On Free Will

I have come to adopt a view on the concept of free will which, I predict, is scorned by most of society. Regardless, I see no reason why I shouldn’t disclose it here. I will preface by saying that I derive my opinion on this subject through a Christian perspective, without which my argument probably has little standing. That being said, here we go.

I do not believe in free will. I believe it is an illusion built into our lives so that we may function the only way we know how. Consider this: God is omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. If you believe all of these are true, than you will find, as I have, that free will does not exist. At the end of the day, either God is in control, or He is not. What occurs outside of His will? Truly, nothing. If God is truly omniscient, then He knows what you’re going to say and do well before it occurs, and He knows the same about every person and every molecule in the universe. He knows what has happened, what is happening, and what is going to happen. Time does not exist for Him in His eternity. He also has a plan for each and every one of us, and indeed for the entire world. Shall any man do something to counteract or interrupt that plan? Shall any man do something that God did not anticipate from before the beginning of time? Even if man could do such a thing, would God not have already fashioned a response, also before the beginning of time?

What I’m getting at here is this: God knows everything, God controls everything, and thus we must control nothing. We can’t control something God doesn’t control, because He is truly omnipotent; we can’t truly make a choice because God, knowing that choice in advance, has prepared everything in existence proceeding that choice, allotting for that choice being made. What happens outside His knowledge or beyond His control? Again, nothing. As such, I have concluded, that free will is a concept implanted in our brains so that we may operate as beings, not robots. We think we have choice, and as such we are able to live with freedom of mind. That is the true key to existence. No, we don’t have free will, but because we think we do, we are able to live and to be, even though everything that ever was and will be has already been woven and put into place.

I’m pretty sure Calvin exhausted the idea of pre-destination a while ago, and I know I would face the stocks if I suggested I subscribed to that belief. I really don’t, because I don’t live my life like that. Call me a hypocrite, but I live my life as though I, and my fellow man, do have free will. But when I step back from the realm of practice and into the realm of theory, I cannot deny my conclusion: free will is just an illusion.

Brief Musings on "Of Human Bondage"

I recently had to read Of Human Bondage for my English class. I honestly did not enjoy the book. It seemed heavily laden with unnecessary details and inconsequential descriptions. I never really saw the point in spending a page describing the curtains in a room unless they were actually important. I feel like, if I take the time and energy to read about these curtains, they better mean something! But no, they’re just…curtains. I guess that’s the film maker in me though. Every second of screen time is money spent, and so you have to make use of every resource and detail at your disposal. With books, I guess there’s more room for bullshit. Sorry, what’s the politically correct term? Fluff?

Anyway, what I meant to get at was that I did not enjoy the book…until the last 25 pages. The last few chapters of the books changed my whole opinion of it, and I will love it forever. It left me with realization of the truth that everyone is truly flawed, in mind or in body. Everyone is trapped within their own form of human bondage. Much like the protagonist of the novel, upon realizing this I was filled with compassion for all mankind. There is so much hurt and pain, and all we want is warmth and freedom. The protagonist is reminded of the words of the dying God, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” A simple phrase, but one which can radically change the lives of whoever follows its meaning to practical fruition. True freedom is found in exploring one’s capacity for beauty, in love and self-sacrifice, and in this holy compassion which begs us to forgive rather than to condemn. For what damnation can we impose on others which we do not also fall prey to ourselves? A final note, do not be confused by my conjoining of love and self-sacrifice. Much like Aristotle claims that a man truly possesses a virtue when he obtains pleasure from it, but does not possess it for the purpose of pleasure, so does a man truly love when he sacrifices himself, rather than sacrificing for the sake of love. Sacrifice, much like pleasure, is a by-product of love, not the purpose of it.

Meditation, Contemplation, and Prayer

So I was thinking about the concepts of meditation and contemplation. Both are highly regarded in the Yoga Sutras and in various philosophical constructs. But where meditation is to Yoga, where contemplation is to philosophy, prayer is to my faith. Through habituation, I have gotten into the daily practice of setting aside some quality time to talk with God. I must say, falling into this practice is one of the best decisions I’ve made all semester. By daily submitting myself to a higher power, by taking the time to thank someone for the beauty I see in the world, and by being completely, utterly honest with myself for a brief moment between sunrises, my life has been radically changed.

