Time
I'm told there will be time.
I don't agree.
There won't always be time to do the things we want to do.
A time will come when we can't taste snowflakes falling toward us.
A time will come when we won't have to bundle up from the cold.
A time will come when we are the cold.
A time will come when we can't hear the raindrops.
A time will come when we don't watch the rain hit the ground.
A time will come when we no longer feel the raindrops beating down.
A time will come when we can't stand on the grass, can't walk on that grass barefoot.
A time will come when we can't feel the breeze of fresh air.
A time will come when we won't hear birds sharing the latest gossip.
A time will come when we won't be able to close our eyes and let the sun kiss our eyelids.
And a time will come when we can't kick pine-cones as we walk along,
Can't kick pine-cones around with no other end in sight.
So I guess there will time.
But not the way we imagine,
Not the way we hope,
Not the way we desire.
And when that time is upon you, will you have been happy?
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Freud's Footnote And Our Unwillingness To Learn
How We Purposely Set Our Kids Up For Failure
In Civilization and its Discontents Freud makes a few handfuls of good points. This post is specifically on one of his footnotes. The note is from Chapter 8. It is as follows:
" 'Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all..' That a modern upbringing conceals from the young person the role that sexuality will play in his life is not the only criticism that must be levelled against it. Another of its sins is that it does not prepare him for the aggression of which he is destined to be the object. To send the young out into life with such a false psychological orientation is like equipping people who are setting out on a polar expedition with summer clothes and maps of the North Italian lakes. This reveals a certain misuse of ethical demands. The severity of these would do little harm if the educators said, 'This is how people ought to be if they are to be happy and make others happy, but one must reckon with their not being like this.' Instead, the young person is led to believe that everyone else complies with these ethical precepts and is therefore virtuous. This is the basis of the requirement that he too should become virtuous."
This is what is called: truth.
I touched on how we prepare our children for the role of sex on a previous post. If you haven't read it go and find it, if you don't care to then don't worry, just know this: We do not do very well at all.
Aggression is a huge deal in life. We have many different types of aggression. If we tell our children that the world is a wonderful place then we are setting them up for huge failures in life. And, as they have gotten their dreams smashed to pieces and enter into the oh-so fun life of the disillusioned, they will blame themselves. They will see themselves as failures. Why? Because the world is wonderful and they must have screwed it up. This will eventually turn to the world being at fault and aggression rises to the surface like a beach-ball held under water.
People shy away from the important stuff. Parents shy away from the important stuff. Parents may not want to talk about it, may feel uncomfortable talking about it, may feel they would be corrupting the children by bringing it up. Well, newsflash, you do not have superpowers, you cannot will that shit into being. Sorry. Also, maybe you shouldn't be a parent if you are lacking the maturity to discuss important topics pertaining to your child's well-being. But hey, hurt them all you want they're you kids.
Educating children on sex has never, to my knowledge, necessarily led to a pandemic of sexual deviance. It appears, if I may be so bold, as though the greatest level of sexual deviance and acting-out actually came shortly after we all started being uncomfortable talking about it...
Teaching kids about what aggression is and how one will face it and how to respond to it is actually just preparing them for one reality of life. Not training them for widespread warfare.
Adults: grow up. You aren't doing anyone any good. Sure, you tuck yourself in at night thinking wonderful things about yourself but the comedy, well, tragedy, of it all is that your children are acting out sexually and violently, overtly or subtly, but remember this: you can just pretend Freud was whack-job, it saves you the time of reading him, understanding him, and realizing how right he is, and most importantly, how he is on your side. His fight for better living includes you so maybe, just once at least, stop excluding him.
Stop sending your kids out into the wilderness with their 'false psychological orientations'. If their compass is broken how can you expect them to go in the right direction? Perhaps I am jumping ahead, stop going out into the world yourself with your false psychological orientations. The reality isn't as bad as you fear, your fear only makes it so.
Fix yourself first.
In Civilization and its Discontents Freud makes a few handfuls of good points. This post is specifically on one of his footnotes. The note is from Chapter 8. It is as follows:
" 'Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all..' That a modern upbringing conceals from the young person the role that sexuality will play in his life is not the only criticism that must be levelled against it. Another of its sins is that it does not prepare him for the aggression of which he is destined to be the object. To send the young out into life with such a false psychological orientation is like equipping people who are setting out on a polar expedition with summer clothes and maps of the North Italian lakes. This reveals a certain misuse of ethical demands. The severity of these would do little harm if the educators said, 'This is how people ought to be if they are to be happy and make others happy, but one must reckon with their not being like this.' Instead, the young person is led to believe that everyone else complies with these ethical precepts and is therefore virtuous. This is the basis of the requirement that he too should become virtuous."
This is what is called: truth.
I touched on how we prepare our children for the role of sex on a previous post. If you haven't read it go and find it, if you don't care to then don't worry, just know this: We do not do very well at all.
Aggression is a huge deal in life. We have many different types of aggression. If we tell our children that the world is a wonderful place then we are setting them up for huge failures in life. And, as they have gotten their dreams smashed to pieces and enter into the oh-so fun life of the disillusioned, they will blame themselves. They will see themselves as failures. Why? Because the world is wonderful and they must have screwed it up. This will eventually turn to the world being at fault and aggression rises to the surface like a beach-ball held under water.
People shy away from the important stuff. Parents shy away from the important stuff. Parents may not want to talk about it, may feel uncomfortable talking about it, may feel they would be corrupting the children by bringing it up. Well, newsflash, you do not have superpowers, you cannot will that shit into being. Sorry. Also, maybe you shouldn't be a parent if you are lacking the maturity to discuss important topics pertaining to your child's well-being. But hey, hurt them all you want they're you kids.
Educating children on sex has never, to my knowledge, necessarily led to a pandemic of sexual deviance. It appears, if I may be so bold, as though the greatest level of sexual deviance and acting-out actually came shortly after we all started being uncomfortable talking about it...
Teaching kids about what aggression is and how one will face it and how to respond to it is actually just preparing them for one reality of life. Not training them for widespread warfare.
Adults: grow up. You aren't doing anyone any good. Sure, you tuck yourself in at night thinking wonderful things about yourself but the comedy, well, tragedy, of it all is that your children are acting out sexually and violently, overtly or subtly, but remember this: you can just pretend Freud was whack-job, it saves you the time of reading him, understanding him, and realizing how right he is, and most importantly, how he is on your side. His fight for better living includes you so maybe, just once at least, stop excluding him.
Stop sending your kids out into the wilderness with their 'false psychological orientations'. If their compass is broken how can you expect them to go in the right direction? Perhaps I am jumping ahead, stop going out into the world yourself with your false psychological orientations. The reality isn't as bad as you fear, your fear only makes it so.
Fix yourself first.
Why Marx Lost The Battle But Not The War
The War Aint Over Yet, Bitches
Marx and Engels' fundamental argument in their manifesto was that there would inevitably be a revolution to overthrow capitalism. As capitalism is still going and Marx has been pushed to the fringes, we can say that this argument has not panned out. But that is what I like to call the chicken-shit easy solution, you don't have to put any thought or energy into this.
Marx's appeal lacked the poetic gusto necessary to spark fires.
The revolution hasn't happened because people have remained rather oblivious to some stuff. We do this out of selfishness. We complain about our minimum wages while we wear clothes made by dying women and children in third world countries working for a fraction of what me make in an hour spread over a whole day...But let me tell you how I really feel.
Our society is set up to trick the worker bees into thinking they aren't living worker bee existences. I took a class once on Occupational Psychology. I was told by scientific research that people prefer praise for the work they do over a pay increase. Sorry scientific papers, you need to give me a fucking break. People don't sit there looking at their overdue bills thinking: good thing my boss congratulated me on doing my job, too bad I'm behind but hey I feel so good about work I can handle this tiny little bit of money stress. Money stress never killed anyone, right?
The capitalist machine is only winning at present because we are ignorant to what is going on. If people really understood the roles they actually play they would be asking for costume changes. If we understood the bigger picture about how the way we live our lives effects the way other people live theirs we should be driven by basic human compassion to stop doing what we are doing and find a more human-friendly approach.
Our cushy existences are cushy because they are built on the congealed blood of the underprivileged, the lesser-than-thous, and worst of all: the forgotten. We need to wake up soon and realize that we will be that class so that others may live cush-ily.
How's that for a call-to-arms Marx? I'm riding shotgun with you. Let us wake these bitches up, so to speak. (PS: Sorry about the language Mom, I don't think we are all bitches).
Marx and Engels' fundamental argument in their manifesto was that there would inevitably be a revolution to overthrow capitalism. As capitalism is still going and Marx has been pushed to the fringes, we can say that this argument has not panned out. But that is what I like to call the chicken-shit easy solution, you don't have to put any thought or energy into this.
Marx's appeal lacked the poetic gusto necessary to spark fires.
The revolution hasn't happened because people have remained rather oblivious to some stuff. We do this out of selfishness. We complain about our minimum wages while we wear clothes made by dying women and children in third world countries working for a fraction of what me make in an hour spread over a whole day...But let me tell you how I really feel.
Our society is set up to trick the worker bees into thinking they aren't living worker bee existences. I took a class once on Occupational Psychology. I was told by scientific research that people prefer praise for the work they do over a pay increase. Sorry scientific papers, you need to give me a fucking break. People don't sit there looking at their overdue bills thinking: good thing my boss congratulated me on doing my job, too bad I'm behind but hey I feel so good about work I can handle this tiny little bit of money stress. Money stress never killed anyone, right?
The capitalist machine is only winning at present because we are ignorant to what is going on. If people really understood the roles they actually play they would be asking for costume changes. If we understood the bigger picture about how the way we live our lives effects the way other people live theirs we should be driven by basic human compassion to stop doing what we are doing and find a more human-friendly approach.
Our cushy existences are cushy because they are built on the congealed blood of the underprivileged, the lesser-than-thous, and worst of all: the forgotten. We need to wake up soon and realize that we will be that class so that others may live cush-ily.
How's that for a call-to-arms Marx? I'm riding shotgun with you. Let us wake these bitches up, so to speak. (PS: Sorry about the language Mom, I don't think we are all bitches).
Marx Lost Does Not = Marx Is An Asshole
My Defense of Something I Don't Buy Into, or, Discussing a Topic Bigger Than The Idea I'm Not Buying Into Which Is Prompted By The Thing I'm Not Buying Into
I cannot say for certain that Marx was an asshole. I can say that some other assholes in history have done some bad things with what Marx was trying to start. The core of Marx and Engel's The Communist Manifesto is the issue of separation, I think.
Whenever we insert dividing lines between human beings we are setting ourselves up for trouble. Humans are a resilient creature. Humans are really good at surviving. Surviving sometimes requires nasty and bloody affairs. (Everyone loves to misquote Hobbes on life being "nasty, brutish and short". Hobbes was a real asshole though. And its easy to quote that without working your way through the rest of the book.)
