Archive for August, 2009

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Is ignorance bliss?

August 30, 2009

Si quieres paz, lucha por justicia. That was a bumper sticker I saw in my church parking lot this morning. If you want peace, fight for justice.

What is justice?

Plato wrote his Republic in an attempt to answer that question. He wrote in dialogues – conversations that read sort of like a play. Socrates, the lead character of the Republic, is asked to explain the meaning of justice. It takes him ten books (chapters) to do so. In the process he creates a perfectly just (to him) city so as to illustrate his point.

What is justice is not a simple question to answer. Plato was one of the great thinkers in the history of mankind. He asked pretty much every question that can be asked, philosophically speaking. Whitehead said, “All of philosophy is a footnote to Plato,” meaning that future philosophers merely added to the conversation that Plato had started.

My point is that one of history’s greatest thinkers couldn’t answer this question simply, so it seems pretty ludicrous that you or I could do so either. And if we can’t define justice, then how can we know how to act justly? It seems we operate in the same sort of way as the politician who, when asked to define pornography, answered, “I know it when I see it.”

That’s not too comforting.

Socrates argued that we operate on a continuum from ignorance to knowledge, and that most of us fall somewhere in the middle – in the realm of opinion.

ignorance_to_knowledge

To really know something, says Socrates, one must be a philosopher. You must love knowledge, and not just the knowledge of things, but the knowledge of ideas, of forms (which in the case of justice I’ll summarize as being perfect justice that exists only on another plane but that is imitated imperfectly here on earth). Only philosophers can arrive at understanding this perfect form of justice and, because philosophers will never be rulers, we can never achieve perfect justice on earth.

Again, not too comforting.

Still, the fact that all of us feel within us a desire for justice and a surety that it does exist despite the contrary evidence all around us, well that fact points to the existence of justice somewhere.

C. S. Lewis said that just as our thirst indicates that there is something (water) that will slake it, so does our desire for justice indicate that there is such a thing as perfect justice. Just because we are thirsty in a desert and unable to slake our thirst doesn’t mean that water does not exist. So it is with justice, only its perfection exists on another plane. We are in the desert. But someday we will experience justice in the presence of God.

This is the thought that gives me the greatest comfort: that someday, somewhere justice will be realized. I believe it intrinsically. It’s the only thing that keeps me from going crazy in our unjust world.

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Today is St. Monica Day

August 27, 2009

I once worked with a woman who believed the lyrics to Sheryl Crow’s song went, “All I want to do is Hooked on Phonics until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard.” Listen to the song. It really does sound like that. I’ve sung Hooked on Phonics ever since, in homage to Jennifer.

Besides having a street in L.A. named after her, St. Monica is famous for being the mother of St. Augustine. She prayed her adult son out of a life of loose morals. That’s comforting for all we mothers of sons. Augustine later became one of the great thinkers in the history of Western thought, and his Confessions are on my short list of things to read.

I read my e-mail right after waking up this morning, and several people in my reading group (I belong to a reading group, BTW) are on a riff about Tristram Shandy. That’s a novel with which I confess to having no familiarity. Apparently it was the forerunner to modern comic novels and the author, Sterne, references Swift, Pope, Rabelais, Locke, and Cervantes. I only read Swift in college.

I did, however, drink at a bar called Cervantes in Salamanca, Spain while studying abroad. I guess you could say I used to like a good beer buzz early in the morning.

Ha.

The rest are – again – on my short list. Which is not so short, now that I think on it.

So back to my brain workout of the day, Plato.

brainworkoutalt_Page_1

I’m slogging carefully working through Book 5 of the Republic. There are 10 books, FYI. The line at 461b stood out to me: “This child is born, rather, under cover of darkness in the company of terrible incontinence.”

Having two children, I’m familiar with the company of terrible incontinence.

But I’m pretty sure that’s not what Plato meant. In context, the line means that children born in the perfect City he (Socrates) is envisioning must be born in a state-sanctioned marriage, otherwise the child will be cast out of the City.

Exiling kids. Hmph.

To his credit, however, Socrates does state a few lines earlier that a woman stays in her prime “up to her fortieth” year. So in ancient Greece I haven’t peaked yet.

