Wonder is commonly perceived as akin to curiosity, as stimulating inquiry, and as something that enhances pleasure in learning, but there are many experiences of wonder that have a less obvious place in education. In Wonder and Education, Anders Schinkel theorises a kind of wonder which he calls 'contemplative wonder'. Contemplative wonder opens up space for the consideration of (radical) alternatives wherever it occurs, and in many cases is linked with deep experiences (...) of value; therefore, it is not just important for education in general, but also, more specifically, for moral and political education. (shrink)

Awe and wonder are theorised to be distinct from other positive emotions, such as happiness. Yet little empirical or theoretical work has focused on these emotions. This investigation explored differences in language used to describe experiences of awe and wonder. Such analyses can provide insight into how people conceptualise these emotional experiences, and whether they conceptualise these emotions to be distinct from other positive emotions, and each other. Participants wrote narratives about experiences of awe, wonder and happiness. (...) There were differences in the language used to describe these positive emotional states, consistent with the theorised functions of each emotion. Awe was related to observing the world, reflected in greater use of perception words. Wonder was related to trying to understand the world, reflected in greater use of cognitive complexity and tentative words. Language use for both emotions reflected an environmental focus, whereas language use for happiness reflected a social/relationship focus. (shrink)

Wonder is a root of the religious experience, and the desire to understand drives science. If wonder and understanding are fundamentally opposed, religion and science will be also. But only if wonder is limited to the contemplation of magic or mysteries is religion in principle opposed to science. The aim of science is to explain how something is possible. Understanding how something is possible need not destroy our wonder at it. Recent scientific theories of the human (...) mind—albeit based in computer technology—increase our wonder at its richness and power. (shrink)

That wonder is educationally important will strike many people as obvious. And in a way it is obvious, because being capable of experiencing wonder implies an openness to experience and seems naturally allied to intrinsic educational motivation, an eagerness to inquire, a desire to understand, and also to a willingness to suspend judgement and bracket existing—potentially limiting—ways of thinking, seeing, and categorising. Yet wonder is not a single thing, and it is important to distinguish at least two (...) kinds of wonder: active wonder, which entails a drive to explore, to find out, to explain; and deep or contemplative wonder, which is not inherently inquisitive like active wonder and, as a response to mystery, may leave us lost for words. Claims for wonder's importance to education and science often do not distinguish between the two, but whereas for active wonder that importance seems obvious, this is much less so for deep wonder, which by its very nature rather seems to be anti-educational. Yet in this paper I explore exactly the educational importance of deep wonder. This importance is found to lie, not just in its motivational effects—real though they are—but in making us attend to the world for its own sake, and making us aware of the limits of our understanding. (shrink)

That wonder is educationally important will strike many people as obvious. And in a way it is obvious, because being capable of experiencing wonder implies an openness to experience and seems naturally allied to intrinsic educational motivation, an eagerness to inquire, a desire to understand, and also to a willingness to suspend judgement and bracket existing—potentially limiting—ways of thinking, seeing, and categorising. Yet wonder is not a single thing, and it is important to distinguish at least two (...) kinds of wonder: active wonder, which entails a drive to explore, to find out, to explain; and deep or contemplative wonder, which is not inherently inquisitive like active wonder and, as a response to mystery, may leave us lost for words. Claims for wonder's importance to education and science often do not distinguish between the two, but whereas for active wonder that importance seems obvious, this is much less so for deep wonder, which by its very nature rather seems to be anti-educational. Yet in this paper I explore exactly the educational importance of deep wonder. This importance is found to lie, not just in its motivational effects—real though they are—but in making us attend to the world for its own sake, and making us aware of the limits of our understanding. (shrink)

ABSTRACT Is a scientific attitude to the natural world an obstacle to an appreciation of its value? This paper argues that it is not. Following Aristotle and Marx, it maintains that, properly pursued, science has value because it enables us to contemplate that which is wonderful and beautiful. However, the paper concedes that, as actually practised, science can foster a vice described by Augustine as ‘the lust of the eyes’: knowledge is sought not to open us to the world, but (...) merely to satisfy the itch of curiosity. If scientific knowledge is thus pursued, no limits to the means to it nor to its objects are recognised. Those who thus seek knowledge fail to understand its value. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:This essay considers hagiography as a spatial-theological genre emerging, so to speak, from the crypts of Christian martyrs where liturgical celebrations commemorate their paradoxical witness to the Paschal mystery, whereby the faithful gain eternal life through temporal death. Later the virtues and miracles of holy men and women, such as ascetics, bishops, mystics and founders of religious communities, are recounted in vitae intended for liturgical offices and contemplative (...) reflection. The relics of these saints are a site for the construction of religious identity and a locus of pilgrimage, as the faithful gather in the churches where the bodily remains are located. Often miracle accounts, collected soon after the death of the saint, are accompanied by miracles at the tomb thereby initiating or furthering the process of veneration and canonization, whence the relics are subsequently transferred to a prominent place within the church, such as the area near the altar. Miracle stories are a constant in liturgical legends, and the vitae of Saint Francis are no exception.In the case of Francis of Assisi, canonization and construction are contemporaneous, since Thomas of Celano's official legend, the Life of Saint Francis, is presented during the initial building phase of the sepulcher basilica. The Paschal paradox of the miraculous, evident in the spatial localization of transcendent power, informs Celano's hagiographical account of miracles in his first text, as well as in the later Legend for Use in the Choir, the Remembrance of the Desire of the Soul, and the Treatise on Miracles. Bonaventure's subsequent conceptualization of Francis's dream body in the Journey of the Soul into God and literary reorganization of the miracle stories in the Major Life, and the absence of Francis's reliquary remains in the Minor Life, dislodges the miraculous from sepulchral stone and regional locales into textual space, which is located in a narrative history but freed from the spatial constraints of ecclesial edifices and geographical locations. As a result, the thaumaturgical founder of Celano's narratives, whose wonders in life and death find a spatial locus in Italy and, particularly, at the basilica tomb, is replaced by the stigmatized Francis. He is the central miracle of Bonaventure's narratives, and readily present anywhere – albeit mediated by the General Minister's own memory – in prayer. This essay posits that this "transitus" of Francis from miracle worker to abiding miracle, especially noticeable in Celano's Legend for Use in the Choir and Bonaventure's Minor Life, is best understood when the performative nature of liturgical legends in sacred space is recognized.1. Choir Legends, Sacred Space and Performative IdentityChoir legends are primarily conceived, composed, and received as spatial texts, ritually performed in a designated sacred space and season. Their ritual context is the Liturgy of the Hours, where believers enter into a dialogical exchange with the divine, grounded in the paradox of the Paschal mystery. Choir legends are unique witnesses to a particular communal image of a saint, whose life of virtue and miraculous deeds is recounted within the dynamics of liturgical prayer and the dominant cultic-cultural identity. Given their essential status within worship, these biographical texts assume a level of iconicity not shared by non-liturgical documents. Specifically intended for communal contemplation and not the promulgation of the saint's cult throughout the universal church, choir legends are similar to opaque windows opening inward on a secluded courtyard of those gathered to recount their family story. While the narrative is accessible to all those who gaze through the aperture and listen attentively, the locus of intent is within the religious community. When the community members – or at least influential leaders – no longer espouse this "prayed" likeness of their father or mother figure, a new image may be constructed, and the previous choir legend is supplanted or even suppressed by another legend that reflects the revised cultural-theological identity. Evidence of this process is found among second.. (shrink)