This makes me wonder what the ancient philosophers, most of whom I respect greatly, would respond to the concept of prayer as I understand it. Would it be denounced as ignorant submission to folklore? Or would men like Aristotle consider it on par with his prized contemplation? I, for one, subscribe myself to the latter opinion. Though cultural elements might stand in the way of my prediction, I feel that those who chose to lend honest looks at prayer would develop not only a respect, but a desire for it. And who, if not the philosophers we studied, would look at such a concept with said honesty? But regardless of whatever speculation arises out of the ancient philosopher’s opinions on prayer, I know where I stand. I used to spend lots of time in contemplation, and though I feel it expanded my mind and capacity to experience life, it never yielded the rewarding sense of fulfillment that prayer does for me. Besides, I seem to contemplate enough without even trying, so I think I’ll devote my effort and discipline to habituation of prayer.

Numbers

Ok, so the future is always in motion after all. Instead of getting my coffee, I decided to write one more blog. I like to stop at nice, wholesome numbers. I mean, I couldn’t just stop at 9 blogs, I felt the need to go on to 10 before I took a break. I’ve always had a keen appreciation of numbers. I mean numbers in the practical sense. Formulas and arithmetic never really titillated me, but I’ve always liked numbers. When I adjust the volume on my TV or my mp3 player, it’s always 10, 15, or 20, or on a particularly sinister day, 13. But never 14, or 19, or anything absurd like that. I also like how numbers and letters coordinate. For instance, my band’s name, Mortals No More. After deciding on that name, I did a few calculations. M is the 13th letter of the alphabet, N is the 14th. They’re right smack dab in the middle. But what’s really cool is when you do a little math. 13+14+13=40. 40 days and nights, 40 days in the wilderness, 40 years in the desert. No coincidence we’re Christian metal, eh? Or like this mathematical proof which affirms that Barney is a satanic figure:

Our two givens:
Barney = Cute Purple Dinosaur
Barney = Evil

Now, let us analyze the linguistics:
U=V in Latin
Change all the U’s to V’s in the phrase “cute purple dinosaur”

Now we have:
Cvte Pvrple Dinosavr

Extricate all the Roman numerals:
C+V+V+L+D+I+V

Convert these to Arabic numerals
100+5+5+50+500+1+5

Then, upon finding the sum of these numerals, you will see the horrible truth:
Cute Purple Dinosaur = 666
Therefore, Barney = 666
Therefore, Barney = Evil

Needless to say, my appreciation for numbers is directly correlated with my appreciation for Pythagoras. I might not like math, but I have supreme respect and interest in his numerical approach to contemplation, purification of the soul, and philosophy in general.

Future in Motion

Time to bring a little Star Wars into the equation…and not for the last time. I’d like to talk a little about Yoda, Heraclitus, and the future. Heraclitus is, of course, credited and most well known for his flux doctrine. All things are in constant flux, constant change. We never step into the same river twice. But Yoda also has a flux doctrine of his own, but it pertains exclusively to the future. “Always in motion, the future is.” This particular method of foretelling places a lot of responsibility for those of us in the present. I mean, if the future is in constant flux, it can only be a result of the decisions we continue to make on a daily basis, right? I predict, now, that I will go downstairs after writing this blog. Upon doing so, I will indulge in the triple-espresso shot frapuccino I recently bought at Starbucks. For all intents and purposes, as far as I can tell, that is my future. But there are so many things I could do to upset and radically change that future! Again, lots of responsibility on those in the present. I mean, we interpret the past, and forge the future, don’t we? In that sense, the past is always in motion as well. All we have to do is change what we believed to have occurred, or change our ideals, and the past itself is warped by our wills! Too much power to handle, if you ask me, but it’s ours regardless.

But if the future is in motion, mustn’t it reach the midpoint before it reaches the end? So, can we never reach the future? Has the past never reached us? No Zeno! Go away!

