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.