Q-Majin?

The Synthesis-of-All-Posts Post

2008-08-08T14:43:00.001-07:00

This is going to be the most important thing I ever write, and I want to hereby announce that I know beforehand that it will never ever be taken seriously. Not for a couple hundred years, at least.*

Following my own moving and somewhat alarming experience with rising Kundalini energy last year, I've read more than a few articles on the physiology of the still-somewhat-new-to-the-West phenomenon. Yesterday, I read an article by Ravindra Kumar and Margaret Dempsey that was published in the Journal of Religion & Psychical Research (July 2002, Vol. 25, Issue 3) titled "Kundalini, Soul and the Right Side of the Brain."

In their abstract, they state their major claim: "Kundalini shifts consciousness from the left side of the brain to the right resulting in spiritual intuitions and insights."

We'll get back to that. Today, I made what was probably a seemingly throw-away remark on Michael's blog that would not surprise any of my four regular readers -- I suggested that rationalism is a way of thinking and knowing (call it "heady") that need not necessarily be assumed as a better alternative to something non-rational ("hearty"). **

The right brain, to remind my readers, would be associated with the non-rational or "hearty" way of knowing -- but as Kumar & Dempsey note, it is also the half of the brain that "runs" the left side of our body.

One more digression: my wife is left-handed. She claims that lefties have a kind of implicit understanding among each other. Her favorite place to visit has always been Block Island, RI, where an incredible 38% of residents are left-handed. She says it's an essential part of the culture there, but of course, when I ask her to explain what she means, she cannot rationally account for it. Not incidentally, my wife seems to me to be a quintessential example of the right-brain type.

My thesis: that the rational and non-rational thinking are co-equal (if very different) ways of encountering the world. Further, that humankind has probably had its phases where either one of these modes was dominant (perhaps the "Dark Age"?). Further, that handedness might serve as a general indicator of what kind of thinking, and in what percentage, our society values.

Currently, roughly 10% of people are left-handed. If I'm right, that means that (roughly) one in ten people are non-rational-dominant thinkers.

If there were a time an place in human history where non-rational thinking was dominant, I would expect to find a far greater percentage of inhabitants who were left-handed. Of late, the Mayans with their mystical astrological understanding and their calendar ending in 2012 have been among the most famous non-rational thinkers in history. I'd like to hire some diggers to tell me if their pottery was made for lefties.

In any case, what I really want to suggest is that there may sometimes be changes in society and human being that are so vast, slow, and subtle that they go almost undetected -- that they cannot be readily conceived because they seem stable to the lay observer. If babies born after December of 2012 start to use their left hands more often, though -- don't be totally surprised.

*What I've proposed here I've come to know because I am left-brained by nature and mostly nurture, but in the course of the Kundalini experience, I became aware of the right brain way of thinking. I'm a little ambidextrous with my head, that is.

**Since I'm linking to Michael's blog, I thought I might make an example out of his content. Michael's talking about the value difference between African American Enlish Vernacular and whatever we call what Brian Williams speaks. Michael assumes, I think rightly, that each of these languages expresses some things better, and some things worse, than the other -- in other words, that they are co-equals with widely divergent uses. I think the same mindset might be very effectively applied to the difference between Rational and Mystical (or "non-rational") thinking, for many of the same reasons Michael offers in justification of his argument: certainly the rational way has its strengths and can reveal certain truths -- possibly the mystical is just as effective (I think we live in a culture that unfairly values the rational to the exclusion of the mystical).

New Energy Policy

2008-08-05T17:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, genius is pretty.

(P.S. -- I'd like to see Britney try that.)

Advice: Read Richard Tarnas (Pt. 2)

2008-07-27T18:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's post on Richard Tarnas was for those of you who need to read him. This second is for those of you who don't, because you already get it:

Today I was reading Cosmos and Psyche on the porch, reading Tarnas' chapter on what Carl Jung called "synchronicity." Jung's word concerns those coincidences that seem a little too improbable to be entirely devoid of meaning. I was reading on the porch with my wife, sort of vaguely trying to open myself to synchronicity to see if I could "get it to happen."

Digression: since I met her, Gretchen's been telling me to read Eckhart Tolle -- "I know you'll like him," she always says. His first book was called The Power of Now, and his more recent international sensation (thanks to Oprah's Book Club) is titled A New Earth. I've put off reading Tolle because I've sort of figured I knew what was inside: a kind of new-agey metaphysic based on something-like-prayer-and-gratitude. Ho-hum. I'm too smart for that nonsense.

While I was reading Tarnas this morning I said to Gretchen, "You know, this guy is sort of suggesting a new way of thinking that is neither exclusively modern nor 'primal' in its nature -- it's almost like he's describing a third way that is a mystical combination of both."

"Like Eckhart," she said, with a glare.

I fell to reading silently, and these are the first two paragraphs I read (!!!) in Cosmos and Psyche after the exchange about Eckhart Tolle:

On rare occasions a synchronicity proves to have an extraordinary power through its impact on an historically significant individual, so that it ultimately plays a pivotal role in the collective life of the larger culture. The famous coincidence that formed a turning point in the life of Petrarch took place at the climax of his ascent of Mont Ventoux in April 1336, an event that has long been regarded by scholars as representing the symbolic beginning of the Renaissance. For many years Petrarch had sensed a growing impulse to ascend the mountain, to see the vast panorama from its peak, though doing such a thing was virtually unheard of in his time. Finally choosing the day, with his brother for a companion, he made the long ascent, marked by intense physical exertion and inward reflection. When he at last attained the summit, with clouds below his feet and winds in his face, Petrarch found himself overwhelmed by the great sweep of the world that now opened out to him--snowcapped mountains and the sea in the distance, rivers and valleys below, the wide expanse of skies in every direction. James Hillman recounts the event:
At the top of the mountain, with the exhilarating view of French Provence, the Alps, and the Mediterranean spread before him, he had opened his tiny pocket copy of Augustine's Confessions. Turning at random to book X, 8, he read: "And men go abroad to admire the heights of mountains, the mighty billows of the sea, the broad tide of rivers, the compass of the ocean, and the circuits of the stars, and pass themselves by..."
Petrarch was stunned at the coincidence between Augustine's words and the time and place they were read. His emotion both announced the revelation of his personal vocation and heralded the new attitude of the Renaissance... Petrarch draws this crucial conclusion from the Mont Ventoux event: "Nothing is admirable but the soul" (nihil praeter animum esse mirabile).
Petrarch was so moved by the coincidental force of Augustine's words that he remained silent for the entire descent down the mountain. He at once recognized the coincidence as part of a larger pattern of such transformative moments that had happened to others in the history of spiritual conversions. "I could not believe that it was by a mere accident that I happened upon them. What I had there read I believed to be addressed to me and to no other, remembering that Saint Augustine had once suspected the same thing in his own case." For indeed Augustine had undergone a nearly identical experience at his own momentous spiritual turning point. In the garden of Milan in 386, in a frenzy of spiritual crisis, he heard a child's voice from a nearby house mysteriously repeating the words, "Tolle, lege" ("Pick up and read").

"Tolle, lege!?!" Okay, okay -- so I went inside and picked up Gretchen's copy of A New Earth, opened to a random page, and went down 14 lines (in honor of Petrarch). Come to think of it, I think I'll keep what I read there private, but just admit that, well... it was awesome.

If you think this post is "too much" (Michael, Santos, Mxrk), consult Pt. 1 of the Tarnas posts. It's much more likely.

Advice: Read Richard Tarnas (Pt. 1)

2008-07-26T15:44:00.001-07:00

I'm reading a 2006 book by Richard Tarnas callled Psyche and Cosmos. I confess, he had me from his opening sentence: "Skepticism is the chastity of the intellect, Santayana declared." For me, this one of those darts through the heart that stings a little because I recognized it as something I had been trying to say, without the same clarity.

Tarnas' first book was published in 1991, and was called The Passion of the Western Mind. I haven't read it, but it supposedly traced the whole history of Western thought from the presocratics through postmodernism. Quoting Santayana, and in the tradition of Carl Jung and Joseph Cambell, Tarnas finds himself within that immaculately ignored tradition of powerful thinking that resists and has been resisted by academia.

Think about that again for a moment: Skepticism is the chastity of the intellect. In Tarnas' opening chapters, he suggests that we are living in a kind of intellectual sea-change of the same magnitude as that represented by the Copernican revolution. He tells the story of those early astronomical reformers, and reminds us that Copernicus and his immediate followers were not hailed as the geniuses that history revealed them to be. Instead, they "wrote letters to each other across centuries," and they argued with the twin authorities of the church (which might be expected) and the general scientific community, who regarded a heliocentric theory as betraying the most fundamental of our sensory observations.

Tarnas challenges us to imagine the same kind of new thought emerging today. It would have to be described by politicians, by scientists, by academics, and by theologians -- by all of them, it would be dismissed as ridiculous. There would not be a vast and happy transformation over the course of 18 months; instead, this transformation might take centuries.

All of this makes me think about the prejudices of academics -- the ones that I have observed in others, of course (as I am blind to my own!). What things have academics not only disagreed with, but effectively refused to consider over the past decade? A tentative list:

The possibility that personal "identity" is illusory and unimportant
The ennobling potential of devout spirituality
The prospect of an eternal universe (i.e., no Big Bang)
Conservative economics
"Essences," Truth (sg.), and authoritarianism
That "Progress" is a myth (note: postmodern theorists love to claim that they believe progress is a myth, but I've seen almost none of them [in academia] behave accordingly -- that is, renounce the notions of better Justice and intellectual superiority that seem to come naturally with history -- that is, most graduate students think they are more knowing than Plato because they've read Derrida, who came "after" Plato in historical terms)
That astrology is the product of ancient wisdom rather than superstition
That the mind is not entirely physiological -- i.e., that Prozac is/has been a con
That sexuality is a not genetic matter
That man-made global warming is an overall positive

Of course, this is a list composed mostly of my own observations, and probably is the result of my own biases and prejudices. Feel free to call me out: what do I refuse to consider? What about you? Have you remained chaste so long that you've forgotten how to give yourself over, making chastity itself a hollow act of dead piety? Are the words of the prophets really written on the subway walls and tenement halls, and not in Philological Quarterly? Have you scoffed at our time's Copernicus?

For good measure, here's a YouTube video of Harvard Professor Richard Tarnas speaking as the keynote at a conference on astrology (yes, astrology, not astronomy):

A Dream Without a Dream

2008-07-24T05:35:00.000-07:00

No one thinks it necessary to ask "What did that mean?" upon stubbing their toe, spilling a glass of water, or receiving a fortuitous pro-rated refund check in the mail. These things happen, right? They are the substance of life, and to comment on them further seems somehow beside the point.

Yet, when it comes to literary criticism, no stubbing can pass unremarked. It's in the nature of the game. Most of the time, I think it's right and proper that critics ask "What does that mean?" of even the smallest details. In one of Poe's more famous essays on art, he claims not to have put anything in the story but that which was absolutely necessary -- in other words, he encourages us to look that closely. If a character stubs a toe, by golly, it must be an allusion to "Achilles' Heel" or something!

But I have begun to wonder whether "looking closely" and "looking critically" are two different things: the difference between "seizing the day," "getting the most out of life," "Being present," on the one hand and, on the other, asking "What does that mean?" If you stub your toe, the gurus say "Go into that, let it be, get the full experience." But honestly, nobody (sane) asks what it means when they stub their toe.

I am thinking, again, of the correspondence (if I were a postmodernist I would definitely turn that into a renewed jargon-word and write: "correspondance.") between narrative fiction and life. My reading and my living have so far convinced me that we tend to treat these things very differently, and that it might be more interesting (both in terms of living and to our reading experience) if we did not. I'm working on finding a way to demonstrate this point without resorting to storytelling.

Comments are welcome, but this is just thinking aloud at this point, I suppose.

Don't Get Too Excited

2008-07-14T20:02:00.000-07:00

Things are looking reasonably good for the Obama campaign, and I currently hope (and expect) that he'll win in November. However, I want to be on record as encouraging new/young voters to continue learning about history as we approach our next presidential election.

My concern is with the Obama supporters who think in terms of utopia and panacea: most of them from the generation of possibly-somewhat-naive optimists (and heck, what generation isn't when it's 18-27-years old?), these voters are overwhelmed with joy at the possibility that all social ills will be cured if only we elect the right man in the fall.

Of which social ills I will name poverty and racism as among the most upsetting to young voters. And while it's nice to see that another generation of humans will have consciences, I'm frightened to think that critical thinking might not come along for the ride.

I remember having one of those most excellent graduate school dialogues in Heav. 215 a couple of years ago with some of my four regular readers -- we were disagreeing about something having to do with social welfare spending. They were arguing for more, and I was saying "fine," but asking for a better delineation around the question of "how much is enough?" I used the case of Lyndon Johnson's "Great Society," and the conversation came to an abrupt halt -- not because I had made an airtight case, but rather, because nobody else in the room had ever heard of such a thing.

Not to make too much of a history lesson of it, but...

In Johnson's first State of the Union address, "he called for a war on poverty and the creation of a 'Great Society,' a prosperous nation that had overcome racial divisions" (source). Wikipedia reports, "New major spending programs that addressed education, medical care, urban problems, and transportation were launched during this period." The Great Society even set aside new funds for touchy-feely things like "English" and painting, enough to form the financial foundation for the National Endowment for Arts and Humanities. Oh, and, there was a big war happening overseas at the time (1965) that was getting worse by the minute. If you're planning on voting for Obama, all of this -- almost to a word -- should sound familiar. And admittedly, it sounds great.

On paper. In my judgment, however, history took a turn for the not-much-better. Whether I'm correct or just being Debbie Downer I'll leave it up to ya'll to judge... I will note, however, that racism and poverty still exist, last I checked. And might exist even after Obama takes office. Brace yourselves.

Oh, and, oil lines might exist too. See 1973, for example.

Interspecies Communication

2008-07-12T19:35:00.000-07:00

I was thinking today in a stairwell (where I do most of my best thinking) about human intelligence, and although I sometimes wonder if we overestimate ourselves, today we seemed a pretty incredible phenomenon. Then visions of eternity snuck into the picture, and I wondered whether the intelligence native to those of us alive in 2008 would be intelligible to whatever descendents follow us in, say, the year 100,000 A.D.

I thought there might be three possibilities: 1) They look back on us and understand our "major" keys but sort of don't understand our daily existences... maybe they have a grip on what religion was, for example, but not on exactly how we expected it to work (or whatever). 2) They look back on us as pre-"human" or something, precisely the way we think of cro-magnon. 3) They've been so burdened by their knowledge of history that they haven't been able to "evolve" in any significant ways. They're basically bookkeepers too frightened to make the break to Ubermensch territory.

Now I don't mean to make myself out to be Stephen Daedalus or anything, but all of this took about three seconds. Interesting enough, but then I wondered about the possibility of human lineage being somehow terminated (probably global warming, no doubt!).

I decided I could handle that, but that I was very uncomfortable with the idea of "intelligence" being extinct. Could it be preserved, I wondered? Could we somehow put the basics of our collective experience in an airtight steel orb and hope that curiosity would someday prompt another intelligent species to crack it open (imagine their surpise!)?

Key to this endeavor would be a way of thinking that, I believe, does not come naturally to us. In order to preserve some of our experience for a future intelligent species that is not derived from humanity, we would have to think about how other species think. I do not believe this comes naturally to us: whenever I have heard this topic approached it has been framed in terms of human intelligence: e.g., dolphins are, relative to humans, not as smart. We have taught chimps to identify some of our words and images. But what if we ask how chimps think without assuming they think less efficiently--what if we cease comparing? What do they know? How might we encapsulate our collective experience in a way that it might be intelligible to them if they ever stumbled upon it in the future? Is intelligence anything?

If I remember correctly, something like this was represented in the Jodie Foster movie, Contact. Or some movie like it. The scientists sent a kind of time capsule out into space with contents including basic arithmetic and geometry, assuming any intelligent species would have some notion of basic mathematics. I wonder if that's a safe assumption?

One of the marks of psychological maturity is being able to think like another person. I wonder if it's possible to think like another species?

Apologies for the length, again. I'm working on it.

Bias, History, Foucault, Baseball, and Artistry

2008-07-10T17:13:00.000-07:00

Five years ago, every "postmodern theorist" I talked to agreed -- and usually cited Foucault as their evidence -- that the observer could never be neutral. Every pundit is an ideologue, every critic speaks from a loaded viewpoint, every person is somehow trapped in historical forces larger than themselves. And I'm not sure that 2008's theorists are any different; it's just that I haven't talked to anyone about this for five years. Because...

Well, frankly, because five years ago it seemed like a really good point to me. Although it somehow "felt wrong," I couldn't figure out how to respond to the argument with an argument that felt better.

However! -- lately I swear that a monkey could see through to the silly assumptions of that claim. Everyone watching coverage of the 2008 election cycle should be able to see who is "in the bag" for which candidate. Partisan outlets like Fox News, Air America, and Rush Limbaugh aside, it's easy to tell that Keith Olbermann is a democrat -- and yet, when Tim Russert died, Olbermann grandstanded with a wrinkle on his earnest-looking brow with Chris Matthews: "It was amazing how Tim gave equal balance to both sides of every argument -- and isn't that what we all aspire to, as journalists?"

Well, no, Olbermann -- obviously not. You don't. Rush Limbaugh doesn't. And so on. But the question for postmodernists does not concern hacks like those. The question is, did someone like Tim Russert manage to approach objectivity in his journalistic persona?

I think he did. I think it's possible. And I'll prove it right now. But first, soften yourself up, reader. I'm not going to be able to make my case unless you admit that you're drawn to hacks like Olbermann and Limbaugh -- you find them exciting, don't you? It's good to hear simple interpretations that spare you the effort of thinking, especially when they're delivered with the tones of earnestness. If you do feel implicated, don't fret -- you're certainly not alone. Olbermann and O'Reilly and Limbaugh are popular. Apparently everybody likes one of them.

But talking politics makes your shoulders tight, doesn't it, Reader? Allow me to use an analogy instead, before returning to the direct question of whether or not it might be possible to report on history (and current events) in a way that would bewilder Foucault's disciples.

The analogy is the umpire. When I played baseball, I hated umpires. And not just when they made bad calls -- which they did all of the time in my opponents' favor. I hated them for their lack of passion. I wondered what it would take to descend to such a lamentable condition as a human being. What kind of childhood abuse would lead someone to become... an umpire.

But as I've stepped away from active participation in baseball, my respect for umpires has grown. I have come to understand that umpires value the game itself above either of the teams competing. They manage to observe without bias.

"Not so quick!" hollers the Foucalt-worshipper. "You've forgotten that the umpire assents to the overarching ideology of 'baseball' itself every time he steps onto the field. If he is an American league umpire, he reveals himself as ideologically in favor of the designated hitter just by agreeing to call a game."

But in corresponding terms, if you will grant that the umpire can call a game without harboring bias against either of the teams, won't you admit that a journalist or historian (or critic) may "call" that game without bias to partisan factions, at least?

Take the rise of Barack Obama and the 2008 election, now. Wouldn't it be possible to report on what is happening without bias? I think it would. I think an artist could do it. And so I come to what this post is really about:

Definition of Art and Artistry: Art opposes partisanship.

Is that true?

I'll start writing shorter posts again soon -- apologies. It takes practice.

Global Warming and Critical Thinking

2008-07-08T13:20:00.000-07:00

I still watch The Real World even though I'm too old to be on the show. I like to think that watching helps me keep in touch with something that I can't be in touch with directly in my own life. After this season's shows, the cast has been doing these little 30-second spots about how we can save electricity (and the planet) by unplugging our cellphone chargers when we're not using them... and that kind of thing.

Saving the planet is really big right now among 18-27-year olds, it turns out. Everywhere I turn lately I hear them saying things like, "We just gotta get the message out, you know -- spread awareness" or, sometimes more urgently, "We need to fundamentally change the way we live."

I do not mean to question their earnestness -- in fact, I'm certain that all of this is well-meaning and generated by the best intentions. I admire the optimism and even aspire to this kind of active engagement.

However, I genuinely believe that this movement has relied on the sloppy and uncritical thinking that has almost been nurtured in this generation, and I think the evidence is growing. This website carries an interesting banner/headline-thing: "There's nothing wrong with a fourth grade understanding of science. If you're a fourth grader." On this part of that site, you can watch a clip from a segment put together by Penn and Teller of "magic" fame and of HBO's series, Bullshit. In the clip -- which can be enjoyed whether you're nervous about global warming or not -- Penn and Teller lay bare the problem with critical thinking that these young people seem to share.

I have written before about my suspicion of science and my desire to see a "Scientific Reformation" in which money would be removed from the field of science (never happen, I know). Might be worth revisiting.

To this day, I've never talked to a person who believes in the man-made global warming crisis who has been able to cite any specific reliable information as the reason for their belief. Instead, they've heard it all over the place, seen Al Gore's movie and, well, that's been good enough for them. (Apparently having numbers on the X and Y axis of your graphs is superflous these days, Mr. Gore?)