Academic Habituation

I’ve come to realize how vital habituation is in the running of one’s life. Not only does habituation reinforce aspects of life, but it ensures they occur, and that they occur when they’re supposed to. I’m all for spontaneity, and without it life would be deprived of much excitement and novelty. But I think too often that spontaneity and the search for the new is overrated, and habituation grievously taken for granted. I speak not exclusively of habituation for the sake of attaining virtue, though in that realm it is arguably the most important, but in all areas of life. As I type this, habituation in schoolwork comes to mind. If I had gotten in the habit of writing one blog per week…well, I wouldn’t be doing this right now. I have, however, practiced habituation in having fun with friends, like last night for instance (another reason I’m writing this now). Habituation not only increases the frequency of the action or attitude in question, but the intensity and the capacity to control oneself despite that intensity. Being that I have not properly habituated doing schoolwork, not only is it a rare occurrence, but it is arguably lackluster when it is performed! I shall have to work on this…I have until 5, after all.

Christian Metal in the Cave

I experienced something at my band’s show last Saturday that has lead to a great, personal conviction. All the members of my band are Christian, and our faith is very important to us, if not the most important things in our lives (of course, I can really only speak for myself). Considering our lyrical content, I suppose we would probably be considered Christian Metal, but all I’ve ever wanted to be was a Metal band. A Metal band whose members are all Christian, yes, but not a Christian Metal band. Big difference. But during the Saturday show, during a 30 second break between songs, our vocalist proclaimed our faith to the audience. And really, I’m fine with that. I don’t mind letting other people know what I believe and why I’m up there rocking out. I do it for God, with the gifts He’s given me. However, he didn’t stop there…he went on to issue an invitation to those in the audience who did not know Jesus. He told them that they were loved, and that Christ wanted a personal relationship with each and every one of them. Not a bad message in and of itself. But in saying that, he went beyond simply talking about what we believe, and got into the audience’s personal business. I was taken aback by this, knowing full well that there would be some people who were offended and taken out of the mood by this “altar call”.

But upon reflection, I was reminded of the allegory of the cave. I remembered that, for those who had seen truth and beauty, it is their responsibility to descend back into the cave to spread the good news, often facing ridicule and rejection. Though my gut still feels queasy at the notion of professing faith over a microphone, I must realize that I, who have seen what I believe to be the truth, am called to do it. Again, it’s still not something I’m comfortable with, simply because I know many are made uncomfortable by it. But in the end, I feel I must yield to what I truly believe is right, and be thankful that I’m not the man with the mic. All I have to do is play music…

The Speakers' Advocate

I would like to speak for a moment for the defense of the Symposium speakers who preceded Socrates. Firstly, to preface my defense, I do believe that Socrates provides the most accurate description of love. I agree that love is a joining force, an “in-betweeness”, as opposed to something which can be possessed. However, I think there is something to be said for love being linked to tasks, skills, and passions. For the philosopher, understanding love involves a Socratic view, but what of the layman? The philosophically impaired (if there is such a thing)? Just because someone doesn’t understand the workings of love, its inner nature, does not mean that person cannot still experience it. I believe the speakers were on to something in their practical rationalization of love. Why shouldn’t love be linked to a profession or skill? It seems as though Eryximachus cheapens love by equating it with a science which can be mastered, but I disagree. Love’s universal ability to reach out to all people means that it adapts to the means by which it may be best experienced by a given individual. In Eryximachus’ case, it related to medicine, for Agathon it was the arts, etc.

Even if these views lack the accuracy of Socrates’ more universal view of Eros, they should not be understood as wrong. Because for these individuals, love exists in the aforementioned ways. In my opinion, to deny love’s adaptive nature is just as heinous as limiting it to a specific mode of expression.

Applying Zeno's Paradox

Alright, time to briefly muse over Zeno’s paradoxes. I understand them, but at the same time, I can’t seem to fully grasp the concept. Almost as though the paradox is impossible to fully understand, because before you can fully understand it, you must understand half of it…wait, what? Yeah, exactly. But despite my lack of comprehension, I do enjoy applying this paradox to various aspects of my life. Chiefly, whatever goals I seek to accomplish in relation to my own self betterment. So often I focus so greatly of the end goal that it falls apart during my efforts to achieve it. If I, instead, viewed the end as impossible to reach, if I admitted that I must first reach the midway point before the end, and then the midway point between the middle and end, etc, I would be much closer to seeing many of my goals realized. Whether it’s running, exercise, playing bass, doing schoolwork…anything really. It’s when I adopt this perspective that I realize Zeno might have actually known what he was talking about, to a certain degree.

