Friday, January 30, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
"Directive"
"Directive," by Robert Frost
Back out of all this now too much for us,
Back in a time made simple by the loss
Of detail, burned, dissolved, and broken off
Like graveyard marble sculpture in the weather,
There is a house that is no more a house
Upon a farm that is no more a farm
And in a town that is no more a town.
The road there, if you'll let a guide direct you
Who only has at heart your getting lost,
May seem as if it should have been a quarry -
Great monolithic knees the former town
Long since gave up pretense of keeping covered.
And there's a story in a book about it:
Besides the wear of iron wagon wheels
The ledges show lines ruled southeast-northwest,
The chisel work of an enormous Glacier
That braced his feet against the Arctic Pole.
You must not mind a certain coolness from him
Still said to haunt this side of Panther Mountain.
Nor need you mind the serial ordeal
Of being watched from forty cellar holes
As if by eye pairs out of forty firkins.
As for the woods' excitement over you
That sends light rustle rushes to their leaves,
Charge that to upstart inexperience.
Where were they all not twenty years ago?
They think too much of having shaded out
A few old pecker-fretted apple trees.
Make yourself up a cheering song of how
Someone's road home from work this once was,
Who may be just ahead of you on foot
Or creaking with a buggy load of grain.
The height of the adventure is the height
Of country where two village cultures faded
Into each other. Both of them are lost.
And if you're lost enough to find yourself
By now, pull in your ladder road behind you
And put a sign up CLOSED to all but me.
Then make yourself at home. The only field
Now left's no bigger than a harness gall.
First there's the children's house of make-believe,
Some shattered dishes underneath a pine,
The playthings in the playhouse of the children.
Weep for what little things could make them glad.
Then for the house that is no more a house,
But only a belilaced cellar hole,
Now slowly closing like a dent in dough.
This was no playhouse but a house in earnest.
Your destination and your destiny's
A brook that was the water of the house,
Cold as a spring as yet so near its source,
Too lofty and original to rage.
(We know the valley streams that when aroused
Will leave their tatters hung on barb and thorn.)
I have kept hidden in the instep arch
Of an old cedar at the waterside
A broken drinking goblet like the Grail
Under a spell so the wrong ones can't find it,
So can't get saved, as Saint Mark says they mustn't.
(I stole the goblet from the children's playhouse.)
Here are your waters and your watering place.
Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.
Back out of all this now too much for us,
Back in a time made simple by the loss
Of detail, burned, dissolved, and broken off
Like graveyard marble sculpture in the weather,
There is a house that is no more a house
Upon a farm that is no more a farm
And in a town that is no more a town.
The road there, if you'll let a guide direct you
Who only has at heart your getting lost,
May seem as if it should have been a quarry -
Great monolithic knees the former town
Long since gave up pretense of keeping covered.
And there's a story in a book about it:
Besides the wear of iron wagon wheels
The ledges show lines ruled southeast-northwest,
The chisel work of an enormous Glacier
That braced his feet against the Arctic Pole.
You must not mind a certain coolness from him
Still said to haunt this side of Panther Mountain.
Nor need you mind the serial ordeal
Of being watched from forty cellar holes
As if by eye pairs out of forty firkins.
As for the woods' excitement over you
That sends light rustle rushes to their leaves,
Charge that to upstart inexperience.
Where were they all not twenty years ago?
They think too much of having shaded out
A few old pecker-fretted apple trees.
Make yourself up a cheering song of how
Someone's road home from work this once was,
Who may be just ahead of you on foot
Or creaking with a buggy load of grain.
The height of the adventure is the height
Of country where two village cultures faded
Into each other. Both of them are lost.
And if you're lost enough to find yourself
By now, pull in your ladder road behind you
And put a sign up CLOSED to all but me.
Then make yourself at home. The only field
Now left's no bigger than a harness gall.
First there's the children's house of make-believe,
Some shattered dishes underneath a pine,
The playthings in the playhouse of the children.
Weep for what little things could make them glad.
Then for the house that is no more a house,
But only a belilaced cellar hole,
Now slowly closing like a dent in dough.
