And “What” Do You Want to Be, If You Grow Up?

A greeting, my name is Fetus, and this is my position on the art of the possible.

The following essay is another way to view the “what if” dilemma of abortion. Here, abortion is to be defined as the disturbance of the art of the possible. In ages past this ethical dilemma received much attention, and it continues to raise more questions than answers for moralists and ethicists alike. Is abortion a convenience to society? Is it murder? Is it acceptable, and if so who should make the final decision? These questions will not be answered directly throughout this essay, however the main focus will revolve around the subject matter of value, and prospect ontology, or the possibility of being. Every major crisis must begin with the foundation of meaning, or value. The value we place on objects mirrors the value we place upon ourselves. Valuation, of the human condition for “being,” should always be considered to include the betterment of the masses; i.e., community advancement. Plato believed the fetus is a living being, however the state’s ideals and needs take precedence over the life and rights of the unborn. This is a view generally accepted by many today; however, the focal point now rests on one-the mother, that gracious hostess of potential progeny. Value must be placed on the fetus in order that, humanity as a whole, may benefit from its potential for life, thus making it an ethical concern for human betterment.

The stoic Musonius Rufus agreed that having many children is beautiful and right. Was not the great command to “be fruitful and multiply on the earth” also given as more than a mere guideline? Both arguments point in the direction of healthy procreation. But what happens when some “agent” affects the formula? A person is raped. A relationship goes “sour”, and the option to abort is both attractive and necessary. To elaborate further, consider a mother is lying on the operating table in need of the doctor’s scalpel. The decision to save either the mother or the child, somewhat undeveloped at 5 months, needs to be made. These situations are all tethered to the pinpoint truth that the value placed on humanity must be directed beyond compromising scenarios. The gaze needs to be placed on the potential for being, or in other words focus is to be placed on behalf of the fetus.
Throughout the Greco-Roman world, the law governed culture. Roman law never viewed the fetus as a human being but rather as part of the maternal viscera. This view seems to support a woman’s right to choose. However, “by 3rd century A.D. Roman law considered abortion an offense against the father” not the mother. These laws protected against fatherly injustices; the family name, inheritance rights, and support of the human race for the betterment of the state. The woman, carrier of the furtherance of its species, was not a priority. The fetus was part of the mother, making it ineligible to receive rights of any kind (the fetal hierarchy). During the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd centuries any thought to place value or ascribe rights to the fetus was considered, at best, scandalous.

If Rome and Greece are renowned for their art and literature, then the medium of poetry, that creative barometer of cultural times, was its herald. One such figure, a Pelignian from Sulmo (east of Rome), used his art to speak on behalf of the possible, a sub-altern figure if you will. The poet Ovid, born sometime around 43 B.C. (a year after Caesar’s murder), wrote extensively in his 3-volume collection the Amores. What follows is but a slice of the artist’s rendition of love versus abortment during his times:

The first woman to tear an embryo from the womb
Should have died of that assault herself.
How can you fight this duel on the sands of death
Simply to save your stomach a few wrinkles?
If the mothers of old had followed your vicious example
Mankind would be extinct-
And is it not better for me to die of love
Than be murdered by my mother?
Why rob the vine when the grapes are growing?
Why strip the tree of bitter fruit?
Let it ripen, ready to fall. Let first beginnings be.
New life is worth a little patience.
Why jab the needle in your own flesh
And poison the unborn?
No tigress in wild Armenia does that-
No lioness destroys her own cubs.
But tenderhearted girls do-and pay the penalty:
For the murderess often dies herself,…
May the gods be gracious, overlook a first offence
And give her a second chance.

