Forgetting What is Petty

A few months ago I went to Reimer’s Ranch with SIRA, a park near Dripping Springs. This was my first time doing anything with the organization and looking back, I regret not taking more of an advantage of such a group. It was a fairly small group of whom, for me, were fellow southwestern students whom I had not met a single one. The exception was a woman who I had told off in one of my classes a few years back—well, told off is a bit of an understatement—there were words thrown around. She was in a group project and didn’t do a thing. And when I say that, I do mean precisely that, not even showing up to our meetings. And so it was a bit of an awkward situation, for it was fairly clear that we both remembered this event. There was added awkwardness for we each held each other’s lives in our hands—you see, this was my first time going outdoor rock climbing, and I assure you, it is a horse of a different color. If you fall, there is nothing locking you in place. If the belayer is not paying close enough attention, the rope can slip through the tiny piece of metal and not stop until you hit the ground thirty feet below. And there’s no pad to land on, no rubber of foam—you’ve got dirt and rocks to pick from. So here I was, halfway up a cliff, with this woman, whom, I’ll admit, I rather passive-aggressively called a few names from a distance, controlling my fate. It’s hard for me to explain why exactly, but it actually felt pretty wonderful. There’s something about moving past petty differences, especially when it’s on a scale of life and death. Placed in such a situation, literally looking back down at the ground, it makes you realize what is important. Sure, there is always safety gear, but that is irrelevant, or at least it seems like it when you’re up there.
On this trip, I also realized that the guy leading it had, what I consider to be, the perfect job. He works for Georgetown Parks and Rec and also teaches an FRA on campus, which I plan to take when offered. There was something about the guy that was entirely genuine, which was fairly refreshing. He was clearly just doing what he loved to do, and intensely passionate and happy because of it. There has always been a part of me that has hesitated with coming to terms with potentially and actually having a job like this. I think ultimately, it revolves around a fairly outdated and superficial notion of prestige, which this trip helped me get past.

Magician

The magician from Austin College who came to speak just didn’t, well, he didn’t wow me. The part of the show in which he preformed magic was a waste of time. Card tricks are inherently boring, and indeed, this cuts at the core of what magic is—the second half of his schtik, to use a Yiddish word. He was arguing that magic is more than merely a matter of perception, bringing it into the everyday by calling on the philosopher Giordano Bruno. The problem with performance magic lies in the fact that ultimately, you are aware that it is merely a matter of perception. One does not even need to know precisely how the trick was done. The fact of the matter is that the magician tricks you somehow, by not allowing you to perceive the whole truth of what is going on. Hiding a deck of cards under a handkerchief is, in this sense, a dead giveaway that something important is going on underneath it. The magician himself was providing a stumbling block for our sense of sight. While we perceived it as an added difficulty for the performance of the trick, what we are not thinking of is the incredible amount of practice that must have gone into that routine. He must have spent days practicing it, getting it damn near perfect. This is why, ultimately, I was confused to why he preformed stage magic at all—he seemed to be reinforcing negative definitions for what he wanted magic to mean.
The bit of the everyday magic was fairly fast and loose. The word magic has a connotation that is more than natural phenomenon that we do not understand or that appears on the surface level as mystifying, and yet that is precisely the definition that he wanted to give it. Here, the example of calming a baby down is fairly easy to answer if one wishes to bring in evolutionary psychology. And indeed, I felt like much of what he was arguing could be answered with a throughout study of human psychology. Why is there not a department of magic, as he so eagerly asked? Well, for starters, I think it would come into conflict with the pre-existing one of psychology. That being said, there is are element within such a study that can be extrapolated. Why, for example, do we wear our favorite team jersey on game day? One typically refers to it as superstition, but there is this entirely irrational element within the fan’s mind that if I didn’t wear it the team would definitely have lost, if they had. If they hadn’t and one wasn’t wearing the jersey, one puts the issue out of mind typically. If they had won and the fan was wearing the jersey, well, “see, look at how my support helped win—I too am a loyal fan—I was the cause of their victory, even.” We do revert to thought that could be placed within the realm of magic on occasion, but such thought can be placed within the study of human behavior in general.

