Beautiful Sensibility

Beauty 1I’ve been thinking about beauty this past week, thanks, in part, to my friend Ben. This is a good time for this, because Tennessee is about to turn its most beautiful, so I am sitting behind an abandoned restaurant, listening to, feeling the spray from, and watching an old fountain, watching the sun play, and thinking about beauty.

There are a lot of theories out there, and then there are people who create beauty and people who enjoy beauty without any needed assistance from philosophers like me.
Among the theories, a powerful one is what I will call the Classical Ideal.snow angel It finds a high expression in Plato, but also owes a great deal to Pythagoras, and, outside of them both, animated ancient art. For these lovers of beauty, beauty is an ideal, a perfection, something we try to capture in art, we aim for in art, and which we cannot find in nature. We have an innate sense of what this ideal beauty would be, and we consider things beautiful to the extent that they come close to reflecting this ideal. This ideal is closely tied to balance and proportion and harmony, and can, in many cases be expressed mathematically. The sculptures of Polykleitos are an example of this; in a pleasing, beautiful face, the distance between the eyes is a set proportion to the face as a whole, and a certain position in the face, and the length of the body, the size of the chest, the width of the hips, the length of the legs…

Oh, Mathematics: you naughty bugger!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERABy contrast to this calm balance of rules, the Romantic view of art aims precisely to tear loose, to suggest power and passion that is not even expressible in conscious thought, let alone within the surgical precision of math. The wild emotion of beauty in art or in nature takes us beyond the calm, placid, everyday, into the cosmos as a whole, the mind of God, or our own subconscious.

I’m not sure which of those is bigger, or which of those is darker; my subconscious, however, requires less storage space.

I find beauty in the cool, crisp, rational lines of Greek architecture, and I also find beauty in the stormy passionate upheaval of Wagner’s Liebestod. They are both beautiful, but beautiful differently.

What, then, is beauty? What makes both of these beautiful, as well as “an exhilarating sunset, an expressive smile, a tranquil view,” or good company, or rest at the end of the day, or even, Joe Frogger ginger cookies?

I don’t know what it is in the objects themselves that makes them beautiful, although somehow it seems to be in the object itself, so that we can expect it to have that effect upon others. Beauty affects us deeply in the mind, so that we can talk about balance or about movement, or about color or about tone. It also affects us deeply in the heart, and can move us to tears or euphoria, to laughter or to passion.
However, it affects us through the senses; beauty is not a thing of the mind or of the emotions, but something we experience through sight and sound and touch, perhaps even through smell and taste and other senses.

A rose is beautiful.Beauty 2

A rose looks beautiful–the gradual fading of colors into different shades, the gentle folding and unfolding petals turning in upon each other, turning out towards the world, circling into a tight center.

A rose smells beautiful–the soft clean smell of the lazy, sunlit life within the folds of the petals, a sweetness more complex than sugar, a smell perfumists try to capture, but which becomes cloying and sickening if imitated.

A rose feels beautiful–the pink, red or white surfaces so soft to the touch, resisting yet falling back, so soft to each caress, so milky smooth, and yet so fragile.

Certainly, a rose can represent or be a simile or be a symbol of something else, but its beauty is not suggestive of something absent, but of the present, of the here and now. The beauty of the rose acts upon our senses–it itself is beautiful, and this beauty strikes us to the core.

Beauty may seem like it has a purpose, but it can be an end in itself, because it really is one of the few worthwhile ends we can find.

ending321

Sensuality, continued.

We Americans are a rather hedonistic culture, placing a high value upon comfort and pleasure.
The sad thing is, we are not very good at it.
We are not very good at being hedonistic, because we really don’t understand how to use our senses.

Any trip to most American restaurant will prove my point—there are huge servings, and way too much salt, fat, and sugar, but there isn’t really that much sensual pleasure to be had. We have made gluttony a national past-time and, at the same time, a chore. In fact, the reason we need so much sauce (besides the low quality of the ingredients—Damn you food industrial complex! Damn you to hell!….Wode-Toad-color-miffed.jpg

                                                ***SLAP!***

But I digress. Thank you, Wode Toad.

The reason we need so much sauce is that we don’t really taste our food. We don’t take the time to find out what the flavor of each item is. We allow our food, our music, our body washes (Thanx, Axe), our entertainment, our sensual experiences (Thanks, 50 Shades) to be over-blown and way too loud, going for quantity, but not enjoying the full array of sensations each moment can bring us.

Among the problems is that we put so much priority upon sight and sound—the least intimate of all sensations—have we barely are aware of the wide variety of input of our other senses.

