I had learned to find equal meaning in the repeated rituals of domestic life. Setting the table. Lighting the candles. Building the fire. Cooking. All those soufflés, all that crème caramel, all those daubes and albóndigas and gumbos. Clean sheets, stacks of clean towels, hurricane lamps for storms, enough water and food to see us through whatever geological event came our way. These fragments I have shored against my ruins, were the words that came to mind then. These fragments mattered to me. I believed in them.
∆ Joan Didion, from "The Year of Magical Thinking"
There are many theories for the origins of the word ‘okay’.
A popular etymological theory relates back to the American publishing world of the 19th century where OL (oll wright) turned into OK (oll korrect) as an approval for print. There are many other theories, though, including references to the Native American language of Choctaw (okeh, ‘it is’); the initials of German industrialist Otto Kaiser for certifying his products; or the initials of Ὅλα Καλά (ola kala, ‘everything is well’), an abbreviation used by Greek immigrants to the US when sending short telegrams to their relatives in Greece to keep the cost low.
“A picture may sometimes be worth a thousand words, but a thousand pictures cannot represent some of the things we can represent using words and sentences.”
— Tim Crane, The Puzzle of Representation
The Lindy effect (also known as Lindy's Law) is a theorized phenomenon by which the future life expectancy of some non-perishable things, like a technology or an idea, is proportional to their current age. Thus, the Lindy effect proposes the longer a period something has survived to exist or be used in the present, it is also likely to have a longer remaining life expectancy. Longevity implies a resistance to change, obsolescence or competition and greater odds of continued existence into the future.
Rest happens only when someone's full weight is surrendered. Laying your head on someone's shoulder isn't comfortable if you're using half your energy to hold up your own head in effort to conceal your full weight from the other. Rest then is heavy. It's a place where our heaviness is accepted, received, and held, and without fear that the one holding is insecure or unstable, receiving our weight with resentment or as a burden (be it a couch, a table, or the relational presence of another person). It's only then that the lightness of rest can be felt.
Fight Club tells us we are not free because of the things we think are important, the things we own, the things and things.
It is because we try to complete our life by consuming materials and possessions that surround us, but none of those matters if we are not complete ourselves mentally.
And until we lose everything in life that we hold valuable, we truly do not peek into our unconsciousness to seek the answer to “What do we really want in life?”, because the question comes to us at a high price and we pay much to answer it.
For instance, the quotes from the movie:
“At the time, my life just seemed too complete, and maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves.”
“Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It’s only after you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything. Nothing is static, everything is evolving, everything is falling apart. Maybe self-improvement isn’t the answer, maybe self-destruction is the answer”.
We can only serve that to which we are profoundly connected, that which we are willing to touch.
When we help, we become aware of our own strength. But when we serve, we don't serve with our strength; we serve with ourselves, and we draw from all of our experiences.
In helping we may find a sense of satisfaction; in serving we find a sense of gratitude.
“Just tell me what you saw this morning like in two lines. I saw a water glass on a brown tablecloth, and the light came through it in three places. No metaphor. And to resist metaphor is very difficult because you have to actually endure the thing itself, which hurts us for some reason.”
∆ Marie Howe on a writing exercise she gives to her students, as told to Krista Tippett for On Being