Now, none of this would be a problem if "fighting global warming" was harmless -- but I am increasingly convinced that our imbalanced drive to "conserve" natural resources and to clean up our environment is beginning to cause human poverty. Gas prices are only the most obvious culprit -- food prices have risen. Taxes are heavier. While America's upper-middle-class works to ban fossil fuels and to convince us that we should worry about offsetting our carbon footprint (buying indulgences, anyone!?), the rest of us are stuck with a price tag that is becoming increasingly unmanageable. Read even a little about malaria in Africa and the way that DDT would wipe out the disease altogether if only Rachel Carson's vision were not so influential.

I've used this scenario before, but it bears repeating: imagine that "scientists" discover next week that (somehow) carbon dioxide in the atmosphere actually increases the health of the planet and its species -- after all, plants "breathe" CO2, and perhaps they could be spurred to grow better. Whatever. If that happened, and Al Gore got on the air and said, "We were wrong -- CO2 is a good thing. Keep those factories pumping. In fact, step it up a little bit!" -- If all of that happened, what do we think would happen to the contemporary environmentalist crowd? Would they agree to urge industry to Go Go Go gangbusters?

I have a suspicion they wouldn't, and it's because the global-warming crowd is fundamentally motivated by a dissatisfaction with capitalism, and they're using (more or less consciously) the "Green" movement as a means to an end (that is, to moderating or ending capitalism).

Don't misunderstand: that's a viable argument, and I'd like to talk about it -- capitalism does seem rough, and sometimes I think it only "works" for about 10% of the population. Maybe we should get another system where we can all dress up like big bird and dance more and never work for "the man." But as Penn and Teller point out, I wish that we could call a duck a duck and talk about what we're really talking about.

Oh, and because I know somebody's going to be a wise guy and tell me I don't have the facts to back all of this up and maybe I'm the one being uncritical.... well, no. I was going to provide a series of links just then questioning the "science" of global warming. But you're big kids now -- look it up yourself.

Linguistics and Perception

2008-07-06T16:03:00.000-07:00

Simone Weil says, "A mind enclosed in language is in prison." I wonder.

Over the past few years I've noticed a very interesting phenomenon working in my life. I'll tell a story to explain:

When I first met my wife we were walking somewhere together and we were doing that thing that couples do when they're falling in love -- sharing our likes and dislikes, our passions and our fears, and so on. We started talking about dogs. As it turned out, we were both allergic. But somewhat surprisingly, we were both quite fond of dogs "but for the allergy." When my wife said that her favorite breed was a Corgi, I said, "A what?"

Never heard of it. She explained to me what it was and couldn't believe I'd never heard of it.

The next day on our walk, as if on cue, we walked past someone walking a corgi and as soon as we passed them my wife pointed, bulged her eyes, and whispered -- "That's a corgi!"

And then for the next month or more I saw corgis everywhere I went. In the four years since then, I've seen at least a hundred corgis (or is it corgies?). But I swear I cannot recollect ever having seen a corgi before learning what it was called. Here's a picture in case you've never seen a corgi, though I can hardly believe that could be possible, since they're around every corner:

Fastforward to last week. I'm playing a kind of virtual and timed generic scrabble with Wishydig who pounds me routinely in the word game. Looking at the words he formed after the timer dinged, I noticed "Ecru." I looked it up, stunned that he'd have typed in such a bizarre arrangement of letters -- Ecru describes the shade greyish-pale yellow or a light greyish-yellowish brown, according to wikipedia. I sent him a message, and he replied by linking me to a recent television commercial where a kindergartener says "ecru!" while guessing about color identification. This is ecru, by the way:

Anyway, my point should be pretty easy to grasp now: are words the gateway to perception? That is, have I trained my senses to receive only that information which I have already codified in my personal mental dictionary? I suppose there must be a stupid thought experiment somewhere instructing readers to "imagine something they've never heard of."

Does my friend the linguist have a more variegated visual experience as a consequence of his broader vocabulary?

Unremarkable Re-entry

2008-07-06T10:46:00.001-07:00

Hello. I guess I'll just pick up where I left off, and make everybody feel as comfortable as possible in the wake of this inexplicable seven month hiatus. So...

Forthcoming posts will likely include:

Some less reactionary, better informed arguments concerning the dangers inherent in the political movement known as environmentalism.
Further consideration about the person of Jesus.
Some photoshopped self-portraits.
Questions about pedagogy and the problems implicit in "teaching."
Observations concerning "the South," from a newly embedded reporter.
A review of E.L. Doctorow's City of God and some insightful critical commentary.
Some parables (because they have ears, but do not listen--or whatever).
Links to incredible or important news items.
A poem or two.
Some radical and possibly controversial interpretations of history.
Plenty of other unnecessary 500-wordish experiments in communication.

And, I hope -- I still genuinely hope -- that all of my readers will feel welcomed and encouraged to comment or criticize or debate or, finally, to acquiesce on a semi-frequent basis.

Professionalization Forces Another Blogger Offline

2007-11-14T19:45:00.000-08:00

I might have to let this blog float away into the aether pretty soon; apologies to loyal readers, but trying to write a blog that's accountable in a professional way sort of defeats the point of having a blog at all (for me, at least).

So, look for my future work in obscure academic journals full of platitudinous, eminently safe phrases about revolution and justice and rebellion and progress and "the new left" or whatever.

Years later, if all goes well, look for my Camille-Paglia-like inflammatory post-academia column in the N Y Times (and syndicates).

A Thinly Disguised Prophecy

2007-11-08T19:00:00.000-08:00

Those who do not learn from history are bound to repeat it.
--George Santayana

Remember hearing that when you were young?--it must have been a kind of truism for our grandparents' generation. I think it is time we recognize that we don't believe Santayana anymore, that we are no longer in control of our fate, and that we are currently blindly repeating history. Of course, if we could admit this then we would not be blind; this is the essence of Fate. Admittedly, there is something thrilling about living "out of history." It occurs to me that a civilization in irreversible decline might put its hands over its eyes and simply enjoy the fall.

Occasional Thought: perhaps the central wisdom of all religion is this: that when the current world order ends (when the apocalypse is upon the world), one must understand that all is not lost. Those American citizens who would be prepared to face the fall of the American Republic, for example, are the true believers.

So Necessary the Con of Man

2007-11-08T09:53:00.000-08:00

I've been waiting to hear it phrased this way--although, I suppose one might argue that global warming isn't quite the greatest scam in history. Not yet. For the moment, that honor still goes to some guys in sandals bringing down the Roman Empire (or the institutionalizers of the sandal-wearing movement) in the first and second century A.D. Ahem--depending on your perspective, I suppose. But if the global warming (sandal-wearing) advocates continue to gain converts, they just might earn that honor...

Question: Could civilization not be based on a con, a scam, or a lie? Maybe we need one. NBC is pushing the motto "Green is Universal" this week (wow--does nobody remember two years ago when there were "no grand narratives?"). Are we living through an eclipse of unifying ideologies, where "religion" of the old order is being replaced by "religion" of the new order? Roman citizens!--respondez!

Addendum: I'm not the only one who says so. See also. See also. See also.

Postscript: At first I thought to myself, hey, what's the big deal? Then I thought, and who reads this blog anyway? But now I think that blogs are probably being recorded somewhere in the annals of internetography, and I'd like to be on record saying that I do not think this scam is "harmless." Pascal's wager does not apply to the environment. What we have to lose by "going green" may be far greater than what we have to gain. Those who think medieval serf-style hunger and poverty can never happen again in the West have almost no understanding of the real-world data that constitutes economic reality.

Qualified Self-Rejoinder: However, this is not to say we ought not to value Nature. We should. I do very much, and I will happily participate in any voluntary beautification schemes. I like state parks, I dislike chimney stacks, I enjoy frisbee golf, and long walks in the woods, and fishing. I'm certainly not a technophile. I would encourage people to plant trees...

An Epigraph is Worth 12,000 Words?

2007-11-07T06:27:00.001-08:00

As I'm working on academic papers, I like to write under a few tentative epigraphs--sometimes I leave them in or replace them after I have written the chapter, sometimes I just take them out in the revision process. I'm currently about a dozen pages into the last chapter of my dissertation, which I will very loosely describe as "about Hawthorne's ethics," and these are the four tentative epigraphs at the top of my paper:

"His state/Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,/And post o'er land and ocean without rest;/They also serve who only stand and wait." (Milton, "On His Blindness")
"Silence is the only voice of our God." (Melville, Pierre)
"It is when from the innermost depths of our being we need a sound which does mean something--when we cry out for an answer and it is not given us--it is then that we touch the silence of God." (Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace)
"The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls, and whispered in the sounds of silence." (Simon and Garfunkel)

And with epigraphs like these, I'm thinking--who needs a chapter???

"I met a traveler from an antique land..."

2007-10-28T14:43:00.000-07:00

Went for a walk today with my camera. The "big bugs" are still around, even as we get ready to turn the calendars to November. This praying mantis had a certain majesty to him that made me recall a mostly-forgotten admonition from (I think) Emerson: in the lines I'm recalling, Emerson said that he would love to meet and befriend whoever could simply appreciate the beauty of nature without wanting to make it his own--that is, who could walk past the rosebush without plucking a stem, or past a praying mantis without taking its picture. Or maybe I felt like Hamlet, who can never bring himself to kill the praying Claudius.

Bonus points if you can name the source for this post's title (without using Google!). Here are a couple more pictures snapped during my walk today:

Google Page Rank -- Update

2007-10-28T07:54:00.000-07:00

Yes! -- we're officially back on the map. Google was ranking Q-Majin? at 0/10 until this morning. Now we're working with a more respectable 3/10. My last blog made it up to 5/10... let's hope that doesn't happen again. That made me feel like I had to be responsible and accountable.

One More Ride on the Questionable-Science Bus

2007-10-26T18:12:00.001-07:00

"Scientists" are at it again, now claiming that human beings will split into two races in the future -- read about it here. And yes, H.G. Wells did predict this prediction 110 years ago in his The Time Machine, as the article notes, so we're back to the same question: what is the difference between science and science-fiction these days?

Then again, this biological bifurcation does seem on the outside regions of possibility, I suppose. But is Wells' claim in 1895 any more or less authoritative than the 2007 claim by an important "scientist?"

Parallel Universes Exist! -- Parallel Scientists, However, Disagree

2007-10-24T09:31:00.000-07:00

Read this quickly. Remember when "Science" was distinct from "Science-fiction?" My recent post on the need for science to undergo its own reformation, to discover its own Martin Luther, seems more and more vindicated by the minute.

I'm inventing a new tag that signifies the start of a new category on this blog: "I'm-so-sure."

What Was Right About the Republican Party

2007-10-23T08:59:00.000-07:00

This might not interest my readers all that much, but I thought I'd link to a really great article at Salon.com about how George W. Bush has ruined conservatism. Here's an excerpt:

The Bush presidency has damaged American civil society in many ways, but one of the most lasting may be its destructive effect on conservatism. Even those who do not call themselves conservatives must acknowledge the power and enduring value of core conservative beliefs: belief in individual agency and responsibility, respect for American institutions and traditions, a resolute commitment to freedom, a willingness to take principled moral stands. It is a movement that draws its inspiration from towering figures: Adam Smith, Thomas Jefferson, Edmund Burke. It stands for caution in foreign adventures, fiscal sobriety and a profound respect for tradition.

The writer, Gary Kamiya, goes on to say, "...Or at least it used to stand for those things." The article is a very clear assessment of the damages, and even hints at the fact that eventually, perhaps even under a different banner, those values (if not the Republican Party) will find their way into public discourse once again in a serious and un-hypocritical way.

Fate and Responsibility

2007-10-23T06:58:00.000-07:00

Fate (or "destiny") has never been a very popular concept in America. Indeed, willful action is one of a few foundational axioms of Western culture--we like to say "make it or break it," and something about making your bed and lying in it.

But I have a question about Fate that I'd like to ask if I can get my readers to acknowledge its existence as even a small part of human existence--unfortunately, the question is about whether or not accepting the term (and the phenomenon it claims to describe) is unethical.

Consider: A man--a recovering alcoholic who has been sober for five years--this man's wife has been angry with him lately because the family is barely making ends meet; they do not have enough money to put any away for retirement or even for their children's college funds. Now imagine a very tense situation, one in which the man is presented with an opportunity to gain financial freedom, but that the opportunity somehow involves his participation in drinking (say he has a business meeting in Japan at a Karaoke bar, where custom dictates: thou shalt drink!). He does it, thinking it'll be no big deal. But, breaking his sober-streak, he falls of the wagon (gets the job!), and though he has plenty of money, his marriage falls apart because he's such a bumbling drunk.

Would it be unethical for this man to say, "I accept a lot of the responsibility for what happened -- but I do want to mention that Fate arranged one hell of a trap for me. The pressure from my wife, the pressure from the businessmen, all mixed up with my own personal/historical weakness... it was too much."

That's probably a very poor demonstration--but I hope you can imagine a good one. But here's the question: when do we find it acceptable for a person to disclaim responsibility by blaming circumstance? Ever?

Executive Power: Bush, Lincoln, Captain Ahab

2007-10-16T18:20:00.000-07:00

There was an incredibly interesting (and mostly frightening) Frontline tonight on PBS concerning executive power called Cheney's Law. It raises what I think is an overwhelming and difficult question: how powerful do we want our president to be, and what restrictions should be put on his power? If you think it's an easy question, recall that Lincoln used executive power to keep these States "United." Then again, Stalin used it to starve ten million people.

It seems simple: when executive power is increased, freedom may be decreased... and when executive power is decreased, order may be decreased. But it's not simple: how--by exactly what standards--do we decide what degree of freedom and order we want?

Do we vote?-------Or do we trust?
Pluralism?------------Monomania?
Diversity?------------------Unity?
Faction?------------------- Union?
Freedom?-----------------Order?
Economic Freedom?-----Equality?

So which side will you be on? The answer is probably "both" according to whatever circumstance presents itself. Wisdom says so. But still, if we go with that as an answer, what circumstance does justify executive power if not something like 9/11? I don't think this is as easy as "liberal" vs. "conservative." In truth, something like universal health care, which is currently a "liberal" issue, is in fact a unifying program, an ordering impulse--and though it robs us of freedom and options, some people support that move to unify. On the other hand, conservatives are rarely interested in using executive power when it comes to regulating economic activity.

I'm trying to show that everyone who ascribes to party politics these days is clinging to an untenable (or hypocritical) political philosophy. Am I succeeding?

Cioran on the Poverty of Philosophy

2007-10-16T09:40:00.000-07:00

Found a great epigraph for this blog--will update design accordingly in near future:

We do not argue the universe; we express it. And Philosophy does not express it. --E.M. Cioran, A Short History of Decay

Skeptical Scientist? Isn't that an Oxymoron?

2007-10-14T21:20:00.000-07:00

No, actually--it's not. In fact, it used to be a commonplace. But this article from The Sydney Morning Herald quotes skeptical scientist Dr. William Gray saying, of Al Gore and his disciples:

It bothers me that my fellow scientists are not speaking out against something they know is wrong... But they also know that they'd never get any grants if they spoke out. I don't care about grants.

...And he sounds like a fringe lunatic. But hold the phone, Dr. William Gray can actually afford not to care about grants. He's 78, and he already made his reputation. If I'm wrong about global warming being an alarmist appeal to our ugliest susceptibilities, fine; Science can march on its merry, uncorrupted way. But if Dr. William Gray and I turn out to be right, I want to see a list of names in clear, sans serif font, of all the "scientists" who were so persuaded that the end was near. No one has ever been foolish enough to think that politicians were noble enough to resist the temptation of the almighty dollar, but for some reason we think scientists are exempt, above it all? I honestly believe that science is suffering a kind of meltdown, observable even in the short span of time between when I was in junior high school and now, that involves the influence of money. What is needed is, strange to say, something like a scientific reformation. Someone needs to stand up and get money out of science. If Martin Luther is reincarnated and living again today, I hope he's 22, wearing a lab coat, and about to graduate... but then, I wonder if he'll be able to resist that dangling fellowship for scholars interested in global warming?

Again, if I'm wrong (we'll reconvene here in 2025, say?), I apologize--someone had to play the skeptic. But if I'm right, can we please not reinvent another apocalypse myth just to keep us all fretting?

Jasmine Green Tea and Used Furniture

2007-10-14T07:17:00.001-07:00

...In one wing, the oxygen mask taken from the famous writer of terza rema glee while in another an infant arrives...

There's a really great post over at Heaven Tree about "fake mysteries." It's so good, there's not much left to say, but since Gawain's talking painting, I might complain about an unfortunate aesthetic approach that I've detected in some contemporary poetry (sometimes called "associative"). I guess I'll pick Dean Young as my target, but only because he's probably the best known representative of this unhappy "technique."

Gawain comments on this painting (apparently, the most famous in Venice!):

Far from being a carefully laid out puzzle, it has been assembled haphazardly and several times repainted. X-ray analysis has revealed that the armed man on the left had originally been — a naked woman, a scale of change not consistent with any conception of a thought-through, a priori worked out ideographical program. The painting’s composition was in fact an ad hoc exercise in mystification: “Let’s see, said the painter to himself, what do I put on the left? A naked woman?” He did, stepped back, and looked at it. “Nah, that don’t work. How about… how about… I know! An armed man! Let me try it… Yeah, that looks weird enough.”

Gawain calls this kind of mystification "an intellectual fake," and I strenuously agree. Read some Dean Young poetry here and here. It all certainly sounds "weird enough," but what does it mean?

I'm comfortable saying "It doesn't mean anything," and reading better poetry, but I am a little frustrated by the popular success achieved by these kinds of, ahem, artists. I've heard enough people talk about appreciating Dean Young's poetry that I can recall a few of their keywords: "It's a tone," or "The images are vivid," or "It has something to do with sound," but the justification always seems hazy like this, always non-specific, always unconvincing and unconvinced.

And yet I'm not wholly innocent of these charges. There is something about Dali... vivid images, maybe. Haha. And maybe even this guy:

iPod Rundown, or, What's my Culture Rating?

2007-10-13T08:15:00.000-07:00

I'm still a little excited about that post below, but I'm willing to move on. My e-friend Richard over at The Existence Machine occasionally gives readers his "iPod rundown," and I like the genre. Here's my personal list--and I'd like to note, all of this stuff is free!:

"Philosophy and Religion in the Classical Greek World," a lecture by Isabel Pafford from UC Berkeley's History 4A class.
"Daily Life in the Classical Greek World: Economy and Society," Isabel Pafford.
"Democracy and Empire in Classical Athens," Isabel Pafford.
"The Devil and Tom Walker," a short story by Washington Irving (The Classic Tales Podcast).
"Rappacini's Daughter," a story by Nathaniel Hawthorne
"The Ambitious Guest," another by Hawthorne
Beethoven's Sonata Appassionata
Matt Haimovitz plays Bach, WGBH classical performance
Colin Carr plays Bach, WGBH
The Moscow String Quartet plays Mozart, WGBH

In conclusion, I like Isabel Pafford's lectures, I'm thrilled that I can listen to stories I have only previously been able to read, and my tastes in classical music are exceptionally unexceptional.

Q-Majin? is an Idea Buffet

2007-10-09T14:51:00.000-07:00

Apparently (see below) nobody likes to comment on amazing symphony-like blog posts anymore. No problem. My latest symphonic masterpiece appears as a comment over at Insignificant Wranglings. Pick your poison.

A Sick Philosopher is Incurable

2007-10-04T09:16:00.001-07:00

Today, I left my office having put in a decent day's work at school, and started heading home to do some more work--the kind that can be done at a computer. But on my way, I remembered that my wife said she'd be hanging out at a local coffee shop, so I took the long detour. I didn't even get a drink. Just stopped to smile and make sure she was feeling good.

From the coffee shop, then, I walked to the parking garage where my car was parked on the sixth floor. Between the coffee shop and the garage, I started feeling pretty good, so I decided to climb all six floors rather than take the elevator. On my way up the stairs, feeling good and not thinking about anything in particular, I started singing to myself, "Don't bring me down," by (I had to look this up) Electric Light Orchestra. I sang whichever words I knew, and hummed the rest. I opened my car door, started it up, and the radio was blasting: "You got me runnin goin out of my mind / You got me thinkin that I'm wastin my time / Don't bring me down... no no no no no..."

***

As a follow up to my previous post, and in particular to my comments on psychiatry and metaphysics, I re-read chapter 16 from Herman Melville's The Confidence-Man. If you have any interest in this topic, I really urge you to spend ten minutes reading the chapter. I first read the book five or six years ago, and it seemed to be about naivety or gullibility or susceptibility. It seemed to be about how "con-men" can take advantage of us if we aren't on guard with skepticism.