The pagan poet, who like the stoics of the 1st century, celebrated love and life. Any agent, in this case “poison,” that carried out the act of abortion, was deemed as murder, and those that administered its intent—murderers. Hence, we begin to envision an early position on the side of pro vita, or pro life. This thinking carried over into the Jewish and somewhat Christian approaches to abortion.
Two major schools of thought emerged from the debate between life and death of the fetus (regardless of its stage of development): the Alexandrian School as well as the Majority Palestinian School. We will revisit each school in detail at a later position in this essay. Jewish thought on the subject of “life” could be summarized in three parts:

1. The duty and desire to populate the earth, ensuring Jewish survival and the
Divine presence.

2. A deep sanctity of life in God’s creation.
3. A profound horror of blood and bloodshed.

All share the common sense that “abortion is a condemnable practice and shows disrespect for life as well as senseless bloodshed. The value placed on the fetus is one of Divine sanction and human rights. This is not singularly a “Christian” outcry against abortion, but an outcry from humanity’s history, pagan and non-pagan, alike. The Jewish foundation for reverence for God and respect for life naturally formed a foundation for Christian thinking also.
Intellectually, Christian thinkers throughout the first three centuries held the following views about abortion:

1. The fetus is the creation of God.
2. Abortion is equivocal to murder.
3. God is judge of those culpable in the act, or assistance to an abortion.

Again, the Jewish position of abortion as a condemnable practice is reiterated in the echoes of Christian thinking. The “fetus is not seen as part of its mother, but as a neighbor; abortion is rejected as contrary to other-centered neighbor love”. In other words, the fetus is imputed value on the basis of its created (developmental) human condition. Experience shapes the human condition, but that conceived by human beings can only be all too human, and heir to constituted rights that govern humanity’s potential through its existence. The Christian thought on fetal survival when abortion plagues it is handled both with reverence and with respect. Value and meaning is placed upon “the almost.”

By definition “the feeling of reverence is based on a comparison between something great and our own or someone else’s smallness, provided we do not find this smallness insignificant”. What is it that we value most? For that matter what is it that we revere most? Is it a deity, a person, or both? The answer to these inquiries is irrelevant because the fetus cannot answer them. The question then to be asked is: who and what defends the fetus, and why? In art, the artist “creates” from bare tools of paint and oils and inks the most elaborate and exquisite beauty; a painting to reflect the artist and the cognitive subject of its ocular capture. The beauty is not complete, however, until the gaze of “others,” critics, lovers of art, et cetera behold it. Likewise, one could argue that the fetus, made from human “first-things,” also has the potential for beauty. This beauty is to be fully appreciated through the process of its development, and lends credibility to parental artistry and design. To the Jew and to the Christian this is God, and to the humanist the honor is conveyed to the parents, willing or unwilling, to accept their offspring. These thoughts were shared by Clement of Alexandria, throughout 190-200 A.D., who felt that abortion is the “killing of human life that is under God’s care, design, and providence”. What more could be said of the defenders of pro vita against the “pagan” practice of abortion? Both Tertullian and Augustine, mighty princes of the ethical debate on abortion during their time, would agree that the fetus is God’s design, and should be approached with both reverence and opportunity. After all, the critic may feel inadequate with an artist’s work, but that is for them to think so, and not for them to decide it is so, thereby affecting the artistry for others.

Earlier in the essay the subject of two schools of Jewish thought were presented to establish a stance on the issue of abortion. The Alexandrian school was heavily influenced by Greek philosophy and pagan practices of abortion. However, it was established that abortion is both immoral and punishable. Here the fetus maintains the right to live. In opposition, the Palestinian school of Jewish thought, maintained and supported its beliefs from the Mishnah, the Talmud, and the writings of the Jewish historian Josephus. The fetus here is part of the mother and does not bear the rights (legal status) of a person (human being fully-developed). These two viewpoints dominated the Jewish world and later played a key role in Christian and secular thinking and its ethical praxis.