The separation of one human from another is the root of these types of evil. When we think we are different from someone we eventually conclude that we are better than them. If we did not conclude this we would have to undress ourselves from our idea of self and take on theirs. If we saw each other as human beings and did not quickly draw lines in the sand then I suspect we could actually get along. But we like to competitionize everything. We are too vain.
Marx pointed out a dividing line, examined how unfair it was, and called for revolution. Marx's examination of the bourgeoisie, the proletariat, etc., seems to be mostly accurate. We have created this division and someone like Marx is then necessary to deal with the anxiety human beings as a species has created for itself.
If we didn't start the problem in the first place we wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of it. But hey, that's just my opinion and you are probably more right then me and we should engage in survival battle over imaginary divisions in the sandbox...
I cannot say for certain that Marx was an asshole. I can say that some other assholes in history have done some bad things with what Marx was trying to start. The core of Marx and Engel's The Communist Manifesto is the issue of separation, I think.
Whenever we insert dividing lines between human beings we are setting ourselves up for trouble. Humans are a resilient creature. Humans are really good at surviving. Surviving sometimes requires nasty and bloody affairs. (Everyone loves to misquote Hobbes on life being "nasty, brutish and short". Hobbes was a real asshole though. And its easy to quote that without working your way through the rest of the book.)
The separation of one human from another is the root of these types of evil. When we think we are different from someone we eventually conclude that we are better than them. If we did not conclude this we would have to undress ourselves from our idea of self and take on theirs. If we saw each other as human beings and did not quickly draw lines in the sand then I suspect we could actually get along. But we like to competitionize everything. We are too vain.
Marx pointed out a dividing line, examined how unfair it was, and called for revolution. Marx's examination of the bourgeoisie, the proletariat, etc., seems to be mostly accurate. We have created this division and someone like Marx is then necessary to deal with the anxiety human beings as a species has created for itself.
If we didn't start the problem in the first place we wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of it. But hey, that's just my opinion and you are probably more right then me and we should engage in survival battle over imaginary divisions in the sandbox...
World Trade Centre Survivors, Bessel van der Kolk, No PTSD?
What Actually Works:
I went to a two-day workshop with Bessel van der Kolk, basically a leading specialist in anything trauma-related, and one of the interesting things he noted was as follows: World Trade Centre survivors, people who escaped the building during the 9/11 attacks, exhibited almost zero symptoms of PTSD after the attack.
When asked what they did to take care of themselves the number one treatment sought was...Acupuncture. Massage came next. Third was yoga! And fourth, and only 'scientifically' recognized form of treatment: EMDR (which still struggles for significance despite research supporting its effectiveness).
Bessel recommends that any type of treatment facility that does not incorporate yoga into the care plan is not doing anybody (perhaps also any body) any good.
Next time the intellectuals want to run all over you and label you sign yourself up for acupuncture, massages or yoga. It works better than what the 'specialists' recommend (which is CBT, or cognitive behavioural therapy, which is a joke in and of itself, and psychoanalysis, which I like and think is interesting but I'd rather do yoga).
If anyone recommends otherwise, tell them where to go. Just watch a clip of the plane flying into the second tower and then the towers collapsing, imagine yourself escaping barely and having to run for your life down the street after, and think: acupuncture, massage and yoga was good enough for those people. You're not so special that they aren't good enough for you.
Cheers.
I went to a two-day workshop with Bessel van der Kolk, basically a leading specialist in anything trauma-related, and one of the interesting things he noted was as follows: World Trade Centre survivors, people who escaped the building during the 9/11 attacks, exhibited almost zero symptoms of PTSD after the attack.
When asked what they did to take care of themselves the number one treatment sought was...Acupuncture. Massage came next. Third was yoga! And fourth, and only 'scientifically' recognized form of treatment: EMDR (which still struggles for significance despite research supporting its effectiveness).
Bessel recommends that any type of treatment facility that does not incorporate yoga into the care plan is not doing anybody (perhaps also any body) any good.
Next time the intellectuals want to run all over you and label you sign yourself up for acupuncture, massages or yoga. It works better than what the 'specialists' recommend (which is CBT, or cognitive behavioural therapy, which is a joke in and of itself, and psychoanalysis, which I like and think is interesting but I'd rather do yoga).
If anyone recommends otherwise, tell them where to go. Just watch a clip of the plane flying into the second tower and then the towers collapsing, imagine yourself escaping barely and having to run for your life down the street after, and think: acupuncture, massage and yoga was good enough for those people. You're not so special that they aren't good enough for you.
Cheers.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
I'll Have Seconds of the Suffering Please
Paradoxing Ourselves Into Self-Harm
Adam Phillips is fantastic. I never heard of him until Darwin's Worms in this class. I am sad that I have missed so much of him up until now in my life. On the same note, I am happy that he found me.
This quote really stuck with me when I read it:
"Indeed the implied paradox, if we were to generalize from these two reports, would be: sometimes we suffer most from being unwilling to suffer enough." (124)
This idea of suffering is endlessly fascinating to me. I'm not outside of suffering, I'm not above and beyond it in anyway. I suffer just like anyone else. The fascinating part is that I have learned quite a bit about it, experienced it a lot, and have found different ways to deal with it as well as different ways to prevent myself from causing myself more harm, but I still do it.
Knowledge is not a shield. Knowledge is not armor here. Knowledge is not a weapon. Knowledge is not even a guarantee of better preparedness. Knowing that we cause our suffering to multiply does not stop us from doing it to ourselves.
I'm certain culture plays a part here, as do upbringing and environment, perhaps even genes. I'm certain that suffering is selfish, ego-centric, all about the I. How else could it be? This is how suffering works:
Something bad happens. Pain is felt. [INSERT SUFFERING NOW AS THIS WAS A DEEPLY PERSONAL OFFENSE, whether it was or not it is treated as such].
Most times the bad thing is over and the pain is gone. Suffering is what we do with the pain. Suffering is not letting it go. Suffering is our childish grasp, our mine-ness, our ownership. If you call me a name it hurts. When I keep running that name or that moment over and over and over and over and over (see what I did there?) in my head then I am suffering. The name calling was done. Its long gone by the time I realize I have been hurting myself almost the whole time. Somebody hurt me but I suffered me.
Suffering I think appears to be a uniquely human thing. Animals feel pain, I'm not arguing what they used to argue about animals only responding to stimulus, that's ridiculous. I do not know for certain that animals don't sit around brooding and wallowing in self-pity but I suspect they don't. Perhaps I am I wrong. Until then, I'm calling suffering a uniquely human thing.
We don't choose pain but we, consciously or otherwise, choose suffering. Maybe this has to do with our Western culture (if one wishes to call it that). Maybe it relates to the over-abundance of guilt and the willingness with which we feel guilt in our society. We have been primed to self-harm it appears.
Unfortunate beasts.
Funny thing about pain, if there is such a thing about pain, is that typically if we feel it and let it pass it does precisely that, it passes. We keep choosing suffering though. We take it very personal as if the wrong-doing has occurred on some fundamental-being level, and not only that but it was meant as an attack on that fundamental-beingness of us.
But what good is this knowledge about suffering if we still do it? Good question. I don't have any scientific or erudite response. But I can say this about knowledge of what suffering is:
After my self-induced agonizing and torment, knowledge allows me to laugh at myself. That has to be worth something.
Adam Phillips is fantastic. I never heard of him until Darwin's Worms in this class. I am sad that I have missed so much of him up until now in my life. On the same note, I am happy that he found me.
This quote really stuck with me when I read it:
"Indeed the implied paradox, if we were to generalize from these two reports, would be: sometimes we suffer most from being unwilling to suffer enough." (124)
This idea of suffering is endlessly fascinating to me. I'm not outside of suffering, I'm not above and beyond it in anyway. I suffer just like anyone else. The fascinating part is that I have learned quite a bit about it, experienced it a lot, and have found different ways to deal with it as well as different ways to prevent myself from causing myself more harm, but I still do it.
Knowledge is not a shield. Knowledge is not armor here. Knowledge is not a weapon. Knowledge is not even a guarantee of better preparedness. Knowing that we cause our suffering to multiply does not stop us from doing it to ourselves.
I'm certain culture plays a part here, as do upbringing and environment, perhaps even genes. I'm certain that suffering is selfish, ego-centric, all about the I. How else could it be? This is how suffering works:
Something bad happens. Pain is felt. [INSERT SUFFERING NOW AS THIS WAS A DEEPLY PERSONAL OFFENSE, whether it was or not it is treated as such].
Most times the bad thing is over and the pain is gone. Suffering is what we do with the pain. Suffering is not letting it go. Suffering is our childish grasp, our mine-ness, our ownership. If you call me a name it hurts. When I keep running that name or that moment over and over and over and over and over (see what I did there?) in my head then I am suffering. The name calling was done. Its long gone by the time I realize I have been hurting myself almost the whole time. Somebody hurt me but I suffered me.
Suffering I think appears to be a uniquely human thing. Animals feel pain, I'm not arguing what they used to argue about animals only responding to stimulus, that's ridiculous. I do not know for certain that animals don't sit around brooding and wallowing in self-pity but I suspect they don't. Perhaps I am I wrong. Until then, I'm calling suffering a uniquely human thing.
We don't choose pain but we, consciously or otherwise, choose suffering. Maybe this has to do with our Western culture (if one wishes to call it that). Maybe it relates to the over-abundance of guilt and the willingness with which we feel guilt in our society. We have been primed to self-harm it appears.
Unfortunate beasts.
Funny thing about pain, if there is such a thing about pain, is that typically if we feel it and let it pass it does precisely that, it passes. We keep choosing suffering though. We take it very personal as if the wrong-doing has occurred on some fundamental-being level, and not only that but it was meant as an attack on that fundamental-beingness of us.
But what good is this knowledge about suffering if we still do it? Good question. I don't have any scientific or erudite response. But I can say this about knowledge of what suffering is:
After my self-induced agonizing and torment, knowledge allows me to laugh at myself. That has to be worth something.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Dancing Naked and Charred Amidst Our Failed Ideas
Intellectual Fire Bug
Derrida is what I refer to as an intellectual barn burner. He shows up to the already spectacular barn dance, sets the barn on fire and walks away. Sometimes I am uncertain if he is starting the fire or just pointing out that the fire already happened and we missed it in our delusional joy...and we are now dancing naked and charred amidst our failed ideas.
Derrida is the intellectual badboy. He does his own thing. It does not matter what you say or do Derrida is Derrida. He is hard to sift through. I tried very hard to read and understand every line of The Animal That Therefore I Am. I failed horribly a few pages in (and I'm certain I cheated through a few sentences). I'm also certain I am in good company at least.
I have a couple things in common with Derrida: 1-I love cats, 2-I love Alice in Wonderland. Derrida, however, goes somewhere entirely different with both of those commonalities. His reference to that damn cat eventually confuses you. But I think he consistently argues his same point. I'm not sure though as it is Derrida after all. I try to understand the linguistic genius of Alice but I fall very short of Derrida.
