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…