{"id":532,"date":"2011-06-13T23:53:19","date_gmt":"2011-06-14T03:53:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/beginnersheart\/?p=532"},"modified":"2011-06-15T23:35:32","modified_gmt":"2011-06-16T03:35:32","slug":"the-rucksack-of-my-aesthetic-whatever-that-is","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/beginnersheart\/2011\/06\/the-rucksack-of-my-aesthetic-whatever-that-is.html","title":{"rendered":"&#8216;the rucksack of my \u00e6sthetic&#8217; (whatever that is&#8230;)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/beginnersheart\/files\/2011\/06\/found-britton.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-533\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.beliefnet.com\/sites\/239\/2011\/06\/found-britton-150x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"120\" height=\"120\" \/><\/a>This was my father&#8217;s rucksack in WWII. It was found in a barn a couple of years ago, in France. I have no idea how it got there, other than Daddy fought in France. Nor what was in it when it was discovered. If anything ~<\/p>\n<p>When we were notified it had come to light, my sister (the one who was a lifer in the Army, like Daddy) okayed having it put in a nearby museum, if the museum wanted it. Which is wonderful &#8212; I&#8217;m a keen museum lover :).<\/p>\n<p>But I wonder what it contained. Had Daddy scribbled some note on a scrap of paper, as he often did? Was there a dog-eared book of Kipling&#8217;s poetry (his favourite, because Kipling knew about battle)? Or some other treasure of no value to anyone but his four daughters&#8230;?<\/p>\n<p>Rucksacks are such useful things. In a recent reading, the wonderful poet <a href=\"http:\/\/www.poetryfoundation.org\/bio\/carolyn-forche\" target=\"_blank\">Carolyn Forch\u00e9 <\/a>said that the small, daily &#8212; even hourly &#8212; choices we make are what really shape and form us. <em>The rucksack of your <\/em>\u00e6<em>sthetic, <\/em>she called these choices. As if my ideas of beauty, <a href=\"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/beginnersheart\/files\/2011\/06\/the-little-things1.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright size-thumbnail wp-image-653\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.beliefnet.com\/sites\/239\/2011\/06\/the-little-things1-150x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"120\" height=\"120\" \/><\/a>of art, of what is lovely and necessary, are not formed in any large moment or epiphany, but instead in the thousand things I decide to do &#8212; or not do &#8212; daily. Forch\u00e9 was responding to a question about what and who to read, and how to learn to write, but her statement rang a loud bell for me. <em>Yes,<\/em> I thought &#8212; <em>everything counts<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>In other words, missing the last plane to Saudi Arabia before the Gulf War is no more important than my ongoing decisions to stay home w\/ my two sons while we lived those 8 years in Saudi Arabia. The day after day time with them, w\/ my husband, learning to cook and make tea and working on writing: these were every bit as formative.<\/p>\n<p>And as much as post-graduate work, Forch\u00e9 argues, my choices in what I read daily comprise who we become. My <a href=\"http:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Aesthetics\" target=\"_blank\">\u00e6sthetic<\/a> is not only the Pound I read in classes, but the Goudge I read overseas, the Persig I taught in class, the British cookbook I pore over at breakfast.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/beginnersheart\/files\/2011\/06\/HaikuBird.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-542\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.beliefnet.com\/sites\/239\/2011\/06\/HaikuBird-150x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"150\" height=\"150\" \/><\/a>I love this. It dovetails nicely w\/ my Buddhist sensibility :). That lovely word &#8216;practice&#8217; is part of what drew me in to Buddhism in the beginning. The idea that you don&#8217;t have to be perfect &#8212; you can learn beginner&#8217;s heart through practice. Through writing a blog. Through the hourly choices of a hundred hundred days. Through wondering what your father carried in his own rucksack. And what that might have said about his \u00e6sthetic&#8230;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This was my father&#8217;s rucksack in WWII. It was found in a barn a couple of years ago, in France. I have no idea how it got there, other than Daddy fought in France. Nor what was in it when it was discovered. If anything ~ When we were notified it had come to light,&hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":398,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6,37,22],"tags":[73],"class_list":["post-532","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-britton-gildersleeve","category-family","category-poetry","tag-carolyn-forche"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v23.9 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>&#039;the rucksack of my \u00e6sthetic&#039; (whatever that is...) - Beginner&#039;s Heart<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"This was my father&#039;s rucksack in WWII. It was found in a barn a couple of years ago, in France. 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