Interests
As I listened to the Volga Boatman this morning checking e-mail, a recurring thought recurred once again. Why do we like certain things and not others?
Some things must fall in line with nurture. My dad worked in a greenhouse, my mom loves flowers, and I have a natural proclivity toward landscaping work. A logical chain of causation.
Others seem more consistent with nature. No one in my immediate family plays the piano, but my great uncle was a pianist. My grandfather played bluegrass on the mandolin and banjo. My dad played harmonica and piano as a kid. Something must dwell in our genes to drive a mind towards music.
But, a few things defy all logic. Why do I love languages so much? I have no linguists in the family, and both my parents are content with English. Why do I love philosophy? Again, I find no justification in nature or nurture. I have countless interests scattered across the spectrum without justification: Russia, theatre, religion, Shakespeare, history, the sea, etc.
Perhaps my parents nudged me in a particular direction when they saw me smile or teachers and friends instilled a particular passion. The latter instance seems to fit my love of Shakespeare, history, and writing. Nevertheless, Russia and religion seem utterly random. No one encouraged me to try my hand at Russian. No one passed me a CD of folk songs. My brother gave me One Life in the Day of Ivan Denisovich and I took off with Russophilia.
My love of religions has no justification at all. My family never went to church, and my closest brother is an atheist. A few teachers talked about religion, but no one proselytized. No one did anything unless I asked.
Whatever the case, these odds and ends comprise my personality. However they got there, I have made them my own and I continually find exciting things to learn about.
Some things must fall in line with nurture. My dad worked in a greenhouse, my mom loves flowers, and I have a natural proclivity toward landscaping work. A logical chain of causation.
Others seem more consistent with nature. No one in my immediate family plays the piano, but my great uncle was a pianist. My grandfather played bluegrass on the mandolin and banjo. My dad played harmonica and piano as a kid. Something must dwell in our genes to drive a mind towards music.
But, a few things defy all logic. Why do I love languages so much? I have no linguists in the family, and both my parents are content with English. Why do I love philosophy? Again, I find no justification in nature or nurture. I have countless interests scattered across the spectrum without justification: Russia, theatre, religion, Shakespeare, history, the sea, etc.
Perhaps my parents nudged me in a particular direction when they saw me smile or teachers and friends instilled a particular passion. The latter instance seems to fit my love of Shakespeare, history, and writing. Nevertheless, Russia and religion seem utterly random. No one encouraged me to try my hand at Russian. No one passed me a CD of folk songs. My brother gave me One Life in the Day of Ivan Denisovich and I took off with Russophilia.
My love of religions has no justification at all. My family never went to church, and my closest brother is an atheist. A few teachers talked about religion, but no one proselytized. No one did anything unless I asked.
Whatever the case, these odds and ends comprise my personality. However they got there, I have made them my own and I continually find exciting things to learn about.