Category Archives: Friends

Spinoza and Me

Fall                                                                                         New (Falling Leaves) Moon

The card gods were good to me tonight. Until I took over and started getting frisky. I tried to make a hand work where the force was not with me. Still, a good night with plenty of good conversation with men I’ve come to know well.

Bill Schmidt and I had dinner at Pad Thai, as we have for many of the evenings before the game. Bill’s reading a book about Spinoza and one by Spinoza. Spinoza’s an interesting guy in many ways. An apostate Jew. A monist, which is a hard position to defend. An optics maker, a lens grinder by trade.

Bill linked Spinoza’s work and mine, generous of him to think of the two of us in anyway linked. But the connection is fair, I think. When I left the Christian faith behind, I left behind a medieval approach to questions of metaphysics. That approach is text based rather than experience based. In the Christian instance experience is viewed first through the lens of scripture, and through the particular interpretative schema you bring to it. So by the time you get to reality, the gap is already pretty wide.

Christians are not the only ones with this inclination: Islam, Judaism, but, too, as the scholar Bill read points out, anyone who reads the texts of another as the first line of inquiry when faced with philosophical or theological or political or ethical questions.

Where Spinoza and I come together is in having rejected that text based, medieval model of scholarly inquiry. We both turn instead to nature, to lived experience, so the mediation is left to the senses rather than texts. This makes for a different sort of thought, with very different evidence for what we believe is the case.

Spinoza takes his inquiry deep into the nature of nature, building his thought systematically. I’ve never been able to hold myself to one line of inquiry long enough to work systematically, but I have had insights recently that seem to follow some of Spinoza’s. For example, in thinking just yesterday and today about the nature of political commitment, I’ve come to realize that ethics and political thought come after our political values, rather than from them deductively.

What I mean is that what you feel is fair, just, equitable, decent, honest, valuable for yourself and your community, comes first, informed by any of a number of inputs from personal history to family imprint to community of identification and place and era of birth. Only later do we seek out socialism or compassionate conservatism or democracy or autocracy as more systematic elaborations of our apriori sensibilities. We may then use them to enhance or inform nuances of our political beliefs, but they do not create them.

I’ll stop here with this thought. This is why political debate does so little to change minds and hearts.

Live Dangerously

Lughnasa                                                                      College Moon

A friend told me this quote from Nietzsche has been clanging around:  “The secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and greatest enjoyment is — to live dangerously”. Wondering about context, I located the source, Nietzsche’s book on poetic inspiration, The Gay Science, specifically, section 283.

These lines follow the quote: “Build your cities on the slope of Vesuvius!  Send your ships into unexplored seas!  Live in war with your equals and with yourselves!  Be robbers and spoilers, you knowing ones, as long as you cannot be rulers and possessors!  The time will soon pass when you can be satisfied to live like timorous deer concealed in the forests.  Knowledge will finally stretch out her hand for that which belongs to her: she means to rule and possess, and you with her!”

It was in The Gay Science that the following claim appeared for the first time.  It would make Nietzsche famous and/or infamous 84 years later when Time magazine ran its cover querying the death of god:

After Buddha was dead, people
showed his shadow for centuries afterwards in a
cave,—an immense frightful shadow. God is dead:
but as the human race is constituted, there will
perhaps be caves for millenniums yet, in which
people will show his shadow.—And we—we have
still to overcome his shadow!  —§108

We have lived into that dangerous time which Nietzsche prophesied, when there are those whose knowledge includes the death of the transcendental, but whose lives are under attack by those still living in the caves where the shadow of God persists.

One response to the rising tide of Islamist fundamentalism, of Hindu fundamentalism, to the now receding tide of Christian fundamentalism in the U.S. and to the various nationalisms and xenophobias which mimic them is to follow these folks back into their caves where homosexuality is wrong, where men are right, women subservient and the unbeliever not only heretic but apostate and worthy of death. Where the U.S. is exceptional and for whites only.

But that is not the way to a fruitful and satisfying life. That way lies in continued resistance to the cave dwellers and in continual fealty to knowledge wherever it may take us, no matter how risky, no matter how dangerous.