In this paper, I aim to clarify the role of ‘wonder’ in education. Most of us who work in education want to provide valuable experiences for our students, and we want them to be driven by intrinsic values such as truth and recognition of the dignity of human existence. However, whilst I echo many of the sentiments espoused by advocates of the utility and ethical significance of wonder, I contend that some recent developments—and in particular, Schinkel’s argument that (...) ‘deep’ (‘contemplative’ or ‘cosmic’) wonder has a ‘fundamental’ role in education—are misconceived. This is, I argue, because any concept deployable within educational spaces (whether formal or informal) must pay due regard to the conceptual constraints of the concept of ‘education’; that is, attention must be paid to the role of ‘learning’. Schinkel’s proposals are, I suggest, vulnerable to a critique of sentimentalism and excessive romanticism. As such, they offer little in terms of practical import for educators. As I will propose, if we are to take ‘wonder’ seriously in educational contexts, we must pay attention to the purpose of wonder as an epistemic emotion; namely, aiming for knowledge and understanding, and getting there requires sensitivity to practical know-how and conceptual competence. (shrink)

What emerges as the overarching theme in the extensive work of the Dutch philosopher Cornelis Verhoeven is our relationship to reality. Being appealed to by thousands of things in our existence makes us realize that we cannot avoid reality. The most meaningful forms of reality are symbols, which lead us, through radical astonishment and contemplation to the metaphysical insight that something exists rather than nothing. This renders Verhoeven sceptical as the weakness of our ability to know and understand hampers our (...) vision of hard reality, and also ironical because so many forms of speaking and writing display a reality which is being taken for granted. Thinking symbolically, metaphysical reflection and scepsis towards thoughdess assumptions are the instruments of a contemplation which, in Verhoeven's work, leave room for the lyrical prevalence of reality. In his later writings he gradually and more insistently draws attention to the theme of truth, while at the same time not denying our epistemological incapacity towards understanding and explaining reality. (shrink)

Sixteenth‐century Germany witnessed a tremendous flourishing of vernacular literature. An unprecedented number and variety of texts were produced for new groups of readers. This essay analyzes one underexplored genre of this vernacular literature: texts on the natural world. Numerous books on animals, plants, minerals, and natural marvels rolled off the German presses in this period, indicating a widespread curiosity about the natural world. These texts give valuable insight into the views of nature available to a broad lay audience, literate in (...) German but not necessarily in Latin. They reveal a pervasive sense of nature as divinely created and a deep conviction that contemplation of the natural world would lead to greater piety. The divine and the mundane were thoroughly intertwined in vernacular natural histories. While other historians of science have seen the sixteenth century as a period of increasingly secular ways of thinking about nature, I argue for the persistence, and even the intensification, of profoundly religious attitudes toward the natural world. (shrink)

Ian Normile begins this study from the premise that critical thinking is often conceptualized and practiced in problematically narrow and instrumentalized ways. Following Ronald Barnett, he suggests that the idea of critical being can help expand the theory and practice of critical thinking to better meet the needs of education and society. Essential to this effort is greater consideration of how critical thinking articulates with other aspects of being. Normile uses two examples of “non-critical” experiences that he argues can help (...) critical thinking expand into critical being. First, he explores the emotive power of wonder as a source of inspiration and emotional education, and as an essential aspect of critical thinking. He then argues that curiosity, wonder, contemplation, and critical thinking are complementary aspects of critical being. The second example is the Chinese concept of wu-wei, a form of efficacious non-critical action. Normile argues that inevitable breakdowns in wu-wei provide opportunities for critical reflection while the unlearning common to both wonder and wu-wei facilitates receptivity to new perspectives and possibilities beyond the boundaries of the familiar; in this state, one is capable of facilitating the metacritique that is essential to truly transformative critical thinking. Normile concludes with some brief thoughts on implications for practice as a starting point for further inquiry. (shrink)

The argument is developed by drawing on the thought of Søren Kierkegaard, Eric Voegelin, and Bernard Lonergan. Contemplation is possible because the self is constituted by self-presence in its engagement with being. Self-presence does not precede one’s engagement with being and is not an alternative to this engagement, but is the unique mode of human participation in being. Immersed in the frenetic give and take of the world, one is present to oneself. Self-presence also includes the unique quality of human (...) existence in tension between the immanent and transcendent. The contemplative experience is characterized by awe, humility, joy, and mystery. In contemplation, one cedes for a time the practical preoccupations evoked by the pull of immanence and gives way to the questing disposition—what the Greeks called wonder—toward transcendence. Contemplation is the questing disposition of self-presence toward being. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:I Didn’t Like It, but I Recommend It: An Undergraduate Reflects on Contemplation in the ClassroomLauren RodgersWhile taking Introduction to World Religions as a first-year college student, I became acutely aware that my preconceived notions about religions were often wrong, and I had been oblivious to the diversity and complexity of the traditions I began to study. During subsequent semesters, I studied Judaism, Islam, and Hinduism, and during the (...) spring semester of my junior year I was happy to add Buddhism to my schedule. In that class, I not only examined manifold Buddhist teachings and histories, but engaged in a form of Buddhist practice, too. Four days a week, my fellow students and I arranged our zafus in a straight line, bowed, and adjusted our postures to commence fifteen to twenty minutes of zazen. By the end of the semester, I concluded that although I am very ambivalent about this meditation practice, I nonetheless believe that contemplative practices can be valuable tools in the academic setting.Because we were partaking in a religious practice in an academic setting, there were possibilities for ethical conflicts. My professor raised these and we discussed them several times during the first half of the semester, before we collectively agreed to give zazen a try. The only Buddhist in the room was my professor, so I agree that it was essential for her to stress that zazen was optional, and that if anyone felt uncomfortable in any way, it was okay to opt out. My professor reiterated this several times. I am not a follower of any religious tradition, so I did not have any conflicting feelings. Several of my classmates were Christian, but, like me, most were excited to give it a try. I think there was no sense of conflict because Buddhism involves a lot of practices geared toward developing insight on the basis of experience, and zazen does not require belief in a higher power. Buddhism does acknowledge the existence of gods, but they are irrelevant to the spiritual path. Also, my professor is an ordained Zen priest, and therefore very familiar with zazen. I did not have any doubts that we were taught an authentic practice by someone qualified to teach it.Just as there was no pressure to participate, I did not feel that I was forced to like zazen or hold back any feelings of opposition; I was free to express how I felt and why. At first I did not like it because it hurt my back, and instead of sitting there in pain [End Page 119] every day, I let my professor know and she helped me make some adjustments to my posture. But I disliked meditation for other reasons, as well. I rarely, if ever, was able to stop my mind from being like a monkey on a jungle gym. As we sat, we repeatedly counted to ten and fixed our gaze on a spot in front of us. I was told that it is natural for my mind to bounce around and wander off while counting, but I did not expect it would happen before I got to four. Adding to my frustration was the fact that 70 percent of the time, my thoughts were focused on all of the work that I needed to get done before the end of the day. Even though I only sat for fifteen minutes, I got antsy and staying still was not helpful. It makes me wonder, though, whether or how my feelings would change if I did zazen in the summer when my stress levels are way down. Or what if I meditated for more than fifteen minutes? How long would it take before my mind settled down? Would it get worse?Although my restlessness was not the most pleasant experience, I did have days where I found meditation helpful personally. In addition to zazen, we also tried walking meditation, and on nice days we meditated outside near a waterfall on campus. The sound of the water was really soothing, and I noticed that my mind wandered much less. Sometimes it was a relaxing break during the day, and even if I... (shrink)

