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enteleinI've been re-reading bits and pieces of Plato's Republic recently.
Tucked into the book are several mimeographed sheets (yes, with the purple ink and slightly blurry effect) of notes given to us by the instructor, a wizened little man who looked like Einstein's stoner brother. He was cool. I wish I had been able to take classes with him further than the one Philosophy 101 course I took with him, because he was fascinating, clever, and ultimately, very laid back for a university that size.
I was intensely curious after one class session, where he very seriously and mysteriously declared that one should speak the truth, all the time. There is never a time when one should lie. Logically, it does not make sense to lie. I wanted to know more. Such a little thing, but it made such an incredible impact on me that ever since then (and it's been, what, 8 or 9 years now?) I've been pondering that question: Why should I never lie? Can I tell the truth all the time? Why not?
I think it's made all the difference to me in my political persuasions, and I think has given me the added frustration of arguing with a right wing father in e-mail: he doesn't get that I am not a neatly-pigeonholed bleeding heart liberal commie pinko. He doesn't get that I am approaching his views through scientific and Socratic methods, because I really want to know. A large part of my feeling so depressed these past months (years?) has been the unfailing veil of uselessness attributed to my existence on this earth. Another online journalist I am rather fond of has been dealing with something similar, and once termed it as her "existential angst."
If you know me at all in reality, you probably have a good handle on the fact that I am not particularly religious. I was brought up with a tiny bit of Catholic stuff as a kid, and so on the rare occasion I will actually recite the Our Father at one of the endless step-family functions (weddings, baptisms, christenings, funerals, graduations) that happen in churches. But I don't honestly believe it. It's no fault of my own, really. It's not as if I have a set of circumstances that brought me around to believing we are a godless Earth. There's just something in my heart that is relentlessly pragmatic about divinity in this universe, and to a lot of people, it's harshly cynical. I can't help it. I just don't believe.
Sometimes, I wish I could, though. To have that buffer, that safety net of faith. What a relief that would be! To fold myself in the arms of Hallalujahs and Amens, to recognize Buddha, to cast away my material possessions, to chant and pray a certain number of times a day, to face East, to touch my forehead, my heart, my shoulders in turn, to speak in tongues even, throwing myself into the ecstasy of divine right and submissiveness to a collective morality ...
And that's where I start to feel very uncomfortable.
So, here I am, wishing I had a safety net below me of something, anything, that gives me hope and muster for the future. I have no guide, no map. I am pushing against the possibilities, and I lose my strength too quickly.
Does this make sense?
Plato's a bit of a fool, though, and his Republic is a bit too mindful of itself to truly be a dynamic, truthful society. I like my vices and my desires, they are antithesis to the ineffectual me.
Anyway.
In my readings, however, I became alarmed at how lax I've let my brain go over the last few years. In my note sheets, I scribbled down questions and revelations as we covered the material, and I almost want to weep at how very on-the-mark I seemed to be, how astute and intelligent I sounded, how my thirst for hunger was so very apparent in a few jotted notes, squished inbetween fuzzy paragraphs of purple-blue ink.
Tucked into the book are several mimeographed sheets (yes, with the purple ink and slightly blurry effect) of notes given to us by the instructor, a wizened little man who looked like Einstein's stoner brother. He was cool. I wish I had been able to take classes with him further than the one Philosophy 101 course I took with him, because he was fascinating, clever, and ultimately, very laid back for a university that size.
I was intensely curious after one class session, where he very seriously and mysteriously declared that one should speak the truth, all the time. There is never a time when one should lie. Logically, it does not make sense to lie. I wanted to know more. Such a little thing, but it made such an incredible impact on me that ever since then (and it's been, what, 8 or 9 years now?) I've been pondering that question: Why should I never lie? Can I tell the truth all the time? Why not?
I think it's made all the difference to me in my political persuasions, and I think has given me the added frustration of arguing with a right wing father in e-mail: he doesn't get that I am not a neatly-pigeonholed bleeding heart liberal commie pinko. He doesn't get that I am approaching his views through scientific and Socratic methods, because I really want to know. A large part of my feeling so depressed these past months (years?) has been the unfailing veil of uselessness attributed to my existence on this earth. Another online journalist I am rather fond of has been dealing with something similar, and once termed it as her "existential angst."