This was no playhouse but a house in earnest.
Your destination and your destiny's
A brook that was the water of the house,
Cold as a spring as yet so near its source,
Too lofty and original to rage.
(We know the valley streams that when aroused
Will leave their tatters hung on barb and thorn.)
I have kept hidden in the instep arch
Of an old cedar at the waterside
A broken drinking goblet like the Grail
Under a spell so the wrong ones can't find it,
So can't get saved, as Saint Mark says they mustn't.
(I stole the goblet from the children's playhouse.)
Here are your waters and your watering place.
Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Apostel on Worldview
According to the Belgian philosopher Leo Apostel, a "worldview" comprises seven elements:
1. An ontology, or a descriptive model of the world.
2. An explanation of the world.
3. A futurology, answering the question, "Where are we heading?"
4. Values, or answers to ethical questions: "What should we do?"
5. A praxeology, methodology, or theory of action: "How should we attain our goals?"
6. An epistemology, or theory of knowledge.
7. An etiology, or an account of its own origins and construction.
Apostel's definition isn't broad enough. Here are a couple additions:
8. A subjectivity, or a sense of self. Includes things like identity descriptors (e.g., extroverted, Indonesian, Christian) and personal preferences (e.g. favorite food, cutest animal).
9. A taxonomy, or classification system, for the social and natural world. Is this the same as #2?
Emotions and memories should also be included somewhere, but I can't decide whether to put them in their own category or include them in #8.
1. An ontology, or a descriptive model of the world.
2. An explanation of the world.
3. A futurology, answering the question, "Where are we heading?"
4. Values, or answers to ethical questions: "What should we do?"
5. A praxeology, methodology, or theory of action: "How should we attain our goals?"
6. An epistemology, or theory of knowledge.
7. An etiology, or an account of its own origins and construction.
Apostel's definition isn't broad enough. Here are a couple additions:
8. A subjectivity, or a sense of self. Includes things like identity descriptors (e.g., extroverted, Indonesian, Christian) and personal preferences (e.g. favorite food, cutest animal).
9. A taxonomy, or classification system, for the social and natural world. Is this the same as #2?
Emotions and memories should also be included somewhere, but I can't decide whether to put them in their own category or include them in #8.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Worldview, Ideology, or Culture?
It bothers me when the words worldview, culture, and ideology are used interchangeably. Someone should really spend some time thinking this through and coming up with semi-concise definitions of those words that make the distinctions between them clear.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
"This Living Hand"
"This Living Hand," by John Keats
This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calmed - see here it is -
I hold it towards you.
This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calmed - see here it is -
I hold it towards you.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Expansiveness, continued
A friend suggested to me that there might be a possible contradiction between Expansiveness and being outright critical of wrong-headed ideas. Understanding and open-mindedness can only go so far, he argues, before one must take a stand against the propagation of nonsense. (For example, those who believe that global warming is a hoax are just ignorant, and their views are not worthy of respect.)
I don't see a contradiction. Expansiveness has very little to do with empathy; wrong ideas are not deserving of empathy, and people who consider Expansiveness a virtue have no obligation to blunt their criticism of wrong ideas under the banner of "open-mindedness." Expansive people are generally well-read, well-researched, relatively unbiased, and familiar with the competing arguments, and therefore they are in prime position to let the Know-Nothings have it. The more knowledgeable they are, the less mercy they should show.
The thing that distinguishes expansive people from other knowledgeable people is that they conceive of their minds as works-in-progress, even on topics where they can claim expertise. A few implications follow: First, they are aware of the limitations of their own knowledge, and are actively seeking to overcome those limitations. (Which reminds me of the first rule of book discussion groups: "If you haven't read the book, shut the hell up.") Second, they are conscious of the fact that "knowledge" is a socially-produced phenomenon, and as such, oftentimes what seems like knowledge is actually a case of groupthink. Expansive people do what they can to maintain independence, or at very least, to be honest about the ways in which they are influenced by the crowd. Finally, they relish the opportunity to learn something about a field of knowledge that was previously a mystery, whether it be the inner workings of a lawnmower, an old book, or the history of soap.
