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worlds that are realer than our own
Since I was very young, sci-fi and fantasy literature has played an essential and consistent role in my life. My father loved reading books by the Polish fantasy author Andzej Sapkowski, and as a non-native English speaker he practiced the language by reading Harry Potter out loud with me every night. I would get impatient, desperate to know what happens next, so I learned to read before my peers and would stay up at night under the covers reading by flashlight. In the worlds within books, those I could understand and access through language and imagination alone, I found refuge from the social order and currency of the foreign world around me. A standout favorite at the time was the Inkspell series- the fantasy of moving through written worlds was comforting when I struggled to navigate the unwritten rules of elementary and middle school and withstand consequent bullying and social isolation. As a teen trying to make sense of certain traumatic experiences and manage my mental health issues that I could not share with others, especially as the eldest of seven children overwhelmed by responsibility after my father passed away from cancer, I often felt powerless unless I was immersing myself in books where the impossible became real. During that difficult and formative period, I commiserated with authors like Kurt Vonnegut, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Haruki Murakami who built vaguely familiar worlds with intentional fantastical elements that felt truer than the confines of reality itself.
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Final Essay: Dialectics as a Ceaseless Prayer
AKA: “not COMPLETE shit” in the email header
Everyone wants to live happily and live well. According to Aristotle, “happiness is an activity in accordance with virtue, and every action is aimed towards some good;” thus, to achieve happiness and move through our time on this earth being “really alive” (Seneca 23), our thoughts and actions must be in line with virtue. Aristotle defines virtue though dialectics, or finding the mean between extremes of deficiency and excess. Dialectics are founded on the idea that within diametric opposition- opposite truths, opposite forces, opposite impulses, metaphysical contradictions, etc- there is a mean that can and should be sustained. “Every formed disposition of the soul realizes its full nature in relation to and in dealing with that class of objects by which it is its nature to be corrupted or improved […] We assume therefore that moral virtue is the quality of acting in the best way in relation to pleasure and pains, and that vice is the opposite […] virtue then is a settled disposition of the mind determining the choice of actions and emotions, consisting essentially in the observance of the mean relative to us, this being determined by principle, that is, as the prudent man would determine it” (1106). While moral virtue comes from the balance of pleasure and pain, the other virtues concern themselves with their own polarities. Rhetoric is concerned with opposing truths, love with opposing desires, and so on. A dialectical approach embedded in rationality is the “settled disposition of the mind” that guides us towards virtuous “choice of actions and emotions,” and when we internalize it in our character and condition it through regular action we are able to live “the good life” (48b). When Aristotle addresses dialectics, it is based on conceptualizing two countervailing parts of the soul that drive human motivation towards or away from virtuous action, “one with reason, because it urges them in the right direction,” and the other “which, though irrational, yet in a manner participates in rational principle […which] can in a manner appeal to the irrational part.” These parts of the soul develop “by taking part in transactions with our fellow-men [… and] by actually comporting themselves in one way or the other […], our moral dispositions formed as a result of [these] corresponding activities” (Aristotle Book 2). In looking at the virtue of courage, we can see dialectics applied in specific realms of action and emotion. Here two extremes of the dialectic are fear and over-confidence. “So the courageous person is the one who endures and fears – and likewise is confident about -- the right things, for the right reason, in the right way, and at the right time; for the courageous person feels and acts in accordance with the merits of the case, and as reason requires” (49). As with other virtues, this reasoning is shaped by collective reality. “Courage is a mean in relation to what inspires confidence and fear in the circumstances