Public
Seminar of August 28, 2003 at the Aesthetic Realism Foundation, 141
Greene
St., New York, NY 10012
I was 20 years old and in Louisville playing ball. Having had a good
day
at the plate that day I had a rather large sense of myself as I entered
a popular night spot. I stood at the entrance checking out the girls
and
felt a rush when I made eye contact with several of them. I then
nonchalantly
made my move and proceeded to fall flat on my face. Since I was
using
my eyes to admire those who were admiring me, I didn't see I had been
standing
at the edge of a platform.
My notion of
happiness was to be the star and outshine everyone. But the feeling of
exultation I got looking down on people, I learned from Aesthetic
Realism,
is really the thrill of contempt. "Vanity," said Eli Siegel, "is the
desire
to please oneself by not being in an accurate relation with what is not
oneself." This is completely against our deepest purpose, and against
real
happiness--the glorious, lasting thing we so much want. In his lecture Aesthetic
Realism and Happiness, Mr. Siegel said:
Happiness can be defined as the feeling
that what one
wants is going along with what the world is or does. That is what
it deeply is: the utmost affirmation of oneself with the utmost
acceptance
of what is not one self. It is always that; it is never anything
else. [The Right of Aesthetic Realism to Be Known#1569]
This describes what I felt as a boy when I built a house for my dog
Champ.
I thought: What would he like? How much room did he need to be
comfortable?
How high should the floor be? I carefully designed the house, selected,
measured and cut the wood, framed it, then nailed the roof, sides and
floor.
I felt proud of my creation and so happy to see Champ enjoy it. The
materials
of earth and I were in a team working to have a good effect on another
living being. I was asserting my deepest desire--to know and be fair to
the world. And I had this happiness at other times--meeting a baseball
solidly, or having my mind energetically engaged in understanding the
logic
of an algebraic equation.
But I
couldn't distinguish
between this feeling of happiness and the quick jolt of excitement I
felt,
for example, when I'd be greeted with, "Ah come bella!", "Oh, how
handsome!"
by my favorite aunts. At such times I'd feel a warm inner glow as
everything outside me seemed to fade into dullness. "Vanity", said Mr.
Siegel, "makes us cross eyed or dim sighted."
1. Is The Picture We
Have of Ourselves
Accurate?
"People want to be happy, [said Mr. Siegel] but
they want to
be happy on their terms, because they also want to have a good picture
of themselves. The matter of vanity when understood will be seen as
against
happiness." [The Right
of
Aesthetic Realism to Be Known ,#1570.]
Increasingly, I tried
to maintain a picture of myself as a superior being. For example,
I felt carpentry, which I loved, was not prestigious enough. A
man
of my caliber should have a flashy job and make a lot of money--
quickly.
When I stopped playing baseball I decided to be a stock broker.
The
man interviewing me asked, "Suppose you recommended a stock to a family
and they lost money, how would you feel?" "Terrible," I said. He left
the
room and came back with someone from "back office operations" saying
I'd
be more suited for that. I felt humiliated. I knew how I should have
answered
his question, but felt I couldn't. I took the job even as something
gnawed
in me. Then, some weeks later in a meeting, I criticized the partner in
charge of operations for the unjust way he spoke about some of the
workers.
Shortly after, I was fired. But even as I objected to the
contemptuous
way people were seen, I felt my happiness was to do what I wanted, when
I wanted, without having to think about or answer to anyone. I felt
increasingly
miserable and unsure.
When I
began to study
Aesthetic Realism and learned about the fight in me between
vanity--conquering
the world--and knowing it, I began making choices that gave me the rock
solid happiness I didn't think existed! Mr. Siegel enabled me to
value more accurately what my vanity and snobbishness made me scorn. In
one of the first Aesthetic Realism classes I attended I mentioned in an
embarrassed way that I was interested in carpentry. He asked
me:
"Are you interested in the aesthetics of carpentry?" "Yes," I
answered.
And I was
moved as he gave
form to something I had felt but could never put into words:
"Would
you like to feel that some beautiful thing that is useful is made by
you?"
"Yes."
Eli Siegel: It is the William Morris
feeling.
There is a good deal of that in history. Lorenzo Ghiberti, of the
15th century spent 50 years constructing gates and statues in
bronze.
He showed hands and mind can be one.
Studying the lives and work of these men had a profoundly good
effect
on me, and encouraged expression I'm proud of.
Continued >>"Vanity:
The Great Interference with Happiness in Love"
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