Monday, September 29, 2014

OPM 227(28), September 29th (2004 & 2014) Meditation, Being and Learning, pp. 222-223

Last day in Portland.  Back to Hofstra tomorrow.  Heraclitus lecture on Thursday.  All goes well in the preparations for that, and, unlike last year’s manic Plotinus lecture, this one appears to be gathered by the very Logos that Heraclitus is pointing us towards, which is to say, organized and measured, and put together with some precision.  I’m looking forward to sharing Schürmann’s etymological analysis of Logos, and also to the challenge of showing how Heraclitus is one of, if not, the first philosopher in the Greek (‘Western’) tradition,  without going into tremendous detail regarding his difference from the Milesians (Anaximander, Anaximenes, and Thales) who are predecessors but not innovators in the full blown way of Heraclitus. 

The meditation from this day (BL 222-223) returns to the temporality of Zarathustra as context for what has been called the “epoch of going under”.   The writing begins by drawing a connection between Zarathustra’s descent from his mountain cave and the ostensible arrival of the ‘single-minded man’ of instrumental reasoning into the learning community.  In yesterday’s commentary I called attention to this figure, and also to the radical hospitality of the learning community that is always ready to receive and dismantle the modality of the single-minded man and his will to power.  Zarathustra’s ‘out stretched arms’ are said to “enact the Leap taken by the hospitable one,” which is a reference to the learning community as a whole, but also an indexical reference to Heraclitus welcoming his unexpected visitors.  “Zarathustra’s going-under is a diminishment,” and this claim is reinforced by recalling Lao Tzu’s writing: “He who devotes himself to learning (seeks) from day to day to increase (his knowledge); he who devotes himself to the Tao (seeks) from day to day to diminish (his doing).  He diminishes it and again diminishes it, till he arrives at doing nothing (on purpose).  Having arrived at this point of non-action, there is nothing which he does not do.”(Tao, II: 48: 1-2)  

I have in mind to cite this in the beginning part of my lecture on Thursday, when I share Geldard’s grand conjecture that the writings of Lao Tzu, amongst other ‘treasures’ from the East, had arrived and were circulating in cosmopolitan Ephesus, and that Heraclitus most likely had come into contact with them.  There is absolutely no evidence of that, but, nevertheless, it is the kind of speculation that widens the cultural ground that we return to in our hermeneutical circular movement.   It matters not if Heraclitus read Lao Tzu, or vice versa, because only a completely narrow-minded, arrogant, and wholly interesting person would ignore the obvious symmetry between the two.  And this is not a self-serving way of defending my own choice to have a chapter devoted to each of them.  Rather, I would never have done so if I did not believe their thinking moved around a common axis, one that was named Logos by Heraclitus, and Tao by Lao Tzu.
Zarathustra offers ‘truth’ in the form of his evocative saying, not so much in content, nor form, but in the force they convey, what, in the spirit of Heraclitus, I will call the gathering force of Logos: the word that brings together.   In preparing for the lecture I discovered that koinon (common) also appears as koinonia: the experience of community, communion, joint participation, sharing and intimacy.   The sage is the one who gathers through his evocative speaking, gathers the learning community into communion.  The learning event of this gathering is one of close listening.

Zarathustra’s speech making is said to be an offering, and one made by outstretched arms.   The gesture of outstretched arms is not only one of the welcoming embrace, the gesture of radical hospitality, but also what Heidegger calls a ‘pointing’, a gesture indicating the future the “not yet where the truth abides, hidden, concealed, and distant…His outstretched hands are a pointing, a pointing to this distance, the boundless boundary. Citing Heidegger, the learners gathered into the community are claimed to be “ ‘suffused with what is coming, (what is futural) and sacrifice themselves to it as its future invisible ground…”  I add: “This suggests that the diminishment and sacrifice to the future, the seeking of the futural, is the authentic ‘finding’ of self in the diminishment that relinquishes self to other.”  Ten years later I find this a bit off the mark, especially when I revisit the supporting citation from Heidegger.   It’s off the mark because it remains too much within the circulation of the human domain, and doesn’t attend sufficiently, at this juncture, to Being.   Put otherwise, the existential gestures too much towards the ethical and away from the ontological.   Attention to the boundless boundary, as a synonym for the open region, should have been sustained in this meditation.  Where is Zarathustra, the sage, descending into?  That is the question that needs to be taken up.


Heidegger helps me to identify the temporality of going-under with the locality of this event:  “In itself seeking is futural and a coming-into-the-nearness of being…seeking brings the seeker first to its self, i.e., into the selfhood of Da-sein, in which clearing and sheltering-concealing of being occur.”   There is a recovery, of sorts, with the return to Zarathustra’s gesture: his out-stretched arms.  “Going-under is…the offering of outstretched hands that is the lighting up of that vista where the learners behold the distance of the beyond, the ‘not yet’ of the boundless boundary and become unbound in this be-holding…”  The shift from the sonic to the visual is abrupt, but not contradictory.   Here Heraclitus is relevant:  “The things that can be seen, heard, and learned are what I prize the most.”  In other words, ‘hearing’ is both the specific sonic experience and the generic experience of receptivity: the phenomenological stance of receiving the disclosure of phusis.  Zarathustra’s gesture, the outstretched arms, is a embodiment of the phenomenological stance.  The formation of the community participates in the gathering of all that can be seen and heard, the panta.  Learners are “seized” by the “hidden harmony, heard though close listening.”

1 comment:

  1. 3.0 (Sunday, Portland, ME) I won't repeat what I wrote yesterday about the project's current thinking/writing and the critique of "single-mindedness" that appears above. I would only add in the spirit of Lao Tzu, who is cited above, that there is an imbalance that is expressed in the fragment from the OPM from this day in 2004: “This suggests that the diminishment and sacrifice to the future, the seeking of the futural, is the authentic ‘finding’ of self in the diminishment that relinquishes self to other.” A diminished and relinquished self can be understood as what I'm currently describing as the periagogê of the student away from "self-certainty" i.e, away from the Cartesian ego, which is held out as the measure of education as the attainment of 'clear and distinct' knowledge. But this turning away from the quest for certainty is also a turning towards the solitude of study where the student's singularity (a version of 'single-mindedness') is cultivated by philosophical learning, by a particular way of receiving and responding to the text, which is phenomenological. Attention to the text, what I am calling the significant object of study, is not a relinquishment of the 'self' to the text. There is priority given to the object of study, to attentively listening to it, but the student isn't sacrificing themselves to the authority of the text. Rather, they are affirming the autonomy of the text as having something meaningful to offer. And then when the student their peers and shares what they have learned from the text they are joining the learning community but retaining their singularity. Together the learning community is a koinonia of plurality. All that to say the project has evolved.
    One comment on that C&E lecture: I don't recall it going especially well or unwell. I do recall it as part of the set of lectures I offered in C&E that, aside from my Homer lecture, which was a performance, didn't receive the kind of affirmation that I had anticipated and/or desired. I attribute it to the stylistic differences, but also to whatever biases and presumptions my colleagues have about what constitutes a "good" lecture. In a few days I'll read my account of what happened. I'm curious to read how I felt afterwards.

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