End O' Semester

This semester I enjoyed our Paideia meetings as usual. Much of what we talked about, and much of what has been on my mind recently, has made me return to the original theme of the group: understanding human behavior. In many of my classes as well, although they are not strictly within the field, I have been diving into issues of psychology. The more I surround myself with many of these issues, from animal testing to artistic movements to popular television shows, the more I am dubious about having an effective science strictly for understanding our species. I hope we return to this topic in our last meeting some. A foundation in true psychology would be nice—a more ‘objective,’ dare I say, or at least systematic way to look at the issues involved, especially since I’ve been thinking much about the topic through my own crazed consciousness. I suppose I just want some verification for my own peace of mind. And on some level, through simple discussion, Paideia provides just that. The question, “Are our actions human?” seems just silly because of course they are since our species, and only it, fits the description applied to human. And yet, when we ask the question, “Are our actions humane,” we have to stop ourselves and ask how it is we are acting. Likewise, a similar question seems to be, “What can the humanities explain about us that science fails to accomplish?” I’ve been thinking a great deal about the creation of models, maps, formulas, and the like, and it seems that we’ve created an ideal one even for how we see ourselves on a daily basis. “Act like you,” only the rules are unclear. Granted, this is under the guise of ethics, and it has been a topic of discussion for, well, it seems, for as long as human existence, wherever we draw the line. It seems that’s just what we enjoy doing most however—drawing the line. Shields did this in Reality Hungers, insofar as he attempts to redraw the line of accepted credibility within the essay by asking the question of how one can own words at all. In this, Shields is a firm believer in the notion that good art has to redraw how we see the world, in some fashion or another. The more I think about it the more I agree with him, but it has some interesting side-effects for truth, or at least belief. It means that often times, more often than not, we settle. For good art to have an effect on us, it means that we need to be standing still on some system of beliefs, only then can we be shaken by the art itself.
In any event, I hope I have made it clear that Paideia has fulfilled its status yet again this semester and placed atop the pyramid that is a liberal arts education. On this, the more I consider it, the more I find myself attracted to a kind of holistic philosophy, particularly with regards to education—well, here I suppose it matters most. To quote naturalist John Muir, "When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe." Paideia does an excellent job of fitting into just such a model.

Our Body-- Off Campus

For my off campus event I went to the Our Body exhibit in Austin. There are many of these kinds of exhibits worldwide that seem to be popping up, in which real human bodies donated to science are plasticized and placed on display. This was a rather small one, housed within the UT football stadium, and so I went with David. The displays themselves were fascinating, with the rooms laid out according to the various bodily systems: skeletal, nervous, digestive, etcetera. Incredibly, they had dissected one individual by creating fifty or so inch long horizontal cross-sections all along the body. However, for me, the most fascinating aspect was my own experience of being incredibly aware of my own body as I was walking through the exhibit. It seemed like the real exhibit, the one most interesting, was of the individuals experience within the exhibit, not the exhibit itself. Indeed, my consciousness followed suit as I moved my body from room to room, with the most fascinating being the one depicting the respiratory system. Suddenly, I could not inhale without being fully aware of myself filling up my lungs. Reading the statistic on the wall: the average human takes twelve to fifteen breaths per minute. I smiled to myself. But did I just take less or more? Did my very reading affect such action? Continuing on more slowly now (this slowness too, I was aware of—do I speed up intentionally?), I was at a loss for words—lost in thought over my mechanical self that got me here—not here in the sense of the exhibit, (of course this too) but even in the course of my entire life. Of course I had thought about my body before, but this was something else entirely… At this point, perhaps you can imagine, I was in the ominous back room of embryos and fetuses. Being born rather early –at 26 weeks, I stared at the development chart for quite some time. However, I had to keep moving for the exhibit was closing soon. And so, the remainder of the visit went on in a similar fashion: moving from room to room, shifting consciousness—eventually even to consciousness itself—and seeming to have consciousness affect some element of my action. Leaving, I was struck with the notion of causality with regards to consciousness and its effects on action. I had just seen that I myself am an overwhelmingly mechanical being, with processes occurring which I have no power over. My limitations felt all too real, and I was aware of them more intensely than I had ever been before. However, what interested me most was whether or not such conscious thought an inevitability of mine? Did consciousness belong to such mechanization and was it in fact a necessity of mine, or rather, was I creating something new on my own volition? I still am not sure. I recommend the exhibit to anyone interested in the topic--it was so good, that it was a bit disorienting for the rest of the day.

