fragments

“Truth comes from things, and our senses uncover it there...
There is no body, however small that cannot be broken up into countless parts.
But to know that any given body is multiple,
I must already have the notion of unity before I perceive it.
Neither bodies nor the senses can give me such an idea.
We cannot expect to find beneath reason
the source of the truths apprehended by reason.”

~ Etienne Gilson, The Christian Philosophy of Saint Augustine, p.16

1

Evidently, we’re informed by commentators that on the average, each of us processes about 55 gigabytes of data on a daily basis. Some reports refer to 74 gigabytes, others mention 8200 words, per day. We can barely imagine the equivalent in photo images. Ironically, the information is conveyed to us via digital media platforms. And those informational morsels are among hundreds of millions of terrabytes which are generated every day. That’s a daunting amount of rapid-fire fragments through which to navigate. Our days do not grow in their duration. When it comes to academic research, I’ve observed how the additive aspects of manual source-gathering gave way to the subtractive aspects of sharding away digital abundance- all to hopefully arrive at the substantial. Focus has become a disciplined effort in itself- nearly impossible for many.

But there can surely be fascination in a nurturing wholeness made of intricate fragments. Complex ideas and projects incorporate mosaics of modules. Getting away from the artifice that dominates our world of lit screens, I’m making sure to savour the season’s faceted colors. The chilled air is much more to my liking, and the autumn foliage strikes great contrasts against greying skies and ground. With enough wind gusts, leaves take flight as airborne confetti, serving as three-dimensional distractions from shrill newsfeeds. Spectra, from pale yellow to velvet red, change within the day in their intensities and textures. These fragments serve as time increments.

2

Shuffling through both newly-fallen and dry leaves up the street to the bus stop, all the more, fragments are the stuff of my work days. The driest and most embrittled foliage crackle as crumpled papers under pedestrians’ feet, and the sounds remain in mind while reading en route to the job. Archival collections are sums-of-parts, structured hierarchically into groupings and subgroupings- referred to as series. I’ve occasionally organized highly complex collections into sub-sub-subseries- as the substance, formats, and sources of the records warrant. The basis for arrangement may be how the documents and manuscripts were initially made and configured. Otherwise, this must be ascertained through analysis, understanding both sources and uses of the materials. Inevitably, the fragments are to be sensibly and consistently laid out and listed so each “branch” and “leaf” can be easily found for future uses. During early stages of configuration- especially with large and disparate documentation- critical sifting, research, and “boiling-down” must be done (archivists call this appraisal) to advance what emerges from the heaps into cohesive series and subseries. When it comes to making sense of thousands (sometimes exponentially more) of fragmented components, and interpreting them as needed, we use terms such as establishing order over the archives.

My discoveries occasionally reveal how documents were inventively brought together by their creators.

Applying such principles and their many practical derivatives, my thoughts turn to how Scholastic philosophers considered “order” as an indication for understanding divinity. Comprehending creation and knowledge may not be the same as arranging and describing archives, but the spirit is not far away. Generating compendia and indices for the sharing of information do connect philosophy and curation. In the analyses, I get to see how people value what they’ve produced, and how institutions structure (or don’t structure) themselves.

These items may not look alike, but they are part of a unified subseries.

3

“Everything is in everything, and partitions are only possible by abstractions,” wrote the French Dominican philosopher Antonin-Gilbert Sertillanges in The Intellectual Life. Vaster and more complex than archival groupings are the pieces and thoughts of our days and years. Woven among physical formats that comprise pictures, words, and artifacts- are those of sense and recollection. Wafting leaves and their propelling air currents amount to a unity of form and counterform. Life fragments are in our midst, and buoyant. Like curators and readers, we can choose to comprehend our findings. Our accessions, random and scattered as they are, require our reckoning and processing, in our pursuits of understanding. Persevering intact through turbulent times demands more than continuity. One must have the metaphorical “ears to hear,” to prevent from becoming insensitive. Our unique individual contexts join together our experiential fragments. As we cultivate instincts and perspectives, our contexts become more discernible to us. Pondering these things on a day off, attending a church service, the liturgical sequence brought to mind collated fragments reverently brought together as commemoration and observance. Each portion held holy, but all in cohesive union. And my walked paces amidst the hues of autumn fragments continued through narthex, nave, and sanctuary- returning again albeit transformed to the outdoors.

forbearance

“The soul generates, nourishes, and increases:
generates as regards essence, nourishes as regards quality,
and increases as regards quantity.
By the sensitive power it apprehends sensible things,
retains what it has apprehended, combines and divides
what it has retained.”

