Fear or Laziness?

or, Impeccably Imperfect

"Actually, the gap between, say, Plato or Nietzsche and the average human is greater than the gap between that [super-]chimpanzee and the average human. The realm of the real spirit -- the true artist, the saint, the philosopher -- is rarely achieved. Why so few?"

I've been wrestling with a comment SLC left me a few posts ago. In the most convivial manner, I have no doubt, SLC lovingly suggested I not be so hard on myself. In her words, I seem to forget that I'm not a deity. While I'll readily admit I'm increadibly demanding of myself, I view it more as an attempt to be impeccable rather than to be perfect.

The difference is subtle, but, at least for me, it is exceedingly important. To be impeccable, as I use the term, is to have no internal, self-derived faults. In the words of dictionary.com, it's to be flawless; irreproachable; not liable to sin; or even incapable of sin (sin here referring to its original usage meaning "missing the mark"). To be perfect, on the otherhand, is to have no faults, simpliciter. Both outside and inside factors go into that notion, both things one can control and those one cannot, at least how I'll be using it to differentiate between the two concepts.

Now, as always, I must preface any discussion of human potential with a clear and direct caveat that I do not consider myself to be on par with deities, Plato, Nietzsche, or any of the greats. However, I think there is another distinction to be drawn with individuals such as these, of which I do hold myself to be at least near par; there's a difference between the production of great works of art, truth, and life and that of the motivation or the internal constitution to always strive towards the production of such works.

The difference, then, lies within the causes, not the effects, of our rational will. If I am prevented by fate or luck or disaster, so be it. But if it such great works of truth are prevented from coming to fruition by some cause internal to my own design (even if that be in a deterministic understanding of my "free will", so long as that cause passes through my own reasoning), then I am responsible for not doing more and, hence, the lack of such beauty coming into the physical realm of reality.

I might be charged with holding myself to some supererogatory level of existence; but I'm not saying I can't go see a movie or relax with friends. My life is what is in question, here, not the philosophical products of my career, alone. When the common greats that come to mind -- Plato, Beethoven, Einstein, Goethe -- there is some definitive, well-known contribution to the world. But there are those we know personally who have reached even higher potentials, because they do so with a harmony amongst all aspects of their life. Where Mozart may have been a rake despite his art, the archetypal mother in the neighborhood full of wandering kids who treats each with respect and loving appreciation has contributed her due potential of truth and beauty to the world. All aspects of life, then -- be it intellectual, physical, interpersonal, or otherwise -- could and, in my opinion, should be examined with this aim at impeccability. "An unexamined life..." so they say.

So, SLC knows me well; in a sense, I was back the next day "pursuing immortality." Not in any sense aiming at perfection, but with a constant drive towards impeccability. Do I fail at this aim? Often. I fully embrace my "moments of weakness," but I feel that I accomplish so much more with such a greater depth of experience when this is my aim, not necessarily what I'm able to achieve. Instead of turning a blind eye to sleeping in late when I'm not actually tired or watching sitcoms that I don't even find that entertaining, I think I end up with a more interactive life lived and, if nothing else, better stories to tell on DW. It's more of a constant awareness of my actions and the persistent questioning of my motivation behind them; is this what I really want to be doing right now, or am I doing it merely as a default/easy way to pass the time I've got this go around?

Was that a little over the top? I hope not. Either way, I'd appriciate comments and reactions to that. In the meantime...

Namaste'.

The Middle-Man

"Killing animals to get the nutrients that are contained by plants in the first place is – as in the case of dairy – unnecessary (and thus cruel) as well as terribly inefficient and wasteful."

-Colleen Patrick-Goudreau

What question is first asked when discussing all things vegetarian? The question about the nutrients; not only protein, but the vitamins and minerals, as well. The title of this post is linked to one of the most well-written, non-preachy, purely informative-without-being-overly-technical pieces I've read about veganism (for the best book of similar nature, try Becoming Vegan). The author asks a good question; why is it only when vegetarianism is mentioned that people start questioning nutrient intake? Why not, "Oh, you're an omnivore. That's pretty interesting. How do you get your fiber/antioxidants/complex carbohydrates?"