Pierre Hadot's analysis of the role of ancient philosophical discourse in the formation of a philosophical self allows us to extend to the interpretation of Aristotle the counter-Heideggerian Platonic hermeneutics of Gadamer, Strauss and Klein. Central to Plato's and Aristotle's rhetorical/pedagogical strategy is the development of the language of theoria to formulate the goal of philosophical formation. ;Traditional meanings of theoria refer to attendance at public festivals and consultation of oracles. Plato first extends its meaning to express the vision of (...) timeless truths. However, he does not give theoria a single meaning intended to express the philosophical experience, but has Socrates employ it dialectically according to the characters and aspirations of diverse interlocutors. ;Aristotle gives the language of theoria a twofold development, systematically forging a language for acts of cognition while also reshaping the objects of his students' aspirations. In the Nicomachean Ethics , he exploits the aristocratic aspiration to preeminence that aims at rule, replacing the statesman with the philosopher as object of emulation. The language of theoria in the final chapters borrows grandeur from the objects that at this point wisdom is said to pursue, the stars and cosmos; as in the Republic, the human mind is said to enjoy godlike theoria. In his natural philosophy, Aristotle shifts the focus from stars to animals; theoria loses the grandeur it had in the Ethics and comes to express the thoughtful observation of the causes of natural phenomena. ;In the Metaphysics, Aristotle makes more explicit the ethics proper to the life of inquiry, based on the radical experience of aporia about the most fundamental questions of being and the shared attempt to formulate these questions and pursue answers within the Lyceum culture. It involves liberation from the admiration accorded the transcendently wise man and delivering oneself to wonder at the most puzzling questions. This dissolution of the emulous relationship between teacher and student entails the creation of a greater distance between human and diving thought; in the theology of Book Lambda, theoria refers only to human thought, which cannot attain the same perfection as divine noesis. (shrink)

In this paper, I explore, as a Christian and a parish pastor, what drew me into the religion‐science dialogue and what keeps me involved. Encounters with nature and readings of evolutionary theory answer some questions and raise others, especially questions about chance and the nature of God. I persist in my quest for understanding because creedal affirmations of God as Creator demand an examination of the relationship between God and the world, and because I want to proclaim the Christian message (...) in a credible way to parishioners raised with a scientific worldview. Along the way I am reaping unexpected spiritual dividends. (shrink)

This analysis holds that just as wisdom is good for its own sake, the effervescent perfuming of aesthetic pleasure in rasa, camatkāra, need not be useful for a goal or purpose. However, there is an intellectual virtue in the act of aestheticizing the affective response of wonder. The “here and now” of the aestheticized emotion of wonder, adbhutarasa, is a moment of focus and attention regained as a logically atemporal, even timeless moment. As the carvaṇā process unfolds, adbhutarasa (...) invites an epistemic agent to give time through focused attention, a contemplative tarrying, or an unhurried attentional prolongation. Looking across Platonic, Cartesian, and Kantian traditions to answer the question of epistemic value in rasa experiences, I argue that an agent is moved, and moves into an evaluative mode through the lenses of the sublime and taste. Renewed vigor to see, feel, and contemplate how things are, thickens epistemic emotions. The agentive freedom of the rasika to affectively resonate with ideas re-cognitively makes adbhuta a vehicle of inquiry like none other. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:“Wide Open to Life”:Thomas Merton’s Dialogue of Contemplative PracticeJudith Simmer-BrownThrough my decades of Tibetan Buddhist practice and interreligious dialogue experience, I have often contemplated an encounter that took place in a bar in the Central Hotel in Calcutta, October 19, 1968. It is the encounter between Thomas Merton in the last year of his life with my Tibetan Buddhist teacher, Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche, early in his teaching career (...) in the West. This encounter has deeply influenced my life of dialogue, for they initiated what I came to understand as a new kind of interreligious dialogue—the dialogue of contemplative practice. It is the kind of dialogue Trungpa introduced to Naropa University in the late 1970s in Merton’s honor, and it has influenced our university ever since.Thomas Merton, Father Louis, was fifty-three years old when stepped off the plane in India for his much-anticipated Asian journey. Excited and jet-lagged, he met the twenty-eight-year-old Tibetan monk Chogyam Trungpa, who had returned to India and Bhutan for a retreat after five years of study at Oxford University and a new venture of teaching dharma to Westerners. Trungpa’s English would have been accented but comprehensible, and his curiosity about Christian monasticism was at its peak. Merton was “coming home” to a place he had never been, visiting Asia to look for true spiritual masters about whom he had read for so many decades. He was later to admit to a special attraction to the Tibetans.On Merton’s first day in India, he and Trungpa found each other over many gin and tonics at the Central Hotel in Calcutta, talking about the contemplative life and its challenges in the twentieth century. It was the first of a number of conversations over the next few months. In his journals Merton commented:the important thing is that we are people who have been waiting to meet for a long time. Chogyam Trungpa is a completely marvelous person. Young, natural, without front or artifice, deep, awake, wise. I am sure we will be seeing a lot more of each other, whether around northern India and Sikkim or in Scotland, where I am now determined to go to see his Tibetan monastery if I can … The newsletter he puts out is good. His own meditations and talks, from what I have seen, are extraordinary.1 [End Page 193]Trungpa had a similar rapport with Merton. In the 1971 edition of his autobiography, he wrote, “Father Merton himself was an open, unguarded, and deep person. During these few days, we spent much time together and grew to like one another immensely. He proposed that we should collaborate on a book bringing together sacred writings of the Catholic and Vajrayana Buddhist traditions.”2 In another reflection, Trungpa commented, “Meeting Thomas Merton was wonderful; he was like a child, and at the same time, he was full of energy and life.”3 Still later, Trungpa was to conclude, “I had the feeling that I was meeting an old friend, a genuine friend … [Father Merton] was the first genuine person I met from the West.”4Later, Trungpa was deeply saddened by Merton’s premature death, feeling he had lost a heart friend, a genuine dialogue partner. Thirteen years later, Trungpa launched a series of seven landmark dialogue conferences at the fledgling university that he had founded, Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado. From the beginning, Trungpa dedicated these gatherings to “Fr. Merton” and said that he sought to cultivate the kind of conversations between genuine contemplatives that he had discovered with Merton. Sister Pascaline Coff, from the Benedictine community of Osage Monastery in Oklahoma, wrote that the inaugural conference was “a major breakthrough in the Christian-Buddhist dialogues.”5 This breakthrough gave impetus to the development of the international Monastic Interreligious Dialogue (DIM in Europe) and other contemporary dialogue developments.6 What kind of dialogue is this, and how did Merton stimulate this movement?I’ve written elsewhere about Merton’s encounter with the Tibetans and their view of him.7 I’ve also described Merton as a Dzogchen yogi, especially in relationship with his contact with Tibetan... (shrink)

