Cornelis Bos: Allegory:
Industry Rewarding Diligence and Punishing Indolence
(c. 1540)

" I seem to need a somewhat stiff wind in my face to find that most satisfying sort of Grace."

I think of myself as more diligent than disciplined. Diligence doesn't need discipline, for it seems to operate on distraction. I loosely focus my attention, then keep returning to the task; no or very little discipline ever required. I can certainly trudge much further than I can march and probably even further than I can stroll. I need not even know my destination to begin, on the principle that any direction, diligently followed, will ultimately guide anyone to a very different location. The difference need not matter so much as its magnitude. The mountains might not be far from my starting point, but they represent a vast difference that naturally seems like concomitant progress. Slow and steady might not win any race, but it does tend to fuel persistence, which can often outlast even the most dedicated competitor. How did I do that? One diligent inch at a freaking time!

I do not operate to any sort of grand plan. I am not checking off bucket list boxes. I do not know or particularly care how all of this might turn out. I question the notion of anything ever really turning out, considering that notion more of a story convention than any sensed experience. In the real world, endings come after and never during any story. The element that poses as completion better represents transition, which dares not include the following story but also cannot contain very much more than vague hints at an ending since endings almost always involve subsequent experiences after the demise of the original experiencer. Somebody else, a narrator, looks backward and takes stock of another's experience. The primary actor should have properly turned into an unresolvable mystery by then, never again present or accountable.

The goal-less life offers great promise. Unencumbered by imperative future achievements, one might find it easier to enjoy odd moments. Unperturbed by the so-called lack of progress, every moment might seem somehow more precious than otherwise. Our culture seems to think of moments as expendable resources, lost if not invested in creating some future state. A day not so invested is believed by many to have been wasted, yet neither the investor nor the accused waster holds any moment one second longer than the other. Each forfeits each of their moments in turn. None gain more moments for any moments expended. Diligent application might involve investing or just experiencing without explicit expectation of return. I report that I might be writing a book. I'll know for sure after it's written when I'll no longer be able to claim that I am writing it. I do not know the product of my Diligence until well after expending it.

So, Diligence might, by nature, be a faith-based occupation. Whether investing or just experiencing, the trance I induce makes a considerable difference. I have been looking at the north side of The Villa since Kurt, our painter, just finished recoating the western side and a part of the north. The fresh paint shows how faded the prior coat had become after I told myself that the north side had yet to fade. I couldn't tell the difference until I had an interface with a freshly-coated surface. Now, I can see a glaring difference. I have been dreaming of pulling out my cumbersome old ladder and refinishing that side of the place before the end of this season. I'd hired Kurt to paint the front, but I imagine I might manage to paint this side. It might be my last chance to paint that wall again. I imagine it will take little more than the usual ounce of diligence each morning to mount that ladder and start painting. I'm eight years older than when my brother and I stripped that side to bare wood, priming and painting in the current color. I'm confident that I will not be able to repaint it eight years hence, so I'm looking at my Diligence to kick in and help me make that difference.

I have never been more self-satisfied than when working with my Diligence engaged. I require only a smaller-order impossibility or a minor terribly unlikely to goose me into unveiling that Diligence again. I seem to need a somewhat stiff wind in my face to find that most satisfying sort of Grace. I might appear to barely nibble at the challenge, but I find fulfillment somewhere within that commitment. I feel as though I might have been over-protecting myself of late, that I have been hiding my innate defiance under that infamous bushel basket in response to aging. Sure, my aches and pains have become more prominent. Whose haven't? They offer no great excuse, though, to refrain from engaging. If I believe I am free to pursue what truly pleases me, I'd better pick up this small indenture to overwhelm myself for the balance of this quarter. Whatever cost I incur should be more than repaid in self-respect and accomplishment. My Diligence might be my true superpower, but only if I remember to engage it.

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Grace, #PureSchmaltz