As I'm sure I've hinted at before, I love animals and all that jazz, and the positive impact on the environment is something I notice, but the real reason I became vegan is for health reasons. This is why the above quote from the article fascinated me so much. Thoreau said it in Walden Pond, something to the effect that all animals lower on the food chain build muscles, bones, a healthy nervous system, etc. by eating nothing but a strict vegetarian diet. Nope, they don't even drink their mothers milk once their digestive system is able to handle solid food. Naturally, then, there's no reason we can't do the same (the things that might be argued to set us apart -- our capacity to reason and have moral worth -- are not dependent on anything found by eating the flesh other animals).

The article talks about a couple interesting points, like how the calcium in milk actually must be artificially placed into the cow's diet, as there's no longer room for them to graze in actual pastures where the green, leafy, calcium rich vegetable matter grows. But if you go straight to the source -- eating green, leafy vegetables -- you get all the benefits of the calcium without 1) the puss from overtaxed udders and 2) the "calcium-leeching animal protein" that accompanies most milk drinkers' daily diets. A second good point made on this issue: imagine, at your age, drinking human breast milk. Even imagine it going through the same pasteurization/processing method used in the dairy industry. Doesn't that still seem odd?

In defense, I know a lot of people just like the taste of a juicy prime-rib, a cut of sirloin, or their 2% on their cereal in the mornings. But I'd wager most people have switched milk types at some point in their lives. Have you ever gone from whole to 2%, or 2% to 1%, or skim? It tastes and "feels" odd for a bit, but after awhile, your old preference is suddenly foreign. What you drank for years just doesn't quite taste right. I found the same thing with Silk. I tried the non-flavored, then the vanilla, and I settled on the Light Vanilla. It's not too thick and has a good flavor to it. It took me a bit (a week or two) to settle into where I wasn't consciously thinking, "this tastes different...oh, that's because I'm drinking bean-juice." One day, just like % did for me years ago, it just became a background for my delicious Kashi Cinnamon Harvest cereal. I found the same thing as I gave up beef, poultry and fish. In fact, what's better, I found out how much I love red bell peppers, field greens, honeydew melons, and Royal Gala apples (and, yes, I did try about 12 other kinds of apples before I found those). Things I never ate prior to my switch don't "fill the void" caused by a lack of meat, but simply take preference in taste to what now seems foreign and (forgive me) grotesque to my senses.

Ok, to wrap up this little vegan rant my friends were probably wise to stop reading after the first quote, let me just say this; as mentioned in the article this post is linked to, I agree with the author that we've become overly obsessed with single nutrients. We obsess over calcium or omega-3, or worry about whether we're getting the right amount or the right kind of proteins. But I don't think there's any such thing as a well-balanced diet. I eat what I'm hungry for, and let me tell you, biting into an artichoke heart unexpectedly in the middle of an Italian salad is pure bliss. I stock my fridge and pantry with good, solid, whole foods and build my meals up from there. And I gotta say, I'm now in the best shape of my life (even considering my highschool swimteam days...TDZ has the picture to prove it).

Anyways, I hope this wasn't too much of a bore, and that you didn't take this as a lecture (or stopped reading before you felt that way). Feel free to leave comments, but know that I don't look down upon anyone just because they like the taste of meat. I've tasted both sides of the debate, and I simply prefer my food the way I do. This was simply meant to dispel a couple myths and answer the question most often asked.

"The point here is to demonstrate that far from being deficient in essential nutrients, plant-based diets are actually brimming with them."

The Hanged Man

You are the Hanged Man

Self-sacrifice, Sacrifice, Devotion, Bound.

The Hanged Man is perhaps the most fascinating card in the deck. It reflects the story of Odin who offered himself as a sacrifice in order to gain knowledge. Hanging from the world tree, wounded by a spear, given no bread or mead, he hung for nine days. On the last day, he saw on the ground runes that had fallen from the tree, understood their meaning, and, coming down, scooped them up for his own. All knowledge is to be found in these runes.

The Hanged Man, in similar fashion, is a card about suspension, not life or death. It signifies selflessness, sacrifice and prophecy. You make yourself vulnerable and in doing so, gain illumination. You see the world differently, with almost mystical insights.

[For those who don't know, the title of my posts are always linked to relevant, interesting, or occasionally random-ass sites. So, for instance, this post's title is linked to the online tarot card "personality" quiz. Leave comments with your results!]