By viewing into the past humanity can look into and perceive the ethical dilemma abortion faces today. We could claim “serious ignorance of Jewish and Pagan culture,” but this would lead to more, elitist ambiguity, and not advancement in proper thinking and practice. The secular realm, or that society which associates itself with non-traditional “Christian” mores, seems to detach itself from the human sense of compassion. Instances of benevolent acts, however, towards pro vita do exist, in spite of the tainted and tolerant celerity of personal and stereotyped judgment. To put it another way, let us examine the subject of choice through the lens of a story. Robertson Davies’s book The Lyre of Orpheus presents a modern dilemma on the subject of abortion. The story begins with the search for truth surrounding the late Francis Cornish, a wealthy statesman. Davies places the Cornish estate into the hands of Arthur Cornish, a banker by trade. Arthur is married to the beautiful, gypsy woman Maria. She is a scholar on Rabelais, the French bard and philosopher, and a trustee to the Cornish Foundation. The Foundation looks for deserving, worthy causes to sponsor. One such cause is the biography of Francis Cornish. Another is the support of the Magnanimous Cuckold, a play regarding Arthur, High King of Camelot, and the Knights of the Round Table. Davies cleverly places Arthur into the role of a cuckold, once in the play, and also when his best friend sleeps with his wife. Though the event happened once, Maria becomes pregnant and Arthur, told the child is not his own, must decide what to do. Arthur, like any “good” husband of the 20th century accepts his situation and chooses to love the child and its mother, proving indeed to be the Magnanimous Cuckold. What strikes the reader is the absence of the “usual” options for a woman under similar situations. No one mentions abortion as an option at all. In fact, the father of the child, a modernized Sir Lancelot, remains great friends with Arthur, the would-be “King” and Maria, the willing Guenevere. Davies’s “strange” fiction parallels somewhat ethical choices amongst sophisticated adults that should be commonplace in our present world. Was Davies a man of tolerance and compassion? His fiction, containing much humor intertwined with scholarship, earned him great renown as Canada’s leading man of letters with degrees from Oxford, Toronto, et cetera. Still, Davies seems to capture that which the pagans of old held onto—abortion is not the option, but life is. The celebration of life resounded from a 20th century author and one can only hope the reverberations may echo, in practice, well into the 21st century.

In the 21st century Paul Ramsey, a moralist philosopher, posed a key question with regards to abortion and legislation: “When does the practice of abortion become fit for legislation”? The option for rights is inherited to all those serving the community. This was supported by even the pagan cultures of the past. Why? Because community prospered and developed.

The Pagan understanding of the fetus pit the unborn “human” as unworthy of rights, but if born must serve the betterment of the state, or in more modern terms—it must adhere to the potential for community advancement. Community is governed by the practice of laws and these laws are enforced towards the greater common good. Good? What could that mean? It could arguably refer to the collective advantage of furthering community intention(s) under the banner of utility. If unchecked, it could justify criminal intent to hinder the advancement for the unborn. In this case, the agent of abortion is the law that governs crime. Legislation then, that exists to protect human beings from murder, unfortunately does not exist for the “art of the possible,” the fetus. The potential for human advancement is “cellular[ly]-packed” within the sphere of fetal development; and, to not allow for this potential seems ethically, if not morally, disturbing. In a sense, one feels that “things” are not the way it should be, and community is affected, possibly one fetus at a time.

The Jewish word for all-encompassing peace is shalom and when disturbed presents entropy in the phases of lost hope. Cornelius Plantinga, Jr. (herein, Plantinga) in his work, “Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin,” presents shalom “as the way things ought to be”. Plantinga warrants that a transgression of morals has occurred, and this transgression can be labeled as culpabilis, or sin. Throughout the book Plantinga sites example after example of human thinking and practice gone awry. He provides a fresh outlook on the subject of crooked behavior in an equally, but oppositely refracted world. A man should be able to love a woman in marriage and the two carry on the projected image of their Divine design. A woman, caught in scandal, now pregnant-should be presented with options of aid, possibly by the state, without harm to either party-fetus or mother alike. Should not the, as Plato put it, state take notice of the would-be babies and invest in their development? A thoughtful reflection presents itself in the following rhetorical questions: How many presidents have we killed? How many doctors with the potential to solve the world’s disease crisis have been extinguished? How many engineers could have helped build up our communities and assisted in space exploration? In asking such questions it is only fair to play the devil’s advocate with the following, in question form, alternate responses: How many murderers did we kill? How many disease-carrying individuals did we absolve? How many cruel totalitarian dictators, with terrorist intent, did we stop from entering into the world? The questions are more than we have answers for, but recall that the common good is always at stake, and therein lays the cousin to faith, hope.