described; and it makes choices and stands its ground because it is noble to do so, or shameful not to“ (50). To know what is shameful, or worth fearing, or what one ought to do, one must be well embedded in the collective rationality as well as his own. Aristotle writes that courageous people “are keen when the time for acting comes, but cool beforehand” (50), using their awareness of reality and understanding of logic to do so. Aristotle differentiates between moral virtue and intellectual virtue, the former exemplified above and the latter through teaching rhetoric. Quintilian dedicated his life to nurturing intellectual virtue, and distilled his findings in the books of the Institutio Oratoria. Rhetoric is a virtue for Quintilian in that it utilizes humans’ gift of self-awareness and complex thought. “But if the virtue of any animal lies in that in which it surpasses all or most other animals […] and if it is absolutely certain that man excels other animals in reason and speech, why should we not accept that human virtue lies in eloquence just as much as in reason?” (405). Quintilian writes that, “Rhetoric is the science of speaking well, is useful, and is an art and a virtue.” He ties together science, art, and virtue again when he writes, “Elocution therefore is the main subject of teaching, this is the accomplishment that no one can achieve without art […] this is the occupation of a lifetime, this is what makes one orator better than another” (317). Indeed, since beginning this class I have realized that elocution and rhetoric is a virtue that will be part of living happily for a lifetime. Vocabulary has been an integral part of our lesson plans, as well as encouraging the students to break down the prompts into constituent definitions that are precise and useful. There is a need for eloquence because if there were only one word for each idea, it would “spring to mind simultaneously with the idea. But words differ in exactness of reference, ornamental qualities, power, and euphony; they must therefore not only all be known but be ready to hand, in full view, as it were, so that when they present themselves to the speaker’s judgment the choice of the best is easy” (p155). Eloquence can be seen as precision, and as I have found both in my own writing and in preparing students for debates, it is integral to delivering the truth well. Reason, speech, and eloquence are all facets of teaching and practicing rhetoric, which is inherently an action (397). As an activity, the discursive process of teaching and practicing rhetoric can be seen as an “activity in accordance with virtue,” especially when the “good” towards which our study of rhetoric “aims” is to effectively create a twofold appreciation of rhetoric through reading and writing ourselves, as well as participating in service learning that allows us the opportunity to apply rhetoric pedagogically with students in our community. Quintilian, Socrates, and Aristotle, with all their effective guidance-- on being effective teachers who can keep our students engaged and interested while coaching in the art/science of rhetoric; and on finding transcendence through a balanced and pure love; and on the dialectical thought that makes these concepts intelligible and allows us to move through life virtuously and happily-- fall short in addressing facets of white supremacy, patriarchy, elitism, and so on that permeate their experience. In situating virtue within “a state of character concerned with choice, lying in the mean,” Aristotle touches upon the need for embedded rationality without fully fleshing out what this means for individuals within a highly structured and complex society. Mitchell et.al, in their article for Equity and Excellence in Education, expound upon this contingency to rationality when they draw attention to a side of it, a conceptualization of “us,” that must go against the systemic reinforcement of what “us” and “rationality” means in the system within which we are situated. In institutions that define and are defined by whiteness, merit results from one’s ability to understand and navigate intricate cultural systems rather than an intrinsic ability or aptitude” (p615). Facing virtue within the bounds of rationality, both individual and collective, dominant and marginalized, seems to me an essential part of the definition that can incorporate the different logics and possible means that Aristotle’s definition eschews. When we paired our philosophical readings with literature on ways in which our rationality is systemically flawed and with reflections on our experiences in the classroom, it allowed us to address these realities with updated- and perpetually updating- perspectives.