I have a different view of the book now. These days, I tend to think that Melville meant to dramatize the difficulties of "keeping the faith," or, staying "confident" -- what I recognized at an earlier time in my life as naivety. With these two different ways of reading the story in mind, consider (if you can't read the whole chapter) the following dialogue between a "sick" (read: depressed) man and a peculiar kind of healer:

The herb-doctor took a sealed paper box from his surtout pocket, and holding it towards him, said solemnly, "Turn not away. This may be the last time of health's asking. Work upon yourself; invoke confidence, though from ashes; rouse it; for your life, rouse it, and invoke it, I say."
The other trembled, was silent; and then, a little commanding himself, asked the ingredients of the medicine.
"Herbs."
"What herbs ? And the nature of them ? And the reason for giving them ?"
"It cannot be made known."
"Then I will none of you."
Sedately observant of the juiceless, joyless form before him, the herb-doctor was mute a moment, then said: -- "I give up."
"How?"
"You are sick, and a philosopher."
"No, no; -- not the last."
"But, to demand the ingredient, with the reason for giving, is the mark of a philosopher; just as the consequence is the penalty of a fool. A sick philosopher is incurable."
"Why?"
"Because he has no confidence."
"How does that make him incurable?"
"Because either he spurns his powder, or, if he take it, it proves a blank cartridge, though the same given to a rustic in like extremity, would act like a charm. I am no materialist; but the mind so acts upon the body, that if the one have no confidence, neither has the other."
Again, the sick man appeared not unmoved. He seemed to be thinking what in candid truth could be said to all this. At length, "You talk of confidence. How comes it that when brought low himself, the herb-doctor, who was most confident to prescribe in other cases, proves least confident to prescribe in his own; having small confidence in himself for himself?"
"But he has confidence in the brother he calls in. And that he does so, is no reproach to him, since he knows that when the body is prostrated, the mind is not erect. Yes, in this hour the herb-doctor does distrust himself, but not his art."
The sick man's knowledge did not warrant him to gainsay this. But he seemed not grieved at it; glad to be confuted in a way tending towards his wish.
"Then you give me hope ?" his sunken eye turned up.
"Hope is proportioned to confidence. How much confidence you give me, so much hope do I give you."

So I suppose the big question I want to pose is whether or not this "herb-doctor" is a huckster or something else. And if it's utterly clear to you that he is a huckster/con-man, don't feel bad. I've read him that way before -- in fact, I think that would be most people's reading.

But what if there is something to the idea that placebo effect is majorly significant? What if what we really want is for a person with authority (in cases like these, we Westerners turn to "doctors" or "psychiatrists"; elsewhere it would be the village shaman) to tell us to take a pill or drink something, and for that authority figure to tell us it will be okay.

Especially with psychological sickness, I am inclined to believe this is almost possible: that if you are "a rustic" (caution: there are more rustics who think they aren't rustics than rustics who know they are rustics!) you will go to your doctor, describe your symptoms and trust (have confidence!) that what he prescribes will fix you. If, on the other hand, you happen to be a philosopher, you will demand to know how and why what he gives you will fix you... and if you be this latter, your chances for recovery or improvement are minimal.

Well, nobody considers himself or herself a bumpkin or a rustic -- and yet just how much faith do we put into our little pills? Into our health foods? Into other prescriptions? Shall we call this faith "confidence," or "naivety?" What if (drumroll, please!).... what if it is only the confidence, not the pill, that does the fixing? (play dramatic thunder peal)

***

That would be an utterly confusing and difficult thing to know. At first. But then one day you'd be walking along humming a song in your head and you'd get into your car and the song (an unlikely song, certainly!) would be playing on the radio... and you'd wonder if it might have been your confidence that triggered the whole thing. You'll wonder if you had just the pill you were looking for all along.

The wonderful thing about the Melvillian dialogue and about life in America in 2007 is that these pills give us such an undemanding opportunity to engage our faith. In this view, this herb-doctor and our contemporary psychiatrists are huge assets. When no pep-talk and no binging or purging can cure us of our mind sickness, these authority figures cannot promise us anything, but they can extend their hands with a smile and a pill, they can look confident themselves, and they give us every opportunity to demonstrate our faith. All we have to do is unscrew a child-proof cap twice a day.

See also. Question: is a mustard seed bigger or smaller than my cholesterol pills?

On Pseudo-Dialogue

2007-10-02T17:04:00.000-07:00

Here are some things I've wanted to write about but think it best to avoid because I'm going on the job market and, despite clamourous rhetoric to the contrary, academia doesn't always welcome certain perspectives as much as others:

Libertarian value theory
Freedom of thought, culture, and the culture of "Race"
Heroism and war
The new (post 1980ish) disciplines in the Humanities
Metaphysics and psychiatry
Hypersensitivity and the word "awareness"
E.M. Cioran, fascism, and the problems of democracy
Ethics, hypocrisy, personal culpability
The myth of progress and the year 1800 C.E.
Jesus and modernism
National funding and the corruption of science
The threat of Russia
"Identity addicts"
Fear of faction in 1850, now

So -- those topics'll have to wait until after I get tenure. Unless someone wants to engage me in doublespeak in the comments section.

Sports: Metaphor for Metaphor for Tr-th

2007-09-26T17:25:00.000-07:00

I don't have much to say in response (or maybe I do but I'm not willing to admit it), but this article is one awesome piece of sports journalism. It's superficially about Michael Vick and about killing dogs, but it's really about American history and "race." Er.... race. Well?--which is it?

Another Little Dose of Tr-th

2007-09-23T18:49:00.000-07:00

By kindergarten, I knew them as cold pricklies and warm fuzzies. This webpage made me laugh, though, because it's true.

Supermodel Comments on Racialist Ideology; Dissents

2007-09-22T14:53:00.000-07:00

One of the serious problems of institutional education is that students are often more capable of learning how to get by than they are of learning a principle. In most cases, this dynamic is illustrated in those moments where students say "the right thing" but without investing much thought in the principle that ought-to-have prompted the otherwise good answer.

A good example for my generation remains Hitler. Before I can remember, one of my teachers constructed a very tight association between Hitler and evil, and subsequent teachers tightened the association. Of course, they were right. But being the quick and pragmatic fellow that I am and always have been, I learned to repeat what I had heard -- like Pavlov's dogs, I heard "Hitler" and responded "evil." But this is a benign example; there is no harm in calling Hitler evil. Although it does seem remotely disappointing that I gave little conscious thought to the matter before I turned about 20.

On the other hand, what happens when cultural changes outstrip pedagogical theory's ability to update itself? For example, in the 1980s, when I was growing up, the catch word for matters relating to race was "tolerance." It was a wonderful term compared to the phrase it superceded: "Separate but Equal." But eventually "tolerance" seemed to imply something undesirable -- after all, we "tolerate" things we don't particularly like. "Diversity" became the replacement term, and it does indeed seem preferable. But is there something embedded within even that term that isn't working anymore? I asked my students the other day, prompted by their aggressive apathy concerning the matter of race in America -- I urged them to talk candidly, promised I would not point at any of them and declare, "Racist!"

A consensus grew around two problems: 1) They all knew what (they thought) I wanted to hear. They (thought they) had heard it all before. "Racism is bad; diversity is good," and one even got up the nerve to mutter "blahblahblah" ironically. And 2) Diversity implies difference, and they were not willing to accept fundamental distinctions between people based on skin color.

Of course, all of this sounded suspiciously like white-privilege and avoidance to me (even when two black students agreed) -- after all, I have received my own careful training at the hands of institutional educators. But as I walked back to my office after class, it occurred to me that their resistance may not be passive aggressive racism, but rather unsophisticated consensus about something-other-than-racism. What if they were actually dealing with the principle (for once!!!)? What if they have truly experienced race-in-America differently than I and my predecessors have? Possible? Unlikely?

I'm still suspicious, and I'll probably continue to be. But now to my point (and, I honestly never thought I'd be linking to anything like this): Adrianne Curry's recent personal blog post on race is generating massive amounts of response, and I thought it worth pointing out, if only because there are so many comments in support of what she says.

I suppose we, especially those of us in the academy, could ignore this kind of thing -- that's one option. But if we don't, there are about two ways of dealing: 1) either this outburst from Curry is evidence of a gigantic and apparently growing problem; racism is (still) gaining ground as an ideology, OR 2) we might suppose that, through poorly expressed 7th-grade caps-locked phrases there are no ill-intentions, and that, untactful as these sentiments are, her call for "unity" reflects a growing ideology of utopian hopefulness and what Paul Gilroy calls post-raciological thinking. I will say: it doesn't help that Curry gets all racist-cliche by saying, "I even had a black boyfriend once!"

Honestly, I would be fully comfortable supposing this to be an example of racist ideology except for the note of sincerity that Curry manages to strike in her very last line: "now, have fun burning me at the stake." It's as if she knows that she will be attacked, which makes it no fun attacking her... Hmm.

Meanwhile. So much for utopia.

(Weird Update: Apparently Hitler is a more interesting case for some folks.)

Movie Recommendation

2007-09-21T18:53:00.001-07:00

I take great pleasure in recommending an Icelandic film titled Nói albínói, because I genuinely loved it -- and (here's the most pleasurable part for me) I know that some people won't. If you rent it, make sure to watch the "Making of Noi" thingy after the film -- it's one of the best explanations I've ever heard of the Romantic aesthetic, though the director never calls it that.

Watch it.

Sexuality and Rhetorically-Suspect-Knee-Jerk-ism

2007-09-21T16:38:00.000-07:00

Thesis: Aging hippies talk a better game than they play.

Evidence: There was a small news item today about a reporter asking Hillary Clinton a stupid question: "How do you respond to the occasional rumor that you're a lesbian?" Our future president replied, "It's not true, but it is something that I have no control over. People will say what they want to say" (emphasis added).

First, I want to say that the source of sexuality seems to me to be an unresolved and unresolvable question; something like: Why do I like cheese more than tofu? Or brunettes more than blondes? So what follows isn't so much to claim that sexuality is a choice (I actually suspect that it's not) as it is a reiteration of the question.

Emphasizing the choicelessness of homosexuality seems to be the going line among self-proclaimed progressives, especially among baby-boomers. This is one of those questions that pops up in all kinds of bizarre corners of the internet. Google terms: "homosexuality + choice."

Now, for the record: hate groups and orthodox religionists insist that being gay is a choice, and a bad one. That works for them.

But it does not seem (to me) a very thoughtful response to say: "Being gay is not a choice."

Enlightened as I am, I tend to see a person's sexuality as morally neutral, which leads me to this question: who cares whether it's a choice or not? If homosexuality is a choice, after all, it seems a perfectly fine choice to me.

So my question to future-President Clinton and those who share the same perspective is: Doesn't the strenuous insistence on "fate" with regard to homosexuality seem to imply that it is not a co-equal behavior with heterosexuality? As I suggested above, if you believe as I do that sexuality is not a moral issue, then why so resistant to the idea that it might be a choice?

Comparative Example: Parents and teachers tend to believe that children shouldn't use swear words in elementary school, and adults feel comfortable saying things like, "Watch your language!" to the linguistic transgressors. But when the child has Tourette's, we say things like, "Well, the child isn't transgressing willfully when he screams 'sh*t-f---" every ten seconds."

If homosexuality is a kind of transgression, it makes sense to justify it by saying "it's not a choice!" If, on the other hand, it is not a transgression (as I'm claiming), then why do we feel motivated to disclaim it as a choice?

For Discussion: Is there Wisdom?

2007-09-19T20:00:00.000-07:00

Brian's recent post at The Truth Cave has precipitated a great dialogue, and I'm struck by the "simplicity" of the prompt. My post below on Captain Ahab makes a woeful contrast, I'm afraid.

So instead, I'm attempting to mimic Brian's success with this -- for discussion:

Is there wisdom?

Concerning Ahab

2007-09-18T15:23:00.001-07:00

After Captain Ahab gives his famous "Quarter-Deck" speech in Moby-Dick, which convinces most of the crew to join him in the vengeful quest to kill the white whale, Ahab encounters a little resistance in the character of Starbuck, who proclaims, "Vengeance on a dumb brute... that simply smote thee from blindest instinct! Madness! To be enraged with a dumb thing, Captain Ahab, seems blasphemous."

Ahab pauses and feels compelled to reframe his argument for Christian Starbuck: "But come closer, Starbuck; thou requirest a little lower layer." Ahab explains to Starbuck, who represents the last bit of resistance, that all things, "all visible objects, man, are but as pasteboard masks." It's one of those lines that is quoted again and again by critics, but I doubt whether most of these critics have considered the possibility that Ahab includes the whale among the group of "all visible objects." And yet, that seems to be precisely what Ahab suggests to Starbuck at the "little lower layer":

...in each event--in the living act, the undoubted deed--there, some unknown but still reasoning thing puts forth the mouldings of its features from behind the unreasoning mask. If man will strike, strike through the mask!

This exclamation implies that it is not the whale, nor, in turn, Ahab's revenge, that underlies the hunt -- instead, it is the unknown thing that comes from behind the thing itself. Ahab is not after the whale except as a "practically assailable" representation of the "thing itself" that Ahab cannot tolerate. But further on, Ahab calms down (as he sees Starbuck's resistance cool):

So, so; thou reddenest and palest; my heat has melted thee to anger-glow. But look ye, Starbuck, what is said in heat, that thing unsays itself. There are men from whom warm words are small indignity. I meant not to incense thee. Let it go. Look! see yonder Turkish cheeks of spotted tawn--living, breathing pictures painted by the sun. The Pagan leopards--the unrecking and unworshipping things, that live; and seek, and give no reasons for the torrid life they feel! The crew, man, the crew! Are they not one and all with Ahab, in this matter of the whale? See Stubb! he laughs! See yonder Chilian! he snorts to think of it. Stand up amid the general hurricane, thy one tost sapling cannot, Starbuck! And what is it? Reckon it. 'Tis but to help strike a fin; no wondrous feat for Starbuck.

Doesn't this suggest, as I think it does, that "striking a fin" is at most a secondary concern for Ahab? In the next chapter, Ahab, alone on deck, soliloquizes, "Oh, hard! that to fire others, the match itself must needs be wasting!" -- which seems to point to the unification of "the crew, the crew" as an end in itself. In this view, it could be almost anything (slaying the white whale will do) that serves as the motivator; unity is the whole point.

Earlier in chapter 37, Ahab says to himself:

Is, then, the crown too heavy that I wear? this Iron Crown of Lombardy. Yet it is bright with many a gem; I, the wearer, see not its far flashings; but darkly feel that I wear that, that dazzlingly confounds. 'Tis iron--that I know--not gold. 'Tis split, too--that I feel; the jagged edge galls me so, my brain seems to beat against the solid metal; aye, steel skull, mine; the sort that needs no helmet in the most brain-battering fight.

I really want to read this, especially in light of the reference to the Crown of Lombardy and the Biblical Ahab, as concerning the problem of authority. Who will lead us, and by what right, if not the "designated by G-d" justification? Ahab seems to think that he will, even if it means the end of him ("To fire others, the match itself must needs be wasting!").

There is a kind of majestic lie beneath all of this, but it seems clear to me that Ahab's ultimate goal is "to fire others," perhaps to unify them -- and he will say anything to that end. Plotinus, at least, sees this kind of single-vision (the critics call it "monomania") as a virtue:

Those that refuse to place the Proficient aloft in the Intellectual Realm but drag him down to the accidental, dreading accident for him, have substituted for the Proficient we have in mind another person altogether; they offer us a tolerable sort of man and they assign to him a life of mingled good and ill, a case, after all, not easy to conceive. But admitting the possibility of such a mixed state, it could not be deserved to be called a life of happiness; it misses the Great, both in the dignity of Wisdom and in the integrity of Good. The life of true happiness is not a thing of mixture. And Plato rightly taught that he who is to be wise and to possess happiness draws his good from the Supreme, fixing his gaze on That, becoming like to That, living by That… He can care for no other Term than That: all else he will attend to only as he might change his residence, not in expectation of any increase to his settled felicity, but simply in a reasonable attention to the differing conditions surrounding him as he lives here or there.

This "tolerable sort of man" is the Representative Man for postmodernism, and Plotinus found him deficient. Hmm...

Phantom Blog from the Past

2007-09-18T14:07:00.000-07:00

When I disassembled my first blog, which was an experiment in thinking named after Herman Melville's novel, Mardi, or, A Voyage Thither, it had a Google Page Rank of 5/10 and was getting something like 60 visits a day. Now, it turns out, some traffic-hungry sychophant (i.e., enterprising entrepreneur) has slid into my former slot without so much as a tip of the cap in my direction! And as if that weren't enough, he or she has had the gall to attemp to retain some of my former readers (note the links in the left column: "Web Pages Referring to This Page"). Worst of all, this remainder blog has silly posts that are presumably unworthy of the traffic that my writing initially attracted to that web address.

Anyway, to check out this suspicious phantom blog, still titled A Voyage Thither, click here.

Oh well, "voyaging thither" is so last year.

On Criticism, Literature, and Forgiveness

2007-09-16T16:29:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking lately about the seeming absence of any scholarly treatment of the subject of guilt. More directly, I am disappointed about the apparent unwillingness of academics to turn the lens of judgment back upon themselves. To be sure, academics love to fault "academics" in general, even for petty ethical offenses, but it is a very rare case where a reputable scholar confronts the problem of personal culpability.

I have a theory about why this fundamental element of psychology is generally avoided scholars that goes like this: we have developed plenty of suggestions for judgment (moral, ethical, aesthetic), but none (or few) on forgiveness. Consequently, admission of personal culpability seems to be an irremediable action.

So the indignant academic goes around pointing his bony, accusatory index finger at everything and everyone under the sun without ever faulting himself.

Part of this is philosophy's fault. Philosophy has always been ill-equipped to deal with time in relation to ethics. That is, the philosopher makes thoroughly informed judgment about the moment of (un)ethical action, but has little to say about the causes or consequences that frame the scene. This is where the narrative comes in, and why I will defend fiction as a necessary mode of thinking. The almost inhuman judgment of philosophy declares, "Thou art unjust," and marches onward toward the tr-th (or whatever philosophy is doing these days). On the other hand, fiction often witnesses the unjust act early in a sequence of events, and does not fail to follow the unjust actor, even if he recognizes and regrets the injustice of his action.

Here's a philosophical example:

Scene: One person beats another person up.
Judgment: Unjust.

Now consider an alternative example, made literary:

Scene: When I was 10-years old, I used to beat my 7-year old brother up when my mom left us alone. Now, at age 29, I realize that that was immoral, and I have sincerely apologized to my brother. He has told me that I am forgiven, but sometimes, I still feel bad about it.
Judgment: Somewhere between unjust and "that's life."

Is this an important difference? Does philosophy address this difference--can it? There are other things I could confess, but I don't want to spend all my nickels in one store. Let it be understood, though: I, the author of Q-Majin?, have been unjust. Unfortunately, I suppose I don't yet qualify as a "reputable scholar."

(P.S. -- reading Hawthorne might have something to do with all of this. More later.)

Dissertation in a Nutshell

2007-09-14T06:17:00.001-07:00

Below you can read the latest version of my "dissertation paragraph" from the most recent draft of my cover letter. I certainly am a genius, but it sure is difficult to prove it in 300 words or less! Many of you have unwittingly helped me compose major chunks of this, so I thought there might be enough interest to warrant a little sharing:

...my first chapter demonstrates the ways that Poe’s theory of Perversity undermined a popular trust in the principle of rational self-interest by making explicit the processes of ratiocination that can precede unethical human action. In a study of “The Cask of Amontillado,” I connect the impulse to confess with Perverse psychology, rather than with guilt, to show that, for Poe, there existed a substantial gap between thought and action. My chapter on Harriet Jacobs, original for its extensive treatment of Jacobs’ literary style, explores the issue of historical veracity and the dynamics of the literary truth-claim. By stylizing her narrative, interposing a partially fictionalized narrator, and reporting seemingly clear incidents through a lens of mystery, Jacobs discovers her most effective voice of resistance. I argue that “Linda Brent’s” perception of the mysterious in natural objects and experience is thoroughly romantic and that it is this thinking that allows her to integrate and accept her traumatic past without accepting the same in the present. My chapter on Herman Melville focuses on Moby-Dick, and continues to develop the concept of ethical perception—what I call “the ethics of seeing.” By undermining Ishmael’s narrative authority and extending a sympathetic reading to characters like Captain Ahab and Pip, I further refine the idea that an action as “natural” or instinctive as perception may ultimately fall under the power of will. Influenced by the recent work of critics like Jay Grossman and W.C. Harris, I argue that the scope of Melville’s metaphysical vision is the result of a particularly keen sensitivity to changes in culture and law, and that Melville’s seemingly abstract interest in the ancient problem of “the One” and “the Many” (Unity and Plurality) is directly relevant to the American political landscape. My chapter on Hawthorne, which is currently being drafted, offers the narrative structures of The Marble Faun as necessary for examining the nature of dynamic ethical obligation and traces the psychological, spiritual and social consequences of unjust action. Although my project is informed by the cultural and historical criticism that precedes it, I have reintroduced a distinctly romantic sense of timelessness into my study by focusing on interpersonal obligation and individual psychology. Inspired by the methods of the writers I study, I have consciously focused on aspects of the human condition that do not change, even while tracing the dynamism of legal and social institutions.

It's hard to believe that this and is what will determine the rest of my life. Maybe it's not that cosmic, though. In fact, I'm going to buy a lottery ticket on the way to work today: 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42... right?

Global Warming as New Age Apocalypse?

2007-09-12T12:06:00.000-07:00

Pollution and smog are bad, and nobody should leave their lights on when they leave the house because it's wasteful, and we shouldn't destroy the rainforest, and polar bears sure are cute... but still. Again, I really think.

More on The Ethics of Seeing (?)

2007-09-11T09:08:00.000-07:00

Someone have an interpretation of this for me? (from Matthew 6:22-23):

The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!

See also, Luke 11: 34-36. Does Jesus mean that those of us with good eyesight are better off, more likely to be saved, enlightened--something like that? Or is this suggestive of some deeper insight not related to literal vision?