I don't see a contradiction. Expansiveness has very little to do with empathy; wrong ideas are not deserving of empathy, and people who consider Expansiveness a virtue have no obligation to blunt their criticism of wrong ideas under the banner of "open-mindedness." Expansive people are generally well-read, well-researched, relatively unbiased, and familiar with the competing arguments, and therefore they are in prime position to let the Know-Nothings have it. The more knowledgeable they are, the less mercy they should show.
The thing that distinguishes expansive people from other knowledgeable people is that they conceive of their minds as works-in-progress, even on topics where they can claim expertise. A few implications follow: First, they are aware of the limitations of their own knowledge, and are actively seeking to overcome those limitations. (Which reminds me of the first rule of book discussion groups: "If you haven't read the book, shut the hell up.") Second, they are conscious of the fact that "knowledge" is a socially-produced phenomenon, and as such, oftentimes what seems like knowledge is actually a case of groupthink. Expansive people do what they can to maintain independence, or at very least, to be honest about the ways in which they are influenced by the crowd. Finally, they relish the opportunity to learn something about a field of knowledge that was previously a mystery, whether it be the inner workings of a lawnmower, an old book, or the history of soap.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Blogging
Most often, I use this blog as a filing cabinet. It is just a place to store quotes, facts, articles, and links that I find interesting, so that I can refer to them in the future. My job keeps me around the computer most of the time, so I have ample opportunity to stumble upon interesting information and move it over to D'Eleaneaux. I've been very happy with this function of the blog.
More recently, I've started using the blog to express more of my own thoughts, generally about once or twice a week. I never intend to write full, five-paragraph essays, but sometimes that is what those posts turn into. In these cases, D'Eleaneaux transcends its original purpose as a filing cabinet and becomes a workshop. An ideas workshop.
You know those moments when things seem to come together and you understand something you didn't understand previously? Usually for me they are such minor revelations that they are not even worth sharing with anybody. Sometimes it is even embarrassing that I needed a revelation to figure those things out. (For example, I had this revelation over Christmas break: You can be funny really easily just by drawing on a humorous catchphrase or a theme from earlier in the conversation. That will help me so much in the future!) I think about D'Eleaneaux as an opportunity to latch onto a revelation every now and then, and to put words to it before I forget about the revelation or before I become convinced that it was a flawed revelation. When they go on the blog, they are in a fledgling state and have barely begun to be analyzed. Some of them look better to me as time passes, and others look worse. But I don't really see a need to go through and weed out the ones that no longer please me. Seems to me there's something Whitman-like about standing up for one's own contradictions.
I recently rediscovered this Helene Cixous quotation that might serve as a fitting theme for my blog: "If she is a whole, it's a whole composed of parts that are wholes, not simple partial objects but a moving, limitlessly changing ensemble."
More recently, I've started using the blog to express more of my own thoughts, generally about once or twice a week. I never intend to write full, five-paragraph essays, but sometimes that is what those posts turn into. In these cases, D'Eleaneaux transcends its original purpose as a filing cabinet and becomes a workshop. An ideas workshop.
You know those moments when things seem to come together and you understand something you didn't understand previously? Usually for me they are such minor revelations that they are not even worth sharing with anybody. Sometimes it is even embarrassing that I needed a revelation to figure those things out. (For example, I had this revelation over Christmas break: You can be funny really easily just by drawing on a humorous catchphrase or a theme from earlier in the conversation. That will help me so much in the future!) I think about D'Eleaneaux as an opportunity to latch onto a revelation every now and then, and to put words to it before I forget about the revelation or before I become convinced that it was a flawed revelation. When they go on the blog, they are in a fledgling state and have barely begun to be analyzed. Some of them look better to me as time passes, and others look worse. But I don't really see a need to go through and weed out the ones that no longer please me. Seems to me there's something Whitman-like about standing up for one's own contradictions.
I recently rediscovered this Helene Cixous quotation that might serve as a fitting theme for my blog: "If she is a whole, it's a whole composed of parts that are wholes, not simple partial objects but a moving, limitlessly changing ensemble."
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