The essay focuses on human self-understanding as it arises from out of the experience of nature—the experience of a relatedness to nature that is at once a belonging in nature. At stake, then, is not a conceptual approach to the question of nature but rather the emergence of the human within the embrace of what presents itself as a mystery irreducible to the human, inhuman in the sense of other-than-human. The experience of nature “hiding itself” gave rise to the longing (...) for mastery as well as to a celebration of the mystery in its wonder and beauty. The juxtaposition of Giordano Bruno's cosmological vision and Renaissance painting illuminates this latter perspective, disclosing mystery not so much as that which would lie beyond appearances, but as that which inhabits appearances and in them becomes manifest as such. (shrink)

Like all people, atheists contemplate issues of love, death, and morality, and in times of stress we long for solace and inspiration. A collection of uplifting quotations from some of mankind’s most important philosophers, scientists, writers, and even comedians, THE INSPIRATIONAL ATHEIST will be a treasured daily companion for the growing demographic of humanists who believe that life has meaning when we live it meaningfully, independent of the existence of a higher power. With words from Carl Sagan, D. H. Lawrence, (...) Julia Child, Douglas Adams, Charlotte Bronte, Bertrand Russell, Ralph Waldo Emerson, George Carlin, Joan Didion, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Thomas Jefferson and dozens of others on topics ranging from Love and Nature to Wisdom and Beauty, this book is a celebration of the sublime without the divine. (shrink)

Wonder Woman wields a number of magical Amazonian devices: her bulletproof bracelets, her invisible plane, and most importantly for this chapter, her golden lasso of truth. The first thing to notice about the golden lasso is that evildoers bound by it are not only compelled to tell the truth if and when they answer questions, but also compelled to answer Wonder Woman's questions in the first place. The second thing to notice is that answering truthfully does not, in (...) this context, necessarily mean uttering a true sentence. Rather, if a person is tied up with the golden lasso, then they are compelled to answer questions with what they believe is the truth. The chapter shows the examples that contemplating Wonder Woman's golden lasso, and Bizarra's golden lasso, can provide us with a wealth of interesting and entertaining paradoxes and puzzles. (shrink)

The love of wisdom carries a certain absurdity. What kind of animal falls into a hole while contemplating the sky, or stands outside all night, just thinking? When Plato and Aristotle say that philosophy begins in wonder, it sounds attractive – wonderful even – but it is in those moments of contemplative wonder that the lion snatches us, or someone walks off with our backpack.

Inspired by an ‘apophatic turn’ in theology, philosophy and art, and with insights from existential phenomenology, the article encourages us to step back as actors in order to let life or the phenomenon itself act upon us. This kind of apophatic thinking is not so far away from the thinking of the Norwegian philosopher Olav Eikeland when he describes “Insider and Praxis Action Research”. And yet, the apophatic potentials in his way of understanding action research are here elaborated by pointing (...) to three dimensions: the Knowledge, Being and Mystery dimensions in a praxis, and to the four ways of seeing praxis from within both a “gnoseology” and an “agnoselogy”. The latter being led by a deep sense of wonder followed by what Daoist’s call Wu Wei or “effortless actions”. (shrink)

In this article the author shows the connections between contemplation, miracle and novelty. They are necessary for the constituting of religious experience. The author argues that faith itself, in theological sense, is not determinative for religious experience. It has sense only when it is integrated into contemplation. True religious experience discloses the chain of routine, repetitive everydayness and lets a human being to see the new in the usual. The author maintains that religious experience is based on the art of (...) contemplation which helps a human being to look with wonder. (shrink)

In earlier writings, I have sought to establish a link between Howard Phillips Lovecraft and Romanticism, and this paper adds to that body of work. -/- The essay begins with a preliminary sketch of the use of gardens in Romantic thought and the highlighting of six themes: contemplation, joy, the dramatic, the strange, the foreign, and the beautiful, that all underpins Romanticism. -/- This is followed by an elucidation of Lovecraft’s fascination with gardens, his dealings in Romantic themes, and what (...) role they play in his short 1917 poem “A Garden”. -/- The essay concludes that given Lovecraft’s love of gardens and that his poem “A Garden” is imbued with Romantic themes and involves ‘wondrous contemplation’ and ‘poetic knowledge’, the case for his Romanticism has been strengthened. (shrink)

According to the transcendental Aesthetic of the Critique of pure reason, there are two properties of time that cannot be intellectualized: passage and infinitude. This study tries to show that these essential properties of time come to light in Kant’s Critique of Judgment. The contemplation of beauty will be understood as a non-successive time and the wonder that we experience in seeing the sublime will be understood through Kant’s concept of infinite moment. These two aesthetic concepts of time will (...) be integrated into Kant’s broader view of time as developed in the first Critique. (shrink)

It’s no wonder descriptions of riding often resemble the words of Asian mystics and Jedi knights: The ride causes your senses to open completely. You experience only the present, the now. Readers who prefer revving a Harley to meditating in a Zen garden know that biking is just as contemplative as chanting in the lotus position. Here, philosopher-bikers explore this seeming dichotomy, expounding on intriguing questions such as: Why are the motorcycles the real stars of Easy Rider? What (...) would Marx and Foucault say about Harley riders’ tight leather garb? What’s it like to live a dual life as a philosophy professor who wrenches his own 1965 Electra Glide? Would Jesus hang out in a biker bar or a coffeehouse? And more importantly, would He ride a Harley or a Honda? These witty, provocative essays give readers and riders a new appreciation of what it means to become one with the road. (shrink)

Do classical, contemplative philosophies have anything to teach which is relevant to life here and now? In the case of Plotinus, yes. While Platonic metaphysics is most often summarized as dualistic, where one sensible world stands apart from and in tension with an intelligible world, in the case of Plotinus this interpretation is incorrect. He does distinguish between sensibles and sense-experience, on one hand, and intelligibles and intelligible experience, on the other; but the two belong together intimately: both are (...) located in the same space, and the sensible is related to the intelligible as a shadow to its object or a reflection to what it reflects. Plotinus’ world is one. Given this picture, one rightly wonders at the status of the Plotinian exhortation for the soul to flee "alone to the Alone." Does not the journey of the soul to its source require a passing beyond of this world to some other? No, Plotinus exhortation should be understood as a reorientation, a reordering within the world here and now, not a rejection of one reality in favor of some other. This can be likened to Aesop’s fable, "The Dog and the Bone," where the dog had the choice between one real and one illusory bone, not two separate bones. Similarly, Plotinus’ world, though it can be perceived dualistically, is ontologically one; hence his metaphysics, far from otherworldly, offers a means of understanding life as it is to be lived here and now. (shrink)

