A glimmer of the sort of stuff that mental masturbation is made of. Full podcast streaming and available for download below: Philosophy Bites presents Plato’s Allegory of the Cave.
It seems as though plato thought change was a sign of illusion. its as if the real world existed behind the change, the illusion of puppets, and was timeless: an immutable form of the real thing.
What is respect on a chemical level?
Why do cultures appropriate this idea and base the norms and balance by its way?
Nature. Respect is the nature of communication, an expressed form of transformation and transmutation.
Energy cannot be created. Energy cannot be destroyed. Reciprocity. The ultimate law of nature.
It’s elastic. And it moves in tambour, twisting inward and stretching harmoniously like a yawn two ways outwards.
A breath. Life–mine, yours and Life eternal–is the measure of a moment, a breath: reciprocity.
I want to know everything that the celestial and terrestrial symbols expressed the moment I emerged in this life. She who gives birth to life. The divine feminine. What question is the point and purpose of this quest called life? What does it mean to be to a yolk and born through umbilical cord connection into an egg of my own, now an energy bean and body to carry the yoke that I essentially am. The continuity of soul is an elastic coil, both infinite and cyclical.
Perhaps besheret, or soul mate, is the dark matter one is winding or bending around and with through life and lifetimes and time and space: the missing half of ones double helix.
When I die, the egg deteriorates and the yoke carries on once again in the form of energy and potential. Life is, always and forever. Living and dying is the way of the world according the human creatures limited eyesight.
Observations, measurement and patterns: the method through which society acrews a body of knowledge is based on that which has physical properties and presence. The knowable and the physical. The artist carries the wind and the whimsical, exploring through the sensation of the invisible connections and networks, transformations, re-arrangements and transmutations, for which no scale or ruler can be applied.
I align myself in a dream reality where both apply. And often, very often, I am misunderstood. The weight of silence and smoke; the charge and spark of magnetic attractions, the gravity of truth: my method for knowing is both scientific and supernatural, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Perplexed by “Nonplussed” and “Bemused”
Yesterday, our “Editorial Emergency” duo of Simon Glickman and Julia Rubiner launched a salvo against a common usage of the word nonplussed, a word they “wager more people get wrong than right.” That opens an interesting can of worms: if a word or phrase used to have Meaning A, but more people now use it with Meaning B, is it time for the Meaning A folks to stand aside?
In the case of nonplussed, the old meaning is “bewildered,” while the new meaning is “unfazed.” Simon and Julia aren’t the only ones bewildered by the change of meaning. Meghan Daum, writing in the Los Angeles Times, was similarly disappointed by Barack Obama’s use of the “unfazed” sense of the word when he said of his daughters’ response to media scrutiny, “I’ve been really happy by how nonplussed they’ve been by the whole thing.” Daum despairs, “Et tu, Obama? It seems so.”
For her L.A. Times piece, Daum consulted with University Pennsylvania linguist Mark Liberman, who ended up posting his response (as well as a follow-up) on the group blog Language Log (where I also contribute). Liberman covers the historical developments well, but commenters on his post, much like those on Simon and Julia’s article, were sharply divided about whether we should simply accept the new meaning of nonplussed as part of our ever-changing language.
A similar case was discussed on Sunday by Jan Freeman in her Boston Globe language column, again involving a term related to Obama. Freeman observes that “a lot of writers have thought bemused was just the right word for Barack Obama’s benign, unruffled presence, especially in the debates with John McCain.” As the Visual Thesaurus wordmap for bemused indicates, the two primary meanings of bemused are “deeply absorbed in thought” or “perplexed by many conflicting situations or statements.” The way that political reporters have used it about Obama, however, is “above it all, with a trace of amusement,” in the words of New York Times deputy news editorPhilip B. Corbett. Corbett adds, “but that’s not what bemused means.” Well, it’s not what the word has historicallymeant, but the newer sense, influenced by amused, has become mainstream enough to enter some dictionaries, including Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate.
So here we have two words that have traditionally meant something like “bewildered” or “perplexed,” but they’ve each veered off in different semantic directions — one towards resolute calmness (nonplussed) and the other towards mild amusement (bemused). How common do these new meanings need to become before they can be accepted as standard and conventional, appropriate for good writing and speaking? In the eyes of the Merriam-Webster lexicographers, the new sense of bemused has already reached that point, but the new sense of nonplussedis not quite there.
