I think to some great extent, the fleeing from home that is done by the young is precipitated by the notion that what is old is passing away; this is confirmed, perhaps, when later the old way of life does die out. Barring a dearth of resources, the old way dies out because the young leave and for little other reason. Wendell Berry has warned that how we are telling the story of our lives is often the sole determiner of whether the young believe that what is old is passing away.

Long forms are criticized for being tedious and artificial, but short forms for being factoidal and impulsive. But this is, I think, nonsense. The worst short form is either fragmented or sensational, and the worst long form is erudite and merely complex. The best of each though is something redoubtable; it takes the right words in the right order and a clear thought to put it in 140 characters, and it likewise takes strategic thinking to properly structure, layer and execute a long work. The short form then becomes 'pithy' and 'concise', and the long 'engrossing' and 'expansive' - the short is not cramping but efficient, and the long not ponderous but opening within to a world inside a world.

The only possible way it seems to 'have your cake and eat it too' is neither to want it nor to want to eat it. A devotion to God must come first, and after this, we still cannot control or know what we will receive; and I think this is why this answer is largely unsatisfying.

I believe that navel-gazing is appropriate, nay -- necessary if you're cleaning out your navel.

As regards love, I do not believe heartbreak is uncertain. It is not a matter of whether our heart breaks or not, but why it does. Grapes do not make wine until they are crushed.

It occurs to me that perhaps the point of Lent is we are supposed to fail. Fail at keeping the fast, fail at not getting irate, and so on. Fall down, get back up. Repeat until Pascha.

Sometimes I write a poem I think a wider audience might enjoy.

A bit of strategy today, reader:

In game theory, a focal point (also called Schelling point) is a solution that people will tend to use in the absence of communication, because it seems natural, special or relevant to them. The concept was introduced by the Nobel Prize winning American economist Thomas Schelling in his book The Strategy of Conflict (1960). In this book (at p. 57), Schelling describes "focal point[s] for each person’s expectation of what the other expects him to expect to be expected to do." This type of focal point later was named after Schelling.

(From the source we can only hope is correct)

Schelling points arise naturally, especially when there is no communication. But what about when there is communication? How does HTML become the standard? How did Microsoft become the default OS? How did Facebook get 400 million users? It would be easy to claim that there is something better about these things - some X factor which caused and still causes them to dominate.

I say: No. They are Schelling points. When there is no standard, or no means to really judge the best way to handle a new medium (HTML here) a Schelling point will arise which meets the following criteria: 1. It works. 2. It is not evil.

Note that I didn't say, 'people like it or love it'. Do you love cars? Televisions? Why can't Macintosh and Linux take away Microsoft's hold on the market? Is it because Microsoft is better? Or is it because Microsoft brainwashed everyone? Or is it because Microsoft made a deal with the devil? Probably not; Microsoft is simply the generic solution to the problem. Therefore, it is the Schelling point. Macintosh is too good to be the generic solution. Linux is too powerful.

And Facebook? Same deal: Online social networks are the epitome of Schelling point studies. I only want to be on a social network that has my friends. I can tell my friends to join this or that social network, but since it is a hassle, they might not. We can talk all we want about 'tipping points' - but how does one judge one online social network as 'better' than the other? Oh right, 1. It works. 2. It is not evil. Given those criteria, the most generic solution will become the Schelling point. Facebook cites their massive user base, but it doesn't necessarily represent something they did right in marketing or coding.

In fact, it shouts loud and clear: Mediocrity! So how do you win? By not winning.

Duh.

I can definitely say I'm tired today. After spending 5 hours cutting though a combination of snow and ice only to have my car unable to climb a snowy hill, combined with a 2-hour trip on foot to the grocery store, I can appreciate various things that I often overlook in a new way.

1. SUV's. As much as I don't like the cost of gasoline, t'were the hummer-owners who go the last laugh today. I can see why many families consider the big van / SUV a 'must have'. City-dwellers have a different problem, but if you're in the suburbs or beyond, it makes a big difference owning or knowing someone who owns an SUV. Most of the time it's not much of a benefit, but in a snowstorm like this it is invaluable.
2. Snow blowers. Probably not the best use of gasoline. However, 30 inches of snow over any significant area (not to mention a repetition thereof) moves beyond what I think I could handle with a shovel. Walking through town made me thankful they have 'em.
3. Refrigerators and dehydrated/dry goods. Dehydrated stuff isn't as good for you. But then again, toting 50 lbs a few miles in the snow isn't either, probably. I'd choose dry goods over miserable hikes any day. Likewise for the icebox; fresh is nice but there are only so many hours in the day...
4. Rock salt. I don't like what it does to runoff (or snow) - makes it all dirty and nasty - but man it is nice to have when your house faces the north. Iced up walkway? Not anymore. Compressed snow/ice? Breaks it in a couple of hours.
5. Being young. Seriously though, if I were a bit older, this might not have been a possible day. Youth is good for something, it seems.
6. Progressive shoveling. You think, 'Well, I don't have to go anywhere this weekend...' but really, unless you are a hermit, you will need to leave some time before the snow melts. Progressive shoveling (shoveling every few inches) makes the work lighter and frankly, keeps you from maddening idleness. That's a double plus.
7. Internet, email, phones. Being in contact when you can't otherwise be in contact? You win this round, internet and phones.
8. Living on a main road. Sure, getting snow plowed into your car is trouble, but actually getting the road plowed? Can't complain about that.
9. Having a snow-worthy car. Whether it is because my tires are actually not all-weather or because my car is too light, I can't be sure. Regardless, it would be nice if a half-inch of snow did not stop me entirely from moving. Maybe... snow chains for my car? IS that too retro?

I'm sure there are others. Also, I can't help but enjoy the photo opportunities. Now if we could only resume our usual schedules... but that won't happen. We're getting another storm in a few days.

This will probably make you snooze, but I found it curious nonetheless:

The first of Boethius's four subdivisions was similitude, used of the case of the noun ‘animal’ said of both real human beings and pictured human beings. Medieval logicians seem to have been totally unaware of the fact that the Greek word used by Aristotle was genuinely polysemous, meaning both animal and image, and they explained the extended use of ‘animal’ in terms of a likeness between the two referents — a likeness which had nothing to do with the significate of the term ‘animal’, which picks out a certain kind of nature, but which was nonetheless more than metaphorical in that the external shape of the pictured object does correspond to that of the living object. ... [bold mine. -ed]

What it looks like happened is that in Aristotle's time a person and an image of that person may have been thought to be in some strong sense the same. As if things containing one's image were a part of one's body. By the time of the medieval logicians, the original sense - that is to say, not the definition itself but the way in which the definition is meant - was lost. Maybe unable to process the complications of this view, (recall superstitions about paintings and photographs) it was in some way discarded. The notion of similitude in analogy seems to have lost a lot of power inadvertently - perhaps not entirely in this fashion, but being ignorant of no more than their teachers and their interpretations of the often difficult Aristotle and the other Philosophers, it may have taken hold.

To wit, the analogic method became a process of identifying similarities between external shapes - and while the deeper sense of shared identity through form still persisted, it seems like for most Westerners who are not superstitious it became implicit and unconscious.

The superstitious aspect of this idea probably relates to a misunderstanding of soul, how it is the 'anima' of someone can be present in images of them, but yet this would pose no threat to them. It is in the same way that a projector of light can come to no real harm by attacks on its projection.