What I liked most about Derrida was that he pointed out (at least) two things I had never completely considered. First, he pointed out the dominance of man over animal in the Bible. I have read a few translations of the sections he references and I can honestly say I never thought twice about the violence and mayhem directed to the animals, the devaluing of their being, their essence. Now I can't help but think of it in this light. Second, he pointed out how violent our language and ways of life are toward the animals. I never considered the act of calling ourselves the rational animal (or the thinking animal or the human animal) something dominating. We managed to separate ourselves from the entire animal kingdom, not only are we separate but we are better. How absurd an assumption is that? We are not that special. Well, we are equally special with the rest maybe. But because I've had 29 years of feeling one way I'm going to go radically in the opposite as I feel I have been tricked! (Even though I likely tricked myself).
Another great thing Derrida does is openly discuss shame. He discusses shame about shame. An oddly human thing it appears. I see shame-about-shame as an emotionally immature thing, it is only natural to develop this though depending on your environment and upbringing. Derrida does a pretty good job calling it out how it is.
He says: hey, I respect all these guys...and here is where they went wrong. By the end of his episode of stirpping them bare, as bare as he is to the cat, he moves on like nothing happened. It would be really easy to call Derrida an asshole, but then he'd launch into a 10-hour lecture on that word and in the end you'll have died from boredom or you'll be hiding from shame at what he did to you.
Don't invite Derrida to your party is my closing message. Pray he doesn't find your barn dance either. He'll show up and set it ablaze. Or, more scary, he'll point out it burned down around us. And where does that leave you? Does that mean you have to do some actual work? Heaven forbid.
More Antigone, You Gotta Be Fucking Kidding Me?
3 Tellings
We have 3 different versions of Antigone for the last two seminars. The first was a straightforward translation. The second was Jean Anouilh's Nazi-Occupied France version. Finally, Bertolt Brecht's retelling. In all 3 books I take Antigone's side. I never falter on this. Antigone fights for what is right. Her understanding of the world is pleasantly attractive. She is trapped in a world of pragmatism. She believes the stories of deities and believes in punishment and reward. She stands for honour and virtue. She's also kind of a silly girl. But whatever.
The biggest difference amongst the three versions is the character Creon. In our first telling Creon is a cold bastard and nobody should like him. I don't anyway.
In Anouilh's version we have a bit more sympathy for Creon. We have this sympathy because we have a better understanding of his situation. He gives Antigone the freedom to stand on her own and he urges her to make a choice that will have a better solution for her. She still does not take it. She stands in defiance to Creon even though Creon explains that he knows what she is saying and he tries to calm her youthful fire with aged wisdom. Creon is by no means a good person in this version. He is a good leader though. He thinks and acts like a leader. So it is hard to judge him if we don't see where he is coming from.
In Brecht's version we get back to a colder Creon. He is slightly more worthy of our sympathy than the original Creon. This Creon gives us some really badass observations that make him right if not likable: "Ingrates! You'll eat the meat but you don't like to see the cook's bloody apron!" (57) and "so far no one has sent back the bronze-plate that I brought you from Argos, but you huddle together and babble about the blood-baths and complain of my crassness" (57). It is easy to criticize but people should consider their role in a situation before speaking up about the morality of it all. If we benefit from the wars on the middle east we should consider these benefits before speaking up about morals and equality. Even if you drive an electric car you probably bought it from a company that sells regular gasoline cars. Not to mention oil is used for more than just fueling cars. After all people, someone has to stand on the walls and someone has to get their hands dirty so we don't. Until we find a way to live without requiring these forms of evil we really can't condemn the evil-doers.
What I find changes the most from telling to telling is the degree to which we can relate to Creon. This is important because the Antigone character remains relatively stable throughout. As stated, I always take Antigone's side. This play is her play, it is her story. She will always do what Antigone does for the reasons Antigone has. She will always die for what she does. The difficult question is not about whether we take her side but whether or not we understand Creon.
If we understand the evil that he does we may feel like forgiving or permitting it. But we don't have to do that. And, I can scream bloody murder as long as I want it doesn't change anything. The hardest thing to do with Antigone is understand the hopeless inevitability of it all. The real problem started long before the action of the play. We are really just watching the end play out as it must.
The degree to which we can sympathize with the devil is the topic of interest then. So, how much do you have? Do you dare to investigate Creon's character, or, is it easier to call him a prick and walk away? Isn't it more valuable to understand the things we call evil? We can at least have fun with it, so listen to this song instead of thinking about it:
We have 3 different versions of Antigone for the last two seminars. The first was a straightforward translation. The second was Jean Anouilh's Nazi-Occupied France version. Finally, Bertolt Brecht's retelling. In all 3 books I take Antigone's side. I never falter on this. Antigone fights for what is right. Her understanding of the world is pleasantly attractive. She is trapped in a world of pragmatism. She believes the stories of deities and believes in punishment and reward. She stands for honour and virtue. She's also kind of a silly girl. But whatever.
The biggest difference amongst the three versions is the character Creon. In our first telling Creon is a cold bastard and nobody should like him. I don't anyway.
In Anouilh's version we have a bit more sympathy for Creon. We have this sympathy because we have a better understanding of his situation. He gives Antigone the freedom to stand on her own and he urges her to make a choice that will have a better solution for her. She still does not take it. She stands in defiance to Creon even though Creon explains that he knows what she is saying and he tries to calm her youthful fire with aged wisdom. Creon is by no means a good person in this version. He is a good leader though. He thinks and acts like a leader. So it is hard to judge him if we don't see where he is coming from.
In Brecht's version we get back to a colder Creon. He is slightly more worthy of our sympathy than the original Creon. This Creon gives us some really badass observations that make him right if not likable: "Ingrates! You'll eat the meat but you don't like to see the cook's bloody apron!" (57) and "so far no one has sent back the bronze-plate that I brought you from Argos, but you huddle together and babble about the blood-baths and complain of my crassness" (57). It is easy to criticize but people should consider their role in a situation before speaking up about the morality of it all. If we benefit from the wars on the middle east we should consider these benefits before speaking up about morals and equality. Even if you drive an electric car you probably bought it from a company that sells regular gasoline cars. Not to mention oil is used for more than just fueling cars. After all people, someone has to stand on the walls and someone has to get their hands dirty so we don't. Until we find a way to live without requiring these forms of evil we really can't condemn the evil-doers.
What I find changes the most from telling to telling is the degree to which we can relate to Creon. This is important because the Antigone character remains relatively stable throughout. As stated, I always take Antigone's side. This play is her play, it is her story. She will always do what Antigone does for the reasons Antigone has. She will always die for what she does. The difficult question is not about whether we take her side but whether or not we understand Creon.
If we understand the evil that he does we may feel like forgiving or permitting it. But we don't have to do that. And, I can scream bloody murder as long as I want it doesn't change anything. The hardest thing to do with Antigone is understand the hopeless inevitability of it all. The real problem started long before the action of the play. We are really just watching the end play out as it must.
The degree to which we can sympathize with the devil is the topic of interest then. So, how much do you have? Do you dare to investigate Creon's character, or, is it easier to call him a prick and walk away? Isn't it more valuable to understand the things we call evil? We can at least have fun with it, so listen to this song instead of thinking about it:
Big Words, Brain Stuff, Remembering Plato, Striving On...
Antonio Damasio
The thing I took out of Descartes' Error was something I already knew. You cannot separate the person from emotion. The brain is very complex. We can at least try to understand it. Whether it is where our emotions begin or where we process emotions, it is worth looking at.
Damasio uses big neuro-schmeuro words. But he helps us understand the brain rather easily I think. And he shows us what these words mean. He explains what he is talking about. What I like best is that he includes these little sections in the text to further our understanding or to bring up an important point.
Damasio tells us on more than one occasion that he is having a discussion with us. This is an important distinction to make from different types of books. He is not on his pulpit giving us golden specks of dust for our intellect. He is engaging with us, not engaging in battle against us.
If you thought that Reason and Passion were opposite ways to live by the time you reach this book you should have changed your mind. Damasio takes a well respected area and explores the often neglected area, he uses reason to explore passion.
Who we are, fundamentally, may not be a blank slate and may not be predetermined. Who we are can be explained by a lot of brain science and, at the same time, cannot be broken down and explained totally by brain science. Who we are is very complicated. It only makes sense to use our gift of reason to understand out instinctual passion.
The important message from Damasio is about relations not distinctions. He says "I am not attempting to reduce social phenomena to biological phenomena, but rather to discuss the powerful connection between them" (124).
We ought to stop dividing topic headers arbitrarily and try to understand how they operate, whether together or on their own. The charioteer and horses from Plato is best understood by considering not just the horses and not just the charioteer but by considering what each wants and how they interact, and ultimately what they are striving for.
Damasio is just a current reminder that the horses aren't separate from each other or us. And his book does a nice job of putting things back into context. Remember: the powerful connection is more important than the individual parts. I should note that I am not arguing against exploration of the individual parts when I say that, neither do I think Damasio would do that. It is simply that the bigger picture should be kept in mind.
Reason and Passion need not be separate. Drive on charioteers.
The thing I took out of Descartes' Error was something I already knew. You cannot separate the person from emotion. The brain is very complex. We can at least try to understand it. Whether it is where our emotions begin or where we process emotions, it is worth looking at.
Damasio uses big neuro-schmeuro words. But he helps us understand the brain rather easily I think. And he shows us what these words mean. He explains what he is talking about. What I like best is that he includes these little sections in the text to further our understanding or to bring up an important point.
Damasio tells us on more than one occasion that he is having a discussion with us. This is an important distinction to make from different types of books. He is not on his pulpit giving us golden specks of dust for our intellect. He is engaging with us, not engaging in battle against us.
If you thought that Reason and Passion were opposite ways to live by the time you reach this book you should have changed your mind. Damasio takes a well respected area and explores the often neglected area, he uses reason to explore passion.
Who we are, fundamentally, may not be a blank slate and may not be predetermined. Who we are can be explained by a lot of brain science and, at the same time, cannot be broken down and explained totally by brain science. Who we are is very complicated. It only makes sense to use our gift of reason to understand out instinctual passion.
The important message from Damasio is about relations not distinctions. He says "I am not attempting to reduce social phenomena to biological phenomena, but rather to discuss the powerful connection between them" (124).
We ought to stop dividing topic headers arbitrarily and try to understand how they operate, whether together or on their own. The charioteer and horses from Plato is best understood by considering not just the horses and not just the charioteer but by considering what each wants and how they interact, and ultimately what they are striving for.
Damasio is just a current reminder that the horses aren't separate from each other or us. And his book does a nice job of putting things back into context. Remember: the powerful connection is more important than the individual parts. I should note that I am not arguing against exploration of the individual parts when I say that, neither do I think Damasio would do that. It is simply that the bigger picture should be kept in mind.
Reason and Passion need not be separate. Drive on charioteers.
The Ugly Movementeers Killed Beauty...The End?
