This morning, I had a brief conversation with my mom about Aristotle. I listed three things I didn't like about Aristotle. She told me that I obviously did not understand Aristotle. "People who understand Aristotle know he's the smartest person who ever lived," she said. "If you don't like him, you don't understand him. Some day you'll grow up and like Aristotle," she concluded. I almost burst out at this condescension (based solely on her opinion!), but instead checked myself and said she was right; it's Mother's Day, and I don't get to be subversive on Mother's Day.
I take this all with a grain of salt. Of course I don't "understand" Aristotle; I haven't read and retained enough to make any such claim. I despair that I may never understand the man. But I do understand Plato, and I liked The Republic (read a few years ago), the Symposium, and the other things we read quite a bit. So she asked me to explain one thing I liked about the Symposium and here's what I said:
More than Diotema's teaching and Socrates' almost-systematized view on Love, I adore learning what I can of humanity in the first five speeches. I've always agreed that when a person speaks or writes, the easiest thing to see is traits of their character. I found it especially interesting that Plato writes in Phaedrus, Pausanias, Eryximachus, Aristophanes and Agathon defining Love as they are experiencing it, selecting their own profession as understanding it best; and then he gives his (Diotema's) account in exactly the same way. I'm certain he saw that he was selecting his own profession as understanding it best. I interpret this as a reference to the intense, entirely personal nature of Love. I've often seen successful relationships and thought, "How the hell did that relationship last? They don't love each other!" But I don't know that; I can't see their love, because it is only between them. Love is universal, but not universally the same. Anyway, I love how discussing love reveals more about the person discussing than love itself. And that's why I think the Symposium is so fascinating and brilliant.
After this explanation, she said, "Yeah, you just like glitzy metaphysics." I laughed. That's exactly right.
And this provides me with the perfect opportunity to practice a little psychological philosophy like Plato does in the Symposium. I've always sensed a critical difference between my mom and myself; but I'm in a different place in life, and right now I value people more than I value ideas. It seems she's gotten over other people and wants to get her morals right. I feel like I have time to let my morals shift wherever my conscience tells them to go, but maybe I will settle down like she did. Maybe I will feel the need to systematize my actions. Granted, we are two different people, but we're too genetically similar for me to say she's just repressed and I'm just not.
Anyway, I'm glad she gave me an opportunity to sound a little grown up. And until I do grow up, I'll just find comfort in my glitzy metaphysics.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
What I learned from PHI 3310!
Holy hell, what I learned could hardly be fully explained with words. But I'm going to try. (DISCLAIMER: I'm not sucking up. Something tells me Dr. Bowery would ignore any brown-nosing, so I'll skip that crap and go right to real human expression.)
This is the only philosophy class I've ever or will ever take (sadly). I knew when I signed up that it would be a difficult class, but it was not challenging in the way I expected it to be. I mean, come on guys, admit it - this is not the most academically challenging class we're going to take here at Baylor. No, the only pain I felt was the severance of my umbilical cord - the one that provided me nourishment from the repulsively-nihilistic-Black-Eyed-Peas-college-party-world I so rarely notice I'm stuck in. Whether it was reflecting on my own in the journal, or discussing in class, I always felt like I was gravitating closer and closer to wisdom, a feeling which "I Gotta Feeling" does not normally facilitate. I'd leave class in such a contemplative mood, certainly something like the one Aristotle suggests. So did this class actually bring me closer to happiness? Yes, it did. Here's why.
As much as I loved talking, I loved listening more. So much of what you all said stayed with me and stays with me still. I liked the way Jennifer always commented, "This reminds me of something I just read/saw/heard," constantly reminding me that philosophy matters outside the classroom. I liked overhearing (not that it was difficult to overhear) Alan and Ray face off toward the end of the semester. I liked trying my best to decipher what the hell Shayan or Sterling had just asked. I liked that we're from all different backgrounds, from all over the place, and that we were actually teaching each other about much more than just philosophy. And I liked so much more.
I believed philosophers were terrible people. Watching Dr. Bowery answer my questions changed my mind. Even before I ask them, I sometimes think my questions are ridiculously, record-breakingly idiotic - but no one in the class laughed when I asked if Plato thought animals couldn't think about "the good." I will miss that respectful silence.
On the blog/pizza day, Sterling explained so much to me, in what he said and in what he didn't say, when we discussed the difficulties of switching from military life to an intellectual life. I learned more from that ten minutes than from any other ten minutes this entire semester - not just about war, not just about soldiers, not even just about Sterling, but about people, about life, about myself. It was a moment of condensed understanding I won't soon forget.
As I think I mentioned in another blog, this semester was supposed to be the one that told me why in the hell I should stay at Baylor. I was fully convinced it was not for me, and I was not coming back. I think if any class influenced my decision to stay, it was this one. I loved the different perspectives, the kindness, the subtleties, and not-so-subtleties (Ray, anyone?), the constant mutual struggle for an understanding in such a confusing world - these are all candied-up ways of saying I was and still am unable to describe how impressed and influenced I have been by you people. You made me believe in Baylor again, believe it or not. Dr. Bowery, Nathan, classmates: thank you for an awesome, memorable semester.