Year Four

Paideia this semester will do for me what it does best in general—provide an outlet for discussion. I am taking an extra semester and as such, need to better understand the side-effects for graduating with Paideia. Specifically, I also need to see about how my intercultural experience can be managed due to my delayed graduation.
That being said, I’d like to use Paideia effectively while I have it.
I plan to discuss my creative works project, of which I’ve done some refining over the summer. I’m going to create a survey which unveils bias over the scientific method in the modern day. In short, why science? Why data? Why does repetition itself act as what we call “evidence?” Much philosophy has been written on the subject, so finding such arguments should be relatively simple. The conclusion of course, is that it simply makes us feel good. We feel comfortable and at home in the world accurately measured by science.
As such, the masses tend to put a weight on science, exaggerating its domain into that of truth. This is for a number of reasons, not the least of which science has given us advancements—it is indeed what we think of when we call on “progress.” Tangibility has a great deal to do with this. When development comes in the form of the tangible, it can be quite literally moved around with relative ease. It is a quick fix, a catalyst for bringing the individual to a new stage of development.
I also think modern medicine plays a somewhat unique role in the idea of progress. Life is, on the individual level and thus in a profound way, all there is. When this is extended, whatever creates such an extension is naturally in somewhat of an awesome state. It lets more of everything happen on the level of the individual and then per generation.
And so, there exists a sort of blind faith in science by the masses. Moreover, any Biologist will tell you first that Evolution is just a theory. Then they’ll tell you scientists think it’s a fact. Such is the world of science nowadays. So much so that it is the norm for scientists to forget. They too almost always act within the mindset of the actions of science as those which ultimately lead to some version of truth, or at least, what is considered fact in their own minds. The technical side of theory gets pushed to the side in place of “evidence.” Importantly, however, theory is the more fundamental of the two. The result is the creation of an authority where one should not exist.
The biggest problem in this is that we’ve gotten pretty good at science. We’ve been doing it for quite some time and we’ve really improved at the act of measurement—the odd term “exactness.” We place massive periodic tables on our classroom walls. We consult endless archived lists of evidence. But it is beyond that. No longer do we have to experiment to know the acceleration of gravity is 9.81 meters per second squared. That’s been done already. It’s been “confirmed.” No scientist will tell you specifically not to go check for yourself. But no physics professor makes you experiment and prove such evidence for an exam. That would be silly.
And so we are at a point where it is thought of as over-achieving to return to the basis of science. More than over-achieving—it’s a waste of time. This, is ultimately the idea that intrigues me most and which I will spend much time discussing.

