Over this summer, I reread a book, assigned as part of a logic course I took 20 years ago, entitled “Death of the Soul” by William Barrett. It was, at the time, a blur among the blizzard of lectures, papers and duties required for a grade, a degree, a career. I have the distinct recollection of standing before my bookcase, contemplating my selection, and randomly seizing that one, which upon reflection was like being hungry and opening the refrigerator, then realizing “I like everything I put in there”, just grabbing something.
Since my college years, I’ve retrained my mind to read more slowly, at first contemplating, then meditating, on books, turning each sentence over and over in my mind like finding the last sweetest bite of a barbeque rib, with the thought in my mind, “If I rush on to the next rib, maybe I’m missing the best part of this one.” There is a drawback to this method, rather obviously, it took me all summer to read that relatively short book but, you know what, I wasn’t leafing through an owner’s manual trying to find out how to set the clock, which is the way we are taught to read and compelled to read by the pace of life, I was savoring a great work of a great mind, so it became a matter of… respect.
I’m writing this as a response to segment on “Outfront” about “Tiger Kids”, a child-rearing philosophy geared toward making then into fine little adults, full of the knowledge of the world at increasingly early ages. I’m not going to say that is wrong, merely point out it comes at a cost, a cost I’m unwilling to pay and incurs a debt to the world the world can not repay.
I’ve been watching the Occupy Wall Street movement, and its local derivatives, carefully trying, as I think we all are, to figure what exactly they’re all about. It’s been described as a Rorschach test, with the subject seeing themselves in it more than any essence of the movement. I’m going to take that test here and tell you what I see there:
This summer when I started rereading “Death of the Soul”, I had stopped writing and, worse, had become disinterested in writing. I was frustrated at my inability to find the nature of my work, why it was important (if only to me) and realized I couldn’t maintain the will to just fake it. I don’t get paid to do this, so, if there isn’t a reward in it for me, I can’t be productive.
Just like Occupy Wall Street.
My interpretation of OWS’s singular lack of focus is that they are objecting to the basic premise of American society, that we are no more than cogs in the machine of commerce, and the reward for that servitude no longer justifies the sacrifice. In this the are both wholly correct and deeply wrong. Wrong in the sense that work of their lives, or worse the product, defines them in ANY philosophical measure, but that is the conclusion that could be drawn from the uniquely American-centric experience of today. China and the “Tiger Kids” are trying to out “American” us, as they see us, and I say, “Let them.”
America is beginning the turn to expression, and recreation, of the primary tenant of “Death of the Soul”: that creativity, genius, is beyond the capability of science to analyze and the capacity of a computer to memorize. With that turn comes the joy of invention, the joy my “free-range” children express in their stories and drawings that spring magically from their minds, free of the machinations of the world as it is already expressed. They engage the world naturally and at their own pace, not only bringing the world to them but bringing themselves to the world. The world wants cogs, it says, but it needs art, creation, invention, inspiration.
It needs my kids. It needs OWS. It needs joy, a joy that the world can never put into you, that you bring to the world in the individual experience of your single life. Machines can’t express joy, can’t create, can never reflect back the world upon itself because they will never experience the world the way we do, the way be are born to, the way a child does.
We are born God’s art, each one of us unique and a masterpiece, an abstract expression of His vision of creation and there is nothing similar to ourselves anywhere else. We are simply magic, whether you believe that magic comes directly through God or is magic created through the intimate celestial working of the physical universe, the result is the same and inescapable. We need to be able to look at ourselves in the mirror and tell ourselves we are back about great things, great work, and not the petty intrigues, conveniences and contrivances that distract us so often.
Or maybe that’s just me.
Take the OWS Rorschach test yourself because I could be completely wrong.
Ps. I don’t want to leave the impression with the “God’s art” statement that I know that much about God or art. I just know them when I see them.
Since my college years, I’ve retrained my mind to read more slowly, at first contemplating, then meditating, on books, turning each sentence over and over in my mind like finding the last sweetest bite of a barbeque rib, with the thought in my mind, “If I rush on to the next rib, maybe I’m missing the best part of this one.” There is a drawback to this method, rather obviously, it took me all summer to read that relatively short book but, you know what, I wasn’t leafing through an owner’s manual trying to find out how to set the clock, which is the way we are taught to read and compelled to read by the pace of life, I was savoring a great work of a great mind, so it became a matter of… respect.
I’m writing this as a response to segment on “Outfront” about “Tiger Kids”, a child-rearing philosophy geared toward making then into fine little adults, full of the knowledge of the world at increasingly early ages. I’m not going to say that is wrong, merely point out it comes at a cost, a cost I’m unwilling to pay and incurs a debt to the world the world can not repay.
I’ve been watching the Occupy Wall Street movement, and its local derivatives, carefully trying, as I think we all are, to figure what exactly they’re all about. It’s been described as a Rorschach test, with the subject seeing themselves in it more than any essence of the movement. I’m going to take that test here and tell you what I see there:
This summer when I started rereading “Death of the Soul”, I had stopped writing and, worse, had become disinterested in writing. I was frustrated at my inability to find the nature of my work, why it was important (if only to me) and realized I couldn’t maintain the will to just fake it. I don’t get paid to do this, so, if there isn’t a reward in it for me, I can’t be productive.
Just like Occupy Wall Street.
My interpretation of OWS’s singular lack of focus is that they are objecting to the basic premise of American society, that we are no more than cogs in the machine of commerce, and the reward for that servitude no longer justifies the sacrifice. In this the are both wholly correct and deeply wrong. Wrong in the sense that work of their lives, or worse the product, defines them in ANY philosophical measure, but that is the conclusion that could be drawn from the uniquely American-centric experience of today. China and the “Tiger Kids” are trying to out “American” us, as they see us, and I say, “Let them.”
America is beginning the turn to expression, and recreation, of the primary tenant of “Death of the Soul”: that creativity, genius, is beyond the capability of science to analyze and the capacity of a computer to memorize. With that turn comes the joy of invention, the joy my “free-range” children express in their stories and drawings that spring magically from their minds, free of the machinations of the world as it is already expressed. They engage the world naturally and at their own pace, not only bringing the world to them but bringing themselves to the world. The world wants cogs, it says, but it needs art, creation, invention, inspiration.
It needs my kids. It needs OWS. It needs joy, a joy that the world can never put into you, that you bring to the world in the individual experience of your single life. Machines can’t express joy, can’t create, can never reflect back the world upon itself because they will never experience the world the way we do, the way be are born to, the way a child does.
We are born God’s art, each one of us unique and a masterpiece, an abstract expression of His vision of creation and there is nothing similar to ourselves anywhere else. We are simply magic, whether you believe that magic comes directly through God or is magic created through the intimate celestial working of the physical universe, the result is the same and inescapable. We need to be able to look at ourselves in the mirror and tell ourselves we are back about great things, great work, and not the petty intrigues, conveniences and contrivances that distract us so often.
Or maybe that’s just me.
Take the OWS Rorschach test yourself because I could be completely wrong.
Ps. I don’t want to leave the impression with the “God’s art” statement that I know that much about God or art. I just know them when I see them.
