Running, Radio, and Rest

A busy summer vacation filled with translation, travel, and concerts has come to an end, though the translation and concerts continue. We have a faculty meeting tomorrow morning and will then be officially back on board, though the week is fairly light for some of us. The following week, September 1, is when classes start. I am assuming that nothing will prevent me from going to Fishing on Orfű this Thursday, though that could change. I’m going only for a night, since I have to be back before Friday evening to lead an online Szim Salom service. I will arrive at the festival in time to pitch my tent and then hear the Platon Karataev acoustic duo (Gergő and Sebő) play on the water stage. Then I will find my way to the Fonó Borfalu to hear Dávid Szesztay; I will probably stay there to hear Szeder (for the first time), and then walk around and explore. But to do this, it won’t be possible to bring the bike, unfortunately; it turns out that there are no available bike spaces on the trains from Budapest to Pécs. Instead, I will take the train to Pécs (from Szolnok, via Budapest, without a bike), then take a public bus from Pécs to Orfű. That will also allow me to get back home earlier on Friday.

I am looking forward to the school year; I have lots of plans for my classes, and this year, if we are lucky, we (the public library and the school) will actually be able to hold a Shakespeare festival.

But on to the subjects of this post: running, radio, and rest.

Running is my favorite form of exercise after bicycling, when I am relatively in shape. Recently I have been running a mile almost every day, which isn’t much compared to what I used to do at my peak (five miles twice a week or so), but still an improvement over the recent years. I think I could work back up to five miles, but I have to do it carefully. Anyway, running takes off the excess energy, elongates the body, and just feels great. So much for that.

Now, radio. For most of my life, I wasn’t much of a radio listener. It wasn’t on at home when I was growing up, and while my first encounters with radio were enchanting (I still remember the songs that played the day that I stayed home with a fever and listened), I usually couldn’t take that endless stream of Top 40 hits. Only later did I become aware of independent radio, and even then, I preferred to choose what to listen to. But over time, I came to realize how great a well-run radio show can be. If it’s a good show, it introduces you to music you will want to hear again, maybe music you would never have encountered on your own. The DJ not only knows a lot of music and has an enormous repertoire to select from, but also enjoys selecting and commenting on things.

It takes some dedication to listen to the radio. I don’t work with music in the background—I have to focus on the music, if it’s on—so I pick one radio show a week and stay for the whole thing if possible. Most recently, this show has been WFMU’s Continental Subway, with DJ David Dichelle. It’s a fantastic show. He plays music from all around the world, and knows how to pronounce the names and titles. In the third hour, the “Random Road,” he focuses on one country in particular, a surprise location (because he never tells us in advance). Last Thursday it was Bhutan. The music was dreamy. You can go listen to it in the archives if you are curious.

One of the real gifts of the internet is that it allows people to listen to a radio show from around the world and to type comments. So there are regulars from many different places, and short text conversations take place. Also, David welcomes us to write with suggestions. He is very interested in Hungarian bands, and has played some of my suggestions already: the Pandóra Projekt, Felső Tízezer, and the Sebő-együttes, as well as some Hungarian music that was new to me. It is really fun to have my suggestion played, and even more fun to hear music I don’t already know, and kinds of music I don’t usually listen to. I otherwise like to listen to my favorites over and over again, so this is a good contrast.

That leads to the last topic: rest. It is a good thing. But it has many dimensions. Rest isn’t just the absence of work, or the increase of sleep. It also has to do with the redirection of thought. We have many things that we are used to thinking about; turning the attention somewhere else, even for a little while, can be greatly restorative. That’s part of what happens at the end of Raymond Carver’s “A Small, Good Thing” (one of my favorite stories in the world). The encounter with the baker shocks the bereaved couple out of their train of thought. There is something restful and luminous about the ending.

All of these are luxuries—running, radio, and rest—but luxuries that can be found and built, to some degree, with minimal money. They do take money, but not a lot. That is one thing I love about living in Hungary, where I moved almost four years ago: it is possible to build so much out of a simple life. I don’t have much money at all; my total financial assets, beyond my apartment, would probably get me through one year in the U.S. (if I were careful), and my teaching job pays me the equivalent of thirteen thousand dollars a year, more or less. But not only is it possible to live on very little here, but there’s so much to learn, create, and support. It’s hard to convey this to others, but it’s true: some material possessions are important, but not many. All depends on what one wants to do with them. For me, the apartment, the bike, the books, the musical instruments, the laptop are quite enough, not only in themselves, but in the projects they make possible. So, back to translating for a while.

