Garrison Keillor's assessment that "people tend to live rather small lives" (oh, isn't his phrasing just lovely?) sparked some nice discussion in class today. I suppose in one way or another Keillor's weekly Prairie Home Companion with his stories of the people of Lake Wobegone comprises descriptions of particular ways in which people do live out small lives. And we love to listen to those stories of his, partly because we love to laugh at the smallness of others, partly because in hearing those stories, we recognize that same smallness in ourselves. Even if we live in New York City, each of us must live a small life in some way or another -- we are confined by our age, our background, our education, our race, our religion, our income, our family, our friends, and well, our humanity. In class we seemed to think that smallness is a bad thing -- is it always? Perhaps it's only the failure to recognize the ways in which we might live small lives that might be bad? Or how about this, is there a way to live a small life and yet have an expanded mind? To live in Plato's cave, so to speak, and yet contemplate the Forms?
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