end of year

This past year for Paideia was my favorite thus far. I got a better picture of what Paideia is, of what it “has to be,” and the value of such a basic way of learning. It almost seems trivial when compared to such an organized instituted manner of learning that is for us the experience of going to class. On the outside, Paideia is a class, sure. It has a credit marked up, but it is certainly not like any other class I have, nor is it meant to be. Its benefit comes in this fact. I’ve said it before, but I truly believe there is more value than is given to raw discussion. Apart from it as a dwindling form of entertainment, it gets you thinking differently. A lot of times, as I’ve said, we get so into certain projects that we become somewhat blinded. Taking a step back then, has tremendous value. Put simply, it gives you a view of the big picture. This in turn, lets you, at least potentially, refocus specific investigation in a more constructive way.
I realized that Paideia, programs, and occurrences like it within the everyday (educated discussion on whatever with friends), prepares you for life. This might seem exaggerated at first, however I don’t think it is. Going of an essay I read by David Hume, I think that often times, when on our own, we come up with ideas which are skewed—somewhat off, mostly I’d say, as a side-effect of the fact that our experience in the world is unique. Conversation fixes this. It unites human experiences and verifies some of your own ideas while perhaps allowing you to do away with those which are more inaccurate. This, in turn, allows me to deal with all the day to day shit that pops up in life.
Thinking about it, it’s like cubism. Keep in mind here that I know nothing of art, but the basic principles of cubism are that an object is redrawn in order to appear to be looking at it from multiple perspectives—A clearer picture of things, given to me by including multiple perspectives on a matter. Seeing things from different angles, in this case an understanding of human behavior by looking at as diverse of issues as neuroscience, psychology, biology, technology, and so on. One gains a more complete understanding of what is actually going on. The world is not concrete and one dimensional. Rather, we can move around and look at it from a wide variety of angles, which we look from depends upon our interests. Indeed, come to think of it now, this is the epitome of what liberal arts education is.
I am going to determine the specific direction of my creative works project this summer, however I know that I want it to reside somewhere in the intersection of biology and philosophy. I like thinking about the idea that science is in the hands of the few, and the results it has on the masses. Additionally, of science’s limits. What it can say about what. What are the benefits of making it “mainstream?” What are the effects this has on such issues as the notorious conflict between science and religion?

On campus

For my on campus event I went to a lecture given by Dr. Pierce on his research with the Georgetown Salamander. The talk itself was somewhat technical, with an overview of the various research conducted. Basically, they’re using dyes and photography to identify and count the population of Georgetown salamanders at two locations nearby. The research was conducted in order to gain information to more accurately determine whether or not it the Georgetown salamander should be placed on the endangered species list. This made me realize, reaffirmed really, that science is goal oriented. There is a purpose to all this data—to all the experiment—that determines human action. Placement on the endangered species list is a political issue, with, for example, private property owners often wanting species’ to stay off such a list as it decreases what you can do to your land.
Moreover, science is not as distant as it seems. This is all occurring in Georgetown, by individuals whom I interact with on a day to day basis. Over the summer, I may volunteer doing some research on the salamander. Science, even for a philosophy major, is in reach. You don’t need a phd or particularly fancy equipment. We have much of that at Southwestern, and that’s great, but not necessary for science. All it takes is some initiative and an understanding of the process, of what it means to think scientifically. Science, in this light, is merely people looking at the world and observing, all within the framework of objectivity. You can’t really say that science loses anything as far as the absence of the scientist’s subjectivity because it is precisely this absence which gives science its power.
Going to the lecture and reflecting upon it made me think about the relationship of human beings to animals in general. We are so within these specific projects that often times we fail to see the forest for the trees. So what are we actually doing in such a project as Dr. Pierce’s research with the Georgetown salamander? In so much of what we do, we separate ourselves from the animal world. Our reason separates us. As the rational animal, however, it seems we have a choice to make. Work at conserving ecology with a minimum amount of human intrusion, or not give a shit either way. I’ve always found this dynamic interesting. To be fair, the dynamic is one which is fairly recently formed—for most of human history we as a species haven’t given a shit. There has been a recent attitude change recently. Rarely do individuals, at least in the states, wear fur. It is now certainly seen as taboo. And yet, when keeping such a large reference frame, human beings have been wearing fur for the entirety of their existence. Where is the shift from survival to fashion? From keeping warm to keeping “cool” in the hip sense of the word. Indeed, from necessary to luxury. And what does it mean now that we seem to be “beyond” this? What is the next step in the process?