~ Saint Bonaventure, The Breviloquium, ch. 9

Despite countless task-saving conveniences, we’re all navigating increasingly demanding paths. And it seems the manual projects and chores are made easier than before; the ramped-up, harder efforts involve the mind. Logistics and time-management require constantly adaptive abilities to rearrange priorities, even sharding away excesses. When it comes to intellectual and spiritual matters, the challenges of self-discipline only intensify.

The recent decade attests to a continuous barrage of violence, conflict, pandemic, recession, displacement, disaster, and fractiousness. That short list encompasses the daily experience for too many, enough to overwhelm. Much as the horrific school shootings of 25 years ago prompted sociologists and officials to finally regard bullying as something to take seriously (and as a badly-bullied adolescent, I remember the commonplace dismissiveness too well), current studies are informing us about how anxious and worried we are. As if we needed to be reminded. A new study ties rampant anxiety with equally rampant obsessions with smartphones- particularly among teens. I interpret this, in a broader generational sense, as being swept into ubiquitous, sensationalized, and constant newsmedia feeds tapped into by all our networked devices. Evidently, we need to know, during all our waking moments. I’ve had to create my own version of the proverbial ten-foot-pole, tempering my connectivity, reminding myself to get outdoors and experience life first-hand. Despite the cautious vigilance, I’m also amidst the pressure to be confident in hopeless surroundings. Trust and worry stand in opposition to each other. Many among the faithful commonly profess that we should not worry, as most of us do what we can to restrain ourselves. But is faith enough, and is that all I’ve got? Apparently, a mustard seed’s worth suffices.

I heard a preacher say that life is 10% what happens to you, and 90% what you do about it. We may propose, but very few of us can even begin to dispose. With my granule of gumption, there are learned instincts to help me contend with obstacles. If anything, there is the cultivated skill of noting the limits- whether they are related to economics, practical logistics, or the behaviors of others. The discretionary tacks between forcing back the constrictions and steering around the incorrigibles. Unraveling the implications emanating from trust, my thoughts bring me to the healthful version of surrender. Parallel to persistently believing in finding better situations to fulfill what I’ve been built to accomplish, I’m also aware of immovable barriers. Thus I return to the vitality of trust- albeit in clouds of unknowing- all of which amounts to perseverance.

Perseverance needs a purpose. For what, or whose sake, do we persist with our efforts? Perhaps it’s to gain respect, or peace of mind, or to make an impression; perhaps it’s the fight-or-flight impulse to survive. Many among us are naturally competitive, driven to exceed, hoping to improve our situations. As with that “ninety percent” of the preacher’s comment, hardship can pry forth our ambitions. Beyond motivations to survive with strength, work, and housing- is to be convinced there is tangible cause for hope. Josemaría Escrivá, whose books have been mainstays in my daily bus commutes for two years, helps right my ship with his exhortations about living for the causes of service to others and devotion to God. “Think of nothing but of divine compassion,” he advised in The Forge, instructing preference for the pursuit of a life of generosity, over and above fear. “The immediate future is full of worries, if we stop seeing things in a supernatural way,” Escrivá added. Worry and anxiety can be motivators as much as detriments, though both are inevitably exhausting.

While responding to audience questions after a recent lecture, someone asked me “where do you get all that energy?” Not entirely a technical or theoretical question, I heard myself say something like, “There’s a lot that still needs to be done!” Creating archives often borrows the metaphor of bringing out sculptures that are within large stone blocks. Preservation and access resemble the nurture and promotion of a botanical garden. Very simply put, the energy comes from caring, and my forbearance incorporates stewardship and vision. Commitment to the profession’s many aspects is supremely important, wherever I’m working- and my hope is to continue improving. Many thoughts- perhaps too many- while working and seeking better work, have to do with the concept of “success.” How have definitions of success changed in the past decade (or two)? For whom is success necessary? Impressing my elders- whether parents, grandparents, or teachers- always meant a great deal; impressing friends was less of a priority, but impressing managers and prospective employers has been a longstanding matter of anxiety. Is sufficient the same as success? Having endured two layoffs in my working life, along with forbearance-testing threats and economic conditions, anxiety has long been tied to fears of the impending. Or perhaps not impending! That sort of tension can be formidable, as though a solid barrier. Years and years of trying, and very rarely succeeding, lend too easily to discouragement which must not obstruct a good future. Remembering what I heard myself say to that audience a couple of weeks ago, essentially in light of things and in spite of things, I have to just keep productively working. One who surely knew a rough life of fits-and-starts, Paul taught those in his midst- as well as his later readers- to insist upon gratitude and graciousness, and to “ let your forbearing spirit be known among all.” Fully agreeing with St. Bonaventure as quoted above, the soul must be nourished in order to be renewed and encouraging to others. Carefully-selected studies fuel my forbearance abilities, amounting to the most critical of life skills.