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And so it begins

August 27, 2009

Now that the kids are in school I’ve resolved to get my flabby body in shape along with my flabby brain. I dressed to go to the gym this morning instead of putting on my suburban mom uniform (solid-colored t-shirt with khaki or denim Capri pants). I know that if I’m not properly dressed for working out when I leave the house in the morning, the chances of actually making it to the gym that day are miniscule.

Ordinarily I don’t wear make-up when going to work out. Now that I’m hitting the gym directly after dropping the kids off at school, however, I feel compelled to make myself less repellant. Why?

It’s the women. I talk to at least half a dozen of them every time I’m near the school, and there’s an undying part of me that doesn’t want to look like a slob around my peers.

I can trace it back to summer camp. It’s 1985, and I’m at an all-girls’ camp. You would think the absence of boys would mean the morning toilette for the girls would be brief.

You would be wrong.

Every morning was a jostle in front of the mirrors. Every morning our counselor Suzy would rise before the rest of us to heat her curling iron and painstakingly curl under her silky brown locks.

And every morning she missed one little section in the back. No one ever told her. I waited all summer to see if she’d make it a day without missing that section. She never did.

So back to this morning. Below, observe the outfit I was wearing:

workout_Page_1

As you see, I am not one of those suburban cougar-types all beautiful in their yoga outfits and perfectly coiffed hair. The look I’m going for is more of a Hey-World-I’m-About-to-Work-Out-So-Forgive-My-Sloppiness look. With a little make-up thrown in for good measure. And the chocolate? That’s real. I accidentally got some on my drawing.

My darling, precious five-year-old angel hereafter referred to as TG (for The Girl) took one look at me in my ensemble and said, “Mom,” in her sweetest little voice, one that says I love you so much and I don’t want to hurt your feelings, BUT…

“Mom, why are you wearing those clothes?”

“I’m going to the gym after I drop you off.”

“But those are your running clothes.”

“I know. I’m going to run at the gym.”

“But mom, you’re not going to be running at school.”

There you have it. Three days into Kindergarten, and she’s already ashamed of me.

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It’s the First Day of School

August 24, 2009

and the purported first day of my brain training. Only, as so often happens with physical training, my laziness won out. Or more accurately, my exhaustion.

See, the first day of school means getting up at 6:30 a.m. When it’s still dark out. We had fallen into a natural rhythm over the summer of rising after the sun does. So it’s going to be a bit of a transition to get used to school hours again.

Nonetheless, I did manage to listen to some of David Roochnik’s lectures on Plato’s Republic while I was cleaning the house up this morning, so it wasn’t a total loss. I just didn’t get around to actual *reading*.

I’ve been working my way through the Republic this summer. The other day when the Big M (my husband) called, I told him I was reading Plato. His response was, “What’s left to read after ‘non-toxic’?”

He really is supportive, though. And hilarious. He had our kids convinced recently that this was a photo of him on the moon:

Man on the Moon

Man on the Moon

When The Boy threatened to ask NASA if it really was him, the Big M said, “Just to let you know, I went by my nickname back then. It was Neil Armstrong.”

The Boy: “Fine! I’ll ask NASA if Neil Armstrong has ever been on the moon!”

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Why am I here?

August 21, 2009

As you see in my header, that’s my brain on the couch watching TV. The only thing missing is a beer.

My brain has gone flabby. *sigh*

Those of you who are of a certain age know what I’m talking about. College is long ago in the rear-view mirror. Reading is limited to favorite web sites and occasional magazines and novels. And that’s cool and all, but my brain has been craving more of late. It’s feeling a bit underused, a bit out of shape. A bit tired of consisting on the Cheetos of pop culture and novels.

It all started one day when I realized that I had passed my prime, looks-wise. When I was a teenager I noticed in movies that women like Michelle Pfeiffer just got better looking with age and peaked around 34 or so. Somewhere around that age the baby fat was gone, and they were lean and tough and gorgeous and not wrinkly. Well I peaked last year. And there’s no going back. But I like to think that in a way there *is* some going back, or rather there is something left to peak.

That would be the brain. Observe the Hill of Hotness:Hill of Hotness

As you see, the body is already over and starting its inexorable descent, but the brain still has an opportunity to peak. That’s what this blog is about. Tuning up the gray matter. Putting it through boot camp. Recapturing youth. It’s the American Dream, damn it.