As a Languid Torch

Just about a week ago, I took a nasty spill off my mountain bike while, of all things, riding home from working out. It wasn't gruesome, as I managed to tuck and roll just in time. I only had a minor road-rash on my left forearm, but the brunt of my fall ended up directly on the connective tissue between my left clavicle and acromion. Interesting fact; in attempting to find the impressive sounding name 'acromion', aka the shoulder socket bones (and, be honest, you were impressed), I came across the information that a clavicle fracture is the most common breakage in adults, accounting for 1 out of 20 adult bones broken. Hrm...imagine that.

In fact, I have been worrying on and off this past week whether I actually did break something. I got back most of my movement by the third day, but I've still got some shooting pains and a fairly intriguing bump where there shouldn't be one. Considering the persistence of this thing, I actually went to the campus doc's office for a couple x-rays today. Luckily, they didn't see anything broken; just some severely inflamed tendons.

But there's a bigger problem. I think I've been using this lack-of-a-left-arm thing as an excused to make myself feel better about not doing anything with my days. AS (what's your middle name?) has been calling me trying to get me back to the gym. True, I can't lift weights or really do any upper-body stuff so far, but I haven't even been keeping up with my running. And this is a week off (ok, I did go once) after being at the gym 6 days a week so far this summer. Even more, I don't think I'm living up to Shaw's ideal, brightly burning torch, as I quoted in my last post.

Bouncing at night is great, as 1) I'm already going to be awake and 2) it leaves my days completely free for productivity. But while I've been getting up at 7 or 8, eating breakfast, reading my comic strips (and the news), I end up going back to bed for another couple hours for a lack of anything better to do. Which is a lie. I have so much I could be doing - interesting books I could be reading, some furniture refinishing projects in their final stages, even a couple e-mails to friends which are overdue. The problem is that, at 9 or 10 in the morning, all of that can be done later in the day. But after having gone back to bed, I wake up again with the same mentality: There's always tomorrow, or next week, or after I move up to Madison. But that leaves each day in-between a complete waste of breath. And we've only got so many (though I've decided I'm going to live to 117, just so you know).

The point of this post is to publicly let forth my barbaric yawp from the rooftops of the world: Tomorrow, no more wasted breaths. I'm going to get up and be ready to do whatever doesn't directly cause my shoulder to scream (really, it screams...scared the shit out of the girl on the elliptical next to me the other day) at the gym first thing in the morning. Then, after a shower and shave (the lack of which is a great indicator of how much I haven't been doing anything with my time) I'm going to actually do something with my day. I'll let you know how it goes, but the overall point is to do one thing, each day, directly promoting each of my ideals. I know, it sounds lofty. But, for example, my ideal for my first action upon waking up is to look good naked (in the words of Lester Burnham). I'll let you know how that's going, too.

To Be Thoroughly Used Up

“This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being a force of nature instead of being a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no 'brief candle' to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.”

— George Bernard Shaw

M-Class

That's right. Not D-class, L-class, or learner's permit: I'm m-class certified. As was rightly commented the other day, now all I need is a bike. So, on to step two. I've been ebaying and craigslisting (is that a word, yet? like googling?) for a bike that's within my pick-up range. Oh, and within a grad-school TA's income range. You might be surprised just how many bikes fall within that field. Go ahead, craigslist that shit (I don't care, I'm making it a word). The best part about it all is that a Honda from '78-'88 that was taken care of is a good, solid bike still. Of course, I'm looking to get a cruiser style (think classic Harley look, but not a Harley), something around 500 to 750 cc's, and so far I'm liking what I've heard about Honda. True, I'm just now getting into this, so there'll be a learning curve. I'm hoping that I don't do the bulk of that learning from my own mistakes, but I think I can safely approach this purchase within my limited knowledge. Of course, any suggestions will be appreciated, if you happen to be in the know.

