Back to school
E and I were speaking today of how, when going back through writings of years ago, it feels like we're reading someone else's work -- and that someone else is a silly, silly girl. I usually try to avoid it altogether, as it makes me cringe, but tonight I had the stomach for it. In a lot ways, I haven't changed drastically as much as I have become healthier in the past four years.
From 2002: "I don't *love* my work, but it provides me with interesting characters, instances that spark thought -- inspiration. It doesn't kill everything I have in me, physically, mentally, and emotionally the way that school does."
Well, now I know that school did that to me because I was so consumed by guilt for not giving it my all, and by guilt for wanting to give my all to a system that was designed by someone else and intrinsically flawed in the larger scheme of truly attaining and applying knowledge in any worthwhile manner. How could those dueling ideas, constantly firing against each other, not completely destroy everything that their ricocheting bullets pierced? False dichotomies are like that. *smile* And, as worshipful of Rand as I was at that point, I had a habit of creating them everywhere I went, in the name of seeing things rationally, in black and white. Now, I've come to see that practice as largely irrational. The world doesn't exist in black and white, nor does it exist in shades of gray. It exists in brilliant, vivacious, and scintillating color. I find it ridiculous to pretend otherwise.
I still think academia is flawed, mind you, and now I can articulate it without sounding like a raving lunatic. I actually typed "raving academic" the first time out, and that's about right -- the formal study of anything, by neccessity, creates barriers (which are kin to false dichotmies). It's simply not efficacious to try to learn anything, much less everything, about the world in one gulp -- anyone who tries chokes to death. But those barriers are only there as say, scaffolding around a building -- they aren't meant to be permanent, and they certainly aren't meant to become walls. Academia, too often makes walls where, in fact, the scaffolding should be torn down. Thusly, I learn what I can using their structure to climb on ... and tear it down once I'm done.
From 2002: "I don't *love* my work, but it provides me with interesting characters, instances that spark thought -- inspiration. It doesn't kill everything I have in me, physically, mentally, and emotionally the way that school does."
Well, now I know that school did that to me because I was so consumed by guilt for not giving it my all, and by guilt for wanting to give my all to a system that was designed by someone else and intrinsically flawed in the larger scheme of truly attaining and applying knowledge in any worthwhile manner. How could those dueling ideas, constantly firing against each other, not completely destroy everything that their ricocheting bullets pierced? False dichotomies are like that. *smile* And, as worshipful of Rand as I was at that point, I had a habit of creating them everywhere I went, in the name of seeing things rationally, in black and white. Now, I've come to see that practice as largely irrational. The world doesn't exist in black and white, nor does it exist in shades of gray. It exists in brilliant, vivacious, and scintillating color. I find it ridiculous to pretend otherwise.
I still think academia is flawed, mind you, and now I can articulate it without sounding like a raving lunatic. I actually typed "raving academic" the first time out, and that's about right -- the formal study of anything, by neccessity, creates barriers (which are kin to false dichotmies). It's simply not efficacious to try to learn anything, much less everything, about the world in one gulp -- anyone who tries chokes to death. But those barriers are only there as say, scaffolding around a building -- they aren't meant to be permanent, and they certainly aren't meant to become walls. Academia, too often makes walls where, in fact, the scaffolding should be torn down. Thusly, I learn what I can using their structure to climb on ... and tear it down once I'm done.
posted by Beth | 6:39 AM
1 Comments:
The trick is to try to learn only what you can while you can, rather than everything you can all at once. Recognize limitations, even if you don't know exactly what they are, and respect them.
This mode of thought is very similar to a motto (or idea) to which I subscribe: I may not know every reason, but I know everything has a reason, and that's good enough for me.
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