivered at TEDx Upper West Side, April 26, 2016.

  • ABOUT THE AUTHOR

     

    Diana Senechal is the author of Republic of Noise: The Loss of Solitude in Schools and Culture and the 2011 winner of the Hiett Prize in the Humanities, awarded by the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture. Her second book, Mind over Memes: Passive Listening, Toxic Talk, and Other Modern Language Follies, was published by Rowman & Littlefield in October 2018. In February 2022, Deep Vellum will publish her translation of Gyula Jenei's 2018 poetry collection Mindig Más.

    Since November 2017, she has been teaching English, American civilization, and British civilization at the Varga Katalin Gimnázium in Szolnok, Hungary. From 2011 to 2016, she helped shape and teach the philosophy program at Columbia Secondary School for Math, Science & Engineering in New York City. In 2014, she and her students founded the philosophy journal CONTRARIWISE, which now has international participation and readership. In 2020, at the Varga Katalin Gimnázium, she and her students released the first issue of the online literary journal Folyosó.

  • INTERVIEWS AND TALKS

    On April 26, 2016, Diana Senechal delivered her talk "Take Away the Takeaway (Including This One)" at TEDx Upper West Side.
     

    Here is a video from the Dallas Institute's 2015 Education Forum.  Also see the video "Hiett Prize Winners Discuss the Future of the Humanities." 

    On April 19–21, 2014, Diana Senechal took part in a discussion of solitude on BBC World Service's programme The Forum.  

    On February 22, 2013, Diana Senechal was interviewed by Leah Wescott, editor-in-chief of The Cronk of Higher Education. Here is the podcast.

  • ABOUT THIS BLOG

    All blog contents are copyright © Diana Senechal. Anything on this blog may be quoted with proper attribution. Comments are welcome.

    On this blog, Take Away the Takeaway, I discuss literature, music, education, and other things. Some of the pieces are satirical and assigned (for clarity) to the satire category.

    When I revise a piece substantially after posting it, I note this at the end. Minor corrections (e.g., of punctuation and spelling) may go unannounced.

    Speaking of imperfection, my other blog, Megfogalmazások, abounds with imperfect Hungarian.

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