But then I must ask, what if, upon reaching the midpoint, I decide to make the middle my end? Take that you scurvy bastard!

An Experience with the Forms

So my band and I played our first show this past Saturday. I could honestly write page after endless page on the event. It was an amazing, life-changing experience. Yes, I’ve been on stage before, narrating or acting in plays and skits. Yes, I’ve played music in front people before, albeit specifically and exclusively in a worship setting. Yes, I’ve received thunderous applause for performing well. But this was different…this was metal. The power that the music wields, and the command it has over its listeners, is in my opinion unrivaled by any other genre. Up until Saturday night, I had only been facing the stage. I’ve lost my hearing, I’ve head -banged until my neck was all but severed, and I’ve moshed in some of the most brutal pits out there. But that was all about receiving the music. Saturday night, I got to release it. My band, as a whole, has never played louder, never rocked harder, and never sounded better than we did two days ago. Our performance exceeded all of our practices combined, aside from a few mistakes which were probably unrecognizable to the audience. I could feel the power, shocked and nearly overwhelmed at the fact that I was creating it.

Afterwards, I got to thinking about Plato’s theory of the forms, and I realized something. I’ve been lots of places, met lots of people, and tried lots of things. But my first show might be a time when I was the closest I’ve ever been to the forms, and to my true existence. I say this because, honestly, I barely even remember being on stage. But how is that so? Clearly my previous words have expressed how impactful this experience was. For it to make such an impact, I must be able to remember it, right? I don’t think so. I think that, for a moment, I was on a plane of existence where time didn’t matter, where conventional reality didn’t exist, and where I was in a state of being comparable to nothing less than pure bliss. I can tell you right now, I’m addicted to the stage. Indeed, the thing that made me happiest that night is this: I get to do it all again on Wednesday. I get to revel in the beauty and awe all over again. For a short period of earthly time, my soul gets to fly back home. Hail Metal \m/

An Optimistic View of Democritean Atomism

So I was thinking about Democritean atomism. This form of atomism seems to agree quite well with the general disarray of the universe. By that I mean, given the perceived random actions of the various nebulas and galaxies, given the ever present violence and war between humans, given the constant conflict within our own selves, reducing existence to a collection of atomic particles takes a lot of weight off our shoulders. If we refuse to see ourselves and our surroundings as beings and objects, but rather merely structures composed of microscopic building blocks, we can’t really be held responsible for our actions. Whether you find this perspective appealing or disheartening, I believe it is unfortunately the most popular way to view Democritean atomism.
I choose to see it in a different way. If this philosophy of atomism suggests that the universe is truly a coincidental assortment of elements, it seems to me to be one of the greatest arguments for selfless unity and equality to date. For why should I, a collection of atoms, be any greater than you, a collection of atoms? Why should I be more or less privileged? Why should I be afraid to part with the atoms which form my resources, and why should I value them above anything or anyone else? Such a viewpoint also eliminates fear, for why should I be afraid of a few atoms, no matter what they compose? Lastly, it generates a sense of eternity, for as the laws of physics tell us, mass can neither be created, nor destroyed. What are we but a mass of atoms? There is no sense of becoming, no sense of passing out of existence. We simply are, wherever we are, whenever we are.

On Intellectual and Moral Virtue

An interesting event occurred a few weeks ago, on which I feel I’ve grasped greater understanding since beginning the study of Aristotle. I felt compelled one Sunday night to wake up the next morning and see the sunrise. I thought it quite perplexing that I, and indeed most of us, deprive ourselves daily of such a beautiful sight. So, despite briefly succumbing to the temptations of the snooze alarm, I awoke and walked atop a nearby parking garage. I shan’t try to cheapen the sunrise with words, especially since it’s not vital to the story, but it was indeed beautiful. The rest of the morning consisted of some exercise, reading, and a trip to the grocery store. After shopping, I thought a cup of Starbucks would be the perfect thing to segway into the afternoon, and so I went. After buying my coffee, I walked to my car and got inside. Up to this point, my day had been wholly and profoundly introspective, save for the brief interactions I shared with cashiers. God was working on my mind and my heart.