I already talked a bit about taste in the recipe section, but what of the others?

Step outside. Feel the sun on your face. Close your eyes, and feel the sunlight soal into you as if you are absorbing it, the way a tomato does. Breathe in, and try to figure out how many smells there are in each breath. Dogs absorb most of their information through smell, whereas we tend to ignore this sense entirely. Is there fresh mowed grass? The early browning of tree leaves? New flowers? The roads and sidewalks baking through the afternoon sun?
Or just exhaust and different cigarettes? Can you smell the different smells of the city? At a distance, even unpleasant smells can be interesting—the faint smell of skunk on a summer night is one of the smells in very good coffee.
Speaking of that, how do you drink coffee? Do you feel the warmth of the cup in your hands, look at the rainbow-mottled surface of the liquid (of course there is oil, ya’ mook! Essential oils provide most of the flavors we enjoy), add sugar, and feel it as you drink it—each cup involves taste and smell and sight and feel.

Stretch.
Take a moment and feel different muscles tighten and untighten as you stretch. Tense and relax, and feel your body.
At work, take a hop and then break into a run; feel your legs stretching beneath you as you dash.
Jump up under a tree, grab a branch, and pull yourself up; you will be aware of each part of your body as your feet hunt for new footholds and your hands swing across branches amd you taste and smell each leaf and bark.

Dance! Throw yourself into wide, wild abandon as you feel the rhythm pounding through your body, and your boots against the floor.

Recipe for Sensuality

Ingredients:

  • 1 Cucumber
  • 1 Tomato
  • 1 Carrot
  • Mixed Salad Greens
  • Salt to taste

Step 1: Have a seat; you are going to be here for a while. The two main ingredients will be time and attention; the main tools you already have with you: your senses.

IMG_2984Step 2: Find a good, preferable fresh and local, but really good cucumber. Cut a thin slice or two off it. Hold it up to the light—already the juice from the cucumber will be forming in little drops on the outside. Place it on you tongue, and try to think about the flavor. Breathe through both your nose and your mouth, so you can get the full smell. The flavor of a cucumber is subtle, but unmistakable. Slowly chew it, letting it melt into your mouth. Try nibbling the next one from the outside in—how is the surface, then each layer, different in taste? Try a thicker slice; doesn’t it taste differently? How about if you just take a big bit out of the unsliced cucumber? If you add just a little bit of salt—just a little bit!—how does that change it? If you don’t over-power it, the salt might enhance the flavor.
Pause.
Slowly finish the cucumber.

Step 3: Take a sip of ice cold Prosecco DOC.

Step 4: Find a fresh tomato, preferably still warm from the sun. TomatoSmell it—the stem and leaves of a tomato have a sharp, harsh scent, and if the tomato is fresh you can still smell them, as if you were standing in the patch (you could, of course, be standing in the patch—that would be even better, unless it is your neighbor’s, in which case, please keep your eyes open).
Feel the weight of it in your hand, the firmness of the skin as you roll it in your palm. Feel its skin against your cheek, then your lips. Feel the elasticity of the skin against your teeth, and then the sudden give of puncture and bite. Suck in the juice & seeds, feeling them against the back of your throat, swallow and then laugh.
Pause.
Continue as needed.

Step 5: How about another sip of wine? Maybe you should get a napkin to clean up.

Step 6: Find a fresh carrot, and scrub it thoroughly. Take a big bite of it, and chew it IMG_3002thoughtfully. Is it sweet? Is it bitter? Chew it slowly, breathing, again, through both your mouth and nose, to let the air flow across it.
Try slicing it thickly. It tastes differently, doesn’t it? Eat it slowly, nibbling from the outside in, and savoring each part.
Try shaving it with a vegetable peeler, and eating the long peelings. Again, it tastes differently this way—more sweet, but also more insubstantial and faint.

Step 7: Eat the salad greens one by one, pausing before going on to the next leaf. IMG_3003The solid reliability of leaf lettuce, the peppery-ness of arugula, the firm, thick green taste of lettuce—each is different. Try just a hint of salt. Does this enhance, or just mask the flavor?

Hello Plato, my old friend.

pb 001Although it doesn’t quite feel like it yet in Upper-East Tennessee, it is Autumn, the beginning of a new school year, and I have the good fortune of teaching a college class. Originally, the class was largely Plato and Aristotle, then was expanded into more of a general Ancient Philosophy class, and then became what it is now: How to Live Well: Ancient Philosophy and Enduring Questions.

We begin with Socrates—everything begins with Socrates.