Total Solar Eclipse

2007-09-08T18:05:00.001-07:00

Lately, I've seen the image of a solar eclipse a little too frequently -- I'm sure this has something to do with my personal transition into "adulthood," whatever that is. And although it might make me a little bit like Captain Ahab, reading meaning where none exists, I think I might not just be "noticing" it more frequently -- I suspect the image is making its appearance a little more often lately than it typically does (typical by pop-culture standards, of course; it's extremely rare in nature). See also, my post on the Ethics of Seeing.

As a symbol, it is wonderfully suggestive, and works at the cultural level as well as it does at a personal level; I cannot imagine a more perfect representation than the image of a solar eclipse for any major, radical change in dominant culture or personal psychology. Mel Gibson used it in Apocalypto, and Ellen Bryant Voigt made it the cover of her semi-recent book of poems, Kyrie. And I've seen it in a few recent dreams, so...

Here's an awesome video of a 2006 total eclipse somewhere near Turkey, I think:

Click here to see a chart of where and when to view a total solar eclipse. Looks like Aug. 21st, 2017 will be the next good chance for most of us, as a total solar eclipse will be visible on a line cutting across the U.S. Be there or miss the official dawning of the Age of Aquarius.

P.S. -- has anyone else ever noticed the correspondence between the image of a solar eclipse and the image of the pupil and cornea of an eyeball? Some "coincidence," huh "Brian"?:

S. Divinorum

2007-09-06T05:31:00.000-07:00

They didn't have this when we were in high school, and I'm glad: salvia divinorum. Believe it or not, despite voluminous testimony like this--"I have tried virtually every illegal drug known to man, and have never felt more out of control or uncomfortable as I felt on Salvia" (source)--salvia is legal in more than 40 American states. Read about its legal status here, or click here to see dozens of teenagers "tripping" on the substance and, with no fear of the law, posting their experience on You Tube.

I've always leaned libertarian, I suppose, so I won't make a Nancy Reagan argument; but two things about this strike me as really wrong.

1) The fact that this drug is legal means that You Tube allows videos of people doing it, which wouldn't be so horrifying if...

2) ...Salvia didn't cause "ego death" and "union with the divine godhead" and "breaking through to the other side." This stuff is not on the casual/light side of drugs, according to the extensive testimony available at Erowid.org. Here, for example, is a description of something that I don't want my 16-year old son or daughter to have to think about "trying" with some of their buddies:

This is the difficult part of the account where I attempt, as many others have before me, to describe the end of life and identity, the ego-death. There nothing but a sensation at first, not of being ripped apart but of having been ripped apart. I couldn't say that I had been ripped apart, as in a million pieces—there were no pieces because there was nothing the pieces would consist of... I had no physical body. The sensation now gave way to awareness, and I had a sense that I HAD BEEN something with a physical body which was suddenly extinguished by a strong force pulling to the right. There was a sort of two-dimensional plane which I was pushed through rightward, and as I went through I lost all perceptions, memories, and sensations of my life in human form on this earth. There was no pain, it was instantaneous. But still, I was only conscious in the most basic sense... aware, not consciously thinking these thoughts, but perceiving them. It is not unlike the state of waking up from a dream with the memory of it still very present as the body adjusts to the state of waking life... except my life was the dream, and as I was suddenly 'awakened' all sense of that life was gone.

Read the rest of that experience--click here. The paranoia that follows is unsettling:

" It was as if by taking this drug I had become aware of some huge cosmic dark secret, one that was truly horrible and yet totally ironic... The joke was in being forced back into this reality after having it stripped completely from you... Forced back into nothing but limited human perception, and the delusion which it is. I was completely in shock at this point, and I looked at my friends expressing something like, “Why did you show me that?... I didn't want to see that.”

And of course, this leads me to my final, philosophical, objection: either salvia induces enlightenment or enlightenment is just some similar firing of chemicals in the brain, because the rhetoric of both, adjusting for the salvia-user's typically 10th-grade education, is identical. I don't like to think that serious meditators and spiritual seekers spend whole lifetimes longing for union with the divinity only to discover that any idiot highschooler who inhales this smoke can have it whenever he wants.

Convince me I'm wrong about this, that the "ego-death" of salvia is different from the ego-death of many spiritual paths.

The Second Great Disappointment

2007-09-04T16:21:00.001-07:00

Lately, when I talk to technophiles, I detect a strain of optimistically-apocalyptic thinking just beneath the surface of our conversation. It's as if they are too embarrassed to actually say what they're thinking: "Soon, computers will make everything different! We may live forever by uploading our brains!" Some very smart people have actually taken the leap and begun talking about the possibilities of total technological revolution -- phrases like "when humans transcend biology" are gathering attention.

Ray Kurzweil is the brain behind all of this hopefulness, and he certainly has done his share of innovation. As the argument goes, the time is approaching when technological advancement begins to outstrip the pace of evolution -- and possibly even the pace of aging. Kurzweil and his followers call this "the Singularity." Imagine tiny mini-machines cruising through your blood stream cleaning out all of the toxins!

But I read an interesting article here called "What if the Singularity Does NOT Happen?" And I was reminded (attention, Wishydig) me of the history of the Great Disappointment that took place in America in 1844 when the Second Coming did not occur.

So here we go again: eternal life dangled before us and then snatched away! Ach! The injustice! I guess I'm going to start preparing myself in case the Singularity doesn't come.

Toward an Ethics of Seeing, or, Against Underlining

2007-09-03T17:27:00.000-07:00

I'm down to about eleven visitors per day at Q-Majin?, which is just about right. Now we can get serious.

At one time or another, most people have read a book closely enough to feel the impulse to underline -- I've even managed to concoct a little system for myself of underlines, double-underlines, check marks, and exaggeratedly huge exclamation points in the margin. Our marginalia is evidence of a process of selection and reveals our personal interests and biases quite intimately (after all, you don't let just anybody read your personal copy of Leaves of Grass). If you've been underlining long enough to revisit an old favorite, you may be surprised to find out just how immature, silly, romantic, or naive your earlier markings seem to be. On a second reading, you might even use a different color pen to denote "second reading," and find yourself underscoring passages that you had missed altogether on a first reading. I've even had occasion to write meta-marginalia, where I comment on my own earlier commentary.

Now consider why we underline. If I remember my first forays into underlining semi-accurately, my intention was to record what I believed to be a special insight so that, in case I revisited the text, I would not miss that special insight. Our underlinings are broken branches or bread crumbs left behind in the woods on the outside chance that we may discover ourselves going round in circles.

But here is my literary turn: underlining is to reading as perception is to life. That is: this process of selection that weaves itself into our reading habits is almost perfectly symmetrical to those habits and preferences that make up our precious personalities--even our identities.

When I am forced (by vocation!) to re-read a single narrative more than a few times, I find that my underlinings become impediments to understanding, rather than helping me to recall special insight. Indeed, my most recent re-read of Moby-Dick effectively involved reading all that I had not previously underlined.

When I first moved to Indiana from Michigan six years ago, I spent a whole weekend driving around my new hometown. Within a month, I knew where all the potholes were on my route to work, and within a year, I had a map of the city laid out with functional accuracy in my memory -- in other words, I had read my town, and underlined my special insights.

But as time goes by I begin to feel a (GRE word alert!) torpor, a general malaise, some pangs of apathy, bouts of ennui. Inevitably, I declare, "This town sucks."

I hope my moral is clear by now, and I will leave the conclusion to the gods of Et cetera. I have wanted to explain the idea of an "ethics of seeing," where "noticing" comes under force of the will. I hope this little essay lays some groundwork. More in the future.

So: stop underlining so much -- or, re-read what you haven't underlined! An example:

Incredibly, I had read Emerson's essay "Circles" at least twice and not underlined this part until just now:

Valor consists in the power of self-recovery, so that a man cannot have his flank turned, cannot be out-generalled, but put him where you will, he stands. This can only be by his preferring truth to his past apprehension of truth; and his alert acceptance of it, from whatever quarter; the intrepid conviction that his laws, his relations to society, his Christianity, his world, may at any time be superseded and decease.

And, hmm... come to think of it, maybe I won't underline it just now.

2012 Nears

2007-08-29T20:33:00.000-07:00

I quite like this, despite its horrendously disappointing web address (http://www.postmoderntimes.com/):

If it seems like I'm talking a wee British, it's because the season finale of Derren Brown's Mind Control was on Sci-Fi tonight. Look it up for yourself.

Sayings and Aphorisms, #8

2007-08-25T11:42:00.000-07:00

Suspension of disbelief is the foundation of ethics.

The Doctrine of Correspondence

2007-08-22T17:58:00.000-07:00

After recently reading Barbara Packer's new paperback version of her 1995 The Transcendentalists, and after reading even more recently Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay on Emmanuel Swedenborg (or, "The Mystic"), I find myself very interested in the doctrine of correspondence and the questions raised in seriously considering its consequences. The concept will be familiar to most people with a liberal arts degree, though the terminology varies very much depending on who is presenting the idea. In short, correspondence, as defined by Swedenborg and interpreted by Emerson, describes the relationship between physical data and "higher" truths.

The flower that blooms again every spring, for example, may correspond to the soul that is born again and again into the world after death, or the father who son has a son who has a son. Or, the psychological wound opened with the loss of a loved one may heal with time, like the scrape on your knee that heals slowly and then leaves a subtle scar. Even the most secular and unimaginative among us have participated in this kind of thinking: "That cloud looks like a crocodile!" Etc., etc.

In the case of the mystic, these correspondences may be understood as manifestations of the divine mind. The secrets of the universe may be discovered by studying the structure of an apple intensely, and vice versa--each thing contains all.

My question is: can this cognitive process go too far? I think first of Captain Ahab, who insisted on reading all things under the sign of himself (see chapter 99, "The Doubloon"). For Emerson, Swedenborg's genius was in suggesting the overall scheme of things; Swedenborg's failure was only in clinging too closely to the manifestations of the eternal truths that Swedenborg (almost) recognized. Emerson says in Representative Men:

Swedenborg and Behmen both failed by attaching themselves to the Christian symbol, instead of to the moral sentiment, which carries innumerable christianities, humanities, divinities, in its bosom.

Emerson understands easily what has been so difficult for me to understand at different times in my life: "These books should be used with caution. It is dangerous to sculpture these evanescing images of thought. True in transition, they become false if fixed." In other words, the correspondence between a passing cloud and a crocodile is true only as long as the cloud retains its shape.

But back to my question: assuming a person understands that the forms are always changing, that everything is "on fire," as the Buddha said, is there no limit to the power of correspondence? I think there is no danger in someone taking a shooting star to be a sign of good luck, and there could be little harm in avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk, and perhaps the popping out of a light bulb in your living room while you're in deep contemplation may be taken as a friendly hint from the universe to give it a rest--.

I believe in this doctrine of correspondence, as Plato did, as Plotinus did, as Swedenborg did, as Emerson did. There does seem to be some easy relation between those eternal things such as beauty and goodness and the temporary physical forms that we deal with every day. But when does gratefulness slide into superstitiousness, and when does that slide into mania, and when does mania become dangerously single-minded religious fervor?

In short: when does a thing correspond; when is a thing meaningless?

Little Dose of Tr-th

2007-08-15T19:47:00.000-07:00

What Should We Do about that Moon ?

A wine bottle fell from a wagon
And broke open in a field.

That night a hundred beetles and all their cousins
Gathered

And did some serious binge drinking.

They even found some seed husks nearby
And began to play them like drums and whirl.
This made God very happy.

Then the 'night candle' rose into the sky
And one drunk creature, laying down his instrument
Said to his friend - for no apparent
Reason,

"What should we do about that moon?"

Seems to Hafiz
Most everyone has laid aside the music

Tackling such profoundly useless
Questions.

From: 'The Gift - Poems by Hafiz the Great Sufi Master'
translations by Daniel Ladinsky

Into the Gloaming

2007-08-13T11:46:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm back from my honeymoon. Not sure that Q-Majin? is going to pick up any steam, though -- not for a while, at least. I'm entering the red-zone with this dissertation now, and this semester is going to be a whirlwind. My mystic-ethos is probably going to be a little damaged as I make apparent concessions to the demands of institutional deadlines, but consider this.

Anyway, here is my favorite picture from my recent vacation to Zihuatanejo, Mexico:

On Simultaneous Org-- ...er, On Communication

2007-08-04T10:29:00.000-07:00

If you're a genuinely curious person, you will have the patience to first watch this video:

That's awesome in itself. That kind of bewildering hypnotism is possible. For another example of bewildering hypnotic kidnapping, click here. But now imagine this--it is a kind of forbidden experiment involving real human subjects, and so it must be imagined, must be only theoretical:

You are caught by surprise and hypnotized, and you awake to find yourself in a 12 ft. X 10 ft. room with white padded flooring and a white ceiling. There is a toilet, and twice a day someone opens a small tile in the wall and pushes food through. There is another person, incidentally of the same sex as you. Both of you are wearing white shorts and a white t-shirt.

You say "Hello." And then, "Where are we," and the other person mutters something in a language that sounds utterly different from your own. It seems you have never heard it before.

Days pass, and you have gone through the customary "first-encounter" rituals of pointing to your own chest and pronouncing your name. You have shaken hands, though your roommate did not see the handshake as something familiar. You both eat your food. Weeks pass.

Then months. It seems that eventually you will want to begin genuinely communicating with your roommate. Fastforward in time to that moment, the moment when it becomes clear to you that you must either learn to communicate with your roommate or go mad.

It seems to me that there are four options: 1) You will teach him your language. 2) He will teach you his language. 3) You will invent a mixed-language. 4) You will learn each others' languages and speak them both occasionally.

Assuming there are no directly overlapping linguistic histories between the two languages (other than a general "universal grammar" underlying both), I think it is probably unlikely that it would occur to most people, consciously, to choose option number 3. And yet (here's my thesis) I think option #3 may ultimately be the only lasting and mutually satisfying outcome assuming "escape" is not an option.

To myself, I wonder if this is really just a Puritan's way of discussing sex.

Sensing Tr-th-Resurgency in Indiana, Dalai Lama set to Visit Purdue

2007-08-04T07:53:00.000-07:00

I'd like to personally invite all of my tr-th-seeking friends to join me in attendance this fall when the Dalai Lama comes to visit Purdue. He's only coming to three American universities this year, so we have "lucked out." Of course, sotapanna that I am, I know this has very little to do with "luck," but we'll leave that point aside for now. Tickets go on sale at Ticketmaster on August 11th and will sell out quite quickly. Twenty bucks for students... please go. I understand that Buddhism is a little '90s-ish in America, and that Hinduism or something is probably more chic these days, but at this bargain rate...

Which leads me to my point -- well, sort of. First just read this headline and rapidly skim the article.

Seriously, though -- the Dalai Lama's forthcoming visit provides the perfect subject for a blog post and a subsequently healthy comments page. The question is, if you had one question, what would you ask the D.L.? I have a few ideas:

1. Do we talk because we don't love?
2. If you could have one superpower, what would it be?
3. Is focused, institutional learning superior to organic, unconscious learning toward the end of achieving Enlightenment?
4. Is the attitude of faith always superior to the attitude of doubt?
5. Does the fear of death serve a purpose; is it natural?
6. Who was your favorite Beatle?
7. Ontolo-metaphysically, what are unfertilized eggs and the sperm that lose the race?

What... the... ?

2007-07-30T20:21:00.001-07:00

This "P.S.A" is one of the most mind-blowing things I've ever seen, and I personally saw it air on BET television about three days ago. I certainly don't have any commentary to offer--the video speaks for itself. No wait; I will say this: I can not believe this was on television in 2007.

Check out this video: Read A Book

Add to My Profile More Videos

Cloudscape

2007-07-25T19:56:00.000-07:00

...and I'm back. Married. Better off.

Monday after a Saturday wedding. We were flying out of Providence on our way back to Indianapolis by way of Philadelphia, I was in that brain-haze that follows intense and sustained human interaction--I assume everyone must feel something like this: you love your family and friends, but 85 of them at once, for hours at a time, can be exhausting. The wedding went perfectly excellent, but there's a kind of stupor that follows. It was raining outside. The airport was... well, an airport.

Then Gretchen pointed over my shoulder and said, "Look!, there's Stephen Wright!" Sure enough, sauntering along in a Boston Red Sox hat and a jean jacket, one of my favorite comedians of all-time. And just like that the cloudy brain-haze lifted.

But it was still raining outside. Gloomy. Hmm...

We waited on the tarmac for 45 minutes--happy about the wedding going so well, but unhappy about travelling so tediously. Then it happened. We took off in the rain, I got that "aren't-we-climbing-too-steeply?" feeling in my stomach, entered the clouds, Gretchen clutched my hand, and minutes later we emerged to see this:

The sunniest image I had ever seen, and a lesson, somehow... something about perspective, I think. When you're... weary, feelin' small...

Anyway, here's to my new wife!

Follow-Up on Universe-Talk

2007-07-12T19:39:00.000-07:00

Finally something interesting. Somebody qualified is proposing that the data has been poorly interpreted: the universe may actually be contracting, not expanding. This is a wonderful inversion, and it makes some sense -- if you admit (as astronomers will) that there is no non-relative point in the universe, then it seems perfectly reasonable to interpret the apparent widening gap between us and the next nearest galaxy cluster as evidence that we are hurtling inward a little faster than they are (thus increasing the gap).

The problem that anyone with a dab of intuition will raise is that the gap appears to be increasing uniformly in all directions. Interesting problem. But it is not more or less problematic in the scenario of a collapsing universe or a contracting universe than it is in the customary view, the expanding universe. I had a hard time figuring out on "the internet" whether scientists think galaxies are expanding or contracting, but this picture makes me think "contracting":

Looks like water down a drain to me; and if happens at the galactic level, I don't see any reason that it couldn't happen with the entire universe. Further, why do we tend to believe our observations at the fringes of our technological capability more than those we are sure about? It is certain that our solar system is not expanding. Nor is our galaxy. Nor, even, is our "galaxy cluster." It's at the level of between-galaxy-clusters that the expansion is supposed to be occurring. Really? I don't know about red-shifts that much, but is it possible there's some kind of distortion happening?

Here's my best guess: the number of black holes increases (naturally) with distance... as light passes a black hole and curves, it decreases in speed. Thus, cosmic objects observed farther away will not arrive at the speed of light, but slower. The effect decreases as we observe closer objects. A weak pictorial representation:

If nothing nearby is observed to be expanding, is it really probable that something that isn't happening here is happening way out there? Umm... sorry about that last sentence. My post below on heresy and blasphemy is better.

Heresy as sophomoric attempt at Blasphemy

2007-07-12T09:32:00.000-07:00

I found a pretty intriguing phenomenon on YouTube, based on the words in Mark 3:28-29:

I tell you the truth, all the sins and blasphemies of men will be forgiven them. But whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven; he is guilty of an eternal sin.

The deal is, The Rational Response Squad posted a video on YouTube challenging skeptical people to blaspheme against the Holy Spirit. I found this when I discovered that one of my favorite bloggers posted his own video blasphemies in the spirit of rationality. The seemingly hip/liberal "Father Matthew" even posted a response video, in which he tries to understand how contemporary religious rhetoric can be alienating to atheists... very empathetic, Father Matthew.

Since reading Nathaniel Hawthorne's "Ethan Brand" for the first time a decade ago, I've had an abiding interest in the idea of "the unforgivable sin," and I've certainly thought about these verses in Matthew before. I think I have a novel take on it, which seems to be confirmed after watching these videos...

My thesis: Blaspheming against the Holy Spirit is nowhere near as easy as declaring, with words, something like "I do not accept the Holy Spirit." Further, saying something even more scathing like, "F*ck the Holy Spirit" would not remotely qualify in my view as a violation of the Holy Spirit. I will go so far as to say that I have never known anyone personally (though I believe there are some) to successfully blaspheme against the Holy Spirit. In fact, having spent a decade of my life declaring similar blasphemies whenever I could, I am convinced that the words "I do not accept the Holy Spirit" may, at the right time, be precisely the most holy words one could utter. See Ralph Waldo Emerson's maxim, "The doctrine of hatred must be preached, as the counteraction of the doctrine of love, when that pules and whines…"

In my view, blaspheming against the Holy Spirit would involve something like premeditated murder or (somewhat more debatably) suicide. That is, real blasphemy against this thing that has been called "the Holy Spirit" does not happen in the arena of language. In the old, old days (as anyone knows who has seen The Life of Brian), people could be stoned to death for uttering the name of God. Yet today most of us do not see it as a great affront to use the word God. Real, consequential blasphemy against God, against the Holy Spirit--indeed, any real blasphemy--can never be committed with a smile and a clean conscience.

It seems to me that these YouTubers are trying to get a rise out of committing heresy, and are not even approaching blasphemy. Definitions may be minimally helpful (?):

Heresy: opinion or doctrine at variance with the orthodox or accepted doctrine, esp. of a church or religious system.

Blaphemy: impious utterance or action concerning God or sacred things.

I'm not sure that helps. Still, I suspect that trying to prove one's eminent rationality by uttering a few phrases that would've landed a person on the rack five centuries ago would hardly upset the most orthodox religious institutions these days--and, if I'm right, wouldn't even be a blip on the real Holy Spirit's radar.

Nietzsche was Right, Dude!

