[Although
I’m writing tonight from my study in Portland, most of the commentaries most of
the writing over the past month has been written while I’ve been riding on
planes, trains, and buses, and places in between: airports, cafes, train
platforms, etc. And I’ve been able to
keep my focus in those places where there is a cacophony of background noise by
listening to the Grateful Dead, especially the early performances. And because this has become a ‘habit’ I
continue even on this relative quiet of a cool November evening in Maine to
listen to these early shows while writing my commentaries, such as now when I
am listening to the following show that happens to be from this day in 1967 https://archive.org/details/gd67-11-10.sbd.sacks.1612.sbeok.shnf]
Two
weeks ago I returned to Agamben’s book on Paul The Time That Remains as a way of enlarging the context of study
for my sections of HUHC when we read the “Letter to the Galatians.” Among the lines of analysis that caught my
attention was Agamben’s riff on κλῆσις klésis (‘calling’),
largely because ‘calling’ (vocare)
was one of the central leitmotifs of Being
and Learning. Indeed, for me the
relationship between Being and learning is one that always initiated by a
‘calling’, whether this is happening at the primary/ontological level, or at
the secondary political/existential level (intersubjectively). The essential sway, that fundamental rhythm
that rocks us and that sets the groove for the
movement of our freedom, liberation and emancipation, is received first
and foremost as a calling, and offering to move. And the beckoning of the sage is a calling,
an invocation, an evocative invocation. Also the song of the singer, the music-making
philosophy of the learner who is saying something. His song is an offering made to the learning
community that calls them to compassionate listening. The same Paul that has been very much at the
center of things in this blog that past two weeks uses κλῆσις klésis (‘calling’)
in several of his letters, e.g., “irrevocable are the gifts an the calling of God,” Romans 11:29; “consider the calling of you, brothers, that not many
wise according to flesh [were], not many powerful, not many of noble birth,” Corinthians 1:26; “Each in the calling in which he has been called, in
this let him abide.” Corinthians
7:20; “being enlightened the eyes of the heart of you, in order to know you,
what is the hope of the calling,” Ephesians 1:18; “exhort therefore you, I
the prisoner* in [the] Lord, worthily to
walk, of the calling to which you
were called,” Ephesians 1:4; “[There is] one body and one Spirit, just as also
you were called into one hope, of the
calling of you,” Ephesians 4:4.
*δέσμιος
désmios (prisoner, captive, detainee)
is distinct from δοῦλος
doûlos (slave), the two work in
tandem to deliver the same message: those who are called into the one body and
spirit and hope, that it, those who do works of faith, are, like Paul, total
subjects, or totally subjected.
I
offer all of that as context because the meditation from this day proceeds from
talk of providence and Rilke’s Open [“those first moments of love when the
human being sees his own vastness in another…and in man’s elevation toward
God”] back to thinking about the reception of the providential as the call to
care. It begins “The call to care is conveyed through the
evocative saying heard by the venturesome who abide in the learning community
and move with the essential sway. This
movement is the…staying together of friends who are enjoined in dialogue. The call
to care in an implicit supplication co-arising with the novelty of the freely
performed, unbound improvisation. The
call is not offered then received…the
openness…is already a movement that is ready and waiting…This is why the
learning community is properly identified as a community of compassion…gathering within the encompassing Open.”(11/10/04 BL 269)
Again,
the graphic artistic rendering of Howlin’ Wolf is the exemplary representation of
the writing/thinking happening here as the connection is being made between the
call (as an offering and supplication) and the heart (as both receiver and
donator). The specificity of the music
being made is asserted on 11/10/04 as “the question concerning the conditions
for the actuality of compassion…” Like the blues singer thorn encircled flaming
heart, the learning community is making the music that is making an offering in
the form of a question, a critique, and a demand: are we today capable of compassion? “This
question arises with the implicit supplication of all who abide in the learning
community. The implicit supplication
denotes the ‘outward’ appearance of the originary dispensation that rests in the
stillness of the heart.”(11/10/04 BL 269) In raising this question, however, the
learning community that I am describing, the one that is pastiche I have
gathered in my philosophical imagination from the historical examples of counter-cultural
and emancipatory congregational movements, is not offering anything that it is
not itself attempting to work out. That is to say, it first and foremost raising
this question for itself, and making
experiments with compassion: “this mutual exchange is the essence of poetic
dialogue as the actualization of Being’s dynamic presencing.”(11/10/04 BL 269)
3.0 (Sunday, Portland, ME) I've been reading Husserl's "The Phenomenology of Internal Time-Consciousness" and have been pleasantly surprised to encounter his consistent use of music, specifically melody, as a primary example for describing the modalities of consciousness in relation to time, specifically, in relation to the present "now" moment. The other day when I was reading it I wondered about his description of the perception of music as the hearing of distinct notes that are blended together because the sound "endures" (or is perceived to endure). There was a linearity to his example that didn't seem to capture my experience with music. And then this morning my critique came into focus. The music I listen to is layered. Perhaps Husserl was describing the melody within a more complex piece, or the melody of a hymn or folk music? But both folk music and composed music share the same organization: melody is always unfolding in time rhythmically, and the two cannot be separated. And that means music is happening chronologically, but also synchronically. In other words, there are layers of sound that appear simultaneously. And this isn't even describing the resonance or echoes of sound, the hmmms and dins, etc. that sustain the sound after it has been made by the instrument or voice. The successive notes or percussive bangs are both 'notes' in the sense that Husserl is only describing as the sounds that produce a melody. Music is more than melody, and it seems he undervalues the importance of rhythm and of percussion instruments. In order to be heard and perceived, music is made sonically by 'tones' (the term Husserl uses), and this word is rooted in 'tonare' or Latin for 'thunder'. Music is 'de tonare' (from thunder, from what breaks or cracks through and captures our attention).
ReplyDeleteAs for the layers of sound that produce the music, I am wondering about the composition of "LEARN," specifically the repetitions that appear throughout the book in-between moments of novelty. And I had this idea for an experiment that would challenge the chronology of the script with the presentation of a work in layers, resembling the writing of a musical composition, where the instrumental or section parts appear one on top of the other. Isn't there a sense that philosophical learning is an event best described as the simultaneity that produces "thinking," where "thinking" is akin to the layers of sound that make music? Might this be a way to understand what the muse instructed to Socrates, "Make music and work at it?" And how might that be 're-presented' in writing? What would that composition look like, how would it appear in writing? I'm inspired by these questions and hope to pursue them after I complete "LEARN."