Socrates may have been a brilliant original thinker, or might have been a pernicious troublemaker; he may have been one of the first great martyrs of free thought, or he may have been a dangerous cynic whose students attempted a totalitarian coup of Athens.

Maybe, all of the above.

We don’t entirely know—what we know of him is not a person Socrates, but a character within the dialogues written by a former student. The ideas expressed may be his, or may be Plato’s or may be a game.
We don’t know much of the person Plato—the writings he produced where he spoke for himself have been largely lost, and what we have are a series of dialogues from which we try to infer his ideas.

Yet, we begin with Socrates, because Socrates asked questions. He asked questions, he took answers, and then he said “but wait….that doesn’t seem right…” and he asked more questions.
That is how philosophy began.

I like that.

As I struggle through this life longer and longer, I also appreciate what he wanted to ask questions about. How do we live well?
He lived at the tail end of a great empire, a brilliant empire, a scientific, literary, poetic, artistic and beautiful empire.
He lived at the time it was all unraveling, and everybody was uncertain, and everybody was afraid of causing a stir, and nobody knew what was right or what was wrong anymore, or where to turn for answers, and instead everybody went through the motions and was ironic and clever and local and traditional and new at the same time, and the economy was shot, and nobody knew what would happen next.

If you do read any of the Platonic dialogues, bear one thing in mind: Everything is a question.

Everything is a question.Know Thyself

The key to reading is trying to keep track of what the question is.
What is the question? What does he mean by the question? Does he mean what we would mean, or does he mean something else? Does he change what the question means in the dialogue? What possible answers are advanced? How and why does Socrates shoot them down?
What are the questions? What are his answers?

Christopher Phillips, the foundr of the Socrates Café movement, characterizes Socrates as always being concerned with 6 Questions:
What is virtue?
What is moderation?
What is justice?
What is good?
What is courage?
What is piety?

That’s not a bad starting point. Those were all good questions to ask 25 centuries ago; those are all good questions to ask now.

The down-side to the class is this: I dislike Plato.
Plato on Library (1)A brilliant student I had in this class a few years back characterized him as seeming really cool at first, but by the end of The Republic, he seems more like a cross between Dr. James Dobson and V. I. Lenin. That’s a pretty bright characterization.

Mostly, though, I dislike his idealism. Plato saves the idea of absolute truth by locating it in a real of ideas or pure forms somewhere outside of the corruption of our day-to-day lives. The material world is secondary, a mere shadow of the real.

I have friends to whom this idealism appeals, and who like to quote Pierre Teilhard de Chardin “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.”  I could not disagree more. I have fought long and hard to stay in this material world, and my scarred and chemically fluctuating body–permeated by my mind to the tips of my fingers, and in turn radiating my mind through cosmos upon cosmos of imagination. I will fight for it, and remain true to it, and have no desire, when it is done, to be cursed with drinking from the river Styx, forgetting all my body has taught me, and starting anew.

But that is another story for another day.Life is uncertain

A few words about politeness

4 Cavaillon to Gordes (12)On our recent trip to Europe, we were surprised again and again by how helpful most of the people we encountered were. Yes, since you asked, even the French. In fact, some folks at the information desk in Cavaillon went about of their way to help us get the bicycles we needed to travel to Gordes (as was the artist in Gordes whose floor I woke up on after a black-out, but that is another story).

A notable quality of European politeness, however, is that they don’t seem to feel it is necessary to smile at you constantly. At first, many of the people I encountered seemed to be scowling, but they were merely concentrating on what I was saying and trying to figure out if they could be of help. It is ironic that it took me a while to figure this out, since I tend to look a bit dark if I am concentrating, perhaps even hostile. But even total strangers who had no obvious reason to do so were friendly and helpful–even people in Paris were kind and patient with us.

But not cheerful in the way we are expected to be here in the States.

I recently discovered a very obscure 18th Century English thinker named Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 3rd Earl of Shaftesbury (1671 – 1713). I knew his Grandfather, also named Anthony Ashley-Cooper, who was a brilliant man, a lively conversationalist, a marvelous political player–although it almost cost him his head to James II–and who kept a very good table. He was also the patron of the philosopher John Locke, whom he also engaged as a tutor to his grandson.

The 2nd Earl, son of the 1st and father of the 2nd, was a git of the highest order.