Cura te ipsum

self-portrait-with-the-idol-jpglargeWe hear the sayings “Physician, heal thyself” (from Luke 4:23) or “Physician, Physician, Heal thine own limp!” from Genesis Rabbah 23:4. Self-help is not an industry; it’s part of life. No matter what our age (beyond, say, age 3), profession, or situation, we not only solve many of our own problems, but figure out some of the solutions. In doing so, we may draw on all sorts of advice or wisdom from the near or distant past, but we decide how to apply it.

The self-help industry, then, is misnamed. It isn’t about self-help at all; at its worst, it is about selling you a product that supposedly will help you. To sell it, the creator or marketer tries to convince you that it’s better than anything else out there and that it addresses the problem in a novel way. This involves ignoring or dismissing (or simply not knowing) past wisdom.

Let me backtrack: I see two kinds of books that aim to help you find your way through life. One kind is a book of knowledge or wisdom; it draws on what has been known and said and does not promise you any big or swift answers. It leaves you to arrive at your own conclusions. The other kind excludes previous wisdom for the sake of appearing new or original. Here the point is not to give you perspective but rather to put forth a particular idea, program, product, or plan.

This explains, in part, why some self-help literature, and the journalism surrounding it, pays little or no attention to philosophy, literature, or even classic psychology. Oblivion blows a blizzard over what has been said before. In her New York Magazine article “Forgiveness Is Not a Binary State,” Cari Romm writes,

Forgiveness, clearly, is a highly personal choice, speeding healing for some and precluding healing for others. But what does it even mean to forgive, anyway?

It’s something we haven’t been asking ourselves for very long — it wasn’t until 1989 that psychologists even started to really study forgiveness — but psychologist Harriet Lerner believes we’ve been too hasty to rush into an answer. In her new book Why Won’t You Apologize?: Healing Big Betrayals and Everyday Hurts, Lerner argues that we’re flying blind: Academic research and conventional wisdom alike emphasize the positive effects of forgiveness without having reached any clear consensus as to what the act of forgiving really looks like.

Wait a second–who says we haven’t been asking ourselves about the nature of forgiveness for very long? Just look up “forgiveness” in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, and you will see a long and detailed entry, with reference to works through the centuries. But there’s much more, even in the psychological literature. Jung wrote extensively on confession (and the accompanying forgiveness); other scholars around the turn of the twentieth century began examining the psychology of religion, which included concepts of forgiveness. (See, for instance, Edwin J. Starbuck, “Contributions to  the Psychology of Religion,”The American Journal of Psychology, vol. 9, No. 1 [Oct., 1897], pp. 70-124.) It is true that psychologists have been studying forgiveness more intensively than before, but the topic is by no means new.

I have not yet read Harriet Lerner’s book Why Won’t You Apologize? in full, but it seems to dispense too readily with forgiveness. On p. 54, she writes: “Some cultural groups place a high premium on apologies and forgiveness. Others do not.” In other words, she seems to suggest that its value is relative. In an interview with Forbes, she says, “We do need to find ways to protect ourselves from the burden of carrying anger and resentment that isn’t serving us, and to grab some peace of mind. We can achieve this with or without forgiveness.” This ignores one of the main virtues of forgiveness: it helps reestablish some form of relationship, even a silent one, between the two people (and even between them and others). Sure, we can “grab some peace of mind” elsewhere. But isn’t there more at stake?

Her book (which I will read) is not the point here, though. I take issue more directly with Romm’s article and with the widespread practice, especially in so-called self-help literature, of exaggerating the newness of an idea. When it comes to books of wisdom, I trust and respect those that acknowledge what has come before, even if they proceed to question, criticize, or overturn it.

Romm’s larger argument in the article (and Lerner’s, which she cites) is that people mistakenly see forgiveness as binary: Either you forgive someone entirely, or you’re caught up in bitterness. But this simply isn’t true; there have been subtle discussions of forgiveness over the centuries.

Forgiveness involves coming to see another person, an injury, and one’s own anger in a much larger perspective–and, from there, restoring some kind of relationship, even an unspoken one. (I think of Raymond Carver’s story “A Small, Good Thing.”) Such forgiveness is not always possible or desirable, but there are reasons why people long for it and seek it out. This is no pathological inclination, unless human connection is now deemed a disease. In that case, empty the libraries and close down the theatres. Declare language defunct.

Image credit: Paul Gaughin, Self-Portrait with the Idol (1893), courtesy of WikiArt.

Note: I made some minor edits 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

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  • 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.

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    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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