Hope can be defined “as wide and richly-textured as life itself…something to be worn, like Joseph’s coat of many colors”. The reason a community can overcome improper practices are because there exists a hope as to when these disturbances will cease. As Glenn Tinder poignantly mentions-“The deficiencies of modern hope point toward the characteristics of authentic hope”. Unfortunately, no clear, sagacious responses towards abortion exist on the level of the all-time, all-inclusive, all-scenario application. By striving towards the end in view, however, we sometimes find better methods to begin, advancing accordingly. The fuel for advancement being the vehicle of hope. Hope dominates thinking and practice, thereby allowing a chain reaction for good. This good dominates community and does not limit responsibility to rest upon one person, the mother. Both hope and good are not as recondite as they may seem in today’s society, but together lend mainstream credibility to applications towards procuring fetal rights. The community that hopes together believes together, and ultimately advances together in that vehicle of hope.

The nascent human life is valuable because of its potential to advance community, and also because it sustains the existence of our race as complex, and worthy of best-informed decision making. Further, humanity must behave like itself-human. We cannot escape ourselves “for man, unlike other creatures, is gifted and cursed with an imagination which extends his appetites beyond the requirements of subsistence”. Reinhold Niebuhr captured the essence of man attached to society. In this essay the word choice has been community as a precursor towards a given society. In other words, community makes society and “each century originates a new complexity and each new generation faces a new vexation”. This vexation spills over the chalice of un-social utopia, giving rise to the domino effect that has infected moral viewing. The alignment of such moral saving demands balance. This balance could quite arguably be constitutional in scope and family building in practice. This is not an easy task, as we shall note.

Constitutional balance finds its root in the soil of family building. The family, comprised of both parent(s) and child, must be willing to want each other. A breakdown in this formula disturbs its outcome. If a fetus is a developing person, and that person maintains rights awarded to it at full development, then it is without excuse that any “agent” that disrupts development, with exceptions to its survival or the mother’s life, remains unconstitutional. Is it then possible that abortion is justified via the common good of the individual and not the common good of society? Arguably, the constitution does protect the rights of men and women and possibly the developing child. A revisit to the ethical applications to what “human” and “rights” mean may be in order under our present-day “understanding” of the Constitution of the United States of America. After all, it is the only, balanced and lawful thing to do for the art of the possible.

The “what if” possibility is a struggle to the thinking person. Why? Because there is always the possibility of the “not-yet,” or the potential of the “it-could-have- been.” Imagine a fetus's response to the upcoming world. What would it sound like? Perhaps like this:

I know my destiny. Someday my name will be associated with
the memory of something tremendous, a crisis like no other on
earth, the profoundest collision of conscience, a decision conjured
up against everything that had been believed, required, and held
sacred up to that time. I am not a man; I am dynamite.

What a voice of confidence crying out with man-lungs, shouting to the on-lookers wishing to shake off their rags of curiosity! The “voice” belongs to the German prodigy Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche. He held this view at the early age of twelve! Imagine him aborted? It can be argued that Nietzsche was given every conducive pro-agent towards becoming an asset to community. Apart from his philosophical contributions he has left a legacy of political scholarship to German universities, as well as our own. This example, though somewhat extreme, defends the earlier points of potential to advance community, and as it were increase society; where Nietzsche failed then, the “others” could succeed; likewise, where he succeeded-the “others” could build upon and surpass. The “others” are the fetuses of potential.