Finally, if you happen to be the DeKalb area, I'm sorry for your misfortune. Oh, but you should really check out this basic riding course. You can try virtually every Friday evening; they start at 6pm in Holmes 506. They do a lottery to fill any vacant position with walk-ins and, so far as I've heard, every weekend they've had at least 5 spots open. The class lasts all weekend, but each student gets their own practice bike and roughly 6 hours saddle time both Saturday and Sunday. By the time the weekend is through, you get a certificate automatically granting m-class license (i.e. without any further tests) when you take it in to the DMV. And, the class is free! I won't say it's an easy skill set to get the hang of, but I doubt anyone reading DW would have any trouble passing the requirements. It was a lot of fun, and as you can tell, I'm pretty much addicted to the idea of motorcycling now. Seriously, I'm going to get my doctorate in philosophy...what else am I going to do (besides go to Nepal) but tour around the country staying on friends' couches (you can only stay on one couch for so long before it's time to start moving on again).

You see things vacationing on a motorcycle in a way that is completely different from any other. In a car you’re always in a compartment, and because you’re used to it you don’t realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You’re a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.

On a cycle the frame is gone. You’re completely in contact with it all. You’re in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming. That concrete whizzing by five inches below your foot is the real thing, the same stuff you walk on, it’s right there, so blurred you can’t focus on it, yet you can put your foot down and touch it anytime, and the whole thing, the whole experience, is never removed from immediate consciousness.

-Robert Pirsig

The Way Things Go...

When I leave you guys alone for about a month, really the only thing that feels comfortable for me to do is give a rundown of my life. And, something tells me, you probably appriciate Jeff's Life Updates more than you do Jeff's Divergent Thoughts. So, without further ado, my life, in 700 words or less:

I finally finished up my Masters degree this past Monday. Many of you probably thought I graduated this past May...and I kinda did. I walked, received my diploma cover, and was technically done with 98% of my requirements for the degree. But I hadn't yet passed my Ethics comprehensive exam. What can I say? I'd never really had any ethics (sic). The only exception was a course in which the professor yelled at me for being a "fucking socialist." Naturally, I'm not really sure that I got much out of that course. But, a good weekend's studying later, I'm fairly sure that I am now finished at NIU.

Ah, and I'm a bouncer. Surprised? Yup, I bounce at a bar in town that is very, very similar to Bruno's in its atmosphere. Thankfully, that also means I don't have to break up too many fights. But it does provide ample opportunity to work on my small-talk skills. Since I'm only around for the summer (and I told them that when getting the job), I've no chance to move up to bartender, but once I get up to Madison I'm fairly sure I'll try and secure a job bartending straight out of the gates. A Monday night bartender, during the summer (which, for DeKalb, means the entire city clears out), makes close to 300 a night. That'd really help that graduate assistant pay actually sustain my lifestyle. True, it'd be stressful, but it'd be during the hours I had free, anyways, and I think it'd be well worth the stress and pain. Now, I just have to land such a job.

I was told the other day how funny it is that I, the soon-to-be professor of philosophy, of all things, is a bouncer. Quite a disparity of images, I suppose. So I've added another one; motorcyclist. NIU offers a free course where you learn all the basics of riding and, at the end, you're m-class driver's license certified. I just finished up the second day of that today, including some practice at bobbing and weaving and cutting tight corners in third gear. It was an amazing time. I got so pumped from this afternoon's practice (on a Honda NightHawk) that I'm fairly sure I'm going to be buying a bike before the year is out. You can imagine it; rolling up to campus with my tweed jacket with the elbow patches on a classic cruising-style bike. And, to add to the picture (though it won't be visible on my right upper shoulder), here's a picture of the tattoo I'm going to be getting when I head home this July. It'll be my first one, and I'm planning on getting it on my right shoulder, where the center of the crescents will essentially be positioned right on the balljoint of my shoulder (facing towards my right side). It'd overlap up top a bit, but at about the size of my closed fist, it would basically be fully visible from a side angle. And don't mind the colors; the actual tattoo would be monochromatic black/gray.

Finally, a last little rant. I have a friend from a very long time ago (highschool) who happens to be on facebook and is pregnant. Without naming names, is it not incredibly disturbing to see a note-update that someone you knew from highschool is dilating? Just an effed-up realization I had this morning.

Hope life is treating you well, 'cause I ain't got no better stories to tell. If anything exciting happens (which, I'll let you know now, is rather unlikely for the next month of living in DeKalb) I'll post again soon. Otherwise...

Namaste'.

Ashes and Snow

The most beautiful film you've ever seen...

Perhaps the waves are telling us
'Remember your dreams. Remember your dreams. Remember your dreams.'

Bushisms

Just for fun...