Off campus

For my off campus event I went to a talk given by Fransisco Ayala, an authority in the field of evolutionary biology, at the University of Texas in San Antonio. My first reaction was that it was somewhat basic, covering the fundamentals of evolutionary theory using a case-study approach. Then, I realized that I have studied the subject at the undergraduate level at some depth, and so perhaps it wasn’t as basic as I thought. Awesome, I think.
I also realized that it’s nice, in and of itself, to hear an authority speak in their field. You realize that they really know their shit, spending their lifetime investigating the subject. At first, such specialization seemed to me restricting, but I realized that its beneficial to refine one’s passion to a fairly specific field.
The last thing I got out of going the talk was fairly personal. At the end, a man stood up, clearly an academic, who asked what was, in my opinion, the perfect question. Citing the evolutionist Stephen Jay Gould, he asked Ayala to confront the issue of non-overlapping magesteria. It doesn’t really matter, but non-overlapping magesteria is the theory presented by Gould which states that science and religion, to use Ayala’s example, are like two windows looking out into the world from the same room. It’s the same world, looking at it from slightly different angles. As long as the domain of science doesn’t encroach upon religion, and visa versa, then all is well. When they do, conflict inevitably arises. In short, leave science to the scientists, and religion to the clergy.
Getting back to the issue at hand, the man asked the question, in Gould’s terms, as to the idea that science has the ability to, for example, explain phenomenon which religion takes as divine. Essentially, he asked Ayala to explain himself on why he thought this was inaccurate. He dodged the question, going back to the idea of an interesting world as one where perhaps religion has a role.
So why did this man have an impact on me? Well, for one, it made me think about where I align myself with regard to science and religion—I’m still working on it. But more importantly, I realized what science in some sense is. Any science is simply a creation of a new vocabulary. It creates and evolves language itself so that understanding can increase in complexity. When within a science, the learned individual, the scientist, feels comfortable. With their newly formed and specialized language in hand, they have words for things which only they interact with. They seem to be able to know more, or at least know quicker, with this vocabulary—able to bring up a somewhat intricate formulation of the relationship of science to religion understood in the term, “non-overlapping magesteria.” It enables you to really get somewhere in conversation. Moreover, it enables you to get your own opinion on the matter, providing a clear means of understanding. I realized that in many respects I want to be that guy—well-read, vocabulary in hand, for some field, or maybe a cross-section in between fields.

New Semester

So it’s the start of a new semester and with it, at least initially, comes a modicum of excitement. It’s limited, for I know by the end of the semester I’m going to be exhausted and irritated with this wonderful place. But for now, I can enjoy. So it is under my elated mood combined with the pressure that I have come to know all too well that is the deadline, which I write this entry.
For Paideia, I wish to continue on from last semester. I really enjoyed all of our discussions, particularly in their variety, although I also liked that we focused somewhat on science and art towards the end. I really enjoy that subject in particular and thought we had some good discussion on it. I was constantly coming across readings over break that I wanted to share. I’m still not sure which I want to pick for my discussion topic. On this though, I was wondering if there could be a more informal medium for discussion outside of meetings. You wouldn’t need to participate if you didn’t want to I suppose, if you’re meeting the criteria for the actual credit requirements for Paideia. And don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of class work of my own. But knowledge is knowledge and as I said, I came across some interesting stuff in my readings that I thought the group, or some within the group, might be interested. Aside from that, I figure if I’m going to present these interests anywhere, why not do so in the vague, mysterious, and colorful host of knowledge that is Paideia.
It is for this reason that I would like to continue the individually-led discussions, as opposed to abandoning them for picking topics from a single source. I think this generates a richer diversity of topics, while allowing me to do what I want. It is also why I think that some informal blogging might be on the way too. For me, I want Paideia to be an outlet for some discussion. I’ll be thinking quite a bit this semester… metaphysics has that effect I think… and having a place to put ideas is always valuable. By no means do ya’ll have to answer back to these thoughts, but at the same time please do so if you feel inclined. To be honest, I’m not sure if that’s all that should be done in Paideia though. It was last semester and I loved it. I love plain simple discussion, I just thought that this was one of the rare instances where structure in Paideia came through.
I need to meet with Sue Meneke on studying abroad. I want to go this summer, but I’m still not quite sure where. Maybe Greece. I like the idea of a themed program, say philosophy… That would be really badass.
After switching majors, my capstone is now in philosophy and under control, although I still am not sure who it will be with. I’m still planning on researching with Dr. Burks next year however. I cannot escape the lure of the apple snail…