How Should a Person Be: a Quote

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This weekend I raced through Sheila Heti’s book How Should a Person Be? This passage really struck home for me, and will serve as a daily challenge to the ever-present thought that I have to find my “one thing”, my one passion, and I’ll “never have to work a day in my life.”

“You remember the puer aeternus–the eternal child–Peter Pan–the boy who never grows up, who never becomes a man? Or it’s like in The Little Prince–when the prince asks the narrator to draw him a sheep. The narrator tries and tries again, but each time he fails to do it as well as he wishes. He believes himself to be a great artist and cannot understand why it’s not working. In a fit of frustration, he instead draws a box–something he can do well. When the prince asks how it’s a picture of a sheep, the narrator replies that it’s a picture of a sheep in a box. He is arrogantly proud of his solution and satisfied with his efforts. This response is typical of all peurs. Such people will suddenly tell you they have another plan, and they always do it the moment things start getting difficult. But it’s their everlasting switching that’s the dangerous thing, not what they choose.

Why is their everlasting switching dangerous?

Because people who live their lives this way can look forward to a single destiny, shared with others of this type–though such people do not believe they represent a type, but feel themselves distinguished from the common run of man, who they see as held down by the banal anchors of the world. But while others actually build a life in which things gain in meaning and significance, this is not true of the puer. Such a person inevitability looks back on life as it nears its end with a feeling of emptiness and sadness, aware of what they have built: nothing. In their quest for a life without failure, suffering, or doubt, that is what they achieve: a life empty of all those things that make a human life meaningful. And yet they started off believing themselves too special for this world!

But–and here is the hope–there is a solution for people of this type, and it’s perhaps not the solution that could have been predicted. The answer for them is to build on what they have begun and not abandon their plans as soon as things start getting difficult. They must work–without escaping into fantasies about being the person who worked. And I don’t mean work for its own sake, but they must choose work that begins and ends in a passion, a question that is gnawing at their guts, which is not to be avoided but must be realized and lived through the hard work and suffering that inevitably comes with the process.

They must reinforce and build on what is in their life already rather than always starting anew, hoping to find a situation without danger. Puers don’t need to check themselves into analysis. If that just remember this–It is their everlasting switching that is the dangerous thing, not what they choose–they might discover themselves saved. The problem is the puer ever anticipates loss, disappointment, and suffering–which they foresee at the end of every experience, so they cut themselves off at the beginning, retreating almost at once in order to protect themselves. In this way, they never give themselves to life–living in constant dread of the end. Reason, in this case, has taken too much from life.

They must give themselves completely to the experience! One thinks sometimes how much more alive such people would be if they suffered! If they can’t be happy, let them at least be unhappy–really, really unhappy for once, and then they might become truly human.”

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Cooked

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I have been a fan of Michael Pollan’s work for quite a few years now, and I’d been meaning to read his newest one for almost as long as it has been out. I finally got around to it this past week, and I enjoyed nearly every minute of it. In Cooked, Pollan enters into the world of cooking and why it is important via the four main elements: fire, water, air, and earth.

From the beginning I was hooked. In the introduction, Pollan comes to the realization that many of the questions he had in his life could be answered singularly: cook. “What was the single most important thing we could do as a family to improve our health and general well-being? And what would be a good way to better connect with my teenage son?…What is the most important thing an ordinary person can do to help reform the American food system, to make it healthier and more sustainable?…How can people living in a highly specialized consumer economy reduce their sense of independence and achieve a greater degree of self-sufficiency?…How, in our everyday lives, can we acquire a deeper understanding of the natural world and our species’ peculiar role in it?” (Cooked, 1-2). He argues that in America, we have become so dependent on the industry and its companies for our sustenance and it has affected our health, the welfare of farmers, and our society as a whole. We have forgotten how to cook. We eat in separate rooms from our family members, or in the car with our customized meal, and we have lost the art of conversation and creation. Pollan takes us back to our roots and explores why these things have happened and how bringing back home cooking can turn things around.

Using the four elements as guides, the reader is brought through the secrets and mysteries behind barbeque, braises, bread, and fermentation. What we learn through all of this, is that the more intimately acquainted you are with your food- when you see where it comes from, learn how to prepare it, invest your time in it, and share it with loved ones- the more self-sufficient you can be, and a tiny vote is made against the system that has been in charge of how we eat. You become the one in control, and Pollan argues that the control is over more than just what food you are eating. “I also learned things about the natural world (and our implication in it) that I don’t think I could have learned any other way,” Pollan says. “I learned far more than I ever expected to about the nature of work, the meaning of health, about tradition and ritual, self-reliance and community, the rhythms of everyday life, and the supreme satisfaction of producing something I previously could only have imagined consuming, doing it outside of the cash economy for no other reason but love” (p 12). Cooking is a way of carrying on traditions, of building community and self-sufficiency, and improving our general health, happiness, and relationships.

I highly recommend Cooked. I was fortunate enough to be raised by a mother who made lunch and dinner for her family every day, but it has been only in recent years that the desire to produce my own food has come about, and this book increased the desire even more. I see a world filled with the sick and broken, and while it may sound trite, I really believe in the healing power of a good, healthy meal. As Pollan says so well, “Is there any practice less selfish, any labor less alienated, any time less wasted, than preparing something delicious and nourishing for people you love” (p 23)? I think not.