This is the only philosophy class I've ever or will ever take (sadly). I knew when I signed up that it would be a difficult class, but it was not challenging in the way I expected it to be. I mean, come on guys, admit it - this is not the most academically challenging class we're going to take here at Baylor. No, the only pain I felt was the severance of my umbilical cord - the one that provided me nourishment from the repulsively-nihilistic-Black-Eyed-Peas-college-party-world I so rarely notice I'm stuck in. Whether it was reflecting on my own in the journal, or discussing in class, I always felt like I was gravitating closer and closer to wisdom, a feeling which "I Gotta Feeling" does not normally facilitate. I'd leave class in such a contemplative mood, certainly something like the one Aristotle suggests. So did this class actually bring me closer to happiness? Yes, it did. Here's why.
As much as I loved talking, I loved listening more. So much of what you all said stayed with me and stays with me still. I liked the way Jennifer always commented, "This reminds me of something I just read/saw/heard," constantly reminding me that philosophy matters outside the classroom. I liked overhearing (not that it was difficult to overhear) Alan and Ray face off toward the end of the semester. I liked trying my best to decipher what the hell Shayan or Sterling had just asked. I liked that we're from all different backgrounds, from all over the place, and that we were actually teaching each other about much more than just philosophy. And I liked so much more.
I believed philosophers were terrible people. Watching Dr. Bowery answer my questions changed my mind. Even before I ask them, I sometimes think my questions are ridiculously, record-breakingly idiotic - but no one in the class laughed when I asked if Plato thought animals couldn't think about "the good." I will miss that respectful silence.
On the blog/pizza day, Sterling explained so much to me, in what he said and in what he didn't say, when we discussed the difficulties of switching from military life to an intellectual life. I learned more from that ten minutes than from any other ten minutes this entire semester - not just about war, not just about soldiers, not even just about Sterling, but about people, about life, about myself. It was a moment of condensed understanding I won't soon forget.
As I think I mentioned in another blog, this semester was supposed to be the one that told me why in the hell I should stay at Baylor. I was fully convinced it was not for me, and I was not coming back. I think if any class influenced my decision to stay, it was this one. I loved the different perspectives, the kindness, the subtleties, and not-so-subtleties (Ray, anyone?), the constant mutual struggle for an understanding in such a confusing world - these are all candied-up ways of saying I was and still am unable to describe how impressed and influenced I have been by you people. You made me believe in Baylor again, believe it or not. Dr. Bowery, Nathan, classmates: thank you for an awesome, memorable semester.
Humanist alert.
Today, as I was walking on campus, I reached the conclusion that I am a humanist. There are some people in my life I consider prophets, some Oracles (little Matrix reference for you), and some are fairly non-insightful (but I love them anyway). Some people know what I need and when I need it, some people just know that I need something from looking at the obviously sick look on my face. But by and large, I am consistently astounded by the perceptive abilities of humans.
Here's an example of this in motion, on a larger scale: I received an email from a friend on the day I decided to apply to another college, certain that my time at Baylor was done. He said this, verbatim: "I don't know why, but I think you need to talk to someone at Baylor today - maybe Dr. Greene [my mentor here]. I don't know who. I just think today is a big day for you, I think today you are going to find out why you're at Baylor. Please take this seriously!"
So, without wasting a minute, I logged out and walked over to Dr. Greene's office, and he was not surprisingly confused about my arrival. But the conversation (as it usually does with him) turned very deep, and ended with him saying the following, verbatim: "I think you're the reason I'm here." And that was the moment I knew the email was exactly what I needed to hear at exactly the right time. I'll be coming back to Baylor next term.
Protagoras says, "A human being is the measure of all things - of things that are, that they are, and of things that are not, that they are not." I just read that and said, "Damn straight, they are." My friends, my mentors, my family - they are the measures by which I measure everything in my life. I'm excited that I am able to live a life in which I can follow the advice of my friends at whim. But their advice is more than just insightful - it is warm, kind, selfless, and loving. Humans are frickin' great.
Here's an example of this in motion, on a larger scale: I received an email from a friend on the day I decided to apply to another college, certain that my time at Baylor was done. He said this, verbatim: "I don't know why, but I think you need to talk to someone at Baylor today - maybe Dr. Greene [my mentor here]. I don't know who. I just think today is a big day for you, I think today you are going to find out why you're at Baylor. Please take this seriously!"
So, without wasting a minute, I logged out and walked over to Dr. Greene's office, and he was not surprisingly confused about my arrival. But the conversation (as it usually does with him) turned very deep, and ended with him saying the following, verbatim: "I think you're the reason I'm here." And that was the moment I knew the email was exactly what I needed to hear at exactly the right time. I'll be coming back to Baylor next term.
Protagoras says, "A human being is the measure of all things - of things that are, that they are, and of things that are not, that they are not." I just read that and said, "Damn straight, they are." My friends, my mentors, my family - they are the measures by which I measure everything in my life. I'm excited that I am able to live a life in which I can follow the advice of my friends at whim. But their advice is more than just insightful - it is warm, kind, selfless, and loving. Humans are frickin' great.
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