How Can We Live Until We Die?

Lughnasa                                                                    College Moon

After taking a rug into American Rug Laundry in Minneapolis, I drove back through the campus of the University of Minnesota. It was move in day. Trucks with back doors thrown open, mattresses being handled through door-ways.  Clutches of stunned looking freshmen, on campus and on their own, gathered at street lights. Now what?

It felt good to see that moment, relive my own and feel renewed as a cultural ritual continues, looking much the same as when I did it myself back in 1965.

That was the morning. In the late afternoon I drove over to Maple Grove, to Biaggi’s and met Tom Crane, Bill Schmidt and Warren Wolfe for our Woolly first Monday restaurant meal.

Warren closed on the sale of his second house in Minnesota last Friday and was in a celebratory mood. Bill had come from playing cards with friends, happy to be. Tom had an off work weekend beard and spoke of cleaning the garage floor in anticipation of guests soon to arrive.

The ease of our conversation, the common reference points, so many now, was in its fluidity, healing. (not, I should say, from recent pain or anguish, but from the deeper burden of life lived fundamentally alone) Seeing and being seen is the essence of human interaction yet it is so often blurred by wanting something from the other, or anticipating something else. This evening, as so often with the Woollys (though not always), we were with each other, there, at that table.

One profound question arose, how can we live until we die? This dips into the existential reality of bodies going infirm-Warren and I have glaucoma, Tom’s thumb, Frank’s heart and back, Ode’s knee. It also, and I think more profoundly, raises the question of self-hood, of what makes us who we are. What is necessary? Is walking necessary? Sight? The lack of serious, even terminal illness? What is indispensable?

Perhaps a clue came to us in the person of Cheryl, our waitress. When she drove north from Santa Rosa to San Francisco to see her father, she would drive through Gilroy, the garlic capital of the U.S. She wound crank her windows down and enjoy the aroma. Some of her friends thought her eccentric. No, she was Cheryl, taking in what she could as she had the opportunity.

That is, I would guess, a secret to living until we die.

 

Breakfast

Lughnasa                                                             Lughnasa Moon

Breakfast with friend and Woolly Mark Odegard. While waiting for him at Keys (I was early.), I noticed many pairs sitting in booths, usually two women across from each other, but men, too. 8:30 on a weekday. Friends having breakfast, I imagined. It was good to see human connection, thriving.

Mark’s back from Voyageur’s National Park and a houseboat week on Rainy Lake. He’s also reproducing one of his visual journals, his idiosyncratic artform, for folks he and Elizabeth house sat for last January. Mark’s always got one design project or another underway or about to be underway.

Lunch with Margaret, then breakfast with Mark. A busy social calendar in my world. And the potential for even this many times with friends will diminish after the move. I’ll have to get at something out there.

 

Art

Lughnasa                                                               Lughnasa Moon

Lunch with Margaret Levin and her year old son, Art, today. Art spent the lunch talking in his way, waiting politely for us to say something, then adding his own thoughts. Of course, his thoughts came out in a language too advanced for adults to understand and I could the occasional wave of frustration cross his brow as he explained and explained.

When not conversing, he engaged the perennial favorite activity of children who can now move, find the electrical outlet. He was very happy to discover a power strip not far from our booth. So happy that when returned to the booth and set down, he promptly found it again.

Margaret’s a working mom, directing the Northstar Chapter of the Sierra Club. She’s a friend and I count myself lucky to know her.

 

Progress

Lughnasa                                                                Lughnasa Moon

I’ve made substantial progress on the garden study. Two bookshelves empty, the other sorted and now awaiting only a new round of boxes from G-will Liquors. One file cabinet liquor boxesis empty, too, as are most of the other pieces of furniture in the room. What remains are two full drawers of a four drawer horizontal file cabinet and part of the third, though the files in that drawer will go in the trash, so no decisions to be made.