2007-07-11T11:35:00.000-07:00

I'm perfectly content with scientists' conclusions on two points of fact:

the location of the earth in the solar system
the location of the solar system in the Milky Way

But, given these straightforward answers, I wouldn't think I would be alone in asking the next question: "Where is the Milky Way in the universe?" However, that search on Google yielded ZERO hits. So I changed my phraseology slightly: "Where is our galaxy in the universe?"

5 hits, two of which are redundant. And there is one little straightforward answer on the whole internet regarding this seemingly obvious next-step question for cosmology:

It is difficult to answer directly, because of the way that you phrase it. Basically, you need to understand that the universe does not have a "middle," and it doesn't have "edges" either. Therefore, the Milky Way is not in either of those regions, because those "regions" don't really exist.The universe does not really have a "middle" or "edges." This is similar to asking another question, which some people have asked me. That question is "In what direction was the Big Bang?" People want to know if they are looking in the direction of the Big Bang if they look toward Orion, or the Big Dipper, or whatever. You need to understand that the Big Bang happened EVERYWHERE. At that time, the word "everywhere" was only a tiny, tiny, tiny dot, but it was literally ALL of space. That dot WAS everywhere. Today, the universe itself is expanding, as it has been doing for 13.7 billion years, since the Big Bang.

I can't imagine I will be alone in considering this a kind of side-step answer. The answerer, apparently an "expert" in astronomy, blames his difficulty answering the question on the inquirer's phrasing... but surprise!, does not suggest a better way to phrase it. Then he unfairly compares it to a bad question that the inquirer did not ask. In fact, however, a dot (as he describes it) does have edges -- where there is "dot," there is "not-dot," and regardless of the relative size of the dot, if there are sub-particles within the dot (called galaxies!), it is reasonable to ask where in that dot (the universe) our sub-particle (the Milky Way) is located.

Yep, I've read A Brief History of Time, and I've read Bill Bryson's Short History of Nearly Everything -- I know what the scientists propose. But the Big Bang model, seemingly "scientific" as it is, simply doesn't satisfy me, especially when I cannot find anywhere on the entire internet a straight answer for where the edge is from here. This site makes the problem quite clear... you can zoom out far, but not all the way.

If I'm wrong, if my conception of the universe as an expanding bubble-sphere that's 14.7 billion years old -- if the universe is a kind of Mobius strip, someone please let me know! Is it possible that the 14.7 billion number is just an estimation of our ability to observe? But if it is, why do we think we need a theory of its beginning? I'm going to start working on a cosmology of an infinite universe, which "scientists" will no doubt be able to cherry-pick apart by selectively considering data that confirms their assumptions. Somehow I'll have to avoid repeating Nietzsche's claims about eternal return. See also.

Ten bonus points to anyone who can settle me down by answering a very simple question: where is the Milky Way? What does observability have to do with this?

8 Questions, 9 Answers. Prophet Rating: 100%

2007-07-10T16:23:00.000-07:00

A wise man, Michael at Wishydig, tagged me to fill out a sort of questionnaire. Click here to read the annoyingly-extensive rules; all you need to know are, these are 8 facts about me that I want to share:

1. I broke both bones in my left wrist trying to catch up with a girl at a roller rink in 5th grade.

2. I visited AutoWorld with my family in 1985, when I was 7 (Michael Moore was 33 then).

3. I used to dream that I was being bombarded by letters and numbers, letters and numbers that sort of bounced off my face (it was not painful) and coalesced into a large, orange object that rolled, rolled, rolled. I had the dream many times when I was young, and usually awoke terrified--mostly terrified because my perspective of the large rolling orange ball was sort of a "mouse-eye-view."

4. I once sprayed a whole bottle of Binaca mouth spray under my tongue on a dare.

5. I ran across my college campus in a jock strap and swam across one of the campus ponds as part of a "hazing" ritual.

6. The most profound spiritual experience of my life happened in a bowling alley parking lot.

7. I don't enjoy drinking alcohol, but do it sometimes because of peer pressure.

8. I love America and feel guilty about loving America.

Wow--this has been very refreshing. I love it when people ask me questions about me! Thanks, Mike!

#9. The "label" for this post may or may not be intended as ironic.

Hypothetical Conditions in a Universe Totally unlike our own...

2007-07-10T06:06:00.000-07:00

When people see some things as beautiful,
other things become ugly. --Lao Tzu

This is of course a totally hypothetical question--I would never suggest that the universe is structured in such a way as to involve person-specific karma of any sort. But imagine: If we lived in a universe where every moment of happiness was cosmically predestined to be counterbalanced by equally substantial sadness, how would you behave?

Assume a few things: you exist naturally in a neutral state, and you can quite consciously avoid happiness (and therefore, also, sadness). Also, assume that 10 hours of 10% happiness could be counterbalanced by one hour of the most extraordinary, intense, 100% sorrow.

The question, obviously: would you elect to abandon the middle way to experience the manic and depressive states?--or would you try to find psychological satisfaction in the natural, neutral state?

"You're not your f---ing khakis..." (Or your legs, for that matter)

2007-07-08T12:17:00.000-07:00

Everyone's heard of phantom limbs; you know, where you get an arm amputated and still "feel" it from time to time. But consider phantom itches, and even phantom pain. Apparently, after a while, the brain is able to recognize that the limb isn't really there, and may seek to reclaim the usable brain matter. Sometimes crosswiring happens, and an amputee may learn that the nerves in (say) his face have rewired in the brain so that, to scratch a phantom itch on his amputated thumb, he may scratch his cheek where it meets his nose (or wherever). The missing limb may occasionally feel shorter or mangled or stuck in an uncomfortable position--troubling.

So, we're much more "brain" than we are "body." But if we aren't our bodies, and if our brains are as plastic and dynamic as they seem to be, how much crosswiring could our brains really do? How much are we our brains? Wallace Stevens once said, "The real is only the base; but it is the base." I'm starting to wonder.

I have a phantom ball of wisdom that walks with me everywhere I go, about six steps behind and slightly off to the right.

Global Warming is not a Religion! Leo DiCaprio told me it was a Fact!

2007-07-07T18:30:00.000-07:00

"We may have as little as ten years to solve the climate crisis, lest we lose the chance to do so..." --Al Gore, tonight on the Live Earth special on NBC

Yeah... I'm still on the record as skeptical, even after hearing Rosario Dawson tell me to unplug my cellphone charger every time I leave the house (or whatever). And after hearing Kelly Clarkson perform "Since You Been Gone" (that performance almost persuaded me, though--so much duende!). If we really are ten years away from destruction, democracy is proving a ridiculously ineffective means of governing. I mean, counting on a Kelly Clarkson performance to persuade voters to save their own lives?--really? Plato might've been right to scorn democracy.

Anyway, on a bigger scale: Neutron stars exist. Think of them as collapsed stars (the collapse takes way less than one second). A teaspoon of neutron-star-matter would weigh as much matter as a mountain on earth. The density is so great and the gravity is so intense that the largest "mountains" on neutron stars are at most two inches tall. Look at Rene Magritte's painting "The Voice of Space":

Without the "mouths," obviously. But perfectly round, and ~10 km in diameter. Can you imagine seeing one of these things? And if this weren't spectacular enough, they are rotating--really fast... at their equators, as fast as 1/7th the speed of light. That's some serious rotation.

And if these things collect enough mass, they may collapse into black holes. I don't have a picture to show you of a black hole because the gravity there is so intense that (you've heard this before?) even light can't escape. A finite (large) amount of matter collected into an infinitely small "point."

Sometimes I think I am a black hole, receiving impressions constantly, collapsing them into my consciousness, my infinitely small "point." I don't always know what to make of the incoming data, but I do feel confident that there is something outside of my infinitely small core sending stuff at me--something else exists, or has existed.

The universe is so huge, and quarks and atoms and electrons are so small... it seems a kind of size-prejudice to consider ourselves "medium." An infinite regress and progress in the directions of small and large from our position seems more probable to me. Which means that our whole universe may be hanging around the collar of some cosmically huge-huge being, or that there existed a dozen intelligent civilizations in my eyeballs over the past 24 hours.

We are inclined to take "science" seriously, and to treat speculation with a sense of detachment or irony. But these movements toward the infinite seem very serious to me now, and global warming seems frivolous, despite Ann Curry's warnings of flood, drought, blizzards, hurricanes, etc. And despite Kanye West's very persuasive performance of "Gold Digger."

I hope "they" keep a giant record of everything ever published on the internet, and some far advanced civilization 5,000 years from now can read this post -- maybe they will be able to decide whether my interest in the cosmos was detrimental to human survival, was somehow irresponsible.

-------

Tomorrow: on intellectual honesty and the dissertation.

One Way of Looking at the World

2007-07-04T12:02:00.001-07:00

Everybody likes Wallace Stevens' poem, "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird." The poem is divided into 13 mini-stanzas; the first section looks like this:

I.
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.

To understand why these are the best three lines of poetry ever, really do your best to see the entire image--maybe this will help:

Then zoom in with your imagination, and place a single blackbird into the desolate landscape. There are no trees, no clouds--nothing but the bird and the landscape. Two great questions of perspective arise: 1) Who is the speaker?--who observes the lone observing bird? And, 2) Why is the bird's eye moving? What does it see?

In answer to the first question, the speaker must be unembodied. The perspective of the poem necessitates a non-physical presence, an unmoving presence. Pretty grand.

But it's the second question that really does the trick for me: the bird's eye is moving--why? I picture myself as the lone being in a desolate landscape, and I quiet my mind, and think about the moment my eye shifts its focus. The movement of my eye would not be instinctual, would not be an automatic response to a physical stimulus (nothing else is moving); instead, the shifting eye evinces a kind of aesthetic response. Stevens' blackbird moves its eye from one mountaintop to another because it is contemplative, because it wonders.

Is it possible that the blackbird wonders whether it is being observed, wonders if there is an unembodied presence?

Creation and Evolution: Ethically Neutral?

2007-06-27T17:04:00.000-07:00

Before I stopped believing in Santa Claus, I started feeling fairly confident about the theory of evolution. I don't know if this makes me a bad mystic-spiritualist, but geology and stuff, fossils, whatever--it just makes sense. And for the record, I don't feel like arguing about it.

But, I have this trigger mechanism in my brain that trips a circuit whenever I hear someone using an "or else" argument--e.g.: God must exist, or else everything is meaningless. Things like that. So when I heard some guy on some panel about some topic arguing that the apparent increase in conservative forms of religiosity (fundamentalism) will probably be really bad for scientific understanding--in fact, he cited a "scary" statistic that only 51% of high school biology teachers believe in evolution--I felt my brain jerk.

Again: If I taught high school biology, and someone called me up and said, "Do you accept the theory of evolution," I would say yes. However, I don't exactly see what the great disaster would be. There have always been creationists among us, running around believing that they and all those around them are only about 200 or 300 generations removed from Adam and Eve. It seems fairly harmless to me. In fact, in one view, people are special-case animals, and in another, they are all children of god and one big family. The second view seems at least as likely to produce the outcomes we all want: love and comaraderie, etc.

Evolution has been big news since the early part of the 20th century, and dates back to the mid-19th. Is the world better? Are people nicer? Has "believing in evolution" helped our species?

I'm genuinely asking these questions: it may very well be that scientists would not have discovered all these fancy things that make us live longer if they went home at night and believed in God or creation or whatever. I'm just not trained in science enough to know. From my perspective, believing in creation may make you less-well-educated than me, or more stubborn, or fundamentalist, or whatever -- but I'm not going to avoid moving into a house one day because the neighborhood is creationist-friendly.

Am I wrong here? -- someone list the consequences of the creationist outlook (though keep in mind, I might counter with the benefits of the creationist outlook, just for argument's sake).

Zihuatanejo and the Grant Street Parking Garage Dilemma

2007-06-27T14:20:00.001-07:00

I can't help it -- I hope this sounds like excitement and not boasting: my almost-bride and I have selected Zihuatanejo, Mexico for the site of our forthcoming seven-night honeymoon. Neither of us has seen the Pacific, so that's how we started our search, and when the word Zihuatanejo sprung up in one of our searches, it was a sealed deal. Anyone who has seen the final five minutes of The Shawshank Redemption will understand. Here are the final lines of the script:

RED: I find I am so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it is the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain... I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

And here's a map, followed by a picture of where we're staying. I'll let you just imagine the view:

------

Then the other day my friend and fellow former-truth-seeker (he's engaged now), Brian D., came into my office telling the story of what went down in the parking garage. Our parking garage, like all parking garages, seems poorly designed. I say seems because there really is no way around the awkwardness--cars aren't as agile as gazelles, after all. Brian's fiancee was driving, and (as usual, they both admitted), she decided to turn the wrong way in the parking garage in order to avoid having to follow the traffic signs and drive all the way around the perimeter of the large garage. To get to the 5th floor (I've odometered it) involves about .7 miles worth of driving, which can be cut to about .3 if one "cheats" all the way up. On their way up, they came face-to-face with another surprised driver who had driven the proper way up the garage and gave them a "WTF?" look through his windshield.

Low and behold (what does that phrase mean, Michael?): as Brian and his future wife exit the parking garage, the man accosts them: "Hey, were you the one turning the wrong way in the garage?--you could've called an accident, you know?"

Brian's driver/fiancee: "Oh, yeah--sorry."
Angry man: "Well, are you above the law?"
Brian's driver: "It's just a parking garage."
Angry man: "Oh, so--rules don't apply there?"
Brian: "You wanna fight, man?--let's go."
Angry man: (walks away scoffing)
Brian: "See you later, Captain Democracy."

Obviously, something went wrong here among some human beings. There is no danger in driving against the traffic signs in the parking garage--I want to emphasize that. No one will get hurt, and it is very unlikely that anyone's vehicle will get scratched, dented, or dinged. And yet, my sympathy is split here. I take the long way up in the garage every day -- though I have cheated in this garage in the past.

I love this issue because it seems right out of a Platonic dialogue to me. If you aren't Brian, you'll probably see that Angry man makes an interesting point: a rule is a rule, after all. And if Brian and his driver can go the wrong way, why can't everyone else?--and what would happen if we all did? Brian's "argument" is not coherent; so let's consider his fiancee's: "It's just a parking garage." She means to imply that there is no danger. Also a good point.

So ultimately the question is: Is this angry exchange avoidable?--or is it the product of bad laws? Or bad architecture? Is it institutional? Is Brian's driver at fault? Brian? The Angry driver man? I have a little aphorism that I made up not long ago: "Good people love to break bad laws, and bad people love to break good laws." Take my word for it: Brian and his future-wife are not bad people...

So what's the story here?

"Conscience alone divines unity..."

2007-06-24T08:37:00.000-07:00

Amos Bronson Alcott was sort of a literary preacher, a kind of lesser Ralph Waldo Emerson. Among his "Orphic Sayings," which appeared in The Dial in 1843/44, number XV concerns "Identity and Diversity." His description of the tension between our impulse towards unity and our impulse towards diversity is very clear and succinct:

It is the perpetual effort of conscience to divorce the soul from the dominion of sense; to nullify the dualities of the apparent, and restore the intuition of the real. The soul makes a double statement of all her facts; to conscience and sense; reason mediates between the two. Yet though double to sense, she remains single and one in herself; one in conscience, many in understanding; one in life, diverse in function and number. Sense, in its infirmity, breaks this unity to apprehend in part what it cannot grasp at once. Understanding notes diversity; conscience alone divines unity, and integrates all experience in identity of spirit. Number is predicable of body alone; not of spirit.

I've been trying to figure out a way to articulate something like this as I sense, more with each semester, that the word diversity seems less an less interesting to my students, who have heard it sounded through their classrooms since they were 8- or 10-years old. It's not that they are anti-diversity (although many of my peers like to fault them for not having spent a good part of their life in New York City or backpacking through Europe, etc.) -- rather, they are no longer moved by the claims of diversity, which seem to have lost their freshness. In my students' words: "Yeah, diversity--what else is new?"

Alcott is right to suggest that it is the understanding that "notes" and discovers diversity. But given two diverse objects--or better still, two diverse beings--it is only the conscience that sees an underlying unity through surface differences. I am convinced that if my students need any intellectual medicine, it must be some idea that helps them see through difference to discover underlying sameness. Anyone who has ever heard an 18-year old say "Well, everyone has a right to their opinion," or, "He'll do his thing, I'll do mine," might understand where I'm coming from. The "point" of the diversity movement of the '80s and '90s seems to have been lost. It is not enough to be atomistic and mutually uncoercive beings.

Here's to "nullifying the dualities of the apparent." We all know the problems of turning in the direction of unity; it is not without its problems. But the problems involved in shifting our focus may be equal to or even less than the problems associated with figuring ourselves as diverse agents -- it may be true that I am [some quality], and you are [some other quality], but we may very well have more in common than we have been educated to think.

Split Turkey Bwest

2007-06-20T19:03:00.000-07:00

(A post titled in the style of Wishydig)

Tonight on NBC's Last Comic Standing one of the Australian comedians made a joke about flying on an airline from the United Arab Emerites to Australia -- the joke had something to do with being startled awake in the middle of the night by an Arabic voice over the PA system warning of turbulence. He didn't understand it, and was scared... his punchline was something like, "In case anyone has forgotten, those of us in the West can be a little iffy about hearing Arabic hollered over the speaker system on an airplane."

Lame joke -- but what caught my ear was the reference to Australia as part of the West. I think I've finally had it with these terms: "East" and "West." They seem to refer to philosophical or theological traditions at least as much, if not more, than they refer to location. Look:

My objection here isn't just for the sake of geographical trivia. Look at Australia. Australia can only be said to be a part of the West ideologically, not geographically (and of course, it doesn't matter whether your map looks different than this one--Australia is parallel with Japan). But speaking of Japan, why is Japan still an "Eastern" country? It certainly shares Western capitalistic/democratic governing principles.

Look also at Africa -- right below Europe, but not part of the West. And Russia, well... far be it from me to say anything authoritative about Russia (if anything, Russia transcends the East/West paradigm: Russia is an idea more than it is a physical location). Not to mention the less-well-defined "Middle East" (notably not described as "Middle West" -- after all, "we" don't want them on our team).

So here's how this is annoying: there absolutely is a need for the East/West distinction in philosophical traditions. But the East/West pairing, which connotes a sense of totality (where else could there be if not East or West?), leaves out at least one continent and the biggest country by area in the world, and disqualifies places like Turkey for trying to straddle the line.

Anyone else ever annoyed by this? I think the East/West vision has been very useful in philosophical and theological history, but it seems to have reached the end of its line... Suggestions for revision?

The Name Above All Things

2007-06-18T14:34:00.001-07:00

My friend Brian got his copy of the Nag Hammadi Library today -- mostly as a favor to me, probably. I told him to start with the Gospel of Philip. Here's my favorite part:

One single name is not uttered in the world, the name which the Father gave to the Son; it is the name above all things: the name of the Father. For the Son would not become Father unless he wore the name of the Father. Those who have this name know it, but they do not speak it. But those who do not have it do not know it.

All I can say is that this is true. Any guesses as to what this mysterious name might be? -- of course, there's no chance anyone will get the right answer, because those who know it do not say it. Still, for my amusement. Anyone want to admit to knowing it? Brian, did you figure this out yet? I'll offer only this commentary: there is a profound reason why the one who knows this unutterable name does not speak it -- it is not an ethical reason, nor is it a kind of "secret knowledge." It is not so much that the name is unspeakable as unhearable.

Not incidentally, the preceding paragraph (in Philip), which I've quoted before, offers some substantial clues:

Names given to the worldly are very deceptive, for they divert our thoughts from what is correct to what is incorrect. Thus one who hears the word "God" does not perceive what is correct, but perceives what is incorrect. So also with "the Father" and "the Son" and "the Holy Spirit" and "life" and "light" and "resurrection" and "the Church (Ekklesia)" and all the rest - people do not perceive what is correct but they perceive what is incorrect, unless they have come to know what is correct. The names which are heard are in the world [...] deceive. If they were in the Aeon (eternal realm), they would at no time be used as names in the world. Nor were they set among worldly things. They have an end in the Aeon.

Gods among Men

2007-06-13T19:41:00.000-07:00

I was reading Plato's Apology today (okay, listening to an audio text, honestly) by the pool. In case you don't know it, it describes the trial of Socrates, who ends up sentenced to death or exile for something like heresy (he chooses death by hemlock). In his own defense, he summons the testimony of the legendary Oracle of Delphi. Check it out:

O men of Athens, I must beg you not to interrupt me, even if I seem to say something extravagant. For the word which I will speak is not mine. I will refer you to a witness who is worthy of credit; that witness shall be the God of Delphi -- he will tell you about my wisdom, if I have any, and of what sort it is. You must have known Chaerephon; he was early a friend of mine, and also a friend of yours, for he shared in the recent exile of the people, and returned with you. Well, Chaerephon, as you know, was very impetuous in all his doings, and he went to Delphi and boldly asked the oracle to tell him whether -- as I was saying, I must beg you not to interrupt -- he asked the oracle to tell him whether anyone was wiser than I was, and the Pythian prophetess answered, that there was no man wiser. Chaerephon is dead himself; but his brother, who is in court, will confirm the truth of what I am saying.

Socrates says that "the God of Delphi" will witness in his defense. Later Socrates responds to Meletus' accusation that he is an atheist by saying,

...no one who has a particle of understanding will ever be convinced by you that the same men can believe in divine and superhuman things, and yet not believe that there are gods and demigods and heroes.