If you know me at all in reality, you probably have a good handle on the fact that I am not particularly religious. I was brought up with a tiny bit of Catholic stuff as a kid, and so on the rare occasion I will actually recite the Our Father at one of the endless step-family functions (weddings, baptisms, christenings, funerals, graduations) that happen in churches. But I don't honestly believe it. It's no fault of my own, really. It's not as if I have a set of circumstances that brought me around to believing we are a godless Earth. There's just something in my heart that is relentlessly pragmatic about divinity in this universe, and to a lot of people, it's harshly cynical. I can't help it. I just don't believe.
Sometimes, I wish I could, though. To have that buffer, that safety net of faith. What a relief that would be! To fold myself in the arms of Hallalujahs and Amens, to recognize Buddha, to cast away my material possessions, to chant and pray a certain number of times a day, to face East, to touch my forehead, my heart, my shoulders in turn, to speak in tongues even, throwing myself into the ecstasy of divine right and submissiveness to a collective morality ...
And that's where I start to feel very uncomfortable.
So, here I am, wishing I had a safety net below me of something, anything, that gives me hope and muster for the future. I have no guide, no map. I am pushing against the possibilities, and I lose my strength too quickly.
Does this make sense?
Plato's a bit of a fool, though, and his Republic is a bit too mindful of itself to truly be a dynamic, truthful society. I like my vices and my desires, they are antithesis to the ineffectual me.
Anyway.
In my readings, however, I became alarmed at how lax I've let my brain go over the last few years. In my note sheets, I scribbled down questions and revelations as we covered the material, and I almost want to weep at how very on-the-mark I seemed to be, how astute and intelligent I sounded, how my thirst for hunger was so very apparent in a few jotted notes, squished inbetween fuzzy paragraphs of purple-blue ink.
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no subject
Date: 2002-02-03 09:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-02-04 09:35 pm (UTC)I hope your class gets more interesting, or that an idea takes hold and you can run with it for the rest of the semester. That seemed to be key for me, that whole thing about telling the truth. It really made me think, and colored my days in that class very intensely.
Logos
Date: 2002-02-04 05:53 am (UTC)I was helped along to this during the Impeachment trial. I realized then that I no longer trust anyone in government to tell the truth.
Enron built a huge house of cards out of lies. Some people got rich, at least for the time being, and many were destroyed. How many of the rest of us are being destroyed by similar sets of lies.
I have come to the conclusion that our whole Western Civilization is based on illusions concocted by greedy and power-hungry people.
My personal search is for the "truth" instead of these lies. If I can find a bit of "truth", I may find a reason for continuing to live on this earth. I may find a direction in which to focus the energies of my life.
Re: Logos
Date: 2002-02-04 09:42 pm (UTC)In my searches for the truth, I have found it harder and harder to make generalizations like the one you're making when you say:
"our whole Western Civilization is based on illusions concocted by greedy and power-hungry people."
See, but that's not true, because some of the basis for our success was because of people who were focused on innovation, invention, and happy accidents. Some of those were surely motivated by the monetary reward such things usually engender, but there have been some amazing advances in medical treatments, in art and culture, and in relations between humans, because Western Culture tends to be so expansive, so absolutely overwhelming.
I mean, if I am living in some sort of illusion, then how, pray tell, do I get to the chocolatey center of truth in this equation? Isn't truth relative at this point? I mean, not to get into relativism, because that will make you crazy, but I think that's the brick wall I've been running up against: *what* truth am I going to tell? What's omission, really, if I never had the clue in the first place that I had a truth that needed to be told?
After fighting with my father so many times in email, where all I wanted was some answers to really basic questions about the conservative ethic and where he falls inside of it, and all I got back was hyperbole and rhetoric spew, I decided that for right now, my truths need to come from more basic pursuits: day to day living, how I treat the people I really love. Politics? I am exhausted from politics right now.
Thoughts?