As I began to turn the car on, my personal bubble was popped with a knock on my window. I looked to my left to see a man standing outside. He was wearing a red, button-down shirt tucked into his jeans. The shirt had a plaid pattern, his hair was dirty blonde and unkempt from worried sweat, and he sported a mustache which covered the entirety of his upper lip. I would guess he was in his late 40’s. Being that he didn’t appear to be the type of man who would rob, kill, or preach to me, I turned my radio down and lowered the window.

He introduced himself (his name escapes my memory) and explained that he had lost his wallet, and he and his family (a wife and daughter) were in desperate need of gas money to get along. He said if I could help him in any way, he would slap two new tires on my car the first chance he got. I immediately dismissed his offer out of laziness. Regardless, I grabbed my wallet and removed the sum of its currency: four $1 bills. I honestly wish I had more to give him, and I told him so, but he shot down such a notion. “Right now, this is worth a million bucks” he said in a broken voice. The kind of voice that sees hope after enduring despairing stress. I told him good day, and God bless, to which he replied “He does every day when I get outta bed.”

Leaving the parking lot of Starbucks, I got onto the highway and felt an unusual feeling. I didn’t feel doubt as to whether or not he was actually telling me the truth about his situation, nor did I possess a sense of self-righteous fulfillment. I actually felt I hadn’t done enough. I felt as though I should have done more. It even crossed my mind to turn around, follow him to the nearest ATM, and get more money…a call which I didn’t obey. But why did I feel this way? I’d done something good, hadn’t I? I did not think on the matter until I began studying the relationship Aristotle posits between intellectual and moral virtue.

I’ve concluded that my introspective morning resulted in a heightened sense of intellectual virtue within myself at that particular time. When faced with a moral dilemma, I responded as my heart told me, and thus demonstrated a level of moral virtue. However, my intellectual virtue was elevated to such an extent, at that particular time, that my moral virtue did not live up to it. My actions did not live up to my thoughts, though they were exercised in the same direction and towards the same goal. But this only led me to question further. How dependant is moral virtue on intellectual virtue, and is the latter cheapened if the former does not match its magnitude? I shall continue to ponder…

Greetings comrades! Among ourselves, towards each other, we are all familiar and faceless, known and nameless. Thus I feel a duty of sorts is thrust upon us to dispel whatever misty illusions prevent us from revealing our souls to one another in the pursuit of wisdom. Not to say that we should drop all preconceptions and render ourselves completely bare in front of one another...that would be preposterous. But rather, let us use those parts of ourselves which everyone can see to express what we think and feel. Let us use our hands to write and our eyes to see; our mouths to speak and our ears to hear.

All that being said, I suppose it would appear to be fruitlessly hypocritical if I didn't give you a proper introduction of myself (though I would rather have others bother with my introduction...if they're right about me, I don't have to risk arrogance, and if they're wrong, I should have plenty of time to correct unworthy accusations through my own speech and actions). So where should I begin? My name is Jay Robinson, and I am currently a sophomore Film & Digital Media student at Baylor University. I primarily enrolled in Dr. Bowery's Classical Philosophy class to fulfill one of many social sciences required of me here at Baylor. But aside from that unpleasant necessity, I am here because I have always had an interest in thinking. What better way to fuel interest in thinking, besides thinking of course, than learning about how thinkers thought?

A few fun-factual tidbits perhaps? I love music. I can usually find at least one song likable in any genre, although at times it can be difficult, especially when dealing with Country and Rap (note: Top 40 is not a "genre", and as such I reserve the right to not strain myself in attempting to find any likable songs underneath that umbrella). Primarily, however, I am a metalhead to the core. Heavy Metal in all its forms puts a smile on my face and a spring in my black-clothed step. Naturally, I could only listen to metal for so long before I wanted to play it, so around Christmas time of my junior year in high school I bought my first bass guitar. I've been in love with the 4-string weapon ever since.

As a Film & Digital Media major, one might conclude that I love movies. Well, I do. Above all, I'm a Sci-Fi/Fantasy fan, but really, I love anything with a good story and good characters. The Star Wars movies are the greatest movies ever made. Period. Don't try to argue, I will win, and you will go home and watch all six back to back. I also love computer/video games. Play them all the time...it's not anti-social if it's an MMO, okay? And I think that's a wrap! Anything else you want to know will probably be revealed throughout the semester, and it would be dishonest of me to say I'm not looking forward to it.