Anthony_Ashley_Cooper,_3__Earl_of_ShaftesburyThe Third Earl, however, was an influential and, in  his day, well thought of thinker. Most of the thinkers we associate with what we call Moral Sentiments were influenced by him. Among his claims was the observation that we–human beings, that is–seem to have an innate (sorry, Mr. Locke) tendency towards being kind to others. Contrary to thinkers such as Hobbes or Calvin who tend to take a rather dim view of human nature, Shaftesbury observed that we do have a tendency to help others–much as that wide variety of friends and strangers helped me on my recent trip.
His idea–and this seems insightful–was that it quite simply makes us happy to make other people happy. He coined a term–borrowing it from a jewelers term for the brightness or polish of a gem, and called this politeness. For him, politeness was about structured acts of kindness towards others, not about the snobbish pretensions of court etiquette or the dull, rote, empty obligations of church virtue, but a joyful giving of oneself, and of caring.

This seems true.
This seems to be a really important insight into human nature. We take pleasure in making a baby laugh, or a kitten purr, or a dog happy. We enjoy giving presents to others, and watching their faces light up when we give them something we know they will like. When we help somebody jump-start a dead battery or change a tire, we often feel good for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, like all pleasures, it is not enough; we grow tired of it, and look for other pleasures.315signature

Wandering

papa & beth in LondonMy darling “hobohemian” daughter—

You once asked me why I feel less lost wandering, and more at rest when I was moving. Since we are about to embark on a long journey—perhaps even the beginning of several changes, shifts and moves—I decided this would be a good time to try to figure out why.

The first reason, of course, is the search for wonder.
When I was young, I really disliked going to bed; the world was so full of wonder and excitement that I was afraid that I would miss something. Maybe it was just because my parents were (and still are) exciting, brilliant people, maybe it was because they instilled and cultivated a sense of wonder in us, but every moment seemed to be a potentially enthralling adventure. When my brother James’ breathing slowed to a regular rhythm, I would sneak out and sit as close as I could to the living room, listening. You may recall that I am still generally theDSC_0815 last one to bed and the first one up; I still don’t want to miss anything.

I feel that way about the big wonderful world, too. There is just so much there—thousands and thousands of wonders to be observed, to be felt and smelled and tasted, to be experienced, to be made into stories. There are giant mountains and castles and oceans, and tiny flowers growing out of sidewalks and boulders, food in bright curried and wine rich colors, new songs and noises to be heard, and a mysterious, fantastical cast of human beings, each with their own little charms.
I like to think that I am a connoisseur of wonder, but I might just be a hopeless junkie. I am hopelessly addicted to new experiences, and I get shaky and cranky when I have to go without wonder.
It is almost like going without the sight of a smile.

Secondly, it keeps the forces of my lost-ness and entropy at bay.
DSC_0557Entropy, my dear, is not a fierce storm or a wild maelstrom; it is a slow decay into a constant state of stasis and stability. A static homogeneity fills me with dread. Creation, on the other hand, is chaos. Movement is a force against entropy, a refusal to the inevitable decay,  a brilliant—though erratic and dangerous—foray against the dullness of aging and decline; it is a choice to force oneself to live each moment fully. Not all who are lost wander, but we lost wanderers find so much that we can always be guests to each new day.

Finally, there are few things in this world—in fact, you might be the only thing—that I value more than freedom.In general, freedom is at the core of what it means to be human; DSC_0765we have survived and persevered because we are not dependent upon the intuition of instinct, but can choose and adapt ourselves. This ability to transcend where we were born and what we are born with has allowed us to flourish from the icy Yukon to the burning Kalahari.
Freedom allows us to become who we chose to become. We are thrown into this world without a fixed essence, a pre-set purpose, and we create and constantly recreate our selves. We even have the privilege of creating meaning, of finding meaning, in this indifferent but wonderful world.Herder and Sartre aside (yes, those are their ideas), you know that I fear a cage or a prison—even an enclosed space—more than anything else—it is one of the things you and I have in common. To be happy, I must be free; I must have choices. To be trapped, DSC_0029even in a benevolent trap, is to fall into neurotic decay and slowly wither inside. Even through the physical pain—and it was powerful and terrifying—of my lost arm and kidney failures, what I feared most was losing my freedom.
To be on the open road is to fly, unencumbered, and to feel the glorious stretching of muscle and sinew against the weight of inertia and gravity.

DSC_0321

“Allons! the road is before us!” Wonder, creation, and freedom await us. That is why I travel.

Oh, also because the food is great.

