Il prétend que Dieu, c'est-à-dire l'auteur de nous et de nos alentours, est mort avant d'avoir fini son ouvrage; qu'il avait les plus beaux et vastes projets du monde et les plus grands moyens; qu'il avait déjà mis en oeuvre plusieurs de ces derniers, comme on élève des échafauds pour bâtir, et qu'au milieu de son ouvrage il est mort; que tout à présent se trouve fait dans un but qui n'existe plus, et que nous, en particulier, nous nous sentons déstinés à quelque chose dont nous ne nous faisons aucune idée; nous sommes comme des montres où il n’y aurait point de cadran, et dont les rouages, doués d’intelligence, tourneraient jusqu’à ce qu’ils se fussent usés, sans savoir pourquoi et se disant toujours: puisque je tourne, j’ai donc un but.
-Benjamin Constant
He claims that God, that is the author of ourselves and settings, died before his work was complete; that he had the most beautiful -- the vastest -- projects for us and the most extraordinary means to achieve them; that he had already begun assembling the latter, as one would raise a scaffold before building, when in the middle of his work he died; that all of creation now finds it was designed for a purpose that no longer exists, and that we, in particular, feel ourselves to be destined for something of which we cannot summon the faintest idea: we are like watches without faces whose gears, graced with self-awareness, will turn until they are worn out, never knowing why but repeating over and over: since I'm turning, I have a goal.
-tr. The Bunny
This passage -- especially that last line with its lovely sybillant rush "jusqu’à ce qu’ils se fussent usés" that I lost in the English version -- has been stuck in my head for the past few months. I couldn't figure out for a long time whether it was a statement of hope or despair...but today it seems to be just enough to hold onto.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Por que?
If there's anything I've learned from reading my own blog over the years it's that prepositions are treacherous. So when I decided a few weeks ago that I wanted to teach myself Spanish (also treacherous), I wasn't surprised to encounter a new subtlety in a word I thought I knew.
My Spanish grammar reference book explains the difference between por and para spatially, since the common dream of all prepositions is to unite in the universally accessible land of volume and direction, released from the confines of a particular syntax.
"To picture the meaning of the preposition por, imagine an arrow, representing motion, inside or alongside a box. This preposition refers to movement within or alongside a specific space, depending on context" (p. 96).
Although both of these prepositions can be translated as "for," por more closely corresponds to "because," indicating the underlying cause driving a particular action. It also denotes duration ("I stayed for three hours"), passage ("He entered by the front door"), and agency/instrumentality ("She came by plane," "The book was written by them").
"The underlying concept involved with the preposition para can be conceptualized as an arrow moving toward a box. Para represents movement toward a specific space, in the direction of that space" (p. 97).
Para can be rendered as "in order to" -- it denotes the outcome an action is driving towards.
Although this is a distinction we can make in English, we don't often choose to. "For" is so convenient, always at hand, and in spite of its size has a certain gravity. Starting a sentence with "for" can be downright poetic (For one the amaryllis and the rose...). "In order to" is so clunky, "because" suggests petulance or scolding.
Yet constantly blurring cause and effect -- both of which are nestled into the single syllable of "for" -- can lead to sloppy thinking. For example, in trying to tease apart what I am doing and what I want to be doing, I end up with this confusing set of statements:
Why do I work?
I work for money
I work for the praise of my superiors
I work for the health of a community
I work for the success of a company
I work for the sake of keeping busy
I work for a promotion, to uncover new opportunities
I work for the maintenance of my stability
Pero por que trabajo?
My Spanish grammar reference book explains the difference between por and para spatially, since the common dream of all prepositions is to unite in the universally accessible land of volume and direction, released from the confines of a particular syntax.
"To picture the meaning of the preposition por, imagine an arrow, representing motion, inside or alongside a box. This preposition refers to movement within or alongside a specific space, depending on context" (p. 96).
Although both of these prepositions can be translated as "for," por more closely corresponds to "because," indicating the underlying cause driving a particular action. It also denotes duration ("I stayed for three hours"), passage ("He entered by the front door"), and agency/instrumentality ("She came by plane," "The book was written by them").
"The underlying concept involved with the preposition para can be conceptualized as an arrow moving toward a box. Para represents movement toward a specific space, in the direction of that space" (p. 97).
Para can be rendered as "in order to" -- it denotes the outcome an action is driving towards.
Although this is a distinction we can make in English, we don't often choose to. "For" is so convenient, always at hand, and in spite of its size has a certain gravity. Starting a sentence with "for" can be downright poetic (For one the amaryllis and the rose...). "In order to" is so clunky, "because" suggests petulance or scolding.
Yet constantly blurring cause and effect -- both of which are nestled into the single syllable of "for" -- can lead to sloppy thinking. For example, in trying to tease apart what I am doing and what I want to be doing, I end up with this confusing set of statements:
Why do I work?
I work for money
I work for the praise of my superiors
I work for the health of a community
I work for the success of a company
I work for the sake of keeping busy
I work for a promotion, to uncover new opportunities
I work for the maintenance of my stability
Pero por que trabajo?
Girls Really Do Rock!
In case you haven't heard, my friend made this movie: Girls Rock! It's already playing in a number of major cities (San Francisco, New York, Chicago, Seattle, Portland, Los Angeles) and will be opening in 30+ more over the next few weeks. Instead of quoting the press materials or explaining the premise, I will just say that it's about empowering girls and women and that it's a must-see.
Here are the reasons why I need a movie like this in my life and almost cried ~37 times at the opening:
1. Because some days I feel so vulnerable that I imagine myself not as an individual person but as a carpet of broad-winged butterflies, stilled by the shade.
2. Because Eliot was the one who messed up and yet somehow half the coverage I've seen has focused on whether or not Silda did the right thing, like this choice piece from Slate: Silda's Mistake. I think what this article makes clear is that women are not only each other's fiercest critics, but that we reserve our most severe judgments for those among us who are unhappy, possibly because we fear it is infectious. While men are expected to misbehave and can expect to see their crimes minimized ("prostitution shouldn't even be illegal"), women are responsible for everything that happens to them and to those around them -- even the unforeseeable injuries inflicted by others ("that's what you get for quitting your job!").
3. Because I haven't had a Snickers bar since 6th grade.
4. Because the fact that I'm having my period doesn't make the sadness feel any less sad.
5. Because one of the girls in the movie -- you have to guess which one -- reminds me so achingly much of what I was like at her age -- all presence -- that it makes me wonder where my bold, brash, unabashed self has gone...
Here are the reasons why I need a movie like this in my life and almost cried ~37 times at the opening:
1. Because some days I feel so vulnerable that I imagine myself not as an individual person but as a carpet of broad-winged butterflies, stilled by the shade.
2. Because Eliot was the one who messed up and yet somehow half the coverage I've seen has focused on whether or not Silda did the right thing, like this choice piece from Slate: Silda's Mistake. I think what this article makes clear is that women are not only each other's fiercest critics, but that we reserve our most severe judgments for those among us who are unhappy, possibly because we fear it is infectious. While men are expected to misbehave and can expect to see their crimes minimized ("prostitution shouldn't even be illegal"), women are responsible for everything that happens to them and to those around them -- even the unforeseeable injuries inflicted by others ("that's what you get for quitting your job!").
3. Because I haven't had a Snickers bar since 6th grade.
4. Because the fact that I'm having my period doesn't make the sadness feel any less sad.
5. Because one of the girls in the movie -- you have to guess which one -- reminds me so achingly much of what I was like at her age -- all presence -- that it makes me wonder where my bold, brash, unabashed self has gone...
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