With this in mind I began thinking about our experiences at Crocker as a compilation of discourses and micro-interactions, not only guiding the students towards truth and understanding, but also more subtly creating a discursive relationship in which we are reifying the identities of our students as young rhetoricians and of ourselves as capable teachers. As a budding sociologist, I am particularly interested in the discursive shaping of identities and realities, especially as it relates to dominant discourses and societal positioning. The microinteractionist tradition within Sociology concerns itself with the ways in which the self is constructed, both as a response to others’ perceptions of who you are as well as your own perceptions of who you should be. If we are to be teachers with good character, and that goodness is to shine through our discourse as we guide students towards truth, then we should also be reaffirming the good character of our students. We can “come down to the students level” by actually thinking about how they see themselves and being cognizant of that through our interactions. Quintilian’s statement that students love their teachers and my focus on interpersonal interactions during my time at Crocker was significantly shaped by Socrates’ definition of love in Phaedrus. Love is a process of the subject of that love seeing themselves as beloved in the eyes of their lover, and in that same way teaching should be a process of the subject of that teaching seeing themselves as capable and full of potential in the eyes of their teachers- so teachers must love their students just as much as their students love them. One of my favorite teachers gave me a copy of Franny and Zooey in the 8th grade, when I was still in Catholic School. I wanted a glimpse inside of Salinger’s mind regarding knowledge, faith, and spirituality-- through his hyper-intellectual eloquence, of course. The book is set in the context of a brilliant family of kids, who had their own radio show and were pressured to exhibit their own brilliances from a young age. Two of the siblings are in focus in this narrative. Franny is a young college student derailed from her regular functioning by her fascination with The Way of the Pilgrim, a book gifted to her by her oldest brother, Seymour, who rattled his family when he committed suicide. She tries to explain to her boyfriend, Lane, why she is so enthralled by the book:
“’Anyway,’ she went on, ‘the starets tells the pilgrim that if you keep saying that prayer over and over again—you only have to just do it with your lips at first – then eventually what happens, the prayer becomes self-active. Something happens after a while. I don’t know what, but something happens, and the words get synchronized with the person’s heartbeats, and then you’re actually praying without ceasing. Which has a really tremendous, mystical effect on your whole outlook. I mean that’s the whole point of it, more or less. I mean you do it to purify your whole outlook and get an absolutely new conception of what everything’s about.’”
Her brother, Zooey, has a very different perspective when he describes the same book. Salinger engages in extended dialogue, much like our great philosophers, to highlight this alternate perspective on enlightenment:
“The old monk tells him that the one prayer acceptable to God at all times, and ‘desired’ by God, is the Jesus Prayer – ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.’ Actually, the whole prayer is ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a miserable sinner,’ but none of the adepts in either of the Pilgrim books put any emphasis – thank God – on the miserable-sinner part. […] The idea, really, is that sooner or later, completely on its own, the prayer moves from the lips and the head down to a center in the heart and becomes an automatic function in the person, right along with the heartbeat. And then, after a time, once the prayer is automatic in the heart, the person is supposed to enter into the so-called reality of things. […] In India, for God knows how many centuries, it’s been known as japam. Japam is just the repetition of any of the human names of God.”
He criticizes his sister’s search for enlightenment, arguing that what she is looking for is self-centered and futile. If the end goal is the “so-called reality of things,” Franny is hoping to grow her wings and transcend into this reality, whereas Zooey focuses on the reality within. “But most of all, above everything else, who in the Bible besides Jesus knew – knew – that we’re carrying the Kingdom of Heaven around with us, inside, where we’re all too goddam stupid and sentimental and unimaginative to look?” Of course, this dialectic like all others has its own mean. This mean is found when, instead of the diametrically opposed definitions, we define the transcendence as a discursive process, equally internal and external as well as malleable to constructs defining reality. This is why Aristotle’s contingency that dialectics be situated in “lying in the mean,” is essential. I bring The Way of the Pilgrim into this essay because I believe dialectics themselves can be the ceaseless prayer that guides those who internalize it through practice to happiness. Just like the Jesus Prayer, dialectics illuminate reality as they become synchronized within the soul. They are important because they fundamentally change the way one moves through the world. This is the main tenant of Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, developed by Marsha Linehan and utilized faithfully with excellent results by yours truly. DBT combines cognitive behavioral therapy with a Buddhist influence encouraging mindfulness, radical acceptance, and meditative practices to treat psychiatric disorders. The focus on dialectics resonated with me