Your travel companion and Papa—

 

PS: Speaking of wandering, I will be out of the Bistro for the next 4 weeks. I leave it in Brandon & Peirce’s capable hands. I might post, but I might just be in the moment. I am more likely to post pictures to my tumblr account, since that is what it does best. I certainly will not post recipes, since I will be away from my laboratory, but I will be gathering ideas in Germany, Switzerland, France, Ireland, Scotland, and England.
I will miss you all.620signature.png

Nietzsche Panel discussion (after hours at the Bistro)

Dr.-Bear.pngAs anybody who follows my cooking knows, I am always up for trying something new. I also wonder if, in spite of the biographies on the “About the Bistro” page, some of my readers might be unfamiliar with the staff.
I thought we might have this week’s feature as a panel discussion.
Recently, Andy—long-time friend of the Bistro—

It seems like the Bistro’s version of the old radio Brando-cautiously-optimistic1.jpgcall-in show line ought to be,“Long-time customer, first time eater.”
(Or maybe “eater” sounds too weird.“Consumer”?)

 

The gentleman in question has eaten here before;Pierce 2
if I recall, he had a salad, the peace lentils,
and the corn-cakes. Oh, and a side order of Russian Nihilism,
and Community v. Individualism for desert–with some remarkable cheese.

Nietzsche buttonAnyway…he sent me a note asking “Where should I start with Nietzsche?”

WT-black-white-blue2.jpg

The mustache. If I were to start with Nietzsche,
it would be that mustache.
What the bloody hell is that thing all about?

Agreed.Brando-cautiously-optimistic1.jpg
“But if we start there, we may never stop.
It was a legendary and epic ‘stache.”

Dr.-Bear.pngI think he was asking what he should read first, guys.
For those of you newer to philosophy, Friederich Nietzsche was a 19th Century German Philosopher. He is best known for attacking many of the commonly held beliefs of Western and Christian culture, such as the notion of their being an absolute truth or absolute right and wrong.
I would recommend starting with Thus Spake Zarathustra, Andy.

Written throughout the summer of 1885, and first published iPierce-bust.jpgn 1886
as Also sprach Zarathustra: Ein Buch für Alle und Keinen
(although the 4th section was added in later printings),
it is written in a heavily poetic, rather mystical style.
It lays out its ideas using the central character Zarathustra
as the author’s spokesperson. It contains many of
Nietzsche’s central ideas, such as the death of God,
eternal recurrence, the critique of the superficiality of modern man,
the “Übermensch”, self-overcoming, and so forth.

Thank you, Peirce;
Brandon, would you throw him a fish?

Tako Nigiri, if you please.

All we have is canned tuna.

Any sesame wafers left?
We could top it with a dollop of that Kentucky Whisky Aioli,
crumble some of those Sriracha Potato Chips on it…

WT-black-white-blue2.jpg

Cooking is about all Kentucky whisky is fit for…

Dr.-Bear.pngAs Peirce said, the book contains many of Nietzsche’s most important ideas, and they are well presented and dramatic. The most famous idea is the “Übermensch,” usually translated as superman or overman. This is a human who is constantly overcoming or overtaking or exceeding their own limitations, as well as the limitations imposed upon them by societal expectations, religion, and traditional morality. A lot of the fans of Nietzsche–his street cred–is based on this idea of the overhuman who rises above mundane morality.
When I taught college, I generally make students read the section on the madman, which discusses the death of God. One of the things I admire about Nietzsche is that he recognizes that the loss of God will actually have a tremendous cost to our culture. “God is dead! What will we do with the rotting corpse?”

This is maybe the most widespread misunderstandings about Nietzsche.
My dad took a Philosophy class in which the professor had written on the board
the first day the old joke,Brando-cautiously-optimistic1.jpg
“God is dead.” – Nietzsche
“Nietzsche is dead.” – God
In other words, “Suck it, Friedrich.” But it wasn’t Nietzsche’s intent to kill God. He just thought he was already dead, and insisted that we all make arrangements for the funeral.

The writing is poetic, even beautiful, and really fun to read. It is sort of like an ancient epic or holy scriptures.It is aphoristic, so you can read it chapter by chapter, and section by section, and don’t really need to study it.
Zarathustra is not, however, systematic or well argued.

Bloody Hell!WT-black-white-blue2.jpg
It has less logical structure than Wagner’s Ring Cycle.

Wagner’s Ring Cycle.
That would be an interesting Laundry setting;Pierce-bust.jpg
I suppose it wouldn’t do for delicates, though.

For something with a bit more analysis, you might move on to the The Birth  of Tragedy.

I agree.
Though it’s interesting that in order to move on we need to move back.Brando-cautiously-optimistic1.jpg
The Birth of Tragedy was Nietzsche’s first book, written all the way
back in 1872, when he was still a professor of classical philology in Basel
rather than a syphilis-ridden recluse in the Alps.
Which reminds me: Have you ever noticed how much “syphilis” looks like “Sisyphus”?
(Beware what you push up the mountain. It might roll back down.)