Even if these newer senses become enshrined in the major dictionaries, that won’t be much solace to those with a more traditionalist take on language, who would see the semantic drift as mere error. We’re left with words that are difficult to use in either the old or the new way: if you use the traditional meaning, you might confuse those who are unfamiliar with with it, and if you use the newer meaning, you might annoy those who feel that the meaning is wrong. Bryan Garner, in his book Garner’s Modern American Usage, refers to such words as “skunked terms”:
When a word undergoes a marked change from one use to another — a phase that might take ten years or a hundred — it’s likely to be the subject of dispute. Some people (Group 1) insist on the traditional use; others (Group 2) embrace the new use. … A word is most hotly disputed in the middle part of this process: any use of it is likely to distract some readers. The new use seems illiterate to Group 1; the old use seems odd to Group 2. The word has become “skunked.”
“Skunked terms” on Garner’s list include data, decimate, effete, enormity, fulsome, and that old usage bugaboo,hopefully. Each of these items has undergone a transformation similar to nonplussed and bemused. Garner’s advice for dealing with skunked terms is one of avoidance: “To the writer or speaker for whom credibility is important, it’s a good idea to avoid distracting any readers or listeners — whether they’re in Group 1 or Group 2.”
What do Group 1-ers and Group 2-ers think? Are these troublesome words best left unused until their meanings become more settled? Should we preserve the old, embrace the new, or attempt to do both?
Steve Jobs TED Talk: How to Live Before You Die
About this talk
At his Stanford University commencement speech, Steve Jobs, CEO and co-founder of Apple and Pixar, urges us to pursue our dreams and see the opportunities in life’s setbacks — including death itself.
About Steve Jobs
The once-and-again CEO of Apple, Steve Jobs has spearheaded a few of the most iconic products in technology, entertainment and design. Full bio and more links
We compare ourselves amongst ourselves. Collectively, we perform culture, construct society, and chatter discourses that dialogue ideas concerning ideas. As individuals we are singular creations; however, it takes two to re-create one.
Within communities, we come to understand ourselves through our perception of those around us. Shift the belief or bias about a concrete and lackluster circumstance, or shift the circumstances to agree with a belief or bias: what is life but a capricious oscillation, phases of flexes and stasis, in a dance around a balancing point. The point? Similar to a flower that in essence exists as a rhizome before it appears as matter in the physical world, we exist before we are born and during our time in the world of shapes and forms we grow around obstacles of shade reaching towards the sun in a search for solutions to solutions, navigated by a compass rose directing a quest for questions. The hope is to find the outward thing which we basically are.
I find myself sitting in some unplaced moment behind my eyes. I remove myself because I perceive those around me as united and I am different. The barrier is a two-dimensional wall. I am removed; thus, I regain a locus of control through a reflexive defense mechanism. I remove myself.
Two truths hold simultaneously. We are all the same. I feel as though I am different. My sense of self situates like the dividing line between oil and water. We are one; I am.
I want to suround myself with people and environments that push and inspire me to be a higher me.
Memories, Dream, Reflection by Carl Jung and Anne Jaffe took me a good portion of the summer to read from cover to cover. This auto/biography has provided a great deal of meaning and symbolic significance to my personal perspective. I interacted with the text, reading and writing with a pen and highlighter handy; below are a few of many sentences extracted from the book that speak volumes in the space of a few sentences.
As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being.
“Bidden or not bidden, God is present.” Carl Jung, the eminent psychologist, had this quote carved over the front door of his Zurich home, as well as on his tombstone. It is an English translation of the Latin “Vocatus Atque Non Vocatus Deus Aderit”, a quotation he came across when studying Erasmus. The words are said to originate from the reply given by Delphic Oracle to the Spartans when they were planning a war against Athens: “Yes, the Gods will be present, but in what form and to what purpose?”
Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. Its true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome. The part that appears above ground lasts only a single summer. Then it withers away an ephemeral apparition.
When we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilizations, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. Yet I have never lost a sense of something that lives and endures underneath the eternal flux. What we see is the blossom, which passes. The rhizome remains.
When people say I am wise, or a sage, I cannot accept it. A man once dipped a hateful of water from a stream. What did that amount to? I am not that stream.
I am at the stream, but I do nothing. Other people are at the same stream, but most of them find they have to do something with it. I do nothing. I never think that I am the one who must see to it that cherries grow on stalks. I stand and behold, admiring what nature can do.
There is a fine old story about a student who came to a rabbi and said, “In the olden days there were men who saw the face of God. Why don’t they any more?” The rabbi replied, “Because nowadays no one can stoop so low”.