This is sort of the punchline to Socrates' argument that no one would be so foolish as to believe in horsemanship, but not horses, or flute-playing, but not flute-players. Because he belives in divine and superhuman things, he argues, he must believe in "gods, demigods and heroes." And heroes? Something fishy is going on here with words.

Socrates comes to us through the centuries as an eccentric, but not a madman -- in fact, most people think of him as a light in darkness. If nothing else, Socrates took great care in dealing with definitions and language. Because he was in court, and because his entire life and work were on the line, he tried to use language that would be as intelligible in the court as it had been in the market, or in the streets. And keep in mind, he was trying to prove that he did believe in superhuman things--he was on trial for disbelieving, or for having different gods than the state.

But how are heroes superhuman? And how can the Oracle at Delphi be called "God?" The powerful "men of Athens" before whom Socrates is made to defend himself were loosely polytheistic--we know that from the history books. But could that signify something to us that it did not signify to them? What if I suggest that we have our own gods?: Franklin, Jefferson, Emerson, Edison, Oprah.

Socrates' great heresy, his major intellectual contribution, was to collapse these gods, to recognize in them a single light--to discover the One. Refusing to pay homage to the conventional, state-sanctioned "gods," Socrates bravely declares,

Some one may wonder why I go about in private giving advice and busying myself with the concerns of others, but do not venture to come forward in public and advise the state. I will tell you why. You have heard me speak at sundry times and in divers places of an oracle or sign which comes to me, and is the divinity which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. This sign, which is a kind of voice, first began to come to me when I was a child; it always forbids but never commands me to do anything which I am going to do. This is what deters me from being a politician.

This voice within is Socrates' One and only God. It is not external, but internal. As Emerson said 2,000 years later, "Speak your latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense; for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost,—— and our first thought is rendered back to us by the trumpets of the Last Judgment." I'll only add: I think we need to begin thinking about a new terminology, something that captures this insight, but represents it in a new package. What was once the virtue of Odysseus exists in all of us. What was once called God we all know as love. What we have known as love has passed as beauty. In his turn, Emerson almost managed to get away with calling it "self."

When, in (about?) the 1960s, someone in San Fransisco described his hallucination-experience as "awesome," he meant precisely that: the vision inspired awe, was grand, transcendent. Others may have picked up the language. By 1970, a young woman in Indiana returned from a rare trip to the ocean to describe what she saw to her friends: "awesome." Soon (1995), however, teenagers were using the word to describe a keg-stand they did on Friday night. In less than four decades, the word went from meaningful to meaningless. And so what words Whitman chose, "I celebrate myself," we rightfully mistrust. Too much interest in the Self is a vice in our culture, not a path to transcendence. Randall Jarrell, through Brian, taught me this: "The darkness from the darkness. / Pain comes from the darkness / And we call it wisdom. / It is pain."

Ask: why is there so much more scholarly interest in beauty than there is in ugliness? What makes us prefer love to hatred? What is the thing--what shall we call it? With Plotinus, I might start calling it the "intellectual-principle" for a while, just to freshen things up. Or, I might call it "Randall Jarrell" or "Brian."

Darkness comes from wisdom and we call it pain. It is darkness.

Sayings and Aphorisms -- #7

2007-06-11T20:38:00.000-07:00

The prophet knows what others need to hear in order that they may believe--this is what leads St. Paul to beg the greatest spiritual question in the form of an almost unbearably haunting command: Pray without ceasing.

------

In case you doubt the translation, here are a dozen others:

Pray without ceasing
Pray continually
Pray all the time
Be unceasing in prayer
Never stop praying
Continually pray ye
Pray unceasingly
Pray constantly
Without ceasing pray ye
Nunca dejéis de orar
Priez sans cesse
Betet unablässig!

From the Archives

2007-06-11T18:25:00.000-07:00

On Communication

In the past, you were always trying to explain something to me, and you were almost invariably wise and articulate, but I was deaf.

Now, in my memories of the past, you are always patiently explaining something to me and I am hearing you, but you are struggling with words--there is wisdom on your brow, but I cannot quite understand your meaning.

In my imagination, we sit down in the future with a glass of red wine in early autumn, after the sunset, near water or a fire (or both), and I am perfectly prepared to listen--but something happens when I think of the future. In front of that campfire, with the past behind us, we will have forgotten why we have met in mid October; you will have nothing to say. And it is a good thing, because I fear I will be distracted by the irregular crackle of dry wood.

In Defense of Astrology

2007-06-09T20:54:00.000-07:00

In retrospect, it seems like the powers that have been over-emphasized the preposterousness of astrology--which, of course, makes me want to reconsider. Right up there with alchemy and witchcraft in the popular imagination, astrology appears right next to the comics in our daily newspaper.

But consider this chart.

If babies learn very specific skills and behaviors during narrow periods of time, then it seems quite reasonable to suppose that the time of year during which they were learning those skills and behaviors might be relevant on long term development. If, for example, I learn something like object permanence during the months of summer, I may learn it by play hide-and-seek behind a large oak tree. Alternatively, if I learn object permanence during the winter months, I may learn it by watching a toy drop out of vision down a stairwell and discovering that it remains even when I can't see it. These are two very different settings for learning.

If my parents take me outside when I am 3 months old because the weather is nice, I may observe natural shapes--pin oak leaves, blades of grass, branches of trees. On the other hand, indoor learning may aquaint me with regular shapes--television sets, kitchen tables, tile flooring, etc. I'm an Aquarius, which means I was born between January 2nd and February 19th. My parents took me outside very much to play when I was 3-6 months old. Someone born in October might not be outdoors as much between 3-6 months of age.

Doesn't this make sense? Should we try blending together melted metals to make gold...?

On "The Doctrine of Hatred"

2007-06-09T11:45:00.000-07:00

Three difficult sayings:

1. Ralph Waldo Emerson, in "Self-Reliance":

Your goodness must have some edge to it--else it is none. The doctrine of hatred must be preached, as the counteraction of the doctrine of love, when that pules and whines.

2. Jesus, in The Gospel of Thomas (#55):

Whoever does not hate his father and his mother cannot become a disciple to me. And whoever does not hate his brothers and sisters and take up his cross in my way will not be worthy of me. (See Also)

3. Thomas Jefferson, in a letter to William S. Smith:

God forbid we should ever be twenty years without such a rebellion. The people cannot be all, and always, well informed. The part which is wrong will be discontented, in proportion to the importance of the facts they misconceive. If they remain quiet under such misconceptions, it is lethargy, the forerunner of death to the public liberty. ...And what country can preserve its liberties, if it's rulers are not warned from time to time, that this people preserve the spirit of resistance? Let them take arms. The remedy is to set them right as to the facts, pardon and pacify them. What signify a few lives lost in a century or two? The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time, with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.

If you understand Jefferson, you may be able to understand Emerson. What would it mean for the "doctrine of love" to pule and whine? How would the doctrine of hatred be a solution? The "dark" American romance writers--Poe, Hawthorne, Melville, Dickinson--were deeply unsatisfied with the sentimental novels permeating the publishing industry in the 1820s-1840s. If you've never had the time to read any of these novels, trust me: they're mushy. They typically espouse a banal doctrine of "love" and graciousness, often warning young ladies against marrying a "rake." The love expressed in those books seems, for most people today, to fall flat, to be inauthentic, insincere. It took a refreshed understanding (via refreshed language) to restore the genuineness to the old and ever-true "doctrine of love." Similarly in Russia during the 1860s, when the "Sons" refused to accept the values and definitions of the "Fathers."

On the other hand, I wonder if an "opposite" dynamic may be true as well. E.M. Cioran confessed,

When I catch myself nursing an impulse to Revolt, I take a sleeping pill or consult a psychiatrist. Any means will due if you pursue Indifference without being predisposed to it.

Any genius will see how love and hatred may be the same coin--different words for the same giant thing; but only a prophet may discover how passion and indifference are kindred as well.

Cat-with-a-Bow Golf

2007-06-08T15:21:00.000-07:00

This is fun. I shot -12 my first round. No one will ever beat that. And I've been waiting for "them" to make this game my entire life... so good.

My First Painting (in 20 years)

2007-06-07T19:36:00.000-07:00

After I found out that I was distantly related to Edvard Munch, I figured it was sort of an ethical obligation to try my hand at painting. Here's my first watercolor, based on my memory of the beach-view in Glen Arbor Michigan, where my family vacationed annually from the early-1980s until the mid-1990s. The island on the right is North Manitou Island. It's a little Bob Ross-ish, but c'mon!--not bad, right?

Here's a photograph that I found (after completing my painting!) for comparision:

Guess they chopped down my imaginary Bob-Ross-ish pine tree.

Ex Uno Plura

2007-06-07T07:55:00.000-07:00

Marc, this one's for you:

Following up on my exceedingly good post, Zero, One, Many, I want to suggest a revision of the national motto, which has always been E pluribus unum, "Out of many, one."

I think it's about time we inverted that motto to reflect the changes in our national values. Our new motto would be E unum pluribus, or, "Out of one, many." Unless I'm mistaken, it does seem that diversification rather than unification has become our goal, and I have always believed that clear articulation of goals is important to productivity. You wouldn't wear a "Vote Republican" button and then work hard to elect a Democrat, so why should we carry around this burdensome, outdated phrase that no longer reflects our national goal?

Of course, just as our quest for union brought us into civil war and eventually to discover the ennui of unum, I'm sure our quest for diversity will bring us to civil war and allow us to discover the ennui of pluribus, but what else is there to do?

Some day, a nation will rise whose only motto is E pluribus unum; E unum pluribus, etc., etc., and that will be one fine place to live most of the time.

**Update: Looks like I'm not the first to think of this, which makes me a slow learner, but confirms that it is a reasonable idea. Language Log even suggests that my reconfiguration is ungrammatical, but my common-sense inversion seems perfectly practical to me. Here is the preferred officially grammatical translation. Any thoughts, ~~Wishydig~~ Buppy!--you're on chapter 11 by now?

Sayings and Aphorisms -- #6

2007-06-06T08:21:00.000-07:00

Meditate on that which is farthest from you, but remember all that fills the space between It and you. In that way, you may really forget God.

Zero, One, Many

2007-06-04T08:03:00.000-07:00

I am of the opinion that Western culture has focused for too long on the distinction between "the One" and "the Zero," where One corresponds to things like God, the Oversoul, humanism, etc. and Zero corresponds to meaninglessness and nihilism and the kind of existential doubt that characterized the first half of the 20th century. Please try to understand my terms.

But sometime during the 1990s, the cultural tide started to change. Someone remembered the "Many," which corresponds to diversity. More accurately, the Many achieved a threshold status that allowed it to spring to life in mainstream Western culture. Things must've looked grim before those days, when all anyone thought about was whether or not existence had any "higher" purpose. Logical positivists. Camus taking suicide to be the only significant question for philosophy. Wallace Stevens' poems. Kafka. Cold War. Then Diversity was offered as a panacea--the Many had arrived on the stage for the first time in centuries. One could fortell the future by listening to the complaints of conservatives: "Well, but--that's moral relativism!" The accusation of "relativism" was meant to communicate a metaphysical objection to the Many, but had not been needed or employed in so long that it fell flat. Things were not meaningless (Zero), and everyone was not the same (One). Diversity triumphed. Schoolchildren swallowed it like yummy cough medicine. The Many was rising.

And please don't misunderstand. This essay isn't against Many or against diversity, but should be read as a kind of hesitation -- time to take our collective temperature again. We recall the down sides to both the Zero (much lamented by existential Christians like Dostoevsky and Kierkegaard, as well as by orthodox Christians trained in argument) and the One (which manifested itself as political fascism more than once during the last century). But is there any down side to the Many? Take a look at my chart, devised to help me get through a dissertation chapter on Herman Melville:

We know the old dichotomy of Damnation and Salvation, which constituted the whole field of interest of the Western world from about 400 A.D./C.E. until at least a thousand years later. By the time of the founding of America, the Many had begun to show itself again, manifesting itself in the form of political "faction," which frightened the founders into arguing for a strong central government (i.e., a "One") in The Federalist Papers. In political terms, it is easy to see: on one side, a fear of anarchy (Zero) -- on the other, warring factions (Many). Union was the answer for those who wrote America into existence.

But as usual, I'm not so interested in discussing political points -- the negative points are easy to discover on every side of the argument. Note one thing, though: in political terms, it is easy to see the difficulties with either extreme (Zero & Many). In psychological/spiritual terms, however, it is not so simple, because we tend to have an impulse to see in dual terms, even though there are three possibilities (Zero, One, Many). Almost everyone perceives the universe as an opposition between two forces, forgetting a third way.

For some, that forgetfulness means a rose-colored glasses look at nihilistic meaninglessness, the Zero; for others, it means a rose-colored glasses look at schizophrenic detachment, or the Many (also called Buddhist Enlightenment).

I have Christian friends who are worried about the Zero (about what they perceive to be the meaninglessness of the world without God) without thinking about the Many. I also have atheist friends who are worried about the One (what they often call "fascism" or "tyranny") without facing the Zero. On the third hand, I know very few people who are equally fearful of of schizophrenia, or factional barbarism. This suggests to me that we are in a phase where we have recently rediscovered the Many, but have not yet collectively faced the problems associated with it. Thesis: And that is only because the Many has not yet entered the Western world, has not yet been made flesh.

The problems with the Zero have been nihilism and meaninglessness, or spiritual damnation. The One was offered as the antidote against the Zero. But somewhere along the way, certain thinkers, poets, scholars, etc. started to notice that the One was not a perfect solution either (see Captain Ahab, whose white whale is the perfect problematic One). Since that rediscovery, other thinkers have suggested a solution: the Many! That will fix it. They see the problems of the One (tyranny and closed perception) and offer to fix it with the Many. Democratic political structures and "open-mindedness" have been the aims of the pushers of the Many. Have we reached the end of history? Or are there problems with the Many?

Trusting nothing is the Zero. It has its problems. Trusting only a single Holy Text or one's self is the One--it also has its problems. Listening to everyone is the Many. Have you ever really listened to everyone? Have you tried to open your mind to the Many? I'm interested. My own experience has been that the Many is no more or less a solution (or a problem) than either the Zero or the One. In fact, I want to suggest that the line that looks like this:

Zero-----------One-----------Many

...is not really a line at all. Instead, this is a kind of loop of history, and that it is through the Many that the Zero manifests itself in the world. When all is considered, when everything is granted coequal authority, the Zero is made flesh. It is our nature to rage against the One, and so we shall.

How unimportant it is that you accept my argument!--I am only concerned that you have understood my terms.

Barry Bonds & the Homerun "Race"

2007-05-29T11:44:00.000-07:00

I few months ago I heard a statistic that seems very meaningful to me: in 1973, black ballplayers constituted 28% of Major League Baseball's total number of players; this year, that number is around 8% (approximations from memory). I still don't know how to account for this. In many ways, baseball has always been ahead of the curve: Jackie Robinson's debut in 1947 preceded the Atlanta bus boycott, school integration, Brown V. Board, and the civil rights acts of '64 and the voter's rights act of '65. And by 1973, black players were significantly over-represented according to demographic proportions. So what has happened since...?

Then I read today on ESPN.com that 75 percent of blacks want Barry Bonds to break Hank Aaron's all-time homerun record, compared to only 28 percent of whites.

The racial divide in polling numbers are almost as stark as they were during the O.J. Simpson trial. But it isn't as simple as it might look at first glance because the current all-time record holder for most career homeruns, Hank Aaron, is black. So what's going on here? White people like records to stand? Black people don't? That seems beyond bizarre to me... For the record, I suppose I fall in with "whites" on this one: Hank Aaron has always been one of my favorite players.

Summary:

"Problem" #1: fewer black ballplayers

"Problem" #2: Why the wide disparity in figures between blacks and whites when it comes to cheering for Barry Bonds?

(Note: I'm not sure either of these are problems--hence the quotation marks. But I welcome responses/explanations/solutions.)

What I see when I Close my Eyes

2007-05-29T09:55:00.000-07:00

For my whole life, I have occasionally had a repeating visual hallucination -- I used to almost be able to receive it at will, by rubbing my eyeballs with the palms of my hands. I hadn't seen it in a few years until yesterday, when I went jogging through the local nature preserve, perhaps a little too fast. The whole progress of the event, from blackness to blackness, takes about 5 minutes (and it is a smoothly developing process--my images are "freeze frames" in what is in fact a very slow manifesting and receding). What I have depicted below is what I see against closed eyelids, but if I open them, I can still see this translucent white-yellow light glowing in my field of vision:

I know this is an exceptionally odd post, but I thought that my representation of the vision (with help from "Paint" and "PhotoImpression5") was so true to form that it warranted me sharing. Two things: a) what a great thing to hallucinate, huh? And, b) should I be worried?

UPDATE: I remembered a little illusion-trick I learned when I was a kid -- if you want to experience my hallucination for yourself, stare at the white in the center of the image below (Stage 6, inverse) for 45 seconds, then look at a white wall:

On what is called Conversion

2007-05-28T18:49:00.001-07:00

It seems to me that religious conversion is misunderstood by those who've never lived through the experience (Important: I take this to mean a move into faith from skepticism, or vice versa) -- in my experience, the move from faith to doubt, for example, is simply matter of expression: what do I call this feeling in me, this leaning in the direction of the future? I believe conversion may be as much about one's relationship to language as it is about an inner realignment. Politics serves as an effective foil: If I called myself a "democrat" in 1960, I may today call myself something else, though my convictions about the nature of Just government have not changed.

I have found that those who have never converted, one way or another, often take for granted the categories they discover in the world around them -- indeed, their attachment to their original understanding of the words "believer" and "atheist" (or "skeptic") may constitute the central aspect of their own ontology. William James lampoons the skeptic who has never considered belief in his chapter on "The Religion of Healthy-Mindedness" in Varieties of Religious Experience:

Q: What does Religion mean to you?
A: It means nothing; and it seems, so far as I can observe, useless to others. I am sixty-seven years of age and have resided in X. fifty years, and have been in business forty-five, consequently I have some little experience of life and men, and some women too, and I find that the most religious and pious people are as a rule those most lacking in uprightness and morality... The God-idea was begotten in ignorance, fear, and a general lack of any knowledge of Nature. If I were to die now, being in a healthy condition for my age, both mentally and physically, I would just as lief, yes, rather, die with a hearty enjoyment of music, sport, or any other rational pastime. As a timepiece stops, we die--there being no immortality in either case.
Q: What comes before your mind corresponding to the words God, Heaven, Angels, etc.?
A: Nothing whatever. There is no agency of the superintending kind. A little judicious observation as well as knowledge of scientific law will convince any one of the fact.
Q: What is your notion of sin?
A: It seems to me that sin is a condition, a disease, incidental to man's development not being yet advanced enough.
Q: What is your temperament?
A: Nervous, active, wide-awake, mentally and physically. Sorry that Nature compels us to sleep at all.

James follows this section with a particularly keen analysis: "If we are in search of a broken and contrite heart, clearly we need not look to this brother. His contentment with the finite incases him like a lobster-shell and shields him from all morbid repining at his distance from the Infinite." And of course, I only quote James to help me present what I think is the less common image: that of the religiously-skeptical atheist type. Obviously, there is the correspondingly "omni-satisfied" religious-religious type, who says contrite things like, "Oh yes, life seemed difficult to me, too, until I accepted my savior Jesus Christ into my life--since then I've been happy every day." (The political equivalent is again a useful contrast: those who have subscribed, from an early age, to one political party, without considering shifting their politics, may end up betraying their own early convictions in order that they stay true to the party-name.)

These two types, symmetrical to the point of being effectively synonymous, are unable to see that there is one overarching principle bringing them together -- William James calls it "Healthy-Mindedness," and is currently being peddled as The Secret, and has generally been found in the "Self-Help" section of your local bookstore. "I am an atheist and have no need for God," says one. "I am a Christian and have the LORD and put all my trust in him." And these words, these self-defining terms (atheist & Christian) serve to protect these two from ever experiencing the conversion.

On the other hand, the person willing to renounce the protection of terminology may discover that what he formerly took for his devotion is really just a disguise for his doubt. Similarly, the person willing to renounce the safety of labels may discover that what she formerly understood to be her skepticism has only been the fear of being overwhelmed. The religious conversion will not come until the potential convert feels absolutely indifferent about labels -- have you ever felt nothing about the words atheist, Christian, believer, skeptic, faith, doubt?

A brief personal history may help: when I was young I said "God" and felt content. A little older, I said the word "success," and felt content. A little older, a little more mature, I said, "atheism," and felt content. A while later, I said "Oversoul," "Buddhist," then "mystic" and felt content... and the beat goes on, the beat goes on.

Genealogy

2007-05-25T15:01:00.000-07:00

My post below about Lacunae & Gnosticism is still on my mind, but I thought I'd mention that I just discovered that I'm Edvard Munch's 8th cousin, thrice removed. See Ancestry.com to find out where your own family tree took root (thanks, Jon). This explains so much.

Sayings & Aphorisms -- #5

2007-05-25T13:46:00.001-07:00

If there is anything, any idea, that you believe people consider too infrequently or value too little, then you are not far from the kingdom of heaven.