Reflecting the currently growing eco-movement, this book presents to western readers Tao Yuanming, an ancient Chinese poet, as a representative of classical oriental natural philosophy who offered lived experience of "dwelling poetically on earth." Drawing on Derrida's specter theory, it interprets Tao Yuanming in a postmodern and eco-critical context, while also exploring his naturalist "kindred spirits" in other countries, so as to urge the people of today to contemplate their own existence and pursuits. The book's "panoramic" table of contents offers (...) readers a wonderful reading experience. (shrink)

According to Martin Heidegger’s The Origin of the Work of Art, the truth of Being is disclosed in artworks. With this as a starting point, one wonders if this (truth of Being) is encounterable given its metaphysical/ontological condensation. We elaborate, one way, in which artworks have been contemplated in the history of the philosophy of art – namely, mimesis. Two possibilities are opened up in this regard: the first (e. g. Aristotle) credits the reproduction of copies/likeness of the original to (...) mimesis, whereas the second (e. g. Kant) does not. Richir stands out for discrediting mimesis of artworks via copies as sufficient means to encounter the truth of Being. This insufficiency is overcome by a phenomenological path, within the context of his revolutionary interpretation of the Husserlian “perceptive” phantasy, of a non-mediated, non-specular, active, affective and bodily access – fromwithin (Mimesis) – to the truth of Being in art works. This renders Heidegger’s intuition fruitful. This article aims to concretize Richir’s position using illustrations from literary works. (shrink)

These collected essays represent a communal attempt, by some of the foremost North American worldview scholars, to respond to some of the pressing questions surrounding the many-sided concept that worldview has become in contemporary Christian discourse. Is worldview too modern a concept? Is it too static a way of considering reality? Is it overly intellectual and an invitation for apologetic abuse? Is it hindering more than helping the enterprise of Christian education to use worldview as the point of integration? These (...) and many other questions are wrestled with in these essays. By looking at both the historical development of the term, its present uses and abuses, and possible future alterations, the thinkers in After Worldview have created a foundational conversation and suggested many intriguing ways to revivify this crucial idea from the deadening effects of over-exposure and under-contemplation. These essays provide serious Christian scholarship in an inviting tone, that wonder and suggests, rather than declares, the good aims and good ends that worldview engagement can and should offer to the Body of Christ. (shrink)

I argue for a significant slowing down in philosophy. In today’s hectic world, the ‘slow movement’ has had a salutary effect in a variety of domains, from mental health to food and music. But the academic world, philosophy included, has yet to catch on. And this, in spite of the fact that university culture has become increasingly focused on productivity and performance, thus creating a managerialist ethos and an “academic Darwinism” where scholars are placed under pressure to “publish or perish”, (...) with little opportunity to allow their thoughts to mature organically. In response to this commodification of philosophy, I offer an alternative: ‘slow philosophy’. Inspired by the Greco-Roman ideal of philosophy as a ‘way of life’, the goal in such philosophizing is not only to inform but to transform every aspect of one’s being, to achieve the kind of wisdom which brings peace of mind and inner freedom, as well as deeper understanding. But this requires a slowing down: taking time with the texts we read and write, making time to read and re-read, not forcing the meaning or desiring immediate comprehension, not philosophizing in haste but in grace, in a wondering spirit of contemplative open-endedness and receptivity to the other – thereby opposing the current regime of seeking to get everything done at once. (shrink)

We define aesthetic emotions as emotions that underlie the evaluative assessment of artworks. They are separated from the wider class of art-elicited emotions. Aesthetic emotions historically have been characterized as calm, as lacking specific patterns of embodiment, and as being a sui generis kind of pleasure. We reject those views and argue that there is a plurality of aesthetic emotions contributing to praise. After presenting a general account of the nature of emotions, we analyze twelve positive aesthetic emotions in four (...) different categories: emotions of pleasure, contemplation, amazement, and respect. The emotions that we identify in each category, including feelings of fluency, intrigue, wonder, and adoration, have been widely neglected both within aesthetics and in emotion research more broadly. (shrink)

Within the history of philosophy, the history of Islamic philosophy is emerging as a flourishing field, and one wonders what method is most appropriate to apply in the reading of the text. Hadot's work seemed to put forward four critical insights for the study of ancient thought that may be grafted onto the study of medieval thought and Islamic thought. First, philosophy takes place within a tradition. Reading the text is a practice rooted in a school tradition, and significantly with (...) concomitant spiritual practices. Second, training in philosophizing is intended to inculcate practices of dialoguing. Third, philosophizing requires spiritual exercises, which are more than just intellectual and contemplative, but entail a mode of living, a way of life. Hadot paradigm is a fruitful way of reading Mullā sadrā especially since it seems to be consistent with the way in which he himself presents h. ikma and his endeavor. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Mystery of Sacramentality:Christ, the Church, and the Seven SacramentsCharles JournetTranslated by Aaron D. Henderson, with Introduction and NoteOriginally: Charles Journet, "Le Mystère de la sacramentalité: Le Christ, l'Église, les sept sacrements," Nova et Vetera 49 (1974): 161–214.Translator's IntroductionThe thought of Charles Cardinal Journet, venerable founder of the present journal and unparalleled twentieth-century master of Thomistic ecclesiology, merits a wider reception and a more ardent love.1 Not a few (...) have recognized this of late, producing articles and books dedicated to explicating his teaching.2 Nevertheless, much remains to be done to ensure that English speakers have fuller access to Journet's corpus. For instance, only the first [End Page 611] volume of L'Église du Verbe incarné,3 his magnum opus, has been translated into English.4 It is with this in mind that we set out to translate the article below. And it is no meager article that is reproduced below (though such a work is foreign to Journet), but one of considerable substance and importance. After all, it is a wonderful (and wonderfully extensive) expression of his post-conciliar Christology, ecclesiology, and sacramental theology. Indeed, written in 1974, but one year before his death, this article represents the mature fruit of many years of contemplation and prayer.With respect to his ecclesiology, Journet was influenced by the Second Vatican Council, in which he participated after his elevation to the episcopacy and cardinalate. As an example of this influence, an influence evident in the article below, the conciliar documents speak in several places of the sacramentality of the Church.5 The Church is, in Christ, a sacrament, "a sign and instrument both of a very closely knit union with God and of the [End Page 612] unity of the whole human race."6 Describing the Church as a sacrament is part of the Council's effort to unfold for the Catholic faithful and for the whole world the Church's inner nature and universal mission. Following the teaching of the Council, therefore, Journet includes the Church herself, in her being and action, in "the mystery of sacramentality."7But the mystery of sacramentality includes more than the Church. Indeed, there is a respect in which the entire economy of salvation is sacramental. Furthermore, the Church is a sacrament (a sign and instrument) only in a derived sense, in a way wholly dependent on her divine Spouse and Head. It is for this reason that Journet refers to Christ as "the sacrament of the divine life in its source" and to the Church as "the sacrament of the divine life communicated." Both Christ and the Church, then, are sacraments, but not in precisely the same manner. As Journet puts it, "Now, to which of these two is the Second Vatican Council's definition, 'universal sacrament of salvation,' suited? To Christ and to his Church respectively, though proportionally (that is, analogically)."8Journet's systematic ordering (first Christ, then the Church, and finally the sacraments) is intelligible and consonant with others who suggest that, had St. Thomas written an ecclesiological treatise in the Summa theologiae, it would be situated between the questions on Christ (ST III, qq. 1–59) and the questions on the sacraments (ST III, qq. 60–90).9 Journet begins [End Page 613] his work, however, with a reality that he refuses to call a sacrament, namely, the Most Holy Trinity. The Trinitarian mystery stands at the heart of the Christian faith; it is the source of the mystery of sacramentality. We see the splendor of the entire economy of salvation, and of the New Law especially, in the mystery of the Trinitarian indwelling and missions of the Son and Spirit. The Word became flesh, became human, so that he might rescue our sin-ravaged world. Jesus is, in his sacred humanity, the sacrament of the Trinity, the sacrament of the divine life in its source, to employ again Journet's language.Journet describes the Word as seizing or taking hold of the depths of his sacred humanity in his being and in his action. The Gospels bear authoritative witness to this, but they... (shrink)