On Beauty and Being Just
Elaine Scarry goes a long way to explaining why we should get back to aesthetics in education. She gives a fairly accurate account of how we have killed the search for beauty. I would personally blame the movementeers for this kind of treason.
We can fight all day long about beauty and subjectivity but if you want to have that discussion with me just bugger off. I have no time for boring nihilism. My argument would be that each person's subjective view is capable of finding Beauty, that is because the idea of the beautiful is universally present.
We walk along. Something grabs our attention. It puts us in a different state. We are enraptured. We are at this moment connected to something eternal. Something greater than ourselves. We cannot place it. But I call it beauty.
That is my understanding of 'the beautiful' in as concise an explanation as possible. With beauty we have connected other ambiguous terms: truth, justice, the sublime. We can find a place beautiful, a face beautiful, a poem beautiful, a song, the sun, a scenery... We never run out of places to find the beautiful. Why, then, have we stopped appreciating it?
The movementeers arrived and robbed us of aesthetics. They wanted instead to focus on gender, race, class distinction. What about the beautiful? That's my question. What about the eternal appeal of great works of art? Can't we appreciate the beautiful while acknowledging the validity of movements? I certainly choose to study beauty over movements but that is in direct reaction to passing through the education system's movementeer-guided digestive tract. I would pursue beauty with less hostility but our training institutes (read: Universities) have jaded me.
Scarry reminds us that the beautiful still matters. I would argue that through 'the beauty' we matter.
Elaine Scarry goes a long way to explaining why we should get back to aesthetics in education. She gives a fairly accurate account of how we have killed the search for beauty. I would personally blame the movementeers for this kind of treason.
We can fight all day long about beauty and subjectivity but if you want to have that discussion with me just bugger off. I have no time for boring nihilism. My argument would be that each person's subjective view is capable of finding Beauty, that is because the idea of the beautiful is universally present.
We walk along. Something grabs our attention. It puts us in a different state. We are enraptured. We are at this moment connected to something eternal. Something greater than ourselves. We cannot place it. But I call it beauty.
That is my understanding of 'the beautiful' in as concise an explanation as possible. With beauty we have connected other ambiguous terms: truth, justice, the sublime. We can find a place beautiful, a face beautiful, a poem beautiful, a song, the sun, a scenery... We never run out of places to find the beautiful. Why, then, have we stopped appreciating it?
The movementeers arrived and robbed us of aesthetics. They wanted instead to focus on gender, race, class distinction. What about the beautiful? That's my question. What about the eternal appeal of great works of art? Can't we appreciate the beautiful while acknowledging the validity of movements? I certainly choose to study beauty over movements but that is in direct reaction to passing through the education system's movementeer-guided digestive tract. I would pursue beauty with less hostility but our training institutes (read: Universities) have jaded me.
Scarry reminds us that the beautiful still matters. I would argue that through 'the beauty' we matter.
Throw The World A Good Fuck And Everything Else Will Work Itself Out
Lady Chatterly's Sexy Message, I Mean Lover
I think Professor Grieve's comment in class is correct. I think that D. H. Lawrence wanted us to consider the possibility that good and true sex can save the world. I'm not 100 percent sure that this argument will win but there is something to it.
Lady Chatterly is on her own journey of discovery and she finds it through sexual awakening. I think that if society makes sex a taboo topic there ought to be someone like Lawrence arguing the exact opposite. I think that Lawrence's stance on sex and its impact on the world is more correct that the stance of taboo-ism.
We do a lot of things wrong as people. One of them is not educating children properly on sex. This breeds (pun intended) risky practices. Example:
I have a friend who teaches Grades 7 and 8. They had a condom program due the number of pregnancy scares...among children! A prudish and silly principal arrived and in true administrative fashion cut the program as it was offensive and promoted sex. Pregnancy scares showed up again, big surprise? I always consider asking the boots-on-the-ground about what goes on on-the-ground, rocket science right? One man, one principal, took personal offense and I would argue placed those children at risk, not just a risk of pregnancy but a risk of safe sexual practices. What good did prudish offense produce in the end? None. Quite the opposite. The teachers didn't get together and dream up a sexy and scandalous program out of their own perverse delusions, they did it for safety after observing the state of the school.
I'm not arguing elementary and middle school aged children should explore their sexuality. What I'm saying is that they are going to do this anyway and as adults we have a duty to have them prepared for at least their own safety.
Back to adults. We are a sexually immature culture. I do not mean that we don't have enough sex. I mean that we don't understand sex. Really, what is it, after all? Is it Leonard Cohen-ly two beautiful greedy bodies colliding to fight loneliness? Is it spiritual? Is it a combination of the animal and the divine? I'm not entirely sure what it is. But it is worth our consideration. Look at what happens when we don't consider it. Look at what happens when we try to fight it. That should be evidence enough to consider Lawrence and Grieves: can a good fuck make the world a better place? It seems a healthier approach than what we're doing right now.
More research is needed...
I think Professor Grieve's comment in class is correct. I think that D. H. Lawrence wanted us to consider the possibility that good and true sex can save the world. I'm not 100 percent sure that this argument will win but there is something to it.
Lady Chatterly is on her own journey of discovery and she finds it through sexual awakening. I think that if society makes sex a taboo topic there ought to be someone like Lawrence arguing the exact opposite. I think that Lawrence's stance on sex and its impact on the world is more correct that the stance of taboo-ism.
We do a lot of things wrong as people. One of them is not educating children properly on sex. This breeds (pun intended) risky practices. Example:
I have a friend who teaches Grades 7 and 8. They had a condom program due the number of pregnancy scares...among children! A prudish and silly principal arrived and in true administrative fashion cut the program as it was offensive and promoted sex. Pregnancy scares showed up again, big surprise? I always consider asking the boots-on-the-ground about what goes on on-the-ground, rocket science right? One man, one principal, took personal offense and I would argue placed those children at risk, not just a risk of pregnancy but a risk of safe sexual practices. What good did prudish offense produce in the end? None. Quite the opposite. The teachers didn't get together and dream up a sexy and scandalous program out of their own perverse delusions, they did it for safety after observing the state of the school.
I'm not arguing elementary and middle school aged children should explore their sexuality. What I'm saying is that they are going to do this anyway and as adults we have a duty to have them prepared for at least their own safety.
Back to adults. We are a sexually immature culture. I do not mean that we don't have enough sex. I mean that we don't understand sex. Really, what is it, after all? Is it Leonard Cohen-ly two beautiful greedy bodies colliding to fight loneliness? Is it spiritual? Is it a combination of the animal and the divine? I'm not entirely sure what it is. But it is worth our consideration. Look at what happens when we don't consider it. Look at what happens when we try to fight it. That should be evidence enough to consider Lawrence and Grieves: can a good fuck make the world a better place? It seems a healthier approach than what we're doing right now.
More research is needed...
A Poem Explaining Why Jane Eyre Sucks At Life
Live, Damn You, Live!
This is a lovely little ditty. I have always liked re-reading this. I thought I should include it as Jane Eyre lives her life based on everything she has read in books. Is that really living?
This is a lovely little ditty. I have always liked re-reading this. I thought I should include it as Jane Eyre lives her life based on everything she has read in books. Is that really living?
The First Kiss of Love
by George Gordon, Lord Byron
Ha barbitos de chordais
Er ota mounon aechei.
—ANACREON
Away with your fictions of flimsy romance,
Those tissues of falsehood which Folly has wove;
Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance,
Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.
Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with fantasy glow,
Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove;
From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow,
Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love.
If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse,
Or the Nine be dispos'd from your service to rove,
Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the Muse,
And try the effect, of the first kiss of love.
I hate you, ye cold compositions of art,
Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove;
I court the effusions that spring from the heart,
Which throbs, with delight, to the first kiss of love.
Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes,
Perhaps may amuse, yet they never can move:
Arcadia displays but a region of dreams;
What are visions like these, to the first kiss of love?
Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth,
From Adam, till now, has with wretchedness strove;
Some portion of Paradise still is on earth,
And Eden revives, in the first kiss of love.
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past—
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove—
The dearest remembrance will still be the last,
Our sweetest memorial, the first kiss of love.
Poetic Interlude
Keats Appreciation Time
I love this poem. It is delicious.
On Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again
Fierce Dispute
Oak forests which I’ve only read
What paths have you for such as I?
And am I thus supposed to dread
What’s only met with my mind’s eye?
Am I to quiver, or to shake
When I’ve no reason to be frightful?
Or is this fear a mere mistake;
My mind is simply something spiteful?
What lies beyond I do not know
Nor do I claim in any fashion,
And though onward I cannot go,
I’ll go and fight with fired passion,
What good may come, and come it may,
Of my great angered indignation?
I’ll not digress to kneeled pray
Against my foe of cursed damnation!
I’ll hold up my arms tho they are clay
And proudly stand against the grain,
And when I’m through with you they’ll say: *
He did his best. His works remain.
-Byron (2005)
The email included a footnote where the second last line could be more hopeless and read instead: "and when I'm through I hope they say". I prefer to not be so hopeless but I'm not about to argue that we stand a lick of chance either. The message also had this sentence in it: there is more room in the bottle for oxygen now than when you left. If that is any indication of my muse. Scotch: fueling foolish ambitions for a really long time.
I love this poem. It is delicious.
On Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again
O golden-tongued Romance with serene lute!
Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away!
Leave melodizing on this wintry day,
Shut up thine olden pages, and be mute:
Adieu! for once again the fierce dispute,
Betwixt damnation and impassion'd clay
Must I burn through; once more humbly assay
The bitter-sweet of this Shakespearian fruit.
Chief Poet! and ye clouds of Albion,
Begetters of our deep eternal theme,
When through the old oak forest I am gone,
Let me not wander in a barren dream,
But when I am consumed in the fire,
Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire.
-John Keats (~1818)
I once had a late night discussion with a dear friend of mine on
poetry, philosophy, life. We had some drinks and it was inevitably
followed with talk about this stuff, who isn't a philosopher when they
deprive their brain of oxygen? After our discussion he went to bed and I
wrote a poem. That's something I do. I write good poems and bad poems,
funny poems and serious poems, alcohol induced poems and flaming passion
induced poetry. What the following poem is I don't know. I just know I
wrote it because our conversation had included Keats, well, I
included Keats in it. Enjoy, or not:Fierce Dispute
Oak forests which I’ve only read
What paths have you for such as I?
And am I thus supposed to dread
What’s only met with my mind’s eye?
Am I to quiver, or to shake
When I’ve no reason to be frightful?
Or is this fear a mere mistake;
My mind is simply something spiteful?
What lies beyond I do not know
Nor do I claim in any fashion,
And though onward I cannot go,
I’ll go and fight with fired passion,
What good may come, and come it may,
Of my great angered indignation?
I’ll not digress to kneeled pray
Against my foe of cursed damnation!
I’ll hold up my arms tho they are clay
And proudly stand against the grain,
And when I’m through with you they’ll say: *
He did his best. His works remain.