Lacunae, Sappho, and the [...] of Gnosticism

2007-05-24T12:34:00.000-07:00

I was re-reading my copy of The Dialogue of the Savior this morning in my Nag Hammadi Library when I discovered that what I enjoyed most about the text looked like this: [...]. That is, many of the so-called "Gnostic" gospels recovered at Nag Hammadi were not in perfect condition; they were full of gaps--or Lacunae--where words could not be recognized or where holes existed in the original manuscript. So this particular gospel begins like this:

The Savior said to his disciples, "Already the time has come, brothers, for us to abandon our labor and stand at rest. For whoever stands at rest will rest forever. And I say to you, [be] always [above...] time... [...]...you [...] be afraid [of...] ... you ... [...] ...anger [is] fearful [...] arouse anger... [...is...] but since you have ...[...]...[...] they accepted these words [concerning it] with [fear] and trembling, and it set them up with governors, for from it nothing was forthcoming. But when I came, I opened the path and I taught them about the passage which they will traverse, the elect and solitary, [who have known the Father, having believed] the truth and [all] the praises while you offered praise.

For the record, I am absolutely convinced that this Nag Hammadi library is even more than essential reading. I believe that these texts are profound enough in their own way to bring about a change in Christianity as significant as the reformation. These texts have only been available in English since 1979, however, and changing two thousand years of consensus and orthodoxy takes a little time. Over the next few centuries, though, and maybe within a couple generations, these scriptures are going to find a place in or alongside what we now recognize as "mainstream" Christianity. And, in my view, this will be a blessing. Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, "The doctrine of hate has to be preached, as the antidote to the doctrine of love, when love starts to whimper and whine..." And though the Gnostic texts do not constitute a doctrine of hate, they may seem to be a compilation of heresy. But, and I think Emerson would agree, every great spiritual movement begins as heresy.

The gaps in the text protect it against assaults from literalists, who tend to miss the spirit for the trees; that is, who tend to miss the forest for the words. If you've read Anne Carson's recent translation of Sappho's poetry, you'll have some understanding of the beauty of omission. Here's a translation of part of one of Sappho's poems:

Remember the many garlands of violets
and roses I placed next to
you
and
the many flower necklaces I weaved around
your
soft
skin

and spread bountiful myrrh
[......]* fit for a
queen

and upon the gentle mattress,
[......]* the
passion you exuded

and neither the [......]*
nor the singly
sacred [......]*
did we weave [......]*
from which we stayed
away.

Faced with these lacunae, reading is forced to become the imaginative act that it always should be. We become co-authors with the great poet of Lesbos. As well as any aesthetic or ambiguous words ever could, this little symbol -- [...] -- resists ossification and orthodoxy. Some of the gaps in the texts recovered at Nag Hammadi seem to be so perfectly-placed that some readers of great faith might suggest that the gaps in the text were foreordained. Consider the maddening elipses in this short excerpt from The Dialogue of the Savior:

Mary [said, "...] see [evil...] ...them from the first [...] each other.

The [Lord] said, "[...] ...when you see them... [...] become huge, they will... [...] ...But when you see the Eternal Existent, that is the great vision.

I can't imagine any more wonderful presentation of the elusive mysteries of the universe. It's like eavesdropping on a conversation that you really want to hear, and missing some of the critical words -- these gaps are fertile soil for the imagination (trust me!), and provide almost infinite possibility for interpretation. I know people who shut down at the utterance of the word "Jesus" or "God." Their reaction is certainly an indictment not of them or their character, but of the evangelizing strategies of orthodoxy. For them, Nag Hammadi offers a two-columned (because two-text) tract called The Sophia of Jesus Christ. In that text, we read,

[Now] those [who] come [from the...] exist with their [...] [in] every aeon [...] [...] [...In the beginning, thought] and thinkings [appeared from] mind, [then] teachings [from] thinkings, counsels [from teachings], (and) power [from] [counsels].

Far be it from me to pronounce the meaning of this fragment -- but it.. is... awesome! Monica's going to be so excited about all of this.

P.S. -- for those of you with low I.Q.s (Imagination Quotients), the Gnostic texts are not all tattered with lacunae. In the Gospel of Philip for example, we get this:

Names given to the worldly are very deceptive, for they divert our thoughts from what is correct to what is incorrect. Thus one who hears the word "God" does not perceive what is correct, but perceives what is incorrect. So also with "the father," and "the son" and "the holy spirit" and "life" and "light" and "resurrection" and "the church" and all the rest -- people do not perceive what is correct but they perceive what is incorrect, [unless] they have come to know what is correct. The [names which are heard] are in the world [... deceive. If they] were in the eternal realm (aeon), they would at no time be used as names in the world. Nor were they set among worldly things. They have an end in the eternal realm.

Or in The Gospel of Thomas (#13):

Thomas said to him, "Master, my mouth is wholly incapable of saying whom you are like."
Jesus said, "I am not your (sg.) master. Because you (sg.) have drunk, you (sg.) have become intoxicated from the bubbling spring which I have measured out."
And he took him and withdrew and told him three things. When Thomas returned to his companions, they asked him, "What did Jesus say to you?"
Thomas said to them, "If I tell you one of the things which he told me, you will pick up stones and throw them at me; a fire will come out of the stones and burn you up."

Summer Indulgence, or, Books like fine wine

2007-05-23T14:04:00.000-07:00

Continuing in my quest to make up for the neglect I have suffered at the hands of public education, I am nearing the end of my first tour through ancient Western philosophy. I started with the Presocratics a few years ago, read Plato's Republic, Gorgias, Parmenides, Symposium, et. al., read Aristotle's Poetics, Politics, Nicomachean Ethics, and about half of his Metaphysics (which is totally awesome, but very difficult). Then I read some Marcus Aurelius and Seneca, and some of Plutarch, who waxes philosophical from time to time.

It's true what they say, by the way -- everything you need to know is in those books. All of your cutting edge buzz-concepts existed from the very beginning. But, I understand: you need to get tenure, etc.

Anyway, I just wanted to drop a plug for Plotinus' (204-270 AD) Enneads. This won't be for everybody, but if you're interested in a synthesis of all of the great theology and philosophy of the ancient world, if you're interested in the fountainhead of the mystic traditions of Paganism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and Gnosticism, this is it. It's very ethereal, profoundly metaphysical in flavor, but the Penguin edition is "an interpretive translation" by Stephen MacKenna, heralded as one of the great translations of the 20th century.

I understand why people get balky (is that a word?) around the old stuff -- it's difficult, and sometimes it seems to make persistent reference to bizarre-sounding concepts. Consider this passage from Plotinus:

Wisdom and understanding consist in the contemplation of all that exists in the Intellectual-Principle, and the Intellectual-Principle itself apprehends this all (not by contemplation but) as an immediate presence.
And each of these has two modes according as it exists in the Intellectual-Principle and in the Soul: in the Soul it is Virtue, in the Supreme not Virtue.
In the Supreme, then, what is it?

Its proper Act and Its Essence.
That Act and Essence of the Supreme, manifested in a new form, constitute the virtue of this sphere. For the Ideal-Form of Justice or of any other virtue is not itself a virtue, but, so to speak, an exemplar, the source of what in the Soul becomes virtue: for virtue is dependent, seated in something not itself; the Ideal-Form is self-standing, independent.

I have bold-faced some of the words that I think might give even the most literate people difficulty on a first read. But Plotinus is careful to define his terms as his argument develops, and all that seems required is deliberate reading and, perhaps, some occasional marginalia. Five years ago, I was unprepared to read this kind of text; I would have said, "It's mumbo-jumbo, hogwash. I don't have the patience for this."

But I did one thing right. I blamed it on me (lacking patience), and not on Plotinus. It is difficult to "shotgun" 12-ounces of wine, and very few people would want to -- and it is no different with Plotinus. If you decide to try him, take him out on your balcony during the sunset hours and be prepared to slow down.

Says wikipedia, "According to the account of Eustochius, who attended him at the end, Plotinus' final words were: 'Strive to give back the Divine in yourselves to the Divine in the All.' Eustochius records that a snake crept under the bed where Plotinus lay, and slipped away through a hole in the wall; at the same moment the philosopher died."

Hmm... hey, haven't I heard this one before?

"The Ethics of Perception"

2007-05-23T06:54:00.000-07:00

I was surprised this morning to discover that the phrase "ethics of perception" yielded only 7 hits in the JSTOR academic search engine, and none of those articles seemed directly relevant. An example:

Two weeks ago, I was pulling into the liquor store to buy a bottle of wine with my fiancee. I had to hit the brakes pretty hard as I began making the turn, because a tiny duckling was waddling at the edge of the parking lot. As I drove around the fuzzy little yellow thing and found a parking spot, I noticed the mother with her five or six ducklings trailing behind up on the grass, perhaps 20 feet from the stray that seemed unable to climb the curb, unable to keep up. My future wife, noble being that she is, decided to go help the little runt by tossing him up in the grass -- "Go catch your siblings," she mumbled, as she placed him on the grass.

The baby bird immediately turned around and tumbled down the curb, then seemed to try to climb up Gretchen's ankle. This time, she picked the duckling up and ran him over by his duck-family and then sprinted away, into the liquor store. I sat in the car and watched. A moment passed before I saw the little yellow feathers; inexplicably, this maniac duckling was headed back for the road where cars were passing every few seconds.

I watched. And as Gretchen got back in the car, the duckling entered the road. "It's only a matter of seconds now," I thought, and maybe said. Gretchen looked away, and then it happened.

Now my question. What happened?

A. The saddest thing ever.
B. Nature ran its course.
C. Natural selection at its finest.
D. An allegory for my own fragile exitence and impending doom.
E. Nothing significant.
F. All of the above.
G. A divine admonition against drinking wine.
H. Suicide isn't just for humans.
I. Rebel duck demands freedom! -- dies trying to make it back to the pond, away from the roads.
J. Other.

Take your pick, or invent a new interpretation of the event. In any case, understand that whatever you decide, if you leave your remarks in the "comments" section under this post, your perception & interpretation may take on ethical proportions.

When someone who is 95-years old dies, we interpret the event: "She was called home to G-d." When someone who is 5 months old dies, we do our best to interpret the event: "He was too perfect for this sphere." When a 16-year old gets drunk at his cabin up North on the 3rd of July and dies diving off the dock head first, we usually try not to interpret. Why is this? Do we understand intuitively that the way we see, and the way we say that we see, is a matter for ethical consideration? Would it be unethical to say, "Well, served him right -- that's a lesson in youthful arrogance if there ever was one!"

But enough about death. When a 20-year old college sophomore finds out she is pregnant, is her reaction subject to questions of ethics? How does she perceive the conception? A curse, or a blessing? Could we argue that to perceive the conception as a curse is unethical? Emerson said,

Thoughtless people… do not distinguish between perception and notion. They fancy that I choose to see this or that thing. But perception is not whimsical, but fatal. If I see a trait, my children will see it after me, and in course of time all mankind—although it may chance that no one has seen it before me. For my perception of it is as much a fact as the sun.

Computer : Mind :: Mind : ?

2007-05-22T17:14:00.001-07:00

I am asking a question. Conceive of things in relation to their degree of removal, of their mirrored structures -- Imagine always the original blueprint:

Microsoft Word is an allegory for the rational mind. Then recall: have you ever opened a new document and begun typing before the cursor is able to catch up? You have typed most of your first sentence, "Upon discovering a dead mouse under the passenger seat in his 1999 Honda Acc...," before the letters start to appear. This is a metaphor for how reasoning works.

Or, your computer represents the mind. You start it up, the desktop appears, and you double click on the browser icon -- you are heading for a familiar webpage, a page where you know you will want to scroll down. Before the page loads, the scroll bar on the right appears, and you click to scroll down. The screen hesitates, then jerks, and as the page loads you are already somewhere below the header images.

Or, you turn your television on, having come home from spending a day at the pool. It is 4:30, and you are hoping to catch the end of the Tigers game that started at 2:30. After hearing the "pop" that comes with switching on and some out-of-context dialogue (you were watching CNN before you went swimming), you hit the digits deliberately: 2-6. And as the picture warms up, you are already where you want to be.

Regularly, we find ourselves waiting for technology -- is this a "thing-in-itself," though? Or is it possibly only another level of removal? Have you had an idea with direction; have you been able to anticipate the conclusion before the rational mind warms up? To be sure, our technology mirrors the structures and functions of our minds... is it so unreasonable to inquire whether or minds might themselves mirror the structure and function of something "less-removed," something more real? Is it possible that rational cognition is nothing but a refined technology?

Ethics and the End of Reason

2007-05-21T19:12:00.000-07:00

(Prompted by Monica's worry that cultivates I-It relationships)

It seems to me that Reason aims at something else, even as the reasoner does not know his trajectory. Among the first of the eternal questions is, "What am I to do?," and we generally call this branch of inquiry ethics...

These giant questions (Should I kill one random person for ten million dollars? Should I bomb some few civilians to save thousands more? Should I drop "The Bomb" or not?) help us think about ethics at every level; we use them as examples precisely for their starkness. I developed this question once to explore with my students the problems of responsibility:

Imagine you are driving down the road on a big college campus. You are driving at the speed limit, but it is a nice day out, and you are occasionally glancing at the sidewalk to see the attractive people in their attractive outfits. There are vehicles parallel parked at the side of the road, and as you look to your left to check out some nice legs (or whatever), someone runs out in between the cars parked on your right in front of your vehicle. You hit them. They appear dead. When the ambulance comes, do you confess your negligence, or do you figure that the damage is already done and do your best to appear blameless?

I don't even know if it's a good philosophical question or not, but it usually gets my students talking -- what we all intuit, of course, is that this scenario is meant to sound deeper and more disparate depths than we can plumb. It is not a question about "driving ethics," but about ethics in general. In other words, we believe these kinds of scenarios to be transferable.

I believe these kinds of literary approaches to philosophy are necessary because Reason is strained by limits of time and data. We say things like "Do no violence," but we do not take the time to catalogue all of the exceptions. But what if we did? How many exceptions are there? Where is "the line" between justifiable violence and unjustified violence?

Most people would think it unethical to walk up to someone's pet horse and shoot it in the head for no reason. On the other hand, most people would not worry about stepping on an insect on the sidewalk. Then let us explore the middle territory:

Is it acceptable to kill a turtle? How about if you are driving a car? How about if you are driving a car and there is a child on the side of the road and an oncoming car in the other lane -- should you sacrifice yourself to save the turtle? Certainly you shouldn't sacrifice the child to save the turtle. But what if there was not a child at the side of the road, but a goose. Should you hit the goose or the turtle? What if you were overdue for a brake inspection? This line of inquiry tries to account for every bit of data.

It is not acceptable to kill a man. Is it acceptable to kill a horse? Certainly not. A dog? We say no. A rabbit?--just for fun? Of course not for fun. With a car, though? "By accident?" Or should you ride a bicycle instead, to avoid participating in the time honored traditions of road-killing? But if not a rabbit, how about a mouse? Ever set out a spring-loaded mouse trap? If not a mouse, how about a cockroach or a spider? I have known people to pick up bugs and gently place them outside without killing them. How about that ant on the sidewalk? What about the dust mites in our pillows? This line of inquiry considers degree or magnitude as criteria.

Both of the previous two paragraphs demonstrate a tendency that I believe inheres in Reason, a tendency to divide and reconsider -- and this tendency, which increases in extent and intensity with learning and experience, leads in the direction of infinity. There are too many circumstances and too many divisions in magnitude, too much hierarchical order to keep track of.

In my experience, there is a "magic point" where Reason explodes -- it feels itself accelerating to an unsustainable pace, and then...

If I cannot rationally account for each of my actions, practically and ethically, I am forced to admit that my existence is either inherently meaningless or inherently violent (Levinas says as much). And if, following that realization, I accept this circumstance and accept the metaphysical structure of the universe I have declared the Everlasting Yea. It may be that the notion of grace never occurs to the being who has not sounded these depths...

Forthcoming: an essay exploring the resistance to self-accusation.

"I'm it!"

2007-05-21T07:37:00.001-07:00

Buffy, whose blog is momentarily living up to its name again, tagged me for a fun little game...

A-Available or Single?: No, thank you.

B-Best Friend: Gretchen.

C-Cake or Pie: Cheddar Bay Biscuits.

D-Drink of Choice: Diet Mountain D... er... I guess water :(

E-Essential Item(s): Books.

F- Favourite Colour(s): Blue.

G- Gummy Bears or Worms?: Worms -- the bears make me think of Care Bears.

H- Hometown: "I was born... in Saginaw, Michigan; I grew up... in a house near Saginaw Bay." --Left Drizzell.

I- Indulgence: Always keeping a pet fish. This is Edith:

J- January or February: February (8th, to be exact)

K- Kids: Yes, eventually; but they'll be taking the trash out for me on cold winter Wednesday mornings (or whichever day the trash guy comes).

L- Life is incomplete without: At least one "dark night of the soul" and one EVERLASTING YEA (see #51).

M- Marriage Date: Forthcoming--July 21st

N- Number of Siblings: 1, my brother, and other best friend.

O- Oranges or Apples?: Eh... what's the difference?

P- Phobias/Fears: Food... lots of it.

Q- Favourite Quote:

God wears himself out through the infinite thickness of time and space in order to reach the soul and to capitvate it. If it allows a pure and utter consent (though brief as a lightning flash) to be torn from it, then God conquers that soul. And when it has become entirely his he abandons it. He leaves it completely alone and it has in its turn, but gropingly, to cross the infinite thickness of time and space in search of him whom it loves. It is thus that the soul, starting from the opposite end, makes the same journey that God made towards it. And that is the cross. --Simone Weil.

R- Reasons to smile: Seeing Mom and Dad.

S- Season: Summer, obviously. What kind of a question is this?

T- Tag Three: Nobody I know'll want to do this... but, Mxrk, Santos, and Steinplatz, maybe?

U- Unknown Fact about Me: I am not a super secret government agent working for Russia.

V – Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animals?: Recent convert to Oppressor of Animals. For ethical reasons.

W- Worst Habit(s): Chewing my tongue until it bleeds. Uh... whoa.

X – X-rays or Ultrasounds?: X-rays, I guess.

Y- Your Favourite Foods: orange sherbet.

Z- Zodiac: Aquarius. Utterly meaningful.

Global Changing

2007-05-19T13:04:00.001-07:00

I don't claim to know anything about the temperature of the globe or the momentum of the temperature of the globe. But if "global warming" is somehow swept away as a fad in 5-10 years as another political ploy, I think we shouldn't allow people who cried and moaned about it so loudly for two decades to ever vote or say anything publically again. Because they're really convincing sometimes -- all those scray melting ice caps and movies like The Day After Tomorrow and You're Going to Drown Soon if You Don't Switch to Ethanol.

I consider myself an environmentalist, but I just don't know about global warming. Of course, if it turns out that these people were right, and California really does fall into the Pacific... well then they should all be given medals of honor and as many accolades as we can pile on them.

But I see more and more articles about how this whole thing is really anti-industrialism in disguise (which, you might be surprised to learn, I could get behind if it were an explicit political platform). I actually heard an interview on NPR or something a month ago where some doom-and-gloom prophet was asked, "Yes, but what about the statistics that show weather is actually getting cooler in many places all over the globe?" And her response was, "Well, extreme weather in either direction is the effect of global warming."

So really what we're fighting here is global change? Is that so bad? See also.

Concerning The Secret

2007-05-18T07:56:00.000-07:00

I am becoming versed in The Secret, and this may surprise some of my loyal readers (maybe not), but: I like it. As it happens, however, it's not entirely new to me... positive thinking has always been my dad's philosophy, and when I was a child, it came naturally. As an adult, I have to be more conscious of it, but it still seems to work. This new "secret," by the way, has always been with us (of course)... I first read it in inspirational books by Og Mandino and then in Emerson's essays and occasionally in contemporary self-help literature.

The key to it all is: ideas become things. If you can see yourself having it, and you can believe you will have it, then you will have it... and I've been blessed; this method actually works. I talked to my dad about The Secret the other day and he said,

It's much like Norman Vincent Peale, Dennis Waitley, Og Mandino, and Zig Ziglar...In fact, I think you can trace this all the way back to portions of the Gospels (the "Good News" bible). Astonishingly (as we rediscover every 10-15 years), this theory works--hard to do consistently because as O.J. once said, "life is like a shit sandwich and every day you take a new bite!

That last part is mostly a joke, of course. But Dad suggests one little complication... before we imagine piles of money and homes on the beach and beautiful children and quaint communities for ourselves in hopes of manifesting them through "the secret," there seems to be one caveat...
Dad says in his email,

Take a look at Matthew 6:33, "But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." Go ahead, try to interpret that one!

Okay, fair enough. I mean, it does seem reasonable to seek holier things first and then to seek piles of wealth like The Secret suggests we can have. But my dad's little tease at the end of his advice is what really gets me... "Go ahead, try to interpret that one!"

And he's right, of course. Theoretically, I can sit down all alone at the end of the day and get in good meditation mind, and get myself all prepared to seek the kingdom of God... and still have no idea where to look or what (exactly) to look for. Jesus would only describe it in parables. "The Kingdom of God is like stable footing on the other side of a collapsing bridge."