WT-black-white-blue2.jpg

Syphilis or Sisyphus,
either way some poor bugger’s going to lose a rock.

I don’t get it.

You are better off not getting it, Peirce.

All righty, then.
The Birth of Tragedy, originally published as
Die Geburt der Tragödie aus dem Geiste der Musik,
or The Birth of Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music, it is an examination of Classical,
Pierce-bust.jpgand, more significantly, pre-classical Hellenic culture.
Nietzsche explores the rise of the dramatic tragedies.
He contrasts the Dionysian ideal–one of ecstasy and freedom–to the Apollonian idea–one of control and reason. The original theatrical productions were tied to the ecstatic catharsis of the Dionysian rites,
but as it was fully developed, tragedy retains both elements in balance,
allowing the Greeks to look into the abyss of human suffering and affirm it,
passionately and joyously affirmed the meaning of their own existence.

While it has some commendible points, especially in the move away from the cWT-black-white-blue2.jpgold, rationalist , ordered thinking he calles “Appollonian,”
it is an oversimplificaton of Greek religious culture, ignoring the earthy nature of the other Gods–even Priapus or the phallic Herma.
Och! But before I spend the my hours criticizing Nietzsche
too much, I must say that it is a truer critique of that blasted bugger Kant then of Apollo.

You can critique Kant later, Wode,
Dr.-Bear.pngmaybe when he comes in for spring peas in dill later this year.
Yes, Nietzsche is definitely a spokesperson for the Romantics against
the dryness and over-rationalization of the Enlightenment.
Finally, Andy, I would recommend Beyond Good & Evil……

                      Ah. Beyond Good and Evil was first published in1886 as
Jenseits von Gut und Böse: Vorspiel einer Philosophie der ZukunfPierce-bust.jpgt.
It is less poetic than Zarathustra, but still largely a collection of observations
and pronouncements in either paragraphs or even short sayings.
By performing a genealogy—an examination of the origins
and nature of Judeo-Christian morality—
he calls it into question, showing its reliance upon philosophical dogmatism,
and proposing instead a perspectivism. It is a dramatic call to arms
to those who cannot abide living within the controls of slave morality,
advancing an extra-moral wisdom to be shared  by those kindred souls
who think ‘beyond good and evil’.

Salut, Vache interrompant.
Dr.-Bear.pngIt also introduces important ideas, like the will to power, and the idea that morality is an invention of the weak to handicap the strong.
OK, to wrap up, guys—is it weird that we are just guys? I mean, it doesn’t seem very inclusive. Except for Alex, the fantasy IT person, the Bistro only has males of the species….

“A woman is a womaPierce-bust.jpgn,
and a man ain’t nothing but a male.
One good thing about him,
He knows how to jive and wail.”
Wait: Who is Alice?

Alex. She is our tech support. You haven’t met her, yet, but will at some point.
The service appointment window I was given was “the Twenty-Teens,
give or take two hours.”
Wrapping up, take two. OK, to wrap up, guys, I think ….

Haud yer wheesht, Skinny Malinky Longlegs!WT-black-white-blue2.jpg
You haven’t really captured why folks still read and quote Nietzsche 100 years after his death
and 130 years after he stopped writing. Although many of his romantic ideas had been expressed earlier, and even his nihilism had already been floating around for years—Dostoevsky had already critiqued the idea of the superman in Crime & Punishment in 1866, nobody writes the call
to arms against our certainties and complacencies better.
He is the John the Baptist of the absence of values, the John Knox of Post-Modernism.
He is the mustached prophet still preaching to punks, cyber-anarchists, and black clad emo kids.

Dr.-Bear.pngFair enough. When I was young and alternative and used safety pins as a fashion accessory, I carried a paperback of Zarathustra in the knee-pocket of my cargoes.
He is a wonderful thinker to work through, although you have to be careful not to make him an idol.
Wrapping up, take three. I think we should close by each quoting our favorite Nietzsche quote. Although I really like “but it is the same with man as with the tree. The more he seeks to rise into the height and light, the more vigorously do his roots struggle earthward, downward, into the dark, the deep – into evil.” I think I will go with:
Perhaps I know best why only humans laugh.
Only they suffer so deeply that they had to invent laughter.
This unhappy and melancholy animal is, as is proper, the cheeriest.

That faith makes blessed under certain circumstances, that blessedness does not makeWT-black-white-blue2.jpg of a fixed idea a true idea, that faith moves no mountains but puts mountains where there are none: a quick walk through a madhouse enlightens one sufficiently about this.

