Progress report

 I've never considered myself a perfectionist.  To me, a perfectionist would be neat and orderly, be reluctant to turn in a report until it was "perfect," and not procrastinate.  None of those are characteristics I possess. I am not very neat, I am happy to say something is "good enough," and I love to avoid doing things.  So when I'm told that I have a tendency to be a little hard on myself, I find it hard to believe. But, what those critics are pointing out is my tendency to hold myself to high standards and high expectations. I often feel like I'm not doing my job very well, or that, at least, I should be doing it better.  It is in the realm of emotions and expectations that I expect perfection--I shouldn't feel discouraged (or mad or frustrated or overwhelmed.)  I shouldn't make mistakes.  It is a tendency I've worked years to moderate, and, trust me, I'm much better than I was.

I was very lucky this week to have lunch with my old graduate school advisor.  I finished my degree nearly 30 years ago, but we continue to stay in touch and try to meet up once a year at our professional society meeting.  Our conversation was wide ranging, but much time was spent on my experiences as a dean and the problems I've faced.  He asked if I got any feedback from others and I said, yes, people seemed happy with my performance, but I wasn't.  He, astutely, noted that perhaps I should consider others to be more objective in their evaluations than I could be. Somehow, coming from him, it rang more true.  I should trust the opinions of those I respect.

Even more importantly, though, was his observation that sometimes not losing ground is actually progress.  Such a concept is a cornerstone of 12 step programs--one day at a time. A day of sobriety is a success.  In times of struggle, maintaining a foothold is a success.  It is a reassuring message, that progress won't always be forward.  Some days just standing still is worthy of praise.

Yet, a quick search of "standing still" on Google will find admonitions that standing still is going backwards (Lauren Bacall), that "when you stop moving, you're done." (Georges St. Pierre),  "be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still" (Chinese proverb).

Maybe, every now and then, we need to stand still in order to grow.  Maybe, now and then, being able to hold your ground is an accomplishment.  Today, I'm glad to accept that not moving backwards means I've made progress.

Palimpsest

I discovered a new word this weekend, "palimpsest."  The Merriam-Webster dictionary meaning is "a writing material (as a parchment or tablet) used one or more times after earlier writing has been erased."  But, according to my Kindle dictionary, it has a special, figurative meaning  "something reused or altered but still bearing visible traces of its earlier form." (I've found that I am so much more likely to look up an unfamiliar word with the ease of the online dictionary.)

I ran across the word while reading the novel, "The Vegetarian" by Han Kang.  Set in Korea it tells the story of a woman who becomes a vegetarian. (Okay, that is not all the book is about, or even close to what it is about, but while I was entranced and couldn't stop reading, I remain puzzled about all of its meaning.)

The sentence where I noticed palimpsest was this: "The kiss was a palimpsest of memories, of all the countless kisses they'd shared in the past."  When I went back later, though, to find the passage again, I realized the word had occurred earlier in the story in this line, "Dreams overlaid with dreams, a palimpsest of horror."

Before finding the double occurrence, I was struck by the beauty of the word.  How useful to have a word describe the notion that an individual thing or act includes multiple layers of meaning drawn from the past. It seems like a useful word to have. I want to find an application in my own life, because I feel there are many things that are often more than they seem--exchanges or gestures that aren't just in the present, but include memories and past feelings.  It feels like a good word for therapy--everything experienced today holds meanings attached to the past

But, the other sentence, while closer to the dictionary definition, a layering of dreams, a layering of writing, seems less beautiful and scarier.  Here are horrors piled one on top of the other until any one single one can't be distinguished from the other.

How curious is it that this word occurs twice in one book?  How curious is it that the book was translated from Korean to English?  What is the Korean equivalent to palimpsest?  Is it a common word or expression?  Did the translator already know this word and find it a good substitute for the Korean or did she have to hunt it down?

Gore Vidal's memoir is titled, "Palimpsest."  There is a book on the history of writing called, "Palimpsest."  And, a few novels.  I feel now that I have to read them all....