Brown symposium 33

I liked this symposium in theory more than I did in practice. Conversation itself is an unexplored goldmine for debate. Generally, this is something radically opposed to the culture which we inhabit. We rarely speak to one another, let alone speak about speaking. Bringing people together in public gatherings for conversation seems like a simple enough idea, and yet it is an activity rarely practiced in this country. Ultimately, conversation is a slow medium to move through, and indeed, this was visible during the symposium. Topics are brought up, then dropped without response. Circular logic goes unquestioned. Conversants become too anecdotal and subjective. There are many potential problems with conversation, but of course, there are benefits. The most obvious of these seems to be the multiplicity of perspective. If allowed, it tends to be thorough as a result. And this point is connected to much about the parallels of democracy and culture, brought up at the symposium—particularly in the slowness of the process. Beyond that, however, there is the simple fact that conversation is all we actually have. This seems to parallel a common theme in our cohort, in the role of language on understanding. Ultimately, we understand through language (if we can’t describe something in language we can’t know it), which is medium which is itself constructed with at least two individuals in mind. In this sense, to not converse is to not practice how we understand—an odd and worrisome proposition indeed. (On a personal note, this reminds me of when I was little and my parents would ask, “How was school,” to hear, “Good.”—indicative of a lack of practice).
As for the actual content discussed, I thought much if it was fairly rehashed. Much of what was reached seemed fairly paradigmatic, and often decent points were brought up and ignored, while illogical propositions were investigated. It is understandable that the topic, “Science, Art and Religion,” was left fairly broad, as to not limit conversation. However, a more narrowed scope was needed to provoke conversation. We were left to merely scratch the surface, yet again going over old scraps of material as opposed to unearthing something new. One problem was that there was no microphone on the balcony. This would have been an easy problem to fix, giving many students a voice. The panelists physically entering the audience was a bit over the top. It was a nice idea, but it seemed unnatural, like we had nothing to focus on. Thinking on this, it still seems like a valid point (a stage is nice to focus on, and should be filled), but at the same time, perhaps such discomfort was more culturally conditioned than we think to give credit. As a culture, we are not used to engaging in conversation publicly. There is a fair exception in the effects of the ivory tower of academia, but this is precisely the problem. Conversation is not seen as something “practical,” and “everyday.” This primarily seems to be because the everyday moves at a speed too fast for conversation to keep up. Sitting at a restaurant, you are taking the seat for the next bill—asshole. You don’t spend time eating, speaking over interests-- you eat quickly because you have better things to do with your time. Sticking around at the end of a meal for relaxing debate is not considered. Perhaps this culture is not entirely dead, Starbucks providing a useful, well-priced commodity for a change, in the form of street-side talk. Fostering such atmospheres is unquestionably beneficial, reminding us of what should be valued, as opposed to valuing them blindly, and most importantly, that we ourselves create these values.

Sexuality Seminar

The seminar was surprisingly well done. This is particularly so, considering the fact that much of it was simply dialogue. As such, much of the talk seemed to be preaching to the choir. That being said, I suppose reinforcement is always helpful. Ultimately, what I’d like to talk about, is the type of language used in the discussion. I understand wanting to be inclusive in language. Language serves as a first step, for without it, you can’t even begin to speak. There is, however, another concern at the other end of the spectrum. I honestly think language can be too inclusive.
For example, I had a hard time distinguishing the meanings of heteronormative and heterosexism, and I don’t think that’s uncommon. It seems, understandably so, that people are eager to create a science here in the face of persecution, but we’re getting carried away with ourselves. The danger of this is that the field as a whole is not taken seriously. The idea being, clearly they don’t know what they’re talking about if they can’t even get their words right. Or an even worse consequence, it’s approached as a false science altogether. As the term science suggests, precision in language is essential.
As sexuality becomes less and less taboo to discuss in public, a science on it will no doubt become more accurate. We are seeing its formation, now, and as such, need to tread carefully. And so, the definitions written on the board that didn’t seem to end was frustrating. This isn’t a science—it’s a hodgepodge. A “throw everything at it and see what sticks.”—it all stuck.
Philosophically, or biologically, sex, not consciousness, is what connects us to all life. As such, it makes sense that a science of sexuality is a late bloomer, so to speak. We’re a bit embarrassed of it as a species. (On the whole –see ‘preaching to the choir’) We like to think of ourselves as separate from species—we’re the ones who create taxonomy, and as such, aren’t really in it per se, at least not relative to everyday life, as is all other life. i.e. we’re not homosapiens first –maybe humans, but even that’s a stretch. We usually don’t even bother looking at ourselves, but assume our reference point is universal.
Ultimately, the conference illuminated where we really are in the creation of a science of sexuality. This is not to say that there hasn’t been truckloads of serious research already done—I’m sure there has been. But the fact that it was an open dialogue---a sharing of personal experiences—something anecdotal as opposed to concrete in theory, is a good indicator of where we are in the process (early). We just need to be able to first speak about it in the open, with all our cards on the table. This is why the seminar as a whole was particularly useful, as well as frustrating.

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.