-Byron (2005)
The email included a footnote where the second last line could be more hopeless and read instead: "and when I'm through I hope they say". I prefer to not be so hopeless but I'm not about to argue that we stand a lick of chance either. The message also had this sentence in it: there is more room in the bottle for oxygen now than when you left. If that is any indication of my muse. Scotch: fueling foolish ambitions for a really long time.
That Feeling Sort of Like Loneliness, Only Worse
A Student-of-the-Human-Condition's Note on Alienation
This is a big theme in our texts. I'm fairly certain that is because this is a big theme in life. But what does it actually mean to be alienated? Is there a clear definition? Or is this one of those things that can only be 'best described' by a word instead of defined with one?
The problem of alienation comes from our problem of being socially motivated individuals. We are our own persons but we also are drawn to being social, we are herd animals. I suggest that being an individual and being social are not on opposite ends of one spectrum. I think they go hand in hand.
We must be individuals but we must also to some extent conform. We have to play nice while in the sandbox. I think we have to go from being in the sandbox to wanting to be out of the sandbox and ultimately back into the sandbox. We need to stop polarizing in and out of the sandbox. We need to view it as one process.
I think that our idea of alienation has two distinct variations: Alienation from an 'other' and alienation from oneself. The 'other' could be any type of thing other than yourself, concrete or abstract; family, friends, the community, country, culture, nature, a deity. Alienation from oneself is precisely that, not knowing anything about who you are.
Whenever I'm asked what I study I reply with: the human condition. I think this is what matters most, to me anyway. As a student of the human condition I wish I could explain how we got to where we are but what I really do is look at where we are. From there we can possibly see how we got here and hopefully see the future with a perspective which can endorse the good things and prevent the bad things. Even if I am right and we excel at this you can't beat chance. Chance: in case you thought you had things figured out.
That being said, the worst form of alienation I think is alienation from oneself. If you are alienated from who you are then you cannot participate in any social setting successfully. The problem we have is that we collectively suffer from this mass dissociation and we pretend we don't. The average person out there does not ever have to ask who they are in great detail, they can typically identify with one label or another and carry on. Life doesn't let you simply Keep Calm and Carry On.
The average person also doesn't necessarily play well in the sandbox. I think they give off the impression of playing well in the sandbox. But there is an thirst or hunger that cannot be ignored. Whether it takes a mid-life crisis to notice it or whether it is forced upon you from unfair circumstances it eventually pushes its way to the surface. Vacations are a funny example of this: a lot people will feel a need to escape or get away from it all for some reason or another, but really there is nothing to escape from, and you can't escape yourself no matter how hard you try. Would it be better for us to explore ourselves instead? I don't know. And probably not all the time. I like drinks and relaxing and friends and family. I prefer spending my vacations with people I love and care about and who love and care about me, regardless of the geographical location of the gathering. But I have not felt like having to escape from something for at least a decade.
Why run from this? Why hide from this? It is not doing us any good at present. Not completely understanding something does not give us permission not to try, nor does it mean we aren't capable. I am also not arguing that we spend our lives trying to understand this, we do, after all, have to get back in the sandbox.
If we are alienated from ourselves then we cannot honestly interact with 'the others' so alienation from the other is seemingly a guarantee. Why not refocus? Why not see that the individual and the social are part of the same thing? That thing is us. Perhaps this is just wishful thinking, romantic dreaming, drama-queenism. But I suspect there is something in it. Where do you search for yourself when that overwhelming feeling best described as alienation takes over? Where do you look? How do you look?
This is a big theme in our texts. I'm fairly certain that is because this is a big theme in life. But what does it actually mean to be alienated? Is there a clear definition? Or is this one of those things that can only be 'best described' by a word instead of defined with one?
The problem of alienation comes from our problem of being socially motivated individuals. We are our own persons but we also are drawn to being social, we are herd animals. I suggest that being an individual and being social are not on opposite ends of one spectrum. I think they go hand in hand.
We must be individuals but we must also to some extent conform. We have to play nice while in the sandbox. I think we have to go from being in the sandbox to wanting to be out of the sandbox and ultimately back into the sandbox. We need to stop polarizing in and out of the sandbox. We need to view it as one process.
I think that our idea of alienation has two distinct variations: Alienation from an 'other' and alienation from oneself. The 'other' could be any type of thing other than yourself, concrete or abstract; family, friends, the community, country, culture, nature, a deity. Alienation from oneself is precisely that, not knowing anything about who you are.
Whenever I'm asked what I study I reply with: the human condition. I think this is what matters most, to me anyway. As a student of the human condition I wish I could explain how we got to where we are but what I really do is look at where we are. From there we can possibly see how we got here and hopefully see the future with a perspective which can endorse the good things and prevent the bad things. Even if I am right and we excel at this you can't beat chance. Chance: in case you thought you had things figured out.
That being said, the worst form of alienation I think is alienation from oneself. If you are alienated from who you are then you cannot participate in any social setting successfully. The problem we have is that we collectively suffer from this mass dissociation and we pretend we don't. The average person out there does not ever have to ask who they are in great detail, they can typically identify with one label or another and carry on. Life doesn't let you simply Keep Calm and Carry On.
The average person also doesn't necessarily play well in the sandbox. I think they give off the impression of playing well in the sandbox. But there is an thirst or hunger that cannot be ignored. Whether it takes a mid-life crisis to notice it or whether it is forced upon you from unfair circumstances it eventually pushes its way to the surface. Vacations are a funny example of this: a lot people will feel a need to escape or get away from it all for some reason or another, but really there is nothing to escape from, and you can't escape yourself no matter how hard you try. Would it be better for us to explore ourselves instead? I don't know. And probably not all the time. I like drinks and relaxing and friends and family. I prefer spending my vacations with people I love and care about and who love and care about me, regardless of the geographical location of the gathering. But I have not felt like having to escape from something for at least a decade.
Why run from this? Why hide from this? It is not doing us any good at present. Not completely understanding something does not give us permission not to try, nor does it mean we aren't capable. I am also not arguing that we spend our lives trying to understand this, we do, after all, have to get back in the sandbox.
If we are alienated from ourselves then we cannot honestly interact with 'the others' so alienation from the other is seemingly a guarantee. Why not refocus? Why not see that the individual and the social are part of the same thing? That thing is us. Perhaps this is just wishful thinking, romantic dreaming, drama-queenism. But I suspect there is something in it. Where do you search for yourself when that overwhelming feeling best described as alienation takes over? Where do you look? How do you look?
Beautiful and Beastly Daemon
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein Round 1 a Brief Warning Note on Beauty and Ugliness
This is one of my favourite books. I love the unnamed daemon which Hollywood has us call the monster. The real monster is Victor Frankenstein. As a creation story Victor is a real bastard of a creator. He breathes life into a being only to run away in terror at what he had done. I read this as an interpretation or expansion of William Blake's poem The Tyger:
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
The reality of this creation is that Victor abandons a completely innocent being out of fear. This is Bad Parenting 101. Victor had a creative force strong enough to will another being into existence yet he lacked the ability to understand what was right in front of him. Victor is a strange man. We can hardly blame him, considering how he pieced the daemon together and how it looked, it does appear quite hideous...but I blame Victor because I have that liberty.
The monster educates himself. He learns how to be a good person. He learns language rather quickly. He has a naturally compassionate approach to human beings. But he is ugly in appearance. And this is where we can blame society.
We are taught that ugly is bad. Somehow unattractive equals evil. We can blame Hollywood, but really, in the end, we ought to blame ourselves.We did this to ourselves. Nothing throws us off quite as much as a horrible looking person being kind. It is a weird phenomenon of our era. We are not generally attractive beings, and attraction is subjective, so we should really try to change this. Our own ugliness, which we try to impose on the daemon, ought to be motivation enough for a revaluation of values. (Perhaps we need to have more love for the ugly people, give ugly a chance and all that).
We need to stop being such a surface-level herd. But there is some survival instinct backing our quick judgements. Our ability to reason, what we vainly consider higher cognition, should be able to hold the reigns of our instinctual passion long enough to decide if ugly really is evil.
Ultimately, the energy or force driving the daemon toward connecting with other beings does not extinguish when you attempt to annihilate him, instead, and unsurprisingly I think, the energy or force is driven to another goal: revenge. The warning here seems clear: our capacity for what we consider 'good' is matched by our potential for 'bad'. We will will toward something so choose carefully which goal you dump your energy into.
This is one of my favourite books. I love the unnamed daemon which Hollywood has us call the monster. The real monster is Victor Frankenstein. As a creation story Victor is a real bastard of a creator. He breathes life into a being only to run away in terror at what he had done. I read this as an interpretation or expansion of William Blake's poem The Tyger:
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
The reality of this creation is that Victor abandons a completely innocent being out of fear. This is Bad Parenting 101. Victor had a creative force strong enough to will another being into existence yet he lacked the ability to understand what was right in front of him. Victor is a strange man. We can hardly blame him, considering how he pieced the daemon together and how it looked, it does appear quite hideous...but I blame Victor because I have that liberty.
The monster educates himself. He learns how to be a good person. He learns language rather quickly. He has a naturally compassionate approach to human beings. But he is ugly in appearance. And this is where we can blame society.
We are taught that ugly is bad. Somehow unattractive equals evil. We can blame Hollywood, but really, in the end, we ought to blame ourselves.We did this to ourselves. Nothing throws us off quite as much as a horrible looking person being kind. It is a weird phenomenon of our era. We are not generally attractive beings, and attraction is subjective, so we should really try to change this. Our own ugliness, which we try to impose on the daemon, ought to be motivation enough for a revaluation of values. (Perhaps we need to have more love for the ugly people, give ugly a chance and all that).
We need to stop being such a surface-level herd. But there is some survival instinct backing our quick judgements. Our ability to reason, what we vainly consider higher cognition, should be able to hold the reigns of our instinctual passion long enough to decide if ugly really is evil.
Ultimately, the energy or force driving the daemon toward connecting with other beings does not extinguish when you attempt to annihilate him, instead, and unsurprisingly I think, the energy or force is driven to another goal: revenge. The warning here seems clear: our capacity for what we consider 'good' is matched by our potential for 'bad'. We will will toward something so choose carefully which goal you dump your energy into.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
The Not-So Miserable Miserable Guy Who Pretends To Be Miserable When, In Fact, I'm Not So Certain, Well, You Get My Point
Notes From The Underground
Dostoyevsky is a sneaky bugger. He paints a portrait for us of a man so ugly he is beautiful. His opening lines are remarkable: "I am a sick man...I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man." (1).
Our underground man seems to do two opposing things at once. He tells us he doesn't care but seems to care. He tells us things to make us laugh and then tells us he is not trying to make us laugh. You can't trust him. He's a nasty little ball of rebellion. He's a delicious chunk of self-affirmation.
"I think man will never renounce real suffering, that is, destruction and chaos. Why, suffering is the sole origin of consciousness." (24). I wonder how much effort someone would put into understanding something like mankind's suffering and consciousness if he didn't really care for it. I read this as I read Nietzsche and Freud: something like this could not be written by someone who didn't care.
