here I am baby, come and take me

Over the past few days I've been engaging in a thought experiment. We are told constantly and in many different incarnations, by Aristotle and Aquinas, that we do things because we perceive them as good. Whether or not the actions are good in themselves is a different through obviously related issue. There's something that fascinates me about that: if we didn't think something was good, we wouldn't do it. I've repeated it, used it, and perhaps even taught it, but I never stopped to actually analyze empirically if it were true. And so I did.

I decided to perform 50 actions, each with 10 steps regardless of how easy or difficult the task would be. If I had to do something as simple as to open a door I found within my actions 9 discrete and isolatable actions. In so doing I was able to keep track of the sequence of actions as well as stop when I found that the theory was incorrect. To my surprise it was true. I did my actions because I thought they were good. I slept in because I thought it was good. I didn't get out of bed because I perceived comfort as good. I didn't want to write because wasting time appeared to be good. So on and so forth. I appears that it is true: we do things because they look good. Analysis often proves otherwise.

Now, I can't begin to express how energy consuming the experiment was. Each action I decided to take had to be thought out quite completely. Not to say that every action was an analyized one. Nor did I select only those actions which seemed most wholesome. From eating to taking each step, from uncapping a water bottle, to zipping my shorts up - everything was analyized. Sometimes I had to bring myself to do things consciously. It's never been so difficult to do the most simple of things. Imagine combing one's hair, and with each stroke, questioning whether or not it was done because it had a view of "good" in sight! Now that I'm done with the experiment I can't quite get myself to snap out of it. I'm not overthinking things. I just can't do simple actions without observing minutiae. It is difficult to type if I don't zone out a bit, and driving quickly becomes very stressful. Eating is probably the toughest. At the same time I feel like I have to restrain myself from doing really weird things like throwing stuff on the ground, walking into a wall, and the like.

I do not claim to be one of those brilliant people who can't do ordinary tasks, but I wonder if this is how it begins. I wonder if in thinking in such a way we lose the fluidity of life as if behind every action there is an equal and opposite second guess. Aquinas tells us that every moral action is a willed action. Perhaps willing something too strongly takes away what is truly human about act, that is, the seeming intrinsic reflex toward goodness.

We'll see how long this lasts.

freiheit

There's something deeply personal about the experience of freedom. Yet, as any transcendentalist will tell you, the subjective freedom is constantly tethered to a whole string of reality in which freedom becomes contingent, but not subservient, to the freedom of the other. Be that as it may, true or not, the intial spark of freedom is something unforgettable. Maybe because it holds within that moment so much potency for act. Maybe because one cannot anticipate one's own action. In any rate, there are two separate orders of freedom in my life right now: my academic writing and music.

I've reached the point in my study that I need to start producing original information. Until now "research" has pretty much meant a whole series of qualified paraphrases. At this point, however, people are expecting some sort of contribution towards an idea or process that goes beyond oneself. But what how does this imply freedom? The freedom occurs in those instances where I can jump and lose touch with stable ground. Only the self-produced momentum sustains me as I hang in the air. And, in many ways, only the gravity of tradition and orthodoxy bring me back down. Some make giant leaps while others pounce but gingerly over new intellectual scapes. I'm sure sure what I'm doing right now. It has been in the last few days that I have understood the scope of my freedom. If I have felt it before, I have forgotten about it - perhaps out of necessity. Freedom as such as at once wonderful and terrifying. It is terrifying because we do just that - leave the ground for a bit. In such a world, up, down, left, right, are all relative until we are grounded again in tradition. It is this constant tension, this exitus/reditus that is supposed to instill confidence in the writer. I've none of that right now. How comforting it is, being solely grounded, being "boring"!

The other freedom is musical. Earlier tonight I practiced the Corelli violin sonatas. They aren't difficult. At least what's on the page. Baroque music lends itself to all sorts of ornamentation which makes or breaks interpretation and execution. Unlike later Transitional or proper "Classical" music, Corelli still writes his bass lines in figured bass, often inverting melody for harmony and vice versa. In other words, a passing tone of the bass is often inserted into a melodic line. The modern ear is often displeased. Yet, there is something truly Baroque about it. This implies that it is up to the discretion of the performer, the practioner, to decide how one will ornament or observe the line. Corelli was infamous for writing whole notes that took up the entire measure. It was obvious that he did not intend the solo part to sustain a note. It was his way, rather, of laying very faint guidelines as to what the soloist would do. Mindful of this, I began to play the opening movement of his first sonata. There's a sustained A above middle C. When played as written the piece is dull and lifeless. But after a few trills, mordents, half scales, thirds, and broken arpeggios, the line begins to sing. There were a few moments where I caught myself doing something I knew was anachronistic - augmented 7ths would probably have had me burnt at the stake as a heretic. Again, freedom in this case is plentiful, but so is that internal principle within which says, "Ouch. That's just...awful."

I don't know what to do with this freedom. The paradox lies in the fact that I haven't felt so enslaved to certain things in a long while. I feel like my upcoming weeks are predetermined by a set of work. And yet, my newfound sense of freedom has come to energize me, motivate me, but above all, call me to greater self-authenticity.

Behold, I make all things new

For some reason I was moved to replace an older blog on this account. Perhaps it was due to how infrequently I used it. It probably has more to do with a desire for more things new in life right now.

I'll attempt to update more frequently and perhaps even come back to choose a background which doesn't make me so dizzy.