Twine, T. S. Eliot, and Hebitude

Today we’ve asked Elder G to reflect on the Quiet Moments of Twine

The Quiet Moments of Twine
Twine is not a material that calls attention to itself. It does not gleam like gold or command admiration like fine silk. It is humble, quiet, and yet remarkably enduring. Its strength is not in its individual fibers but in the way those fibers are twisted, spun, and woven together. And perhaps, in that, twine is the perfect metaphor for the quiet moments in our lives that often go unnoticed but form the fabric of who we are.

The quiet moments of twine are not grand or dramatic. They are the times when hands work silently and minds wander, stitching together thoughts and memories as securely as the twine binds objects.
Elder G

I asked Elder G if he saw a connection between this metaphor for twine and Paul’s description of love in 1 Corinthians 13.

I do see a connection, especially in the way Paul describes love in 1 Corinthians 13: as patient, kind, and enduring. Like twine, love is unassuming but immensely strong, holding together what might otherwise fall apart. Both are not about grandeur or ostentation but about quiet acts of care and persistence.
Elder G

T.S. Eliot’s Take

Semi-sequitur: T. Eliot spelled backwards is “Toilet”. Oh grow up!

T. S. Eliot, although probably not addressing twine directly, reflects on humility (not wisdom) as being the only gift of old age.

And the wisdom of age? Had they deceived us 
Or deceived themselves, the quiet-voiced elders,
bequeathing us merely a receipt for deceit?
The serenity only a deliberate hebitude[1],
The wisdom only the knowledge of dead secrets
Useless in the darkness into which they peered
[...]
The only wisdom we can hope to acquire 
Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless.

"East Coker," from The Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot

^[1] All Roads Lead to WLBOTT

For all his beautiful and often surreal imagery, T. S. Eliot was a real buzz-kill., probably because he makes you think of the really serious stuff, and also because he was a pompous jerk, the polar opposite of humility.

Search for
https://www.google.com/search?q=was+t.s.+eliot+a+jerk

Pompous, anti-Semitic, a priggish Anglophile, ….

Here’s Where We Go Off the Rails

I’d pay good money to see an MMA cage fight between T. S. Eliot, George Will, William F. Buckley, and Madalyn Murray O’Hair.

Elder G does a Round-by-Round:

The Likely Outcome

Round 1: Eliot opens with a cryptic strategy, confusing Will and Buckley by quoting The Waste Land. O’Hair rushes Buckley with pure determination, but Buckley counters with unexpected agility, quipping about her atheism mid-punch. Will, meanwhile, hesitates, analyzing everyone’s fighting styles for a future op-ed.

Round 2: Buckley and Will briefly team up to eliminate O’Hair, but she’s relentless, taking them down like the intellectual juggernaut she is. Eliot watches from the corner, plotting.

Final Round: Will passes out, completely winded from non-stop polysyllabic sesquipedalianism^[2]. Eliot, calm and meditative, waits until O’Hair is worn down from battling the other two. He delivers a metaphorical and literal knockout, proving that poetry and patience triumph over all.

Winner: T.S. Eliot
He might look frail, but his ability to see through his opponents’ weaknesses and exploit them with poetic precision would secure him the victory. The crowd goes wild—except for Will, who pens a column titled “Why We Lost the Fight for Civilization.”
Elder G