I'm not arguing that Dostoyevsky and the Underground Man are one and the same, but don't tell me you don't give a fuck about something when it appears you care quite a bit about it. I see through your misery and I suspect this is what you intended.
The Underground Man at least makes us ask some uncomfortable questions about who we are and why we do the things we do. And if you read this book and don't ask those questions, or give them a few seconds worth of thought, then the failure is yours not his. The Underground Man tries to assert himself in a bland world of pleasantries and falsities. He's just not very charming about it.
This is an exercise in free-will. Or perhaps free-won't. Either way, this exercise oddly resembles some of our greatest stupid decisions in everyday life. Over reacting to misinterpreted situations, thinking grandiose thoughts about our place on this planet and in this society, among others. Embarrassing? Well, the good news is you're not alone.
Dostoyevsky is a sneaky bugger. He paints a portrait for us of a man so ugly he is beautiful. His opening lines are remarkable: "I am a sick man...I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man." (1).
Our underground man seems to do two opposing things at once. He tells us he doesn't care but seems to care. He tells us things to make us laugh and then tells us he is not trying to make us laugh. You can't trust him. He's a nasty little ball of rebellion. He's a delicious chunk of self-affirmation.
"I think man will never renounce real suffering, that is, destruction and chaos. Why, suffering is the sole origin of consciousness." (24). I wonder how much effort someone would put into understanding something like mankind's suffering and consciousness if he didn't really care for it. I read this as I read Nietzsche and Freud: something like this could not be written by someone who didn't care.
I'm not arguing that Dostoyevsky and the Underground Man are one and the same, but don't tell me you don't give a fuck about something when it appears you care quite a bit about it. I see through your misery and I suspect this is what you intended.
The Underground Man at least makes us ask some uncomfortable questions about who we are and why we do the things we do. And if you read this book and don't ask those questions, or give them a few seconds worth of thought, then the failure is yours not his. The Underground Man tries to assert himself in a bland world of pleasantries and falsities. He's just not very charming about it.
This is an exercise in free-will. Or perhaps free-won't. Either way, this exercise oddly resembles some of our greatest stupid decisions in everyday life. Over reacting to misinterpreted situations, thinking grandiose thoughts about our place on this planet and in this society, among others. Embarrassing? Well, the good news is you're not alone.
Beautiful And Complete Corruption
Anatole France's Where Did We Go Wrong Tale?
The Gods Will Have Blood is an excellent journey from maturation to corruption. Gamelin is a bright eyed and bushy tailed artist driven by zealous idealism...who better to put in control of whether or not people keep their heads? I can't see how it could possibly go wrong.
In the beginning I love Gamelin, if I were a woman I would fall in love with him. In the end my attraction to Gamelin is matched only by my fear of him, ever increasing with each gruesome and brutal deed.
France turns itself on its head during the revolution. They took their own perverse interpretation of ideas like Rousseau's and polluted themselves. They turned on the monarchy and then on themselves.
Gamelin has one of the most beautiful quotes I've read this semester: "Child! You will grow up to be free and happy, and you will owe it to the infamous Gamelin. I am steeped in blood so that you may be happy. I am cruel, that you may be kind. I am pitiless so that tomorrow all Frenchmen will embrace one another with tears of joy." (230). He then says the following about the child: "I held that child in my arms; perhaps I shall have his mother sent to the guillotine." (230).
Are these the words of an artist? Or is this what happens when you take the drive that makes a good artist and turn him loose with rebellious ideals? Did Gamelin begin as a dime-a-dozen artist trying to make himself famous? Where did he go wrong? Is this a corruption of the idealist? I believe that Gamelin would not exist in a society that would not have someone such as Gamelin existing. If that sounds tricky that's because all I'm saying is that if Gamelin existed in late 1700's France it is because the way the world was playing out someone like Gamelin was an inevitable player. Invited or not, created or not, we have to live with the monsters we contributed to making. We have to try not to corrupt everything we touch, no matter how good we are at it.
But: what if we have been corrupt all along? We do seem, after all, to be primed for corruption. We do seem to be perfect creatures of corruption. Are maturation and corruption all that different? Are sex and violence as separate as we consider in our daily politeness? Our book has sex evolve from a basic animal urge to "an ecstasy of sexual horror". Or are the French just messed up? Anatole asked: Where did we go wrong? I reply: You were French, that's a starting point.
The Gods Will Have Blood is an excellent journey from maturation to corruption. Gamelin is a bright eyed and bushy tailed artist driven by zealous idealism...who better to put in control of whether or not people keep their heads? I can't see how it could possibly go wrong.
In the beginning I love Gamelin, if I were a woman I would fall in love with him. In the end my attraction to Gamelin is matched only by my fear of him, ever increasing with each gruesome and brutal deed.
France turns itself on its head during the revolution. They took their own perverse interpretation of ideas like Rousseau's and polluted themselves. They turned on the monarchy and then on themselves.
Gamelin has one of the most beautiful quotes I've read this semester: "Child! You will grow up to be free and happy, and you will owe it to the infamous Gamelin. I am steeped in blood so that you may be happy. I am cruel, that you may be kind. I am pitiless so that tomorrow all Frenchmen will embrace one another with tears of joy." (230). He then says the following about the child: "I held that child in my arms; perhaps I shall have his mother sent to the guillotine." (230).
Are these the words of an artist? Or is this what happens when you take the drive that makes a good artist and turn him loose with rebellious ideals? Did Gamelin begin as a dime-a-dozen artist trying to make himself famous? Where did he go wrong? Is this a corruption of the idealist? I believe that Gamelin would not exist in a society that would not have someone such as Gamelin existing. If that sounds tricky that's because all I'm saying is that if Gamelin existed in late 1700's France it is because the way the world was playing out someone like Gamelin was an inevitable player. Invited or not, created or not, we have to live with the monsters we contributed to making. We have to try not to corrupt everything we touch, no matter how good we are at it.
But: what if we have been corrupt all along? We do seem, after all, to be primed for corruption. We do seem to be perfect creatures of corruption. Are maturation and corruption all that different? Are sex and violence as separate as we consider in our daily politeness? Our book has sex evolve from a basic animal urge to "an ecstasy of sexual horror". Or are the French just messed up? Anatole asked: Where did we go wrong? I reply: You were French, that's a starting point.
The Prelude to Marxism In Which The Prelude Is The Most Important Part
Drunk Uncle Disclosure
I have this uncle. He is a typical Marxist hippy from the 70's. When I say 'elderly hippy' this guy's face comes to your mind whether you have met him or not, whether you know it is him or not. He is a throwback to a time when pseudo-knowledge and something I have come to call big-wordism were rampant and appreciated. The appreciation came from being blinded to what was going on, not by the actual value of the intellect.
He ran away to Japan. Married a woman who speaks very little English. I assume this why the relationship works. He came back for a visit. I was playing video games on my computer, living at my parent's house.
He started drinking Canadian beer as soon as he arrived. He kept on drinking them and asked about whether or not I was in law school. When I said I was studying English and Psychology he said I was wasting my fucking life. He then went to my bookshelf and began throwing books off.
He read the title, called it 'piss' or 'shit' or 'bourgeoisie' and threw it off the shelf. He asked me where my copy of 'The Manifesto' was. As though it were the only one ever written. He asked where my copy of 'Grundrisse' was. He was not happy to hear I didn't read them.
He grabbed Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil and said I was wasting my time with his reactionary garbage and then...insert drunk dramatic pause here...flipped the book from the shelf. By this time the pile on the ground was getting large. Then he did the unthinkable. He grabbed my copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray and asked me what value this 'shit' had. I told him it was a 'good read' and left it at that, he was in no shape to debate beauty and art especially against the youthful fury of my teeming brain, to borrow from Keats's poetry which I related to in my teenage years.
Big surprise coming: he said 'this is upper class nonsense' and threw it on the ground. That was my breaking point. I had a few options. 1-engage in intellectual battle, 2-break his jaw, 3-leave. Option 1 was out of the question, someone like him and especially someone in that state is not about to engage in any kind of productive anything. Option 2 I skipped for my mother's sake, and his wife and daughter's sake, in that order. Option 3 was me leaving. I saved his jaw and my time that day.
That was my formal introduction to Marx. I am afraid that if Marx could see one of his biggest fans in action he would not be pleased. This uncle eventually sent me a broken English letter from Japan explaining that he had never actually read Oscar Wilde but had heard a rumour that he once named a middle or lower class character with an upper class name and was horrified to realize his mistake. I guess it is rather easy to dupe the Japanese university system into thinking you will be of value to them.
Nothing of value can come from engaging this man. I'm sure a family member will send him the link to this blog. I'd enjoy that actually. Ignite that long burned out candle he thinks is capitalist-destroying comet. My ego is not so weak and feeble that I need to prove myself over him. But I do like to poke, make sure I've still got it.
Here is a video clip of the type of person who wins in this world, the type of person who my uncle would hate, the type of person my uncle is up against and woefully unprepared for. Sorry, Capitalism wins. I wish it hadn't. I wish it had better opponents. I really do like milkshakes.
I have this uncle. He is a typical Marxist hippy from the 70's. When I say 'elderly hippy' this guy's face comes to your mind whether you have met him or not, whether you know it is him or not. He is a throwback to a time when pseudo-knowledge and something I have come to call big-wordism were rampant and appreciated. The appreciation came from being blinded to what was going on, not by the actual value of the intellect.
He ran away to Japan. Married a woman who speaks very little English. I assume this why the relationship works. He came back for a visit. I was playing video games on my computer, living at my parent's house.
He started drinking Canadian beer as soon as he arrived. He kept on drinking them and asked about whether or not I was in law school. When I said I was studying English and Psychology he said I was wasting my fucking life. He then went to my bookshelf and began throwing books off.
He read the title, called it 'piss' or 'shit' or 'bourgeoisie' and threw it off the shelf. He asked me where my copy of 'The Manifesto' was. As though it were the only one ever written. He asked where my copy of 'Grundrisse' was. He was not happy to hear I didn't read them.
He grabbed Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil and said I was wasting my time with his reactionary garbage and then...insert drunk dramatic pause here...flipped the book from the shelf. By this time the pile on the ground was getting large. Then he did the unthinkable. He grabbed my copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray and asked me what value this 'shit' had. I told him it was a 'good read' and left it at that, he was in no shape to debate beauty and art especially against the youthful fury of my teeming brain, to borrow from Keats's poetry which I related to in my teenage years.
Big surprise coming: he said 'this is upper class nonsense' and threw it on the ground. That was my breaking point. I had a few options. 1-engage in intellectual battle, 2-break his jaw, 3-leave. Option 1 was out of the question, someone like him and especially someone in that state is not about to engage in any kind of productive anything. Option 2 I skipped for my mother's sake, and his wife and daughter's sake, in that order. Option 3 was me leaving. I saved his jaw and my time that day.