as I did my readings, wrote my reflections, and attempted to develop constantly improving lesson plans. Within the DBT model the two forms of excess are emotionality and defective emotionality, i.e. pure rationality. If virtue is the observance of the mean, from the DBT perspective it is found in living life within Wise Mind- at the “mean” of Rational and Emotion Mind. This seems simple enough, but in application dialectics require concerted practice and effort. Aristotle addresses the difficulty of this essential task and the necessity of developing skill, maintaining motivation, and regular practice and reflection in his analogy of finding the center of a circle becoming possible through geometry. Going mad or crazy is akin to losing the ability to reason on both an individual and collective level. Finding the “Middle Path,” as DBT followers call it, only became possible for me through extensive therapy: processing trauma; developing and practicing skills; following guiding frameworks for interpersonal effectiveness, emotion regulation, mindfulness, and distress tolerance; and reflecting on my experiences and myself in relation to others through journaling and during group treatment. For this class, I knew that the task of creating a meaningful service learning symbiosis between two vastly different institutions, let alone different individual mentors embedded in disparate realities from their students, would be equally difficult but essential. It is made possible, much like DBT’s curriculum, by critically examining our readings, experiences, or writings and our reactions to them, continually reevaluating whether or not we are walking the Middle Path or reasoning within the mean as our lives demand it. Dialectics in the form of DBT in my personal life and in the form of rhetoric as cultivated through this class have guided me towards happiness. In working with Rachel, Terrell, Matthew, and the other Crocker students, we were able to build foundations of this dialectical thinking together as we broke down topics, constrained definitions, built our conceptual arsenal, expanded vocabulary to increase precision, and regularly practiced finding arguments, reasoning, and evidence in primary sources. Practicing dialectics in the classroom is only the beginning for our students, the ultimate goal being a deeper internalization that can guide them as they move through their lives. During our first tournament, the last debate, the Xavier Debate Team member judging for us had an important critique- “you had great points,” she said, “but remember not to get lost in the sauce.” The rest of her point, paraphrasing, was that if the girls follow their flow and not only have logical arguments but also structure those arguments in a logical fashion, they could be unstoppable. “Lost in the sauce” resonates with me now because I believe dialectical behavioral therapy and the process of learning to sustain dialectics was an integral component to catalyzing a process of finding, reflecting, and balancing virtue and happiness. After 20 years of being helplessly lost in the sauce- in a reality made up of various logical yet paradoxical premises that could not fit into a cohesive structure- this year marked only the beginning of a perpetual process of defining and understanding both myself and my place in the world. Hopefully, practicing rhetoric has done the same for our students. There is a lot of “sauce” in their lives- structural inequalities and experiences of violence and struggle that would make walking the middle path difficult if not impossible even for Marsha herself. The Debate club provides a space where, with guidance, the students navigate all sorts of “sauce” in addressing complex and socially relevant topics. This last semester they have been finding courage and happiness in an activity aimed towards virtue that habituates dialectical thought, and in the discursive process of teaching both us and the students negotiated identity in a way that reifies a sense of value and agency that is rooted in experiences beyond dominant discourse or hegemonic intellectualism. The experience has been incredibly transformative- I saw transformation in my students, who increasingly grew in confidence and passion for the art and science of rhetoric, and in myself- and transformation is powerful.
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tak ogólnie...
Nie było zawsze tak trudno, aby istnieć Świat był mniejszy- bardziej ograniczony Dotykaliśmy tylko to, co nas otaczało
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i am a stray dog
You are the notes that brought us to the Malecon When we dipped in gem-blue water Your playing fingers, golden baking to bronze, gripped my waist and lifted me to the sun The trumpet sang, “tak! To on!”
Never married but the union was complete Melodies and memories woven into our sheets Guayava nectar made our kisses sweet Mint leaves and sugar crushed by grinning teeth
A part of me will always wander those streets Walking like dancing with music in my feet
But I am the hungry strays Teeming with life unwanted Endless nights when clouds suffocate the stars I am haunting, I am haunted
The pain comes and goes but the light never stops leaking Without you/Au** I cannot spin it into gold How do I fill the silence without us speaking What do I make in the darkness alone Friends like fireflies dance away from the cold
I hear guitar strings in the basement, latch on to whispers and moans But where is my song that ripped from my lungs and filled out my bones That baptized my soul
Can I not hear it, when I made it, can’t I have it once more? I keep searching the shore Break after break growing jagged together No healing from truth that disfigures my core I’m not in Havana anymore
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