An ethic towards the unborn can be found in Psalm 139:

O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my
Thoughts afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are
Familiar with all of my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you
Know it completely, O Lord.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty
For me to attain.
For you created my inmost being;
You knit me together in my mother’s womb.

The standard of treatment towards the value of humanity is beyond religion and it engrosses all of community. The Psalm depicts a tone that seems absent in community. The tone suggests a sense of reverence for human life as well as a sense of thankfulness for that human existence. These senses are the inheritance for, in terms of the “art of the possible,” the fetus based on the developmental potential each carries.

In ages past, Christian, Jewish, and Pagan cultures, agreed abortion was immoral, punishable, and generally unacceptable, yet the fetus maintained no rights of consideration- for it was not a person. Today, we face a similar struggle except abortion is accepted. In the advancement for community, and later society- the way of shalom perhaps has been lost. The ethical steps taken have been backwards, with an unsound view toward a healthy future. Humanity must answer the “what if” dilemma if proper thinking and praxis are to exist. This would address: the art of the possible. The demand is now set, who then will take up the charge, one fetus at a time?

An Experienced Sip

The following story took place on the corner of Grand Avenue, adjacent to Barnes and Nobles. I was attending Michigan State University (MSU) at the time, getting my second Bachelor's degree in English.

Enjoy my MSU story:

The tip of my tongue, ah, a lost sense and a singed reminder from the after math of a venti-size latte attack. This has been my reward for an investment in caffeination. Huh? You mean the conjunction of caffeine and nation can go together? Like ham and eggs or m & m or Jack and Jill? Yep! Exactly like that.

I find myself lacking originality as I timely sip away the mixed pools of black and milk in a mass-produced styro-foam cup. I don’t have to look too far to note my accessories are a book on English Literature in the 16th Century Excluding Drama and a pamphlet on Studies in Philology.

My itemization of meaning and function continue with my feet propped on a wooden stool with four, disjointed legs. I find myself shifting the weight in my legs as I compete to match the rhythm of Eric Clapton’s Change the World. Clapton’s song is currently winning. Go figure. I try to refocus and ask myself, “Why am I in a coffee shop to begin with?" Did I come in for the cozy, warm environment? Hardly. I could have gotten that by cuddling with Tabs, my orange, over-fluffed tabby, in front of my imaginary fireplace overlooking my balcony of 40-foot tall pine trees. Did I come in for the attention? Well, I guess buying my coffee did assist in my conversational skills with the cashier.

Her haircut was cut short with streaks of blue at the tips. The blue seemed to be running away from the bleach-blond in her hair. Her smile was attractive with pink gloss splashed over two lips in a full, red hue. Her round nose was pierced, and earlier I overheard her conversation on existential a priori behavior in the characters of Tolstoy’s War and Peace with a customer who had just purchased a grande-size Americano—whatever that is. As always, upon hearing such conversations I wanted to join in, but remained inaudible, held back by the principle of wait to be asked. Yeah, right. Like anyone really abides by such an “understood” mandate.

Truly, I came into the coffee shop because I could. I guess I liken it to a mountain climber climbing a mountain. When asked the question-“Why? Why did you climb Mt. so-and-so?” To his credit he uttered, “Well, because it was there.” I sat down where I sat down because I could. I bought the hot drink because I could. And when I am ready to leave and move on toward my next destination I will, though not because I have to, but because I can. There is a certain peace in knowing that you have the power of choice as well as the movement to complement that choice. It is within my autonomy, no.

