By sheer coincidence, the day I published a post about how ‘once upon a time I used to chase shadows but now I don’t do that anymore’ was the same day I caught a shadow that I’ve been chasing for a little while.
While out shopping for food and nappies and cleaning products, I thought I’d check the magazine stand to see if they had a copy of a publication for which I’d notionally had an article accepted. And there I was, enigmatically-half-smiling back at me from the back page!
I feel a rush of…pride? Satisfaction? I’m not sure, but it took me so by surprise that I felt a bit giddy. I lost all focus on my task of shopping for food and nappies and cleaning products.
I was aware of the absurdity of the situation. To have just published a post about how people are always chasing the shadows of things that matter and not the things that actually matter, and here I was getting giddy about having caught a shadow. ‘Should I buy two copies, in case one gets damaged? Perhaps the checkout person will notice that it’s my face on the back page!’ Ridiculous.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not very ashamed of my reaction. I’ve not had many/any external markers of success for a very long time, and this is the first time I’ve found my published work in public, so I’m not going to bat this one away as if it doesn’t mean anything to me. Of course it does. It’s only natural.
And there’s an ironic inconsistency in my reactions. It’s as if I can perform the role of the philosopher better than I can be it. (It really ought to be the other way around, shouldn’t it?) Someone says ‘I’m proud of you’ and I react instantly: proud of what? Of getting in print? Pay attention to the inference: You mean only that one editor thought well of my writing. This in itself doesn’t mean very much. What do you know of their judgement? And besides, what do they know of philosophy?
Someone else offers disdainful indifference: I react with equanimity, knowing that people can only judge things as they seem to them.
But my feelings betray me. I know I’ve been caught in these traps before: chasing things on the expectation that it will solve something. Of course it improves things, but it solves nothing. Because the goal in life isn’t to have more of what seems good – like publications – but to be more of what is good. And I am certain that an ideal philosopher wouldn’t trouble themselves about such things.
To the extent that I chase these shadows, I neglect what really matters. I will only find trouble at the end of that road. I have decided not to go that way again.
And so I will moderate my reaction. Because the thing of actual value would be whether or not the written piece has the effect that’s intended. (Which, incidentally, was to get farmers to reflect on the value of their activity.) Simply being in print isn’t a measure of that. It’s not clear there is any measure for that. I’ll certainly never know. For all I know, I managed to achieve exactly the opposite effect than I intended, in which case this is a terrible failure and a shameful thing, but fortunately I’ll never know if that’s true either.
Food matters, especially if you don’t have any. Nappies and cleaning products too. Publications don’t really matter, I think. The most you could say is that the ideas within them, and the effect they might have, have the potential of being something that matters. But you certainly don’t see that when you see yourself on the back page. All you see there is a shadow of something that might matter. That’s not worth getting giddy over.
And yet, if you’re always so busy fixing the cracks in your soul that you never fill it, you will be as empty as if you never fixed and always filled. So I’ll take this small win, to the extent that it means something, and remember only μηδὲν ἄγαν (nothing too much).
He is far advanced in the study of morals who can lay his finger on all the points that distinguish pride from vanity. The first is lofty, calm, dignified, imperturbable, resolute; the second mean, inconstant, easily swayed, restless, unsteady. One raises a man, the other puffs him up. The first is source of a thousand virtues, the second that of nearly all vices and all caprices.
Nicolas Chamfort
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