Brando strangley selfsatisfied looking rightSo many to choose from, but I will have to go with the chapter titles from Ecce Homo, which include “Why I am So Wise”, “Why I Write Such Good Books”, and my favorite: “Why I am a Destiny.” Whenever I do something breathtakingly dumb, I like to say, “This is why I am a destiny.” Oh stupidity, where is thy sting?

Without music, life would be a mistake.Pierce 2

Sense and Nonsense

We all have weird little things that annoy us.
I realize that we language freaks live in a different world than most people. I try not to wince when people use whom and who incorrectly, and I try not to slap folks who use impact as a verb.
I realize that we foodies live in a different world than the most people. Your loss.
I realize that we philosophers live in a different world than the most people. I try not to wince when people confuse strong arguments with valid arguments, and simply giggle to myself when folks describe things as being phenomenal. However, we all have issues we feel must be addressed, and the time has come (the walrus said) to talk of one such thing.

Looking at some children’s books the other day, I was shocked. Isn’t it about time we told children the truth instead of filling their impressionable young minds with half-truths and fable? Science isn’t scary; ignorance is what is scary.

I saw some brand new picture books about the five senses.

NONSENSE!

Let me make one thing perfectly clear: there are more than five senses. With only five senses, you couldn’t even get out of bed in the morning. For one thing, without equilibrioception, the senses which give you feedback on your equilibrium, you couldn’t get up at all. Without the sense of proprioception, the sense of bodily location, you wouldn’t even know if you were up.

Scientists disagree on how many senses we actually have, but depending on how you eyes1parse them, we have anywhere between 13 and four dozen. What I mean by parsing is this: we would all agree that we have a sense we call sight. Is color perception the same sense as light perception, or are these two (within the eye, there are two distinct structures which provide each) separate senses? Is depth perception, which couples visual input with an awareness of the angle of the eyes in relationship to each other a separate sense?

Similarly, are the five different types of mouth taste—sweet, salty, sour, bitter, and umami—all one sense, or are these five senses?smell

We know very little about smell, in large part because it is so complex. Odd that taste, which is relatively simple, is broken down into 5 different sensations, but smell, which is tremendously complex, is left as just one sense. I believe my dog, who can sniff a storm on the wind, would beg to differ.

hearing1Hearing is also mysterious, and from a phenomenological perspective fascinating, since it includes speed and frequency and duration—it is the closest we come to sensing time directly.

For folks who persist in the notion that there are only 5 senses, everything else is touch. Yet even for the common view of touch, is using my fingerstouch1 to sense the roughness of jagged granite, the pressure of a hand squeeze, and the temperature of the water in the dishrag bucket them same sense? If I were to feed you a grape, when you feel the pressure and give of it against your teeth as you bite into it, or when you feel the warmth of my breath against your cheek, or the gentle brush of my fingers across the back of your knee, are these all the same sense or are they different senses?

These, though, are only the outwardly directed senses. We in Western cultures are terribly forgetful of the body (you might not be at the moment, since I just tickled the back of your knee, but we as a culture are—trust me. And don’t get me started about Platonism). Most of the nerves we have are involved in provided us with feedback about our own bodies—even though these sensations often do not register consciously. When you kick me under the table (probably because I touched your knee), you will not have to look to see where your leg is—proprioception will let you sense where it is. This is useful if you drop something (your napkin, the Romanov jewels we lifted earlier that evening), have to locate it by feeling around with your foot, and then reach down—knowing where it is because you just felt it and knew where your foot was—you reach down your hand and pick it up.

Frazz Proprioception

If you don’t read Frazz, you should; It’s one of the best cartoons out there.

In particular these kinesthetic senses are important because they allow the body to be the base from which all other senses operate. The kinesthetic sense of eye movement and adjustment is an important part of visual perception. Knowing where are body is allows the sense of touch to be effective. Body awareness allows us to integrate the external senses into a coherent awareness of our world. I have a good friend (Hey, Mel) who spends a great deal of time each day, each week retraining children who have an inadequate kinesthetic sense—an inability to be aware of where there body is. These senses can go haywire, and when they do, it affects everything.

How about temperature? You can sense the temperature of the air around you, but you can also sense your internal temperature. There is a tremendous difference in the different ways of sensing pain—pain on your skin (Cutaneous nociception), pain in your bones or joints (Somatic nociception), or internal organ pain (Visceral nociception). Nausea is sensed, but doesn’t fall neatly into any of the traditional 5 external senses, but also seems different from the pain of a stomach ache or a gut punch. Hunger is similarly sensed, but is a radically different feeling, and can be sensed either as a feeling of the stomach, or as a feeling of needing to eat, which is more realted to how the body feels in general. So many of these senses are vital to our survival, yet we don’t think of them as at all worthy of attention.