It’s the decisions that slow me down. And the memories. And sometimes the memories make the decisions hard. Sometimes not. I found a young picture of Jon from a camping trip he and I took about ten years ago. Bridget, Emma’s sister, and given to Jon as a companion when he lived alone, stood there healthy and alert, a beauty. The pictures all stayed, of course. In other cases I found old copies of colonoscopy prep instructions. Out. Ah, the memories those invoked.

Tomorrow I have to review my Latin for a Friday session with Greg. On Thursday I have lunch with Margaret and Justin from the Sierra Club. On Friday, breakfast with Mark before my time with Greg.

This means I probably won’t finish the study until the weekend. Later than I wanted, but not by much. After that, a rest and then I’ll tackle the main event. Editing my life’s ambitions down to a size befitting the time and energy that remains. Believe it or not, I look forward to it.

Thanks

Summer                                                           Most Heat Moon

Dinner at Blue Point in Wayzata with Tom and Roxann Crane. A wonderful salmon from the Kenai River in Alaska. I saw bears competing with fisherfolk for the catch. It was on a bed of tomatoes and other vegetables, just right.

(Kenai River is on the Kenai Peninsula)

We had the organ recital with Tom’s thumb well on the mend, now castless, but still somewhat swollen. He says the surgery was a success though the docs say some healing is going on for up to a year. Knee surgery, back surgery, shoulder ailments, pulmonary hypertension and then we moved on to other things.

Tom and Roxann were in northern Georgia over the 4th of July with their grandkids, finding time to get to Lookout Mountain in Chattanooga. We talked about grandkids, too, how wonderful and loving they are. It is that time of life.

The Bluepoint, if you get to Wayzata, does seafood well. Thanks, Tom and Roxann.

Amicus

Summer                                                                        Most Heat Moon

While the Olson generations have driven north to the world’s largest lake (by area), I remained behind for my regular session with Latin tutor Greg and lunch with friend Tom Crane.

When I work with Greg now, I sequence out loud the Latin words in the order in which I will translate them into English, then offer my translation. Since so much of my work has involved either Greg’s question and my answers or my translating then listening to Greg’s careful parsing of the grammar, silence confuses me.

Today had lots of silence. It turns out that means he’s translating along with me, waiting for me to go on. Silence, in other words, is good. To get to this level of translating still takes a long time for me. I translate the verses, 4-6 in a typical one hour to one and a half hour session. This involves consulting the online classics website, Perseus, the commentaries by Anderson and Lee, and occasionally checking an English translation if I’m hopelessly confused.

After I’ve done a bunch, maybe 50 or 60 or so, I’ll go back over them, making sure the declension and conjugation notes I’ve written down are accurate and making sure as well that the word I’ve chosen is written over its Latin counterpart. I might be done then, at least for awhile. If, however, there is some time before I have a session with Greg, I may go over them again, writing out a new translation as I read, not consulting my previous work.

When I get down to the serious work here, I imagine the process proceeding much the same.  It would differ at the point of my session with Greg. Then I will go through the verses I’m working with and try to create as beautiful an English translation as I can. When I feel I’ve done my best, then I will review other translator’s work on the same passages. At that point I’ll revise again, or not.

I may be at that point this fall. I’m very close right now.

Lunch with Tom is about friendship, about that ineffable, yet essential quality of being known by another and, in turn, knowing. The topics don’t matter, though they do, of course. Today it was grandchildren, visits, friends and, as you might expect, the sixth great extinction on planet Earth.

On this last point Tom and I share a desire to grasp the dilemmas facing the human race right now in fine detail, but also in the larger, broader scope of planetary evolution.  I think we agree on this perspective, being human is natural and the things we do as human are, therefore, natural. That’s not to say they don’t have unintended consequences. Nor does it mean that we have to lie down and say, we can’t do anything about that!

Not at all. But flagellation gets us no where.

 

Right Now

Summer                                                               Most Heat Moon

My favorite subscription e-mail is brain pickings. The creator and writer, Maria Popova,crane engineering generates it through intense reading and intelligent choice of materials. Last year she wrote an essay outlining 7 things she’s learned in the 7 years of writing brain pickings. You can find the whole essay on her website, but I wanted to focus on one in particular because it reminds me of a lesson I’m learning from my friend, Tom Crane.

