On Habits

An existing individual is more likely to do something he has done before than something he has never done. The simple psychological fact is the mechanism of habit. A choice is easier to make when it has been made before. To make a single good choice has a multiplied benefit. Could there be any detriment done by habit?

A good woman does good actions without serious deliberation. She does them by second nature. What are we to think about such a lackadaisical handling of the good? Is it not more meritorious, as Kant observed, for a man of poor character to do something benevolent? In so doing, he fought against his own habits, pushed up the slope of his character, and to the surprise of his peers, overcame his deprivation.

(A funny thing about merit is that on Earth it is only of consequence when it is noticed by contemporaries. What is likely to be noticed by contemporaries of questionable character is more often that which surprises than that which is good. The contingency of public opinion is a reason to avoid incorporating it as a criterion.)

Given that habit can become less passionate and thereby less owned by the habit-holder, must it? Can one avoid it? Can one make the same choice over time and not make it less? If we were to watch a Muslim pray five times a day every day of his life since he reached religious maturity, what would we think of the quality of his prayers on his last day? There is no outward sign of an increase or decrease in devotion, so my judgment drawn from appearances alone would be empty conjecture. If you asked the man, "Do you love Allah more now or when you were twenty?" and the man responded, "I have always striven to love Allah as much as I can," would you believe him? Or, rather, knowing what you do about human psychology and our penchant for habit and habit's slant towards lifeless formalism, would you think him guilty of self-deception?

In a world where there is no chance for habit to be passionate, there is no chance for personal integrity.

A woman walks into her classroom early on the first day of the semester. All of the desks are options for her. She chooses the third one from the right in the second row because it was one of two left-handed desks and was nearest to the front. Everyone else fills in around her as the start of class draws near. The next class, she heads for the third desk from the right in the second row. She walks towards it and take her seat without hesitation.

What was a benefit of habit in the mundane realm (i.e., that it is something thoughtlessly chosen) is a hindrance in the lofty realm. When relating to objects of love, it would be despicable to do so thoughtlessly, without branding the moment with one's mark. To love God automatically is not to love God.

How can we persist in making the same choices without emaciating them in the lofty realm? How can a man pray the same prayer--consisting of words he did not write--without making it lifeless? Through concentration. Just as the woman scanning the room for the first time sees the empty desks as possibilities, so the man who prays in the awareness of what else he could be doing or saying--these individuals choose with vitality. Though it is not natural to sustain an awareness of the possible when the same situation has been considered before, it is not impossible. Through concentration, we ennoble the lofty realm saying, "I choose this and not that," despite this being chosen before. The person who knows he so chooses lives more. While nature tries to lull her asleep, she fights to stay awake.