That was my formal introduction to Marx. I am afraid that if Marx could see one of his biggest fans in action he would not be pleased. This uncle eventually sent me a broken English letter from Japan explaining that he had never actually read Oscar Wilde but had heard a rumour that he once named a middle or lower class character with an upper class name and was horrified to realize his mistake. I guess it is rather easy to dupe the Japanese university system into thinking you will be of value to them.
Nothing of value can come from engaging this man. I'm sure a family member will send him the link to this blog. I'd enjoy that actually. Ignite that long burned out candle he thinks is capitalist-destroying comet. My ego is not so weak and feeble that I need to prove myself over him. But I do like to poke, make sure I've still got it.
Here is a video clip of the type of person who wins in this world, the type of person who my uncle would hate, the type of person my uncle is up against and woefully unprepared for. Sorry, Capitalism wins. I wish it hadn't. I wish it had better opponents. I really do like milkshakes.
The Touchy Taboo Topic Of Affairs
Human Nature vs Social Creation
The topic of marriage has come up a few times in class. Also love. And of course...affairs. The big A word. We have a few characters in situations where their love clashes with the socially manufactured idea of marriage.
I don't like to judge people in affairs. I would like to think that the situation is very simple on some level and super complex on another level. Both at the same time. I will say this for certain: I have never met a perfectly happy person leading a perfectly wonderful life with a perfectly wonderful relationship who has cheated. So, I guess, if you could just meet that criteria you could ensure the likelihood of cheating or being cheated upon is slim to none.
Being a part of the rest of the world I would like to look at a couple books from class with affairs in them and make a final statement about the nature of affairs, which is similar to the nature of marriage, nature of love, nature of human beings.
Goethe's young Werther is madly in love with a spoken for woman. I doubt that this relationship is entirely in Werther's mind and I think that his little friend-girl has contributed to the burning passion in Werther.
Elizabeth Smart's narrator has a sexy affair with a married man. She tells us this love story in one of the most poetic writings I have ever come across. (By the end of her novel I want to sleep with her. Perhaps out of vanity and wanting to hear her say those things about me!)
It is hard for me to judge the narrators in these works. They seem to operate from a different perspective as the rest of us. Werther is consumed by his burning desire as is Elizabeth. There is no comfortable way to stand in judgement of these two characters as we need to be able to understand where they are coming from. I think that once we understand that we can accept what they do. I don't think we should promote what they do but perhaps on some level we ought to.
The narrators are following their emotions. They are remaining true to their feelings. Werther is eventually contained and extinguished for being too much out of society. For these two characters we have to consider that their personal passions were outside of society's view of morality. I do not know that they are better than or higher than that morality, just that they are outside of it. They are not to be measured by the same measuring stick is what I am trying to say.
We created this limitation of marriage and we work to preserve it. Every now and then someone like Werther or Smart comes along and I have to wonder if we can fault them for not agreeing to the socially constructed notion of marriage. Personally, I am on the side of the truthful and passionate person, no matter how immoral or rebellious they seem. There is a sweet attraction to the honesty with which they live.
The topic of marriage has come up a few times in class. Also love. And of course...affairs. The big A word. We have a few characters in situations where their love clashes with the socially manufactured idea of marriage.
I don't like to judge people in affairs. I would like to think that the situation is very simple on some level and super complex on another level. Both at the same time. I will say this for certain: I have never met a perfectly happy person leading a perfectly wonderful life with a perfectly wonderful relationship who has cheated. So, I guess, if you could just meet that criteria you could ensure the likelihood of cheating or being cheated upon is slim to none.
Being a part of the rest of the world I would like to look at a couple books from class with affairs in them and make a final statement about the nature of affairs, which is similar to the nature of marriage, nature of love, nature of human beings.
Goethe's young Werther is madly in love with a spoken for woman. I doubt that this relationship is entirely in Werther's mind and I think that his little friend-girl has contributed to the burning passion in Werther.
Elizabeth Smart's narrator has a sexy affair with a married man. She tells us this love story in one of the most poetic writings I have ever come across. (By the end of her novel I want to sleep with her. Perhaps out of vanity and wanting to hear her say those things about me!)
It is hard for me to judge the narrators in these works. They seem to operate from a different perspective as the rest of us. Werther is consumed by his burning desire as is Elizabeth. There is no comfortable way to stand in judgement of these two characters as we need to be able to understand where they are coming from. I think that once we understand that we can accept what they do. I don't think we should promote what they do but perhaps on some level we ought to.
The narrators are following their emotions. They are remaining true to their feelings. Werther is eventually contained and extinguished for being too much out of society. For these two characters we have to consider that their personal passions were outside of society's view of morality. I do not know that they are better than or higher than that morality, just that they are outside of it. They are not to be measured by the same measuring stick is what I am trying to say.
We created this limitation of marriage and we work to preserve it. Every now and then someone like Werther or Smart comes along and I have to wonder if we can fault them for not agreeing to the socially constructed notion of marriage. Personally, I am on the side of the truthful and passionate person, no matter how immoral or rebellious they seem. There is a sweet attraction to the honesty with which they live.
Reading Darwin And Feeling Dumber Than Before
Curious Thoughts
Having read On The Origin Of Species, I can firmly state that I understand even less about the world than I thought (and, originally, I thought very little of my knowledge).
I think I understand the idea of adaptation. I admire Darwin's sneaky cover-your-ass idea about time. These adaptations do not occur over-night, the timeline for adaptation can be larger than we can imagine. It is safe for Darwin to argue his point because nobody will be around long enough to have proof to the contrary. We also do not necessarily have proof for Darwin. We need to reach that infinite time span to be able to see if this is true or not.
But his ideas feel right. And seem to make enough sense on a logical level that we can accept them. I'm not arguing that on this basis we ought to accept it. I'm simply saying: I think I know what you're selling Darwin, and I'll buy it.
Curiously, I am confused even more about how things came into being. If everything evolved from something else, how do we know what was here first? Species that rely on the existence of other species in order that they can feed...which was first, predator or prey?
Or worms, from our other book Darwin's Worms, I'm curious about something here too. Darwin credits the worms with having been responsible for the Earth because they eat some dirt and shit the rest out. But the stuff they ate was there before them, or they could not have eaten it to shit it out. So the dirt had to be there in the first place for the worm to eat it. Does this mean dirt requires worms somehow? I have no idea about anything anymore.
Monkeys. The safe explanation here is that we have common ancestry with some monkeys. I say safe explanation because Darwin points out that in order for his idea to be correct, the lesser fitted version of the species would necessarily die out when making way for the better fit. So we really aren't that related to monkeys like popular science allows us to conclude. I do not mean that popular science tell us we are, though in some places it does, I mean that popular science takes us to the edge and when we realize the argument we leap and think that the leaping was their idea instead of ours...even though their conclusion was that leap and all they did was stop shy.
Darwin does not offer us a 'this-is-how-the-world-came-into-being' statement. He doesn't have to either. What he does do is give us a way of looking at and understanding this place we call Earth. His observations are seemingly very accurate, if not the truth.
Our immediate ecosystem is a lot more complex than we think at first glance. I gave the following example in class to demonstrate how related or connected things are in our immediate surroundings:
There was a ridiculously cute kitten in our cul-de-sac. He liked to hunt birds. He caught or scared away all the birds in the cul-de-sac. There were no more birds of any type. The birds weren't there to eat the insects and spiders. So, there were many, many spiders around. And plenty of insects for them to feed on. I hate mosquitoes, and spiders, especially spiders, so I was none too impressed with this. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew it was the kitten. Everyone talked about it. None of them were scientists, they simply observed this kitten and the changing environment. The kitten eventually grew very large, having feasted so well, and was in great shape. Until it was hit by a car. Accident?
Here is a picture of the culprit:
Having read On The Origin Of Species, I can firmly state that I understand even less about the world than I thought (and, originally, I thought very little of my knowledge).
I think I understand the idea of adaptation. I admire Darwin's sneaky cover-your-ass idea about time. These adaptations do not occur over-night, the timeline for adaptation can be larger than we can imagine. It is safe for Darwin to argue his point because nobody will be around long enough to have proof to the contrary. We also do not necessarily have proof for Darwin. We need to reach that infinite time span to be able to see if this is true or not.
But his ideas feel right. And seem to make enough sense on a logical level that we can accept them. I'm not arguing that on this basis we ought to accept it. I'm simply saying: I think I know what you're selling Darwin, and I'll buy it.
Curiously, I am confused even more about how things came into being. If everything evolved from something else, how do we know what was here first? Species that rely on the existence of other species in order that they can feed...which was first, predator or prey?
Or worms, from our other book Darwin's Worms, I'm curious about something here too. Darwin credits the worms with having been responsible for the Earth because they eat some dirt and shit the rest out. But the stuff they ate was there before them, or they could not have eaten it to shit it out. So the dirt had to be there in the first place for the worm to eat it. Does this mean dirt requires worms somehow? I have no idea about anything anymore.
Monkeys. The safe explanation here is that we have common ancestry with some monkeys. I say safe explanation because Darwin points out that in order for his idea to be correct, the lesser fitted version of the species would necessarily die out when making way for the better fit. So we really aren't that related to monkeys like popular science allows us to conclude. I do not mean that popular science tell us we are, though in some places it does, I mean that popular science takes us to the edge and when we realize the argument we leap and think that the leaping was their idea instead of ours...even though their conclusion was that leap and all they did was stop shy.
Darwin does not offer us a 'this-is-how-the-world-came-into-being' statement. He doesn't have to either. What he does do is give us a way of looking at and understanding this place we call Earth. His observations are seemingly very accurate, if not the truth.
Our immediate ecosystem is a lot more complex than we think at first glance. I gave the following example in class to demonstrate how related or connected things are in our immediate surroundings:
There was a ridiculously cute kitten in our cul-de-sac. He liked to hunt birds. He caught or scared away all the birds in the cul-de-sac. There were no more birds of any type. The birds weren't there to eat the insects and spiders. So, there were many, many spiders around. And plenty of insects for them to feed on. I hate mosquitoes, and spiders, especially spiders, so I was none too impressed with this. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew it was the kitten. Everyone talked about it. None of them were scientists, they simply observed this kitten and the changing environment. The kitten eventually grew very large, having feasted so well, and was in great shape. Until it was hit by a car. Accident?
Here is a picture of the culprit:
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Too Much Passion For One Human Body
Goethe's Flame
Some people have a lot of passion in their lives. Some people have very little. We are all along this spectrum for various reasons. Because I firmly believe that the extremes always teach us about the general, I find Werther a powerful book.
Werther is what happens when you take too much of that flame Prometheus gave us and put it into one body. I do not think Werther is simply explained away as overly-dramatic. I think he is much more complex than that. In fact, I think that referring to him as a drama queen is really just a way for us to alleviate our anxiety at recognizing something familiar in Werther.
We may not act like Werther all the time, but if you've ever been in love or in, what I commonly refer to most people's love as, infatuation, you'll understand Werther's behaviour.