Being present, how he shows up in the moment, from moment to moment, is his top priority. I don’t know whether he would counterpoise it to productivity as Popova does here, but his business success in forensic engineering certainly suggests he’s no stranger to productivity. He is clear that he does not want to be measured by his efficiency, earnings or his ability to do this or that. Which is saying something since his company is very well-regarded, growing and prosperous.

Here’s Popova:

  1. Presence is far more intricate and rewarding an art than productivity. Ours is a culture that measures our worth as human beings by our efficiency, our earnings, our ability to perform this or that. The cult of productivity has its place, but worshiping at its altar daily robs us of the very capacity for joy and wonder that makes life worth living — for, as Annie Dillard memorably put it, “how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

And a bit more from an interview with a talented writer/observer:

“I think productivity, as we define it, is flawed to begin with, because it equates a process with a product. So, our purpose is to produce — as opposed to, our purpose is to understand and have the byproduct of that understanding be the “product.” For me, I read, and I hunger to know… I record, around that, my experience of understanding the world and understanding what it means to live a good life, to live a full life. Anything that I write is a byproduct of that — but that’s not the objective. So, even if it may have the appearance of “producing” something on a regular basis, it’s really about taking in, and what I put out is just … the byproduct.”

The moment and our questing in that moment for connection, for understanding, for clear seeing is all we have. Ever. Placing the moment and our immersion in it first swings us out of the past or the future, if we’re tempted to sojourn there, and back to the now.

I like Tom’s insistence on showing up and Popova’s emphasis on understanding as our purpose, and productivity as a byproduct of that process. When at a farmer’s market, it would be understandable to see the fruits and vegetables as a product of gardening, but in fact they are the byproduct of a person in love with the soil, with plants, with the changing seasons and the interplay of wind and rain and sun.

The main dilemmas of our current approach to agriculture can be tied to productivity oriented thinking.  This way sees the fruits and the vegetables and the grains and the meats and dairy as the product of farming rather than its byproduct. What I mean is this, when we love the world in which we live, when we treat it with care and thoughtfulness, when we understand our needs and its needs, the world will produce what is necessary for our existence. That’s been the successful ongoing contract between living beings and the natural world of which they are apart since the first one-celled organism began to wiggle and move. It is no different today.

That’s what I understand right now.

Young

Beltane                                                               Summer Moon

How do they get so young? Had my meeting with the organizer for the Franken campaign. She graduated this spring from American University. 20 years old if that. She wanted to know how I got involved in politics. So I told her my story, watching the Stevenson-Eisenhower returns in 1952. She was born in 1994 or 1993. The time difference would be the same for me for an event in 1906/1907. Hmmm.

We chatted for about 45 minutes. She was energetic, hopeful, trying to be realistic and tough, yet still eager. A hard combination to pull off. She’ll get there though, I imagine.

The interaction taught me something. Probably something I’ve learned several times, but I’m learning it again. It was fun and revitalizing to meet someone new, to talk about stuff I care about, to get out of the house in the evening.

One real downside of living up here all these years, with few places where folks just go to hangout (none, really) and with no folks to go hangout with anyhow, is the tendency to get in a rut. Stay home, watch tv in the evening. I love Kate and watching tv, winding down in the evening, is a pleasant and even important part of our time together. Our lives during the day have the garden or sewing or writing or Latin or the dogs, never boring, fulfilling.

But. What I’m reminded of is the need to engage others, new folks, on a regular basis. When we move to Colorado, I’ll see to it. Politics. Art. Gardening. It does highlight a criteria for our new home (a favorite parlor game for us these days. Oh, and it should have…) I came up with a couple of weeks ago. A community where we want to be.

Andover’s not bad, it’s just not much at all. And politically it’s very conservative. Political leanings are not everything, of course not, but they do speak to a wider range of compatibility and I’d like to have at least some of that where we live next.