My coffee is now half-filled, or is it half-emptied? I forget which one is more intellectual to think upon, and which one displays the disposition of an active pragmatist. Both deal with a philosophy of choice, right? Right. Anyhow, I get up from my chair to throw the cold, and now distant coffee away. The trash can is roughly 10 feet away and suddenly a rush of wanting to shoot the cup into the basket comes over me. The feeling is like a wave of hope and risk and fear and embarrassment all into one. Then, as it would happen logic, my friend, visits with his neighbor, my mind. “The cup is not empty,” he says. And again, “If you miss, people will notice.” And yet, I feel that I can make it. My emotion is fighting within and yearns to have a voice aussi. From within, the cries express- “Shoot it! You’ll never know until you try it. Believe in yourself!”

I have forgotten that with such a battle raging from within all crevices and interfolds of my person I have been standing throughout this moment of interlocution. I have lost track of time and I cannot recollect whether my “stand” has been a long or a short history. I play it off as if I were day-musing and proceed, with purpose and caution, toward the trash can. Logic has won. No throw—just a simple trip and discard.

I reward myself by asking for a cup of water. I call it a reward because it will dilute my caffeinated culpabilis. I walk back to my chair and stool in hope to actually read something that I have brought, but my love for the aesthetic appearance of scholarship wins out over my actual reading of the works laying on the round table.

I think back to Arthur’s Camelot and the decisions of a king. I come up with a poem on the spot:

O Arthur your Angle Land is no more,
A vision of the immortal Camelot vanished,
Your knights are sleepless, exhaling victory in a snore,
This day is blood-red like the heart established.
Will your legacy hold up beyond the curtain?
Will your shamed marriage affect man and land?
I answer as one descended, like a man certain,
Yet cautious are my steps, though upright I stand.
I will answer the Lord’s anointed and state-
“Your legend precedes you and remains arabesque,
Thy kingdom is seconded, filled with revilers of late,
The gates to your throne round are unpolished majestic”.
O Noble descendant from Pendragon’s stir,
My fears are mortal, your sword still Excalibur.

My poem is a work of expression from an inspired time in a daydream. My modernity gets in the way from true, original expression. My response: I turn from reading to spectating. I am careful to not meet anyone’s gaze. This is a safety measure on my part. The shop is filled with noise and the chatter of students, scholars, and would-be student scholars.

Everyone is under the guise and disguise of buis[y]ness. I notice that no one looks at their notes or books long enough, but that all look around to observe. The entrance door is the only constant, dynamic thing in the room- opening and closing, then opening again.

I think about the frequency of child birth and elderly death and link it to an open and shut door with intricate characters involved in their comings and goings. What ratio would be proper I wonder? Then it hits me! Only the committed stay! I mean some come in, buy their drink, then leave. Others come in, ask for water instead of the dark, brewed magic, and sit down where there is vacancy. Still, only the committed buy a drink and stay to appreciate their investment. I noted that this is exactly what I had done and that I was a part and member of the caffeination. What a realization of overwhelming peace for the person who finds the meaning of existence in a coffee shop from simple, yet profound observation(s). Verily, verily a likened ontology, whose epistemology, centered and thrived on the black and milk of liquid magic.

I learned a lot that day about myself and the “others” that existed in their supportive role(s). The most important thing discovered was that I belonged to an eclectic few, a proud group, and that I could continue such fellowship tomorrow and the next day, and the day after that; but for now, I got up to leave.

I would be back, temporarily escaping my membership; I would allow someone else to experience such a dangerous delight that came from an attack upon the sense of taste, and like that French thinker suggested—in terms of différence, perhaps then such peaceful relations are indeed rare.

La aplicabilidad de sustento, or the relevance of sustenance

On a snowy day in what can be considered downtown West Lafayette, Indiana a man--long in years and heavily padded to compete against the cold winds--asked me a simple, yet exact inquiry:

"Excuse me sir. Can I have a $1.79 to buy a cheeseburger."

My response was quick, and without pretence in its dismissive loquacity, wherein I posited:

"I am sorry, but I don't have it on me."