Werther is a person born of the purest and fiercest passion. He is that bright reminder that we are capable of living, that life is worth experiencing. Even the pain is worth it. It is better to feel pain than nothing at all. Werther misses this point but you can hardly blame him. The warning is ours, not his.
Werther's passion clashes with the mundane, the vulgar, the everyday grayness that existence has become. Werther lives the only way a heavily passionate person can live: fast. He has one speed and that is on. Werther is a comet burning bright against the sky, burning up in its momentum. Werther ought to make us jealous. He ought to wake us from our dogmatic slumber.
But it is easier to call him a drama queen. You know which side of the fence I'm on for future discussion.
Some people have a lot of passion in their lives. Some people have very little. We are all along this spectrum for various reasons. Because I firmly believe that the extremes always teach us about the general, I find Werther a powerful book.
Werther is what happens when you take too much of that flame Prometheus gave us and put it into one body. I do not think Werther is simply explained away as overly-dramatic. I think he is much more complex than that. In fact, I think that referring to him as a drama queen is really just a way for us to alleviate our anxiety at recognizing something familiar in Werther.
We may not act like Werther all the time, but if you've ever been in love or in, what I commonly refer to most people's love as, infatuation, you'll understand Werther's behaviour.
Werther is a person born of the purest and fiercest passion. He is that bright reminder that we are capable of living, that life is worth experiencing. Even the pain is worth it. It is better to feel pain than nothing at all. Werther misses this point but you can hardly blame him. The warning is ours, not his.
Werther's passion clashes with the mundane, the vulgar, the everyday grayness that existence has become. Werther lives the only way a heavily passionate person can live: fast. He has one speed and that is on. Werther is a comet burning bright against the sky, burning up in its momentum. Werther ought to make us jealous. He ought to wake us from our dogmatic slumber.
But it is easier to call him a drama queen. You know which side of the fence I'm on for future discussion.
Name-Calling an Idealist Has Consequences...
The Unsuspecting People’s Friend Turned Enemy
Ibsen is always a fun read. An Enemy of the People is an
interesting study of how a society will punish threats to itself, real or imagined or misunderstood.
If I were some specialist who found some threat to people I
would feel I necessarily had to share this threat with hopes that people would
not be hurt. Dr. Stockmann tries to do this. But he cannot see past his own
self-righteousness to relay his message.
I think this transgression is forgivable given what his
intentions are.
Dr. Stockmann is right. People will get sick. This will not
end well. He is our idealist. As the idealist he clashes with the ever ready
fiend of idealism: pragmatism. The fight is not fair though. Pragmatism has
capitalism in its corner. Where money reigns the Human Being does not have
solid ground on which to stand.
Ultimately, the cost of repairs is too much. The safety of
the general public and the potential risk of the baths do not measure up
against repair costs. The powers that be choose to risk human lives rather than
relinquish their cash cow. This is not very likely nowadays though, almost
unheard of, right?
When you disillusion an idealist they turn a very certain
type of sour. Stockmann becomes this grandiose madman on a path of, dare I say,
revenge. Stockmann is wronged and he would not budge from his ideal. I’m on his
side. But his folly was thinking other people would get his message and be as
concerned. His folly was not understanding his society.
He makes this odd declaration at the end, a sort of
Kierkegaardian re-affirmation of individualism: “the strongest man in the world
is he who stands most alone”. But is this really true? Is this a perversion of
Kierkegaard’s understanding of an individual being?
My dear Stockmann, one must still play in the sandbox.
Leading revolution is something I stand behind but I am suspicious that your
passion for change might be too heavily influenced by your bruised ego. A good
revolution must survive its leader. A good revolution is for something
abstract, not just to drive the wolves (who have wounded you specifically) out
of society. Mr. Stockmann, you have become that wolf if you carry on too much
like this. Sometimes the man standing most alone is there for some other reason
than his strength, perhaps he smells bad or has no social skills.
I suspect Kierkegaard’s observations on the death rebellion
did not conclude with referring to street kids at ‘capital’ meant for some revolutionary
army. But maybe I’m wrong. I’m going to go be alone now so I can feel powerful!
PS: those towns people who label him an enemy...are they really worth saving?
Charlotte vs Emily, Battle of the Brontes
An Unfortunate Comparison
I had the great misfortune of being introduced to Jane Eyre at the same time as Wuthering Heights. The class was made to think about the books in terms of each other. It was ultimately very polemical. People chose one over the other. They were no longer seen as separate entities.
A comment upon Byronic figures: Rochester and Heathcliff are our Byronic figures. The Brontes have very different reactions to this attraction though. Emily creates the force that is Heathcliff and we can only stand by to watch as that force builds momentum to its inevitable conclusion. Charlotte creates Rochester and smashes him to pieces to the point where he is controlled by a woman. Very different responses to the attraction of a Byronic figure.
Jane's reliability as a narrator is brought into question over a few hundred pages. One character in Wuthering Heights has us questioning narrative reliability and observing narrative tricks with far fewer lines.
Wuthering Heights does not finish with bible thumping over the head.
Really, the list is endless. Because the books are so different.
I could not have a proper appreciation of Jane Eyre if I tried, but I do feel like there is some value to comparing the books like that. Especially considering two sisters wrote them around the same time. No competition was ever had between siblings, right?
I would prefer to compare Jane to Heathcliff if I were forced to compare. As they are our central characters. Jane could be seen as a Byronic hero but if she is she drags the title down quite a bit.
Jane Eyre is a good book. A good story. For me that is all it is.
Wuthering Heights, on the other hand, is a great book. There is a quality to Emily Bronte's novel that I will only call Beauty. It is lacking in Charlotte Bronte's. The Beauty of Emily's work stops you in your tracks, it is that moment of the sublime, of the truth, that moment of awe. I do not like comparing the books, but if I have to I'm afraid Jane Eyre takes the back seat of a really long bus.
Jane Eyre is very specific to certain topics. Wuthering Heights, though guilty of the same specificity, has something eternal in it. Dark or otherwise. And so, I lay Jane down to rest. She can go to her St. John Rivers's God in peace. While I, happily, follow Heathcliff to that secret passage between the graves.
I had the great misfortune of being introduced to Jane Eyre at the same time as Wuthering Heights. The class was made to think about the books in terms of each other. It was ultimately very polemical. People chose one over the other. They were no longer seen as separate entities.
A comment upon Byronic figures: Rochester and Heathcliff are our Byronic figures. The Brontes have very different reactions to this attraction though. Emily creates the force that is Heathcliff and we can only stand by to watch as that force builds momentum to its inevitable conclusion. Charlotte creates Rochester and smashes him to pieces to the point where he is controlled by a woman. Very different responses to the attraction of a Byronic figure.
Jane's reliability as a narrator is brought into question over a few hundred pages. One character in Wuthering Heights has us questioning narrative reliability and observing narrative tricks with far fewer lines.
Wuthering Heights does not finish with bible thumping over the head.
Really, the list is endless. Because the books are so different.
I could not have a proper appreciation of Jane Eyre if I tried, but I do feel like there is some value to comparing the books like that. Especially considering two sisters wrote them around the same time. No competition was ever had between siblings, right?
I would prefer to compare Jane to Heathcliff if I were forced to compare. As they are our central characters. Jane could be seen as a Byronic hero but if she is she drags the title down quite a bit.
Jane Eyre is a good book. A good story. For me that is all it is.
Wuthering Heights, on the other hand, is a great book. There is a quality to Emily Bronte's novel that I will only call Beauty. It is lacking in Charlotte Bronte's. The Beauty of Emily's work stops you in your tracks, it is that moment of the sublime, of the truth, that moment of awe. I do not like comparing the books, but if I have to I'm afraid Jane Eyre takes the back seat of a really long bus.
Jane Eyre is very specific to certain topics. Wuthering Heights, though guilty of the same specificity, has something eternal in it. Dark or otherwise. And so, I lay Jane down to rest. She can go to her St. John Rivers's God in peace. While I, happily, follow Heathcliff to that secret passage between the graves.
Oh, That's What Love Is? In That Case, No Thanks!
Jane Eyre's 'Love' for Rochester
This particular topic bothers me. Jane does not marry Rochester until he is crippled and broken. Until he is no longer the man he used to be.
I can accept the following argument as valid: Now that Jane has risen up a bit and Rochester has sunk down a bit they are on equal ground and thus can have an equal relationship and so they can be married finally.
But I don't have to like it. And given my suspicions about Jane's reliability I'm going to call bullshit again. Rochester isn't just humbled, he is maimed. He needs Jane and requires her assistance for everything. She tells us herself that she became and is his right hand.
But you're probably right, having power over someone you once stood in awe of is probably not a big factor for entering into a relationship with them...
Jane does not commit to a relationship until she is in control of that relationship. Jane's inability to understand her own feelings mixed with this grandiose idea she is better than everyone leaves me with an anxious relation to her.
In fact, people should be starting to wonder: why does Byron hate Jane Eyre so much?
I honestly don't know. It rubs me the wrong way. I am endlessly fascinated by how many people like this book. My bottom line is that I don't trust it and I think a better story could have been told. Am I going to write that better one? No.
I am certain of this though: If Jane Eyre's autobiography (subtitle, remember) gives an account of what 'Love' is, I want nothing to do with it. I have grown to understand that love will involve understanding your own feelings. Jane is suspicious enough that I do not trust this. Also, the religious zeal she shows at the very end of the book is out of left-field. Perhaps an attempt to satisfy the God-lovers in her life? Perhaps she could not distance herself from religion. Either way, it is out of place. And Jane, I fear, is not capable of loving.
This particular topic bothers me. Jane does not marry Rochester until he is crippled and broken. Until he is no longer the man he used to be.
I can accept the following argument as valid: Now that Jane has risen up a bit and Rochester has sunk down a bit they are on equal ground and thus can have an equal relationship and so they can be married finally.
But I don't have to like it. And given my suspicions about Jane's reliability I'm going to call bullshit again. Rochester isn't just humbled, he is maimed. He needs Jane and requires her assistance for everything. She tells us herself that she became and is his right hand.
But you're probably right, having power over someone you once stood in awe of is probably not a big factor for entering into a relationship with them...
Jane does not commit to a relationship until she is in control of that relationship. Jane's inability to understand her own feelings mixed with this grandiose idea she is better than everyone leaves me with an anxious relation to her.
In fact, people should be starting to wonder: why does Byron hate Jane Eyre so much?
I honestly don't know. It rubs me the wrong way. I am endlessly fascinated by how many people like this book. My bottom line is that I don't trust it and I think a better story could have been told. Am I going to write that better one? No.
I am certain of this though: If Jane Eyre's autobiography (subtitle, remember) gives an account of what 'Love' is, I want nothing to do with it. I have grown to understand that love will involve understanding your own feelings. Jane is suspicious enough that I do not trust this. Also, the religious zeal she shows at the very end of the book is out of left-field. Perhaps an attempt to satisfy the God-lovers in her life? Perhaps she could not distance herself from religion. Either way, it is out of place. And Jane, I fear, is not capable of loving.
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