Who is God? If we want to love God, to serve God, and to make God the center of our lives, we would do well to settle this question at least in some small way. Yes, we can never know everything about God, and yes, the Christian life is about coming to know God more and more. However, this book serves as a starting point for understanding what Christians mean when they say "God," and to whom they are referring when (...) they use this name. Part of the What Every Catholic Should Know series, God: What Every Catholic Should Know is born out of the recognition that God is central to the Faith, but we encounter misconceptions about God all the time. In an effort to clear up these misconceptions, this book addresses three major concepts-the nature of God, the Trinity, and the Incarnation-so that we may strengthen our faith and our ability to communicate it to other people. Some of us might protest that we are not smart enough to do theology and that less is more when it comes to contemplating the divine. We might even think that too much theology detracts from simple faith. But if God is perfect, wonderful, all goodness, love itself-as the Bible tells us in 1 John 4:8-it would be strange indeed if we did not want to give our whole selves to God, including our minds. After all, the Lord himself tells us: "you shall love the Lord with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength" (Mark 12:30). Book jacket. (shrink)

What if gravity satisfied the Klein-Gordon equation? Both particle physics from the 1920s-30s and the 1890s Neumann-Seeliger modification of Newtonian gravity with exponential decay suggest considering a "graviton mass term" for gravity, which is _algebraic_ in the potential. Unlike Nordström's "massless" theory, massive scalar gravity is strictly special relativistic in the sense of being invariant under the Poincaré group but not the 15-parameter Bateman-Cunningham conformal group. It therefore exhibits the whole of Minkowski space-time structure, albeit only indirectly concerning volumes. Massive (...) scalar gravity is plausible in terms of relativistic field theory, while violating most interesting versions of Einstein's principles of general covariance, general relativity, equivalence, and Mach. Geometry is a poor guide to understanding massive scalar gravity: matter sees a conformally flat metric due to universal coupling, but gravity also sees the rest of the flat metric in the mass term. What is the 'true' geometry, one might wonder, in line with Poincaré's modal conventionality argument? Infinitely many theories exhibit this bimetric 'geometry,' all with the total stress-energy's trace as source; thus geometry does not explain the field equations. The irrelevance of the Ehlers-Pirani-Schild construction to a critique of conventionalism becomes evident when multi-geometry theories are contemplated. Much as Seeliger envisaged, the smooth massless limit indicates underdetermination of theories by data between massless and massive scalar gravities---indeed an unconceived alternative. At least one version easily could have been developed before General Relativity; it then would have motivated thinking of Einstein's equations along the lines of Einstein's newly re-appreciated "physical strategy" and particle physics and would have suggested a rivalry from massive spin 2 variants of General Relativity. The Putnam-Grünbaum debate on conventionality is revisited with an emphasis on the broad modal scope of conventionalist views. Massive scalar gravity thus contributes to a historically plausible rational reconstruction of much of 20th-21st century space-time philosophy in the light of particle physics. An appendix reconsiders the Malament-Weatherall-Manchak conformal restriction of conventionality and constructs the 'universal force' influencing the causal structure. Subsequent works will discuss how massive gravity could have provided a template for a more Kant-friendly space-time theory that would have blocked Moritz Schlick's supposed refutation of synthetic _a priori_ knowledge, and how Einstein's false analogy between the Neumann-Seeliger-Einstein modification of Newtonian gravity and the cosmological constant \Lambda generated lasting confusion that obscured massive gravity as a conceptual possibility. (shrink)

How can we best understand our aesthetic appreciation of sky and space? This essay begins by outlining the nature of spatial experience through some examples. Then it examines how our responses can be shaped by art and myth. Here we see how themes, such as ascension, that were current in prehistory and developed religions, can be reappropriated as components of a justifiable aesthetic experience. However, the task of finding defensible aesthetic responses to space as both experience and abstract idea does (...) present paradoxes. For example, how are we to respond to scientific updates about the ever greater vastness of space? The way forward presented here is to endorse, but not with any sense of uniqueness of misplaced grandeur, our freedom to contemplate with due seriousness both the near and the far and our own capacities, such as imagination and love, as also part of the wonder and mystery of the universe. (shrink)

