Below you’ll find the summary and a few blurbs: Continue reading
One year on Earth (365 days) is four years on Mercury. Mercury revolves around the sun relatively quickly: once every eighty-eight Earth days. While the years are relatively short on Mercury, the days are long—twice as long. One day on Mercury takes two years on Mercury, which is to say, it takes two solar revolutions of the planet for it to rotate fully on its axis (in Earth terms: imagine the sun rising in June, reaching its noontime zenith in January, approaching dusk the following summer, and approaching midnight the following January). In the last ten years, twenty days have transpired on Mercury.
I found some old notes of mine (perhaps even “notes” is too emphatic a word), which were written in this month ten years ago. They are clearly under the spell of Mercury, or in Greek terms, Hermes. I was quite taken with hermeneutics, particularly through the inflection of a Heideggerian-Aristotelian poetic philosophy. I was interested in a hermeneutic radicalization of hermetic philosophy (not unlike Jeff Kripal’s mystical hermeneutics or Jack Caputo’s devilish hermeneutics). Along with hermeneutics, I was also exploring the Merleau-Ponty/Whitehead alliance, anticipating current trends in hybridizing phenomenological and process thought, such as the “Whiteheadian key” to Merleau-Ponty’s ontology that Hamrick and Van Der Veken articulate (see Nature and Logos). I can also see the beginnings of my ongoing work with a philosophical concept of sense. With no further introduction or commentary, no apologia or proslogion, here’s a sample of what I was writing twenty mercurial days ago. Continue reading
I attended the recent conference of the International Big History Association. The association is oriented toward researching and teaching “Big History,” which aims (as their website says) to “understand the integrated history of the Cosmos, Earth, Life, and Humanity,” specifically by means of “the best available empirical evidence and scholarly methods.” That opens up the field of history into a comprehensive and cross-disciplinary account of the entire 13.8 billion year history of our universe.
Big History is far from alone in its aim to articulate an integrated and evolutionary vision of matter, life, and humanity. Multiple scholarly fields and schools of thought share the integrative aims of Big History (e.g., the universe story, the field of religion and ecology, integral theory, ecofeminism, complexity theory, posthumanities, process philosophy). Big historians still have much to learn from those and other integrative and transdisciplinary sources of evolutionary knowledge. Continue reading
Thinking of philosophy as resistance, one might think first of the philosophical activities of Marxists, feminists, and environmentalists. I would add process philosophers to that list. For Bergson, for instance, philosophizing is a violent inversion of the status quo.
The mind has to do violence to itself, has to reverse the direction of the operation by which it habitually thinks, has perpetually to revise, or rather recast, all its categories. But in this way it will attain to fluid concepts, capable of following reality in all its sinuosities and of adopting the very movement of the inward life of things. Only thus will a progressive philosophy be built up, freed from the disputes which arise between the various schools, and able to solve its problems naturally, because it will be released from the artificial expression in terms of which such problems are posited. To philosophize, therefore, is to invert the habitual direction of the work of thought. (Bergson, An Introduction to Metaphysics [trans. T. E. Hulme. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1912], p. 51).
That’s not very different from Whitehead’s claim that philosophy “reverses the slow descent of accepted thought towards the inactive commonplace” (Modes of Thought, p. 174). The question I’m left with is to what extent Bergson and Whitehead can facilitate resistance to a particularly obstinate habit that pervades late modernity: the enclosure of the commons (the becoming-inactive of the commonplace). For Bergson, resistance to enclosures might have something to do with love, reminiscent of his famous saying, “The motive power of democracy is love.” In Whitehead, maybe the notion of conformation provides a sense of the commons. Consider a few quotes from Process and Reality:
The philosophy of organism holds that, in order to understand “power,” we must have a correct notion of how each individual actual entity contributes to the datum from which its successors arise and to which they must conform. (p. 56)
The pragmatic use of the actual entity, constituting its static life, lies in the future. The creature perishes and is immortal. The actual entities beyond it can say, “It is mine.” But the possession imposes conformation. (p. 82)
..and from Symbolism: Its Meaning and Effect, “Time in the concrete is the conformation of state to state” (35).
Some discussion of the DeleuzoGuattarian concepts of Hardt/Negri would help elaborate on the role of process thought in resisting enclosures and recuperating the commons, as would a discussion of Anne Pomeroy’s work on Marx and Whitehead and the anthology Bergson, Politics, and Religion, edited by Alexandre Lefebvre and Melanie White. I’ll have more to say about this later. In the meantime, I’m enjoying the essays in The Wealth of the Commons, edited by two wonderful defenders of the commons, David Bollier and Silke Helfrich.
I was recently joking about the use of a “turn” to describe theoretical movements or epochs, like the linguistic turn and the more recent ontological turn. I was happy to find Derrida articulating the same point as my hokey-pokey joke: the point is to question the very idea that we (who? humans? animals? beings?) are beings that can define and situate ourselves in a “turn” or some such epochal shift or historical mutation.
I would therefore hesitate just as much to say that we are living through a historical turning point. The figure of the turning point implies a rupture or an instantaneous mutation whose model or figure remains, precisely, to be questioned. As for history, historicity, even historicality, those motifs belonging precisely—as we shall see in detail—to this auto-definition, this auto-apprehension, this auto-situation of man or of the human Dasein as regards what is living and animal life; they belong to this auto-biography of man, which I wish to call into question today. (Jacques Derrida, The Animal That Therefore I Am, p. 24)
Geography and the Earth sciences, if they are to truly account for Earth, must study intimacy. I would argue that intimacy has something to do with roundness….curves.
What is needed is geography as an intimate study. Just as there is an affection between animals and humans, so there is an affection that passes between the region and human appreciation. Nothing escapes the role of intimacy. There is such a thing as considering the curvature of space as an intimacy of the universe with every being in the universe. So with the bioregion, there is an intimacy that brings to fulfillment both the region and its human presence. The region responds to the attention it receives from the various members of the community.
~Thomas Berry, The Great Work.
Because the world is round it turns me on.
~The Beatles, “Because.”
Every being seems in itself round. [Jedes Dasein scheint in sich rund.]
~Karl Jaspers, Von der Wahrheit.
What’s with all the philosophical hokey-pokey? I hear a lot about putting some things in and taking some things out and turning around, so much turning around. How many turns have there been in the last hundred years? Remember the linguistic turn in philosophy? Then Habermas argued for some kind of pragmatic turn. In the philosophy of religion a few folks tried to initiate a participatory turn, and of course, the ontological turn has been getting some attention lately. Has anybody really thought through all of this turning? Is the turning trope a handy substitute for thinking? Is the philosophical tradition a boat that needs to be turned around lest it shipwreck on the shores of existence? I would prefer the shipwreck. Is it a game where everybody gets to take a turn so that nobody feels left out? I’m not sure if such a game is worth playing. As everybody is taking their turn, how many realize that they are under the spell of Heidegger’s Kehre? Among so much hokey-pokey, Heidegger was the only one to turn to the turning of the turn, like an existential DJ spinning on the turntables of Being.