A good skill I developed is reinvention. I have the capability of reinventing myself. I can reduce this trait, increase that trait, in order to cope more effectively with my environment. Some have less of this capability, and I pity them.
Why persist in behavior that produces results contrary to one's interests?
"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds." I think Emerson wrote that, although Longfellow also may have. I first saw the quote not in a book or classroom, but in a ward. A counselor that I liked, a fine physical specimen who was the most effective counselor, the most perceptive, and one that gave me good advice, had written the phrase on a marker board. I doubt any of the others understood. But I place great stock in the written word, in ideas. I remember the ideas, when I have forgotten the names of every person in that strange place, even the ones that liked me, or that I liked, or that hated me, or that I hated. The only name I remember is that of a doctor. He was strange, alien, cold. I have no use for such doctors. I think the process of getting the doctorate annihilates competence. Perhaps the doctorate programs are wrongheaded and rife with corruption. But he didn't matter. None of the stupid doctors mattered. The only reason I remember his name is because I wrote a story about him. I deleted it decades later, because I felt like he didn't matter and the story didn't matter. The memory had no basis for surviving. One day, it will be gone.
One adapts. Already I am getting close to what is needed in the role I find myself in. There are just some tweaks that need to be made. Silence, patience, watchfulness, preparation, and deliberateness. These are the traits I need most.
Why persist in behavior that produces results contrary to one's interests?
"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds." I think Emerson wrote that, although Longfellow also may have. I first saw the quote not in a book or classroom, but in a ward. A counselor that I liked, a fine physical specimen who was the most effective counselor, the most perceptive, and one that gave me good advice, had written the phrase on a marker board. I doubt any of the others understood. But I place great stock in the written word, in ideas. I remember the ideas, when I have forgotten the names of every person in that strange place, even the ones that liked me, or that I liked, or that hated me, or that I hated. The only name I remember is that of a doctor. He was strange, alien, cold. I have no use for such doctors. I think the process of getting the doctorate annihilates competence. Perhaps the doctorate programs are wrongheaded and rife with corruption. But he didn't matter. None of the stupid doctors mattered. The only reason I remember his name is because I wrote a story about him. I deleted it decades later, because I felt like he didn't matter and the story didn't matter. The memory had no basis for surviving. One day, it will be gone.
One adapts. Already I am getting close to what is needed in the role I find myself in. There are just some tweaks that need to be made. Silence, patience, watchfulness, preparation, and deliberateness. These are the traits I need most.
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