The willingness of some scientists, futurists … and now philosophers to contemplate—or even actively pursue—their own obsolescence is a source of genuine wonder. Writers such as Hans Moravec,1 Ray Kurzweil2 and Nick Bostrom3 blithely maintain that we will soon be outclassed by our own cybernetic creations as though this were a prospect that could only be celebrated and not feared. In this context, one can only applaud Agar's clearheaded investigation4 of the prospects for creating ‘post-persons’ and his eminently sensible (...) conclusion that there might be good reasons to avoid doing so. His discussion of the significance of the difference between ‘weak’ and ‘strong’ thresholds in moral status and his inductive argument to the existence of higher levels of moral status than humans currently possess constitute significant advances in the philosophical literature on this topic. In these largely sympathetic remarks I will, however, argue both that post-persons are more easily conceived of than Agar suggests and that the threat posed by post-persons, should they eventuate, is greater than Agar allows.Agar's paper needs to be read in the context of Buchanan's discussion5 of the implications of post-personhood to which it is a response. Buchanan's discussion proceeds, for the most part, with reference to an essentially Kantian account of moral status as founded in the ability to engage in practical reasoning or practices of mutual accountability. Talk of ‘animals’, ‘persons’ …. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume Studies Volume 27, Number 1, April 2001, pp. 3-83 Moral Skepticism and Moral Naturalism in Hume's Treatise NICHOLAS L. STURGEON Section I I believe that David Hume's well-known remarks on is and ought in his Treatise of Human Nature (T 469-70)1 have been widely misunderstood, and that in consequence so has their relation to his apparent ethical naturalism and to his skepticism about the role of reason in (...) morality. My aim in this paper is to display their connection with these larger issues in Hume's work by placing them in a more illuminating light. Readers may wonder whether there is anything left to say about the passage containing these remarks; they may also share Barry Stroud's suspicion that the vast literature focused on this one paragraph has "given it an importance and point out of all proportion to its actual role in the text of the Treatise."2 But I have some new things to say. I agree, moreover, that many recent discussions, in projecting twentieth-century assumptions onto Hume's text, have accorded this passage the wrong sort of importance: that is part of what I want to correct. But getting clear about what Hume is saying here is, I shall argue, a way of moving familiar and obviously central questions about his views on morality into an unfamiliar but revealing focus. Hume's is-ought thesis is commonly, and I believe correctly, seen as an application of his more general skepticism about the capacity of reason to discover "moral distinctions." But that general skepticism is usually taken, in turn, to conflict with those many passages in which Hume Nicholas L. Sturgeon is Professor of Philosophy, Sage School of Philosophy, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY 14853-3201, USA. e-mail: [email protected] 4 Nicholas L. Sturgeon appears to say, in a reductive and naturalistic vein, that ascriptions of moral virtue and vice simply state certain empirical facts, facts about our own sentiments. My central thesis, however, is that Hume's view that there is a logical gap between is and ought is not merely consistent with his reductive naturalism, but actually depends on it. It is precisely because moral ascriptions state the facts that they do about our sentiments that no ought can be derived from an is and, a bit more generally, that reason is unable to discover moral distinctions. Hume's skepticism about reason in ethics depends, I shall argue, on his reductive ethical naturalism. This is not the usual understanding of Hume's views, and it will require careful explanation and defense. I shall proceed in several stages. My first step, in Section II, will be to argue that Hume's naturalism is at least consistent with his skepticism about reason, and in particular with his remarks about is and ought. I shall show this by focusing on a difficulty often taken to epitomize the conflict between these two strains in his thought: namely, that the paragraph containing these remarks (T 469-70: henceforth, the is-ought paragraph) and the one immediately preceding it (which I shall call the matter -of-fact paragraph (T 468-9)) appear, on their most natural readings, flatly to contradict one another.3 On the most common reading of the is-ought paragraph, it assumes the existence of two classes of statements, «-statements and oM^hr-statements, and declares that no member of the latter class can be derived entirely from members of the former. In the preceding paragraph, however, Hume appears in the guise of an ethical naturalist and subjectivist, and, if we take him at his word, simply equates a moral judgment with one asserting what he himself calls a "matter of fact," albeit a psychological fact about oneself: So that when you pronounce any action or character to be vicious, you mean nothing, but that from the constitution of your nature you have a feeling or sentiment of blame from the contemplation of it. (T 469) But, one supposes, if a moral assessment of an action or character is equivalent in meaning to a description of one's sentiments, then it can be derived from that description, and there... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy of Music Education Review 12.1 (2004) 64-66 [Access article in PDF] Response to Bennett Reimer, "Once More with Feeling: Reconciling Discrepant Accounts of Musical Affect" Anne Sinclair Indiana University Mary Reichling's exploration of form, feeling, and isomorphism in the writings of Susanne Langer accomplishes its goal to examine and elucidate aspects of these concepts. I find several of the ideas presented very engaging. Musical form and feeling are (...) very real to me in my experience as a music and liturgy director in the Catholic Church. I wholeheartedly agree with the concept of the processual nature of both, which has been well articulated. In my life experience, the musical form, the feeling inherent in it, and its process of coming to life in a given moment, is a near-weekly event. The church continually solemnizes life events, and musical form is an integral part of that solemnization. My response centers on the following claim: "Feeling is not a product but a process, it follows that the feeling ends when the music stops"; and question, "How can it be educational?"The example of the drama, King Lear, is very interesting. Indeed, as we get caught up in the action of the production, we become connected to the feelings and lives of the characters. I agree that it might be easier to experience feeling in a drama or epic, rather than in the visual arts, or in our sonorous art. The drama connects us to the human condition and we "feel" for the characters. In my position [End Page 64] as a liturgist, I find myself in a situation similar to that of the director of a play. Indeed, at times there is a very fine line between drama and good liturgy. However, in the liturgy we are connecting with real lives, the lives of our assembly members, not the lives of fictitious characters. Good musician liturgists strive to give voice to the emotions of the assembly. While I admit this is not always accomplished in weekly Sunday liturgies, I think especially of funeral liturgies where the music strives to speak of the hope and promise of eternal life for the departed loved one and also of the feelings of grief experienced by the assembled family and friends.I take issue with the idea "that the feeling stops when the music does." Throughout the body of the paper, Reichling highlights Langer's ideas on music's "sonorous image of feeling in an imaginatively perceptible form" and her use of the terms "semblance," "illusion," and "virtual" in regard to feeling. However, in contemplating the points brought forth, I mentally wrestled with the idea of feeling stopping when the music did. Could this position be held because it was based on what might be referred to as a "virtual" experience (for example, a musical concert or show) rather than a "real-life" moment?During the process of this contemplation, I had the occasion to attend the funeral of a friend's husband. This funeral occurred in a faith tradition other than Catholicism and I participated in the service as a member of the congregation. My friend is a music educator, her husband had been a musician, and both had been active in the music ministry of their church for nearly thirty years. As one might imagine, music was a central element in the solemnization of this man's life. The music was brought to life by an extraordinary group of musicians, including many graduate students and faculty members of the Indiana University School of Music. The music was superb and each piece had relevance to the life being celebrated as well as to the moment at hand, saying goodbye. The choir was wonderful, sharing movements from both the Brahms and Fauré Requiems, which were very moving. The soloist was renowned soprano, Sylvia McNair, an "adopted" member of the family since her days years ago as an Indiana University graduate student. Musical form and feeling came together in a powerful way for me during her singing of Fauré's Pie Jesu as she... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Rethinking Variations of Musical MeaningfulnessAnneli ArhoAs a curious mind, I am able to focus on new kinds of topics, to research unknown practices; I am able to explore different cultures, interesting customs of making music, or I may trace various ways of musical thinking. It is wonderful to be able to enrich and transform my understanding of the musical world. [End Page 55]As a lived body,1 I have grown (...) up in the Western music tradition.2 This is my culture. This is the tradition I know as a composer, as a player of an instrument, as a teacher, as a researcher. Living in this culture has given me an embodied understanding of music. This understanding provides me with a meaningful background whenever I sense (hear, see, feel with my body's movements, read, fancy, and speak, write, or read about) music. I know this music in myself.As a musician, I have often been puzzled—even annoyed—that the tradition of writing about music favors descriptions and contemplations which I, as a musician, often find misleading and distorted. It has taken me a long time to realize two things: (1) the professional writers within various discourses create their own kinds of musical meaningfulness that are often interesting in themselves, and (2) in order to really share that kind of meaningfulness, I would have had to grow up within the discourse through which that meaningfulness evolved or was constructed.As a researcher, therefore, I have chosen to ground my research in my lived body, in the musicianship constituted through my experiences in making music. I am interested in phenomena of the lived world—as they are lived through and understood when making music.3 I am interested in different practices and divergent ways of regulating and guiding the making of music. I am interested in habitual ways of speaking about music, common ways of manual and mental training and rehearsing, and in different ways of teaching, supervising, and coaching. For me, all these reveal the phenomenon of music in our culture.My Living with Music—A Field of Musical MeaningfulnessAs a composer, I sometimes work with children and young people, and with their instrumental teachers. I have just started a three-year project in a music school, working each year with a new group of players. In 2004, I conducted a pilot project with recorder players. This year it will be the violin players; next year I may work with the piano players. There are many possibilities for the third year: the head of the school will have a hard job choosing a group from among the several enthusiastic candidates.I have enjoyed the open-mindedness of the children and of the volunteer teachers, too. Learning to play with music—learning to handle, vary, and transform, to compose, decompose, and recompose musical fragments, pieces, or sequences—may be as natural as any playing. Intertwining play, variation, and imitation seems to be an essential part of living and learning.But, I have also had to confront entrenched mythical conceptions of what it means to compose music, and curricula based on those conceptions.4 In my mind, composing cannot be regarded as a phenomenon that could simply be included in a curriculum. In practice, composing may refer to a variety of ways [End Page 56] of making music that are not always easy to tell apart from other culturally named phenomena, like playing, singing, improvising, or writing music.5 For me, composing simply refers to certain ways I live with music: several different ways of dealing with music, different kinds of activities, makings and doings, special states of mind, and special ways of using my embodied knowledge of music. Thus, composing refers to an individual and invisible6 background, an embodied perspective, a way of being, which shows me a certain variety of musical phenomena and their qualities, and conceals some others. Composing, like all arts of making and doing, generates its own practical and existential questions, which often are not an issue for those who do not compose. An outsider never really grasps the situation of a practitioner.Culturally bound ways of making music are being redefined... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy of Music Education Review 11.2 (2003) 194-199 [Access article in PDF] June Boyce-Tillman, Constructing Musical Healing. (London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers, 2000) June Boyce-Tillman has written a wonderfully stimulating book. Her writing style is eminently readable and the flow of ideas can be readily absorbed. Her forays across many different areas of musical ideation and the various oppositions that exist in and among different cultures reveal that we still (...) have much to learn about the true nature of music. We also have much to change to reach the necessary levels of enlightenment that would be universally beneficial to human life. This book offers some enlightenment. Enlightenment, as the Buddha says, is a process, not a thing, so my purpose here is to give enough of an overview so that you may experience reading the book, the author's cogent insights, posing your own questions about music as a human endeavor, and to consider some of my criticisms.Her primary thesis is spelled out succinctly: My aim in this book is to examine how these polarities are associated with the healing/therapeutic properties of music and how they are reflected in different musical traditions (32). [End Page 194]The emphasis on the healing/therapeutic properties of music is well taken and she pursues these to glorious ends. In examining these properties, one becomes completely engrossed in thinking about music per se, raising both answers and puzzles. Boyce-Tillman effectively plants the seeds for inquiry that remain long after the reading is complete.Chapter 1, "Setting the Scene," is insightful in laying the ground for examining several distinct areas: ways of knowing, notions of well-being, healing as process, models of health, creativity and well-being, and musical development. She then comes to the task prepared to battle with a difficult subject, difficult because of the elusive nature of the subject, by reporting on her own musical and contemplative experiences. It is important to know her own path so that we can examine her conclusions from a deeper perspective.Next she establishes the polarities on which the rest of the book rests, and the framework on which each chapter is built: community/individualism; containment/freedom; expression/confidentiality; unity/diversity; challenge/nurture; excitement/relaxation; and embodiment/transcendence. These are explored after setting forth "A model of the self" and "Music and the model of the self."Two features are helpful to understanding the thesis and keeping track of the narrative. One is the case studies she includes to further explain the specific polarity, and the other is the summary at the end of each chapter which assists greatly in retaining cogent contact with the discourse.Chapter 2, "Of Philosophers and Thinkers," an examination of the Western outlook, although viewed from Boyce-Tillman's healing-therapeutic perspective, is a worthwhile read for even the casual reader. It spans the philosophical/aesthetic area sufficiently so that I will assign the reading of this particular chapter to my graduate students where that subject is appropriate. Here again, the six polarities come into play through an explication of each from the point of view of philosophers, aestheticians, and other writers on music.Having dealt with the Western view, she turns to shamanistic practice in Chapter 3, "Of Shamans and Healers." Intentional or not, these two chapters form a metapolarity for this is where the contrasts are at their widest points. The various dimensions and uses of music as they exist in cultures based on metaphysical beliefs are detailed and revealed through extensive and representative examples.Chapter 4, "Of a New Consciousness," explores the New Age view. She states: [t]he New Age is a many-faceted collection of traditions that has drawn on a variety of sources—both ancient and modern—to balance contemporary trends such as elitism, commercialism, materialism, racism and sexism. It has produced a variety of musical practices, many of the syntheses of ancient traditions and contemporary ideas. Communal music making can represent healing at a personal, ecological and cosmic level. The interconnectedness of the cosmos can be accessed and expressed in music (199). [End Page... (shrink)