And, I kept walking, walking, ever so steadily walking toward my car, a 1999 Volkswagon Jetta. Then, it happened. An inspiration, a prick in my spirit, an engaged listening at the intersection of heart and mind.

The message was a simple one--you have the means to bring this man food. How so? I had a car, Wendy's was across the street from the corner Starbuck's, and though without cash in the pocket, I did have a Visa debit card. Wendy's took Visa debit cards.

After purchasing a number 2, or a double cheeseburger without onions (as if I knew if the hungry man liked onions, or not; still, I did not) I left my car parked in the Wendy's parking lot, and decidedly walked back to where the man had reached out to me for a simple meal.

I began to thank God for such an opportunity to be like his Son Jesus the Christ, though my multitude was in the category of 1. I looked for him where I had last seen him, but he had entered the local Borders bookstore. He was coming down the handi-cap ramp with a smile on his face as if he knew that I would be back.

Our meeting was brief with my gloved hand shaking his naked, wrinkled hand, which appeared to resemble an enlarged, pitted prune mitted glove. He said to me:

"God bless you sir!"

And I, filled with the emotion of both elation and disturbance, said:

"Not a problem. Why don't you find a seat and enjoy the meal. Grab some magazines and try to stay warm."

Why, why were you filled with disturbance you might ask. Well, as an educated man I wondered if I were utilizing my energies to eradicate such a symptom. What symptom: the tipping scales of the haves and the have nots.

This man and I were not that different, and though we knew nothing of each other, I wondered if my position of privilege to provide was one in which I was commissioned to perform. Had I truly any choice in the matter?

Arguably, to get in my car and to drive away certainly not only seemed feasible, but justifiably so for an amalgam of reasons I could easily articulate to my dissimulating disposition. Still, I am grateful that on this night, in this opportunity, and with a willing nature--I was responsively responsible.

I share today's story with you not because this is an evangelical moment, but this is a call to "follow through" on acts of kindness if it is in your power to do so. I did not give this man any money, but I fed him with a Wendy's number 2 meal (the drink of choice was a coke).

I did not debate on whether or not to feed him, or meditate on the positions of responsibility referenced via Emmanuel Levinas, or consider the ramifications of risk like a trained actuary. I simply--fed him.

Open your eyes to opportunities of kindness and respond. In like kind--you will remain...relevant.

Bonne année, no.

My Dear Readers et Tinkerers,
This new year I hope to continue our rhizomatic discourses of relevance. What binds us together amidst the multiplicities and fissures of our natures is, in the end, our citizenship in humanity.

May we agitate each other better, longer, and with responsible stimulation to do good work. May we look toward the erasure of false humility, true hypocrisy and ambiguous smiles, frowns, and stern aesthetic[s]. You will be judged, but offer up to the gaze your best.

Last year was a...good year of growth via chastisement, failure, success, hurt, sorrow and mourning, dancing and laughter, surprise and expectation, sickness, death and more death, and even the oil and water mescla of love and hate. Truly--serious, yet joyful and sagacious vita.

Let this new year bring, with its sister past, its cousin--future grace and the aptitude to follow through on relevant projects toward a better YOU. We are mimetic creaturas, and as such--expect in the year of our Lord--a grand 2008!

Friendship v. Acquaintance

We say it all the time do we not? We are so care-free about our words and phrases that we fail at times to stop, weigh the situation, measure our response, and then acknowledge the truth--there is a distinction between a friendship and an acquaintance.

What exactly is a friend? For that matter what is different in that terminology that is distinguishable from an acquaintance? To address these inquiries one may suggest that only time, chronos or tempus will tell them apart.

This is not the case. One can be an acquaintance for a long period of time and never enter within the very interstitial walls of friendship.

Friendship is not to be decided by time alone, but it is a reaffirming, quantifiable commodity that informs its tensile strength.

The acquaintance is always ever on the outskirts of friendship; i.e. its only position is toward friendship in the measure of forward progress. In regress, the acquaintance can become non-existent and warrant a different label altogether.