One must stoop a little in order to fetch water from the stream.
Swedish House Mafia – Axwell, Sebastian Ingrosso & Steve Angello – release the Official Video for their massive debut single and Club Anthem of the Summer 2010! Check out this video for the Original Instrumental version!
When the hypocrite becomes aware of their simultaneous truths and living contradictions, does the power vested in that knowledge position transform the hypocrite into an ingenuous being? Or is a hypocrite validated and realized just alright with settling with a puff instead of a gust when blowing out the birthday candles?
I don’t enjoy staying drunk because I don’t remember what triggered me to ponder the above inquiry, just a few moments ago. Regardless, tonight was fun, and by an large, I tend to experience holidays are 90% hype, 10% fun. Tonight way good. And blowing explosives up aside, I am forever indebted to the people who are serving the country in the military during a time of war. The courage and selflessness is beyond my comprehension. These are my peers. We are one generation. They are there so I am here, feeling as free as I allow myself to feel. Thank you.
Once again, the greater Portland Metro Area flocked to Downtown Portland to watch the fireworks show show under the Morrison Bridge by the Willamette River, and then go out to the bars (or take the stroller ride through the fountains and back to the mini van in the Smart Park.) What a neat commonality a national holiday is: celebrating identity based on current location and identification with one country brings together all of the divided persons in the United States. No matter the age, and no matter the language, we the people watch the fireworks display and we the people enjoy the festivities: both in our individual ways, and together.
The Rose Festival and the Blues Festival, volunteering at the central library and hikes in the national parks nested inside city boundaries, have brought me my camera (and good company, shoutout) into Downtown Portland quite frequently this summer. The above photographs I have taken, so are a scent of the city of roses.
When you stare out into the universe, the universe stares back.
Now, imagine a fish.
The philosophical statement and the concept of a fish fit into a common associative category, or at least, it feels like the two fit together better than they don’t fit together.
I’m still reading Memories, Dreams & Reflections by Carl Jung, and once again, a simple statement he made in passing warped my mind into a whirlpool. He was describing a dream of his with a fish which he referred to as “…an unconscious and mute fish…”
It seems strange to me that unconscious and mute were explicitly stated: both are implicit assumptions when conceptualizing a fish. From there my mind wandered, wondering if unconscious and mute were used to describe the fish as a literary function, like an inverted mirror, functioning to point out to the reader that the non-fish and human characters in the dream are vocal and conscious creatures.
When you stare out into the universe, the universe stares back; however, the sense or feeling of the universe staring back is elusive and evades all quantification and calculations that could prove this using the scientific method. Such is the way of transcendental beliefs and a test of spiritual resolve: faith is acknowledged in silence.
A fish underwater may stare at the surface, and from above one may stare back. However, the mute and unconscious fish does not know the presence as the presence knows it, sensing it yet not with a mutual understanding.
Infinity is two-sided. Staring into the universe is the infinite, and staring into the unconscious is infinitesimal: macro and micro representations of infinity.
Truth is constantly unfolding, and at this moment the above statement is my closest understanding in investigating my associate between the philosophical statement and the idea of a fish.
In the 9th grade, my world literature teacher assigned a task of memorization: every student assumed a monologue or soliloquy from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and preformed the piece in front of the class. I was 14 years old. Eight years wedge time passed between Then and Now. Since the very day I realized that I have forgotten the monologue, the sing song meter of the lyric continues to torture me, half synced in a diluted memory.
Today, I went on a very long walk and found a paperback only bookstore that I had never seen before. With books spilling out the windows and overflowing buckets, who wouldn’t have entered? I stumbled upon a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and flipped through the pages searching for the monologue I remember that I forgot. And I found it! Finally! I read it with the fluency of riding a bicycle. I am archiving this re-discovery for myself so next time the meter sticks in my mind, I can try to recite the words right out of my head. Without further ado:
ACT II SCENE I
Set your heart at rest:
The fairy land buys not the child of me.
His mother was a votaress of my order:
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
Full often hath she gossip’d by my side,
And sat with me on Neptune’s yellow sands,
Marking the embarked traders on the flood,
When we have laugh’d to see the sails conceive
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait
Following,–her womb then rich with my young squire,–
Would imitate, and sail upon the land,
To fetch me trifles, and return again,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandise.
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
And for her sake do I rear up her boy,
And for her sake I will not part with him.