The Collapsing Bridge and Ontotheology

2007-05-12T11:53:00.000-07:00

One of the classic tropes of video gaming is the collapsing bridge. The first example I remember for certain comes within seconds of starting Contra. I wouldn't be shocked if someone could remind me of a collapsing bridge with earlier systems -- maybe on Super Mario Bros. or Mega Man or even Pitfall? I'm sure the Tomb Raider series has made use of the collapsing bridge more than once.

The way this works is that the bridge is stable until you (the character) start running across it; then, with each step forward, the plank behind you begins to collapse. It leads to an interesting and unavoidable dynamic:

1. Once the character begins the run, he cannot turn around. See also: Sotapanna.

2. Nothing will happen until the character begins his run; i.e., he may safely stay on this side of the chasm/river.

3. The character may not decide that "this plank is the one that will save me" and stop his running. Every plank collapses after a moment.

4. The character may trust that the bridge will not collapse faster than he can run--an earnest effort at crossing is usually all that counts.

So let's talk ontotheology. As I was walking today it this collapsing bridge image occurred to me as an almost perfect description of my (current) understanding of the spiritual life. But now, true to the metaphor, even this plank seems shaky.

In video games, when you make it across the collapsing bridge, you may stand for a moment and reflect: "Those planks did exist, and they did allow me to bridge an otherwise uncrossable chasm--but they are no longer existing." Memory allows us to access this knowledge: the forms are always changing; or, as the Buddha said, "Everything is on fire."

But the Western mind often makes the mistake of thinking that changed forms signify untruth. I really believe this is a mistake. Indeed, I credit my extensive experience with video games as a child as the source of my willingness to dabble in Eastern philosophy, metaphysics, and spirituality. If you've never noticed that reincarnation is the absolute foundation of most video games, then you may not agree with me on this point: video games have taught Western children much about Eastern spirituality in a way that has not felt violent or unwelcome. Yes, America may have won the ground war in WWII, but the Japanese seem to be in the process of winning "the battle for hearts and minds."

At least from my perspective. Of course, the first time I encountered a collapsing bridge, I'm pretty sure I tried to turn around halfway across, only to find myself hanging in mid-air for a moment like the Coyote-fooled-by-the-roadrunner. In other words: I died. Quick to learn from experience, however, I succeeded (nervously) in my second effort at crossing. From that moment, I knew that every bridge I encountered on Contra might fall from beneath my feet -- memory served as my teacher.

Then I bought a new system and forgot all about Contra. I spent hours learning to move Lara Croft in "three" dimensions on my Playstation, successfully conquered eight or nine levels, and then came to a bridge... and started walking. Once again, halfway across, I panicked and tried to turn back, then realized I couldn't, jumped up into the air and grasped at nothing -- then fell to my death.

But in this experience, a new kind of memory is born -- Toni Morrison might call it rememory. It is the knowledge born of memory that declares not only: I had better keep running any time I see a shaky-looking bridge on Tomb Raider. Unlike memory, rememory declares: any time you see a shaky-looking bridge on a video game, RUN!

This is the knowledge of forms & structure, and I have come to believe that it is not just a valuable way of knowing in video games.

When I was a video-game playing teenager, I never thought consciously about stuff like "ontotheology" (whatever that is); but if forced to give an account, I would've used words like God and maybe Jesus and maybe Tr-th.

Admittedly, that plank has fallen for me (...more than once; sometimes we encounter the same plank multiple times.) -- but in case you've been a bad reader in this post: that does not mean those things were not true when I believed them. The next plank I stepped on had something to do with America and Ayn Rand (collapsed). The next had to do with Plato and Goodness (collapsed). The next had to do with existentialism and Sergei Nechaev (collapsed). The next had something to do with personal psychology, Eastern metaphysics, and video games (that one collapsed this morning).

Thank goodness for unavoidable dynamic #4, huh? Here's a plank long-fallen, its forms totally different, its content ever-unchanging:

...if a man gives with a certain self-considerate generosity to the poor; abstains from doing downright ill to any man; does his convenient best in a general way to do good to his whole race; takes watchful loving care of his wife and children, relatives, and friends; is perfectly tolerant to all other men's opinions, whatever they may be; is an honest dealer, an honest citizen, and all that; and more especially if he believe that there is a God for infidels, as well as for believers, and acts upon that belief; then, though such a man falls infinitely short of the (heavenly) standard, though all his actions are entirely (earthly); -- yet such a man need never lastingly despond, because he is sometimes guilty of some minor offense: -- hasty words, impulsively returning a blow, fits of domestic petulance, selfish enjoyment of a glass of wine while he knows there are those around him who lack a loaf of bread. I say he need never lastingly despond on account of his perpetual liability to these things; because not to do them, and their like, would be to be an angel, (and heavenly); whereas, he is a man and (earthly). (source)

In other words: keep running!--trust in ontotheological-video-game-Rule-#4.

True or False Prophet?

2007-05-11T16:11:00.000-07:00

Now it's time to test our Prophet-Radars.

True or False?:

(The speaker goes by "Adyashanti," and you can watch many clips of him speaking on Google Video or YouTube. Here's his website.)

Yessss! -- Good News!

2007-05-09T15:41:00.000-07:00

I really don't know how to convince you that you don't know as much as you think you do if you haven't at least dabbled in trying to understand post-Soviet advertising in Russia. To give you an idea: try to imagine a comercial for Pepsi based on the triumphant underdog status of Patrick Henry, whose contributions to the Constitutional debates in the late 1780s did not necessarily win him the argument, but did win him a lasting place in the heart of our nation's ideals -- then imagine the commecial closing with a man dressed up like Patrick Henry taking a big drink of Pepsi and declaring, "Give me liberty, or give me death." Then imagine the Patrick-Henry-actor winking to hint to you that he knows how ridiculously overdone this whole thing is. That's probably a terrible example, but it should give you a feeling for how incredibly much more interesting and intelligent advertising can be in Russia. The Russian Marketing Blog is a wonderful place to start, but an even better place would be Victor Pelevin's Homo Zapiens (2000). It's one of my favorite books of all time, and Pelevin's in my top-5 authors list...

So imagine my joy when I read at Russian Marketing Blog that Pelevin's novel is (finally!) being made into a movie, and will be released before the end of this year. Check out the IMDB page.

Recovery Post

2007-05-09T14:10:00.000-07:00

To overcome the cynicism bred by the Prayer-Mat-Letter (see below), I need to post this, from wikipedia's page on G.I. Gurdjieff's Fourth Way; Gurdjieff was one of those almost-forgotten 20th century mystics. This is how he suggests we recognize the false prophets:

Fake Schools

Gurdjieff indicated that there are many fake schools where the leader of the organization either:

1. Honestly believes that he knows something, when in fact he doesn't
2. He maybe believes another man who is mistaken
3. He is purposely tricking others

Numbers 1 & 2 seem forgivable. And since I'm relying on Gurdjieff to rescue me from skeptical withdrawl, he deserves to be summarized:

Gurdjieff taught that humans are not born with a soul. Rather, a man must create a soul through the course of his life. Otherwise, Gurdjieff taught that a man will "die like a dog." He also taught that the ordinary waking consciousness of human beings was not consciousness at all but merely a form of sleep and that higher levels of consciousness were possible.

See also: Gurdjieff's aphorisms (for the author of The Tr-th Cave, mostly)

On False Prophets

2007-05-09T13:29:00.000-07:00

I'm a little peeved about this thing I got in the mail today, but I've decided to make it a learning experience.

First, you have to understand how consciously I've tried over the past two or three years to open my ears and mind to other people's perspectives, opinions and thoughts. It's been a very stimulating and challenging couple of years, and I hope I can continue with this kind of openness indefinitely. I've learned more from the people around me these past two or three years then I did in the previous ten. I'm not saying this to toot my horn -- I'm actually pretty sure that I'm still relatively "closed" compared to many of my friends; but I've made some progress.

Anyway, that was all a prelude. The real story is that I got an envelope in the mail that said, on its back side:

DEAR JESUS, WE PRAY THAT YOU WILL BLESS SOMEONE IN THIS HOME SPIRITUALLY, PHYSICALLY & FINANCIALLY. AND PLEASE DEAR LORD, BLESS THE ONE WHO'S HANDS OPEN THIS LETTER. MAKE GOOD CHANGES IN THIS ONE'S LIFE AND GIVE THEM THE DESIRES OF THEIR HEART. WE PRAY OVER AND BLESS THIS LETTER IN YOUR HOLY NAME. AMEN.

And all of the words in red were underlined. Which is a lot of emphasis. Inside I found a letter addressed to "Someone connected with This Address," and a text-heavy letter (more underlining) setting-up a kind of pyramid-scheme prayer-loop where all I had to do was check one or more of the following:

I received this Church Prayer Rug you loaned me, and I used it as instructed in this letter of faith. Now, I am returning it to you for another to use.

Yes, I do need the Lord's blessings upon my family and me! Pray for my family and me for...

My Soul

A Closer Walk With Jesus

My Health

A Family Member's Health

Confusion In My Home

My Children

To Stop A Bad Habit

A Better Job

A Home To Call My Own

A New Car

A Money Blessing

I Want to be Saved.

Pray for God to bless me with this amount of money: $_______

Needless to say, there was also a box allowing me to donate money. Of course, you're probably wondering -- Casey, they sent you a "rug" in an envelope? How'd that work? Yes, the rug was a folded-up picture of Jesus with his eyes closed. I was supposed to look at the eyes until they appeared to open & then I was to pray with both knees touching the prayer rug (the letter was especially particular on this "both knees" point). Then I had to send it all back to them within 24 hours -- including the prayer rug.

So -- why am I peeved? In short, I'm upset because I just cannot bring myself to believe that this is how God wants to work in the world. But!... remember, I'm really open lately. Open to the point of vulnerability and naivety, probably. So I even read this whole envelope. It's true what they say: we should beware of false prophets. But my whole philosophy for the past 24-months and more has been to make sure I don't overlook any true-prophets.

But this envelope is exactly the kind of stuff that I believe forces us to shut down -- we don't want to be susceptible and gullible; we don't like being "suckers." The consequence? Well, next week, when the real true prophet of 21st century life comes to my town and starts preaching, I'll probably just walk on by, dismissing him as "a huckster-con-man-lunatic" or something. All because some probably-well-intentioned church in Oklahoma couldn't keep their proverbs in their proverbial pants.

I don't want this to be a rip-festival. Evangelicals have their rhyme and reason. It's just that, if someone feels obliged to try to persuade me to use their language in discovering my own beliefs, I'd appreciate it if they could be a little more tactful. Really, a Prayer Mat? Here's a picture of the Prayer Mat. Print it off if you want... make sure both knees are touching it or else Jesus won't be listening.

So how has this been a learning experience? Well... I still tend to type a lot. And talk too much. I want to be more careful. I want to make sure that I don't present you with anything that might be as tasteless as a prayer-mat-in-the-mail. That's what the comments section is for, I suppose -- call me out if you ever feel untactfully evangelized.

Hurry! -- the time is near. Respond in the comments section below within 24 hours!

Sayings and Aphorisms -- #4

2007-05-08T09:09:00.000-07:00

She who would play the prophet must first blaspheme -- and she who aspires to blasphemy must first play the prophet.

Or,

The saint and the heretic are one.

Prometheus' Guilt

2007-05-07T12:57:00.000-07:00

Not everybody knows the gods anymore, but most of us remember Prometheus. In an incredibly brazen and risky act, Prometheus stole fire (warmth and cooking) from Zeus on behalf of humankind. Then, says wikipedia,

To punish Prometheus for this hubris (and all of mankind in the process), Zeus devised "such evil for them that they shall desire death rather than life, and Prometheus shall see their misery and be powerless to succor them. That shall be his keenest pang among the torments I will heap upon him."

Eating raw animal meat was never fun, and I don't particularly like being cold in the winter -- so it is right that we honor Prometheus; it must be. After all, everything that increases our comfort and decreases hardship must be a good thing. Unless...

Any thoughts? Can anyone make an argument against Prometheus from a humanist perspective? From any other perspective?

The Problem of Authority

2007-05-06T17:09:00.000-07:00

In 1986, Christopher Durer wrote:

Like Adolph Hitler, Captain Ahab reaches for the “folksoul” of the crew, and manipulates their minds with the sinister skill of Joseph Goebbels. As in Nazi Germany, so on board the Pequod, the excesses of the will play a major role, as is illustrated in the various speeches of Ahab, and her fated course is, in effect, another triumph of the will… Ahab is in reality a prototype of a twentieth-century fascist dictator.

Drurer's claims were not without precedent in Moby-Dick criticism. In fact, Captain Ahab has been the subject of unrelenting critical disapprobation since WWII (and earlier)--so much that it is a commonplace of American literary scholarship to associate Ahab with fascism and Ishmael with democracy; and not to hesitate in taking sides.

I've been meaning to write about this for years, and I mean this post to be "but the draught of a draught" (as Melville says). My central argument is that there exists a certain mind, disposed by temperament or something earlier, that can only thrive in the presence of authority. Indeed, I suspect there is a fairly large segment of population (10%+) that might admit to this temperament if it were not for the feeling of embarrassment that might comes with admitting a hunger for authority. Plus, this phraseology ("hunger for authority") reveals the dulled side of the coin -- on the opposite side we can identify the less embarrassing psychological need: the need to rebel.

I am so convinced that this part of my personality developed early in childhood that I wouldn't even be offended or surprised if someone associated this element of my psychology with a kind of latent brattiness: "No, mom--I will not..." But I know from observation that I'm not alone. It is not unfair to say that anyone can recognize this temperament in others by the tendency to knee-jerk into a "No!" Everybody knows someone who just disagrees no matter what is being said. [Digression: I'm not sure how this feels for others -- I suspect it can be quite annoying. Personally, I'm always attracted to the rebellious mind, even if the rebellion is not (yet) "harnessed" or directed.]

Of course, growing up postmodern has been difficult for the rebel-mind -- for the most part (so it seemed, anyway) authority has been so subverted, subdued, deconstructed, and checked that the postmodern rebel resorted to dressing in black or listening to obscure music or refusing to associate with mainstream religious sects: all equally innocuous forms of pop-rebellion. But, unless I'm in a despairing mood, I like to think that rebellion can be a noble impulse...

Who are your idols? Bring them to me! I have a kiln and a hammer and a deep ocean to throw them in.

Back to Captain Ahab. In the 19th century, fear of "mob rule" was still a major part of any political philosophy. Melville would've understood with James Madison,

To secure the public good and private rights against the danger of such a faction, and at the same time to preserve the spirit and the form of popular government, is then the great object to which our inquiries are directed. (Federalist #10)

In my experience, few intellectuals have an understanding (anymore) of the dangers of what Madison frequently called "faction." Most of my collegues perceive their task to be solely to preserve the spirit and form of popular government--no concern for the public good or private rights against the danger of faction. Democracy is our keyword; Republic seems to be of little interest. Melville, obviously conversant with the founding documents of America, more than once played out the problem of faction in scenes of mutiny--rebellion at sea (see "Billy Budd" or ch. 54 in Moby-Dick).

So, concerning Ahab: yes, he went too far in the direction of authority. But the opposite of authority is a kind of impotent withdrawal, and does not strike me as any more ideal than authority itself does when taken to the extreme. See the continuum like this:

Irresponsible atomism -----------*---------- Fascism

And, if you're with me, understand that Ishmael's retreat into subjective observation is no more ideal than Ahab's tilt toward fascism (though Ishmael has been, with very few exceptions, a hero of democracy for two generations of critics). What if, instead, the asterisk represented the ideal?

The principle of middle-behavior is difficult to describe in contemporary terminology -- it would have been described as a kind of stoic manliness. A better way to describe it might be to borrow terminology from Albert Camus' tremendous study of rebellion (The Rebel, 1957) in which he differentiates between metaphysical rebellion and rebellion in the world. The rebel who never leaves the ground of metaphysics is represented by the figure of the "Dandy." He rejects all popular commonplaces and refuses all assent, including active anarchism power grabbing; his fingernails are too pretty for that kind of thing. Camus describes this as the first phase of an inevitable progression: "Human rebellion ends in metaphysical revolution. It progresses from appearances to acts, from the dandy to the revolutionary." Part of my question is, where is the tipping point? When will our theoretical rebellions be made flesh? What has to happen? When do ideas of refusal become 1776 or 1793 or 1848 or 1917?

So let me ask: is there a discernable difference between authority and fascism? In my experience, the academy is often quick to collapse the distinction. How do we recognize authority? Is authority always on the slippery slope, and if so, how do we prevent it from transforming into fascism? Could there be there danger in having too little authority?

As I mentioned above, this is really a very rough outline -- if you don't have a sense of my thesis statement, welcome to the club.

Recommended Reading: History and Utopia, by E.M. Cioran

I direct your attention to...

2007-05-05T13:22:00.000-07:00

...the golem.

...once the golem had been physically made one needed to write the letters aleph, mem, tav, which is emet and means "truth," on the golem's forehead and the golem would come alive. Erase the aleph and you are left with mem and tav, which is met, meaning "death." (source)

I'm reading a book right now by a professor of literature at Aquinas College, where I sure wouldn't mind teaching in the future (!). His name is Gary Eberle, and the book I'm reading is called Sacred Time and the Search for Meaning. It's one of these books that walks the line between academic and "general non-fiction." For the record, Eberle's books are published by Shambhala, my latest favorite publisher, and his 2007 release will be titled, Dangerous Words: Talking about God in the age of Fundamentalism. Sounds good.

Anyway, Eberle is arguing that machines and now new media are training us to perceive time in a way that is very different from the time-consciousness that was essential to the human experience right up until the industrial age... and he's pretty sure that's not a good thing. So I'll just excerpt the interesting parts of his description of the golem:

In Jewish lore, the word (golem) was... applied to a legendary creature rabbis created to demonstrate their own metaphysical prowess and the power connected with the sacred name of God and the letters used in the Torah generally.

In the earliest forms of the legends, the golem were spirits, but by the seventeenth century they had become physical creatures, usually human in form, that performed tasks for their makers. The most famous version of the legend concerns Rabbi Loew of Prague. According to this eighteenth-century legend, retold by Isaac Bashevis Singer and alluded to at length by Cynthia Ozick in her novel The Puttermesser Papers, Rabbi Loew molded a man-shaped creature out of earth and brought it to life by writing the secret name of God on a piece of paper and slipping it into the creature's mouth. (In other versions of the golem legend, the Hebrew word emet, truth, was inscribed on the creature's forehead to bring it to life.)

This is definitely my kind of legend. To kill the golem, all you have to do is take the name of God out of his mouth and erase the first letter from the word emet from his forehead.

emet = truth

met = death

Wouldn't it be great if we still demonstrated our metaphysical prowess to one another by inventing creatures?

In which a Hatchet is Buried

2007-05-04T16:33:00.000-07:00

The Valve put up a video of Slavoj Žižek that brought me right to the edge--I'm really thinking it's time for the under-35 crowd in academia to start trusting their inner bullsh*t radars. This video reminds me of Christmas in 6th grade where there were still a few kids who believed Santa Claus was(n't) real. You know what I mean.

At the moment that the old literary canon was being dismantled at the hands of well-intentioned reformers in the 1980s (goodbye Philip Freneau and Washington Irving, hello Harriet Jacobs and Elizabeth Stoddard), someone forgot to close the backdoor. In stepped a new bunch of (suprise!) white guys to fill the canon-shaped void. Enter Barthes, Foucault, Derrida, Lyotard, Baudrillard, Jameson, Lacan, Zizek... as soon as new voices like Harriet Jacobs were brought to the forefront, the "Theory" crowd turned their backs, preferring indefensibly-abstruse semi-contemporary French philosophy.

The pecking order was quickly re-established ("What?!?--you haven't read Discipline and Punish?"). The literary canon had not been removed, but had unwittingly suffered a kind of coup d’état... and now, half a generation later, as always happens with revolutionaries, those who seized power have become fat and comfortable. It's the oldest story in the book, but nobody reads stories anymore, so--

It is always easier to worship a man than it is to understand an idea -- these YouTube videos (linked above) demonstrate the cult of personality phenomenon better than I could've imagined. I'll never forget watching Jacques Derrida claim to be completely unfamiliar with Seinfeld in this very serious interview about the postmodern condition... defenders will suggest this was somehow cute or ironic. And here's the thing: it's not that there is something inherent in the language these men use--in their time, and in the right context, I believe these were the prophets. But out with the old already! In 1880 the prophets were Dostoevsky and Henry James and Flaubert, and by 1930 they were James Joyce and Virginia Woolf, and in the 1950s they were Sartre and Beauvoir and Camus -- and I have no problem admitting that the "Theory" crowd (pick three) may forever have the honor of being the sages of the end of the last millenium.

The problem is, successors never seem to come directly from predecessors, however much Foucault might've wanted it to seem that way. Tr0th manifested itself in Egypt 6,000 years ago and then in India 4,000 years ago and in Greece 2,500 years ago and in Jerusalem and then in Constantinople and then in Kyoto and then in Florence and London and then in Dresden and then in Paris. But this is not a bloodline, people. Yet there are those who would write it down: Derrida the son of Levinas, the son of Heidegger, the son of Husserl, the son of Brentano, the son of whoever, the son of G-d.

Intellectual history is never this neat. Let the dead bury their dead. I'm nominating Oprah Winfrey, Victor Pelevin, Helmut Koester, and the screenwriters of LOST as the current torch-carriers. Update: And this guy... seriously.