Friendship can also regress, but not back from whence it came; i.e. friendship cannot return to a position of acquaintance. Why is this exactly? If taken seriously--a friendship lost, destroyed, and otherwise irreparable makes its repair, its mending, its cohesion rather difficult to undertake.

I will add this caveat, however, that a true friendship will go through the "ups" and the "downs" and the "side-ways," but in the end remain as it was, albeit with some apprehension[s], sound, solid and conretized in something greater.

This is why a re-evaluation of ones society is the best "cleaning of house" I know. Evaluate those around you--and figure who is a friend and who is an acquaintance.

Remember--this is not a negative versus a positive, but a reality check. Who are you considering friends and who are, under serious consideration, acquaintances? You decide. You have heard it said--Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, but I tell you--Know your friends, know your enemies and keep a very close eye on your acquaintences who are still on the fence.

Of or Concerning Invention and Discovery--Is there a difference?

One of the more celebrated points of discussion that I have come across in the last 4 years is the necessary distinction between invention and discovery.

What exactly are the distinctions? That is--how would we define such terms, and then appropriate them to a respective community in context? With any new examination of ideas examples must follow that support a concretized response.

When this response receives criticism, acceptance and more criticism, and is further accepted by a group or mass--it becomes an established position for further inquiry, for further examination and yes--for further discourse.

"Invention" is a term taken from the discipline of rhetorical studies. The term "discovery" is taken from the early philosophy of Anaximander and Pythagoras--if not earlier. The terms are not synonymous.

At the root level of such an exercise that otherwise may be viewed as a splitting of semantic hairs--the essence of creativity must be considered. That is, what can be created and what ex nihilo, or out of nothing can come into view.

Let us take for example the light bulb--that concentrated hardware that allows for our controlled illumination. Edison is credited with its "invention," or should it have been his "discovery" of the proper filament (tungsten) after over 400 failed, other metal wires, which thus led to the proper connection.

At Purdue University, and even at my alma mater Michigan State University--I recalled that both Institutions held spaces of investigation called discovery zones; the former is known as "Discovery Park"; the latter, is known for housing the largest particle accelerator (a cyclotron) in the country as it "discovers" new elements.

The point here is if there is nothing "new" under the sun, but it is unknown to us--then, when that which was not, becomes that which is--are we not on the brink of inventing a name for our discovery?

Yeah--I wonder how much of our everyday is "new," and moreover--how much of our "new" is simply an emergence of our unclouding into a point of illumination.

Ah...but in my youth I would have...

Today at field__________ I found myself playing an "ageless" and competitive sport--football. I ran in for about 3 touchdowns, pulled my left hamstring, sprained both wrists, re-aggravated my bone spur, and tweaked my right Gastrocnemius muscle. You know--the calf muscle.

Still, the weather was perfect. At slightly windy conditions and a temperature of 42 degrees what could be better. Further, when my hoodie became a first down marker I knew right then and there it would be...brilliant.

The sad truth however, is that I am old, and though I played like I still had game (which of course I still do), I need the sportscreme and the pain pills afterward. I literally hobbled over to the computer to blog this entry and sit in pain even as this sentence terminates with a period.

One thing remains the same though--my competitive spirit! I still have that 18 year old killer instinct that rages to be seen, but with the afore stated after effects. In a sense then I was born to deteriorate, and ultimately die. As I or you get older we are reminded of this finiteness in a myriad of ways.

Since I have become a better candidate for the AARP I realize that I now groan for the simplest tasks. If I bend down to pick up a book from the bottom shelf I may tweak my lower back and be out of commission for a few minutes. If I walk up the stairwell to my arpartment onto the third floor--I am usually huffing and puffing by the time I hit that final stair.

Now before we become too pessimistic in our blog, just remember that you were born to die, but until then delay, delay, delay. In the process you may pull, sprain, tweak and God knows what else!

BP