So enjoy your senses. Focus upon one at a time. Play with how many of them are involved in enjoying your meal tonight at the Bistro. They are all sensual–proprioception seems rather dull, but the sensation of dancing is magnificent. Equilibrioception is mundane, but we love playing games with it on swings and rollercoasters. Your senses are a wonder, but even this mystery pales beside the great mystery of how the mind puts them all together, and the greatest mystery of you being you.315signature

Biology, Community, and Identity

Community & Individuals, part 2

Roan Mountain Walk 022In discussions of human nature, one of the central questions that soon appears is how much of who we are is determined by our biology, our genetic code, how our brains, nerves, & bodies are wired, and how much of it is shaped by our culture, the deliberate and accidental conditioning of our upbringing, the communities to which we belong?

To borrow a phrase I heard our mutual friend Mike use, “It’s a ‘both/and’ sort of thing, not an ‘either/or’ sort of thing.”

Although my area of research is much more focused upon the cultural community social side, I cannot deny that it is closely tied to, even dependent upon, a hard-wiring that makes us capable of being adapted by our environment. Our genetic heritage also seems to make us pre-programmed to live together with others. By nature, we have a long developmental period, which leaves us dependent upon others. Most of the evidence suggests that we have an inborn drive towards interaction with others; we are pulled to nurture and to be nurtured. We are naturally drawn to others like us, and pulled towards living in community. With the exception of some unusual conditions causing sociopathy or developmental delays or other issues, we are capable of empathy and language.
Although we have capabilities for interacting with our world, most of the tools we humans have to make sense of it are derived from our community. Even those that aren’t—those fundamental categories such as time, space, motion, color, cause & effect—these are all skewed and adjusted to fit the tools our community gives us, as well as to meet the need our community presents us with.

Since thinkers first started looking at human nature through the theoretical tool of evolution, the relationship between the individual and their community has proved difficult to deal with. While clearly humans survive as individuals to pass on their DNA to the next generation, is our survival as a species more due to our persistence in groups, much like the survival of other social animals like ants, bees, and termites?

We are, as Aristotle said, sociable creatures, and we areHipsters in Washington Heights drawn to the society of others. That is our genetics, our conditioning, and our habit. However, as Kant pointed out, we are troubled by a human nature marked by “an unsociable sociability;” we want to be with others, but we also want to be alone. As a species, we seem to be designed with an inner dichotomy of occasionally conflicting ends: we are individuals with individual needs, pleasures and desires, and, as a species, we are also communal, needing to be part of a community’s needs.

It’s not even really a “both/and thing;” it is a both/and & more thing.
Persons and groups are constantly engaged, constantly influencing and changing each other. Individuals and communities are in constant conversation, sometimes in a open dialogue allowing both to flourish, sometimes one of control and resistance, mostly somewhere in between. However, just as a community is always more than just a conglomeration of its parts, an individual is always more than just a member of a community.

Since the 80s—ironically, as a pathological individualist in one of the most individualistic decades imaginable—I have been a researcher of, a theorist of, an advocate for, and a member of communities. It seems to me after the isolation, individualism, selfishness, lost-ness and fragmentation of the last few decades, I see many more people moving towards living in community—either accidental communities or intentional communities.

However, as my last post indicated, my 25 years of experimentation have left me uncertain of community as an end in itself. Theoretically, human needs are rather similar and consistent, and forming communities within which these needs are satisfied,
allowing, as my friend Jeffery Nicholas puts it “human flourishing.” However, in practice, humans in groups large or small seem much more complex, and we might consider more flexible social groupings.

It seems to me, instead of being deeply bound to community, instead we have moved towards an individualistic serial sociality, where we connect ourselves to the orbit of a community for extended periods of time, form bonds and relationships, work together towards common goals, but then can shift or even move on. We are not monadic, but we remain nomadic. I think that 25 years ago, I would have critiqued this trend as just another form of individualism—which it is—or as boutique communitarianism or niche tribalism—which it can easily become. I think, however, that serial sociality does satisfy our basic human needs to be part of a group without compromising our own individuality. It also prevents the insularity of belonging to a group and the tendencies to start dealing with other humans through the dualist lens of us and them.

Greenleaf, NYCHealthy socialities form just as easily at workplaces, coffee shops, bars and on the trail as they do in colleges, churches, families, and intentional communities. One might argue that they are not as nurturing or as stable as groups that have a stronger commitment to each other, but I’m not sure that is the case; a bar is as likely to take up an offering for a member in the hospital as a church is.

I have no doubt we need each other; the question is: how?