I want to begin this post by expressing a kind of gratitude towards this project. That sounds strange, and almost like I'm congratulating myself, but that's not the case at all. Rather, this feeling of gratitude arises from the faith that has emerged from this commemorative project, which at times has made me feel uneasy...because it remains so far outside of the norm of academia. But since I've settled into this summer at home in Maine, I've become more and more convicted about the project, even though I continue to be puzzled, at times, by the audacity of the writing. So where does the gratitude come from? This I can not know for sure. My sense is that it can be described by turning to the Heideggerian inspired understanding of freedom as something that has us before we have it, and something we really don't 'possess' at all. If we are 'possessed' by freedom, and we experience it in an almost ekstatic way, then we are totally incapable of describing what it is when we are experiencing it. This is the 'delay' I've written about in connection to contemplation, using Plotinus as my example. Put otherwise, when we are experiencing the flow of free thought we are in thinking, which, if we follow Arendt's categories, is a faculty (human power) that is distinct from willing and judging. And, of the two, it is the judging faculty in that seems to be the most 'upset' by the event of thinking. For me, it seems to be what is always interrupting, or trying to interrupt, the free flow of thought. Doubt, skepticism, and even cynicism arise from the faculty of judgment. On the one hand, we could say that criticism is also a positive and even empowering aspect of the judging faculty. But not so when it turns inward. Then it becomes disabling, demoralizing, and can even disempower. So, for me, the gratitude is expressed to my former self, I suppose, the 'me' who originally took up this project, and saw it through to the end! But to express gratitude to that 'me' is really to express gratitude to that 'me' who was able to experience humility, and was able to have faith in the project, a faith that certainly inspired me to do this ten year commemoration, but, also a faith that falters from time to time.
I was inspired to write about 'faith' because it seems to me that one can only ever realize later that one actually has faith in something. And this occurred to me today when I was reviewing the Twitter posts I have written when I've been inspired enough to share this blog. Of course, one has to have sufficient faith in a project to publicize it. Reading the tweets confirmed that there continues to be something worth sharing, and offering. If only there would be some interaction! I suppose that's the next challenge: how and when to actually interact with others on this project? My daughter said the other day, "You realize you are the only person who understands what you are writing; who cares about it so much that you are working on it every day. And that's all that matters." I found this to be a truly poignant comment. But it also caused me to wonder how it is that anyone of us carries on with a project that we alone understand and truly care about? So much easier, it would seem, for those who receive widespread recognition and affirmation for their work, yes? Perhaps. But, then again, perhaps those projects get away from the authors, and become something else. However, if, in the end, the work is intended to cultivate community, it would seem to be a failure if it remains, like a home garden, something that one alone cares for? Is Being and Learning a home garden? And what's so bad about that? Wasn't Heraclitus at home when he received his vistors? And what about OPM 95, which was publicized with the tweet: The sage is a bee keeper, the one who cultivates honey, and sweetens the bitter taste of learning.
OPM 111 begins with a quotation from Lao Tzu, which, it seems to me, is a good way to conclude this post: "Therefore the sage holds in his embrace the one thing (of humility), and manifests it to all the world. He is free from self-display and therefore he shines; from self-assertion, and therefore he is distinguished; from self-boasting, and therefore his merit is acknowledged; from self-complacency, and therefore he acquires superiority. it is because he is thus free from striving that therefore no one in the world is able to strive with him."(I:22:2)
I was inspired to write about 'faith' because it seems to me that one can only ever realize later that one actually has faith in something. And this occurred to me today when I was reviewing the Twitter posts I have written when I've been inspired enough to share this blog. Of course, one has to have sufficient faith in a project to publicize it. Reading the tweets confirmed that there continues to be something worth sharing, and offering. If only there would be some interaction! I suppose that's the next challenge: how and when to actually interact with others on this project? My daughter said the other day, "You realize you are the only person who understands what you are writing; who cares about it so much that you are working on it every day. And that's all that matters." I found this to be a truly poignant comment. But it also caused me to wonder how it is that anyone of us carries on with a project that we alone understand and truly care about? So much easier, it would seem, for those who receive widespread recognition and affirmation for their work, yes? Perhaps. But, then again, perhaps those projects get away from the authors, and become something else. However, if, in the end, the work is intended to cultivate community, it would seem to be a failure if it remains, like a home garden, something that one alone cares for? Is Being and Learning a home garden? And what's so bad about that? Wasn't Heraclitus at home when he received his vistors? And what about OPM 95, which was publicized with the tweet: The sage is a bee keeper, the one who cultivates honey, and sweetens the bitter taste of learning.
OPM 111 begins with a quotation from Lao Tzu, which, it seems to me, is a good way to conclude this post: "Therefore the sage holds in his embrace the one thing (of humility), and manifests it to all the world. He is free from self-display and therefore he shines; from self-assertion, and therefore he is distinguished; from self-boasting, and therefore his merit is acknowledged; from self-complacency, and therefore he acquires superiority. it is because he is thus free from striving that therefore no one in the world is able to strive with him."(I:22:2)
3.0 - The above 2.0 is a rare moment where I step away from the flow and take it in. I appreciate that move. It certainly addresses where I find myself today as I get going on my sabbatical book and continue this 20 year cycle. So far with the sabbatical book I've enjoyed some success in terms of keeping to my aim of writing in a way that is accessible and unlike this project in its original form. With this project I'm not content to be the only one who cares or understands what I am writing about. In this sense, the sabbatical book isn't trying to tap into any deep ontological dimension, nor is it writing under the muse of Improvisation. The sabbatical book is first and foremost intended to be used as a compendium for my philosophy of education class. It is mostly prosaic, and a reversal of one the poetic praxis tag line: more poetry, less prose. But picking up on what I wrote above, is the writing of an accessible prosaic book mean that I am not under the guidance of the muse, which is to say, not finding myself in captured by the spirit of freedom? That sounds a bit out there, but whether or not one accepts the ontological or even metaphysical implications, the point here is that the original project was uninhibited and designed that way. The original project was attempting to be original, and thus poetic. And the original project was mostly and perhaps only concerned with authenticity, which means I was only concerned with writing in a way that satisfied an urge I had to write in a way that wasn't constrained by the norms of academia. That is not at all what the sabbatical book project is about. Importantly, the original project was meant as an experiment and a challenge: can I write for at least one hour each day for an entire year, picking up where I left off the day before. It was intended to be a monograph at the end. I thought maybe I would have material for a monograph. And in the end most of the original material was published. The sabbatical book is already contracted with Routledge, and it's part of a series. So there are clear guardrails and lane lines for the writing. This presents me with a new kind of challenge, in fact. Can I write consistently in a way that is accessible and prosaic. The joy I experienced last summer with the writing of the Nancy paper, a piece that will be published next year with more than half of the material unpublished, is a joy I won't experience with the writing of this book even though last summer I found a sweet spot in between the audacious poetic writing and more grounded prosaic writing. But I was reassured yesterday when doing some research on the dialectic. I was reviewing the most impactful book I studied as an undergrad, "Hegel's Idea of God," by my prof. Quentin Lauer, SJ. Lauer reminded me that for Hegel the concrete historical and cultural don't simply offer up the material for speculative thinking, which arises out of the concrete experience, but are part of that Idea as a whole. The universal abstract Idea is empty without the concrete historical and cultural. That's the essence of the dialectic between Spirit and World. I was inspired by that reminder that philosophy of education resides in that dialectic. And, what's more, my writing should reside in that balance.
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