Each one of T.H. Marshall's trinity of human rights rested on the state as, simultaneously, its birth place, executive manager and guardian. And no wonder. At the time Marshall tied personal, political and social freedoms into a historically determined succession of won/bestowed rights, the boundaries of the sovereign state marked the limits of what humans could contemplate, and what they thought they should jointly do, in order to make their world more user-friendly. The state enclosed territory was the site (...) of private initiatives and public actions, as well as the arena on which private interests and public issues met, clashed and sought reconciliation. In all those respects, the realm of state sovereignty was presumed to be self-contained, selfassertive and self-sufficient. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Gary Borjesson A SOUNDING OF WALDEN'S PHILOSOPHICAL DEPTH It is hard to make up one's mind about Waiden. One expects die spiritual landscape to be familiar, so familiar perhaps diat you need not read die book to feel you know it. But Waiden disappoints this expectation. Having read it, one may wonderjust what is so familiar or American about Thoreau's sensibility. And righdy so. Waiden is long on observation (...) and short on plot, as tedious in its detail as it is devoid of action. It is a wondrously slow, contemplative work and would be demanding enough for this reason alone, to say nothing of the enormous vocabulary, the abundant allusions to classical mythology, and die Latin and Greek scattered tiiroughout—all of which hint that despite his democratic rhetoric, Thoreau addresses himself to a rather small audience. Like the lusty chanticleer, "standing on his roost, ifonly to wake his neighbors up," Waiden speaks to the best part of the soul, to that in us which is divinely awake or mindful.1 Such speeches necessarily transcend not only America's borders, but common-sense understanding as well, "the sense ofmen asleep, which they express by snoring" (p. 325). As Thoreau puts it: "I desire to speak somewhere widiout bounds; like a man in a waking moment, to men in dieir waking moments" (p. 324). This desire "to speak somewhere without bounds" is philosophical. Waiden witnesses to die philosophical experience of the world. Originating in wonder and die desire to understand, Waiden moves dirough die senses, experience, the arts, and science. But its specifically philosophical character lies in Thoreau's evident desire to situate all tilings, including himself, in dieir ultimate context. Recognizing the integrity of this desire means appreciating that the full realization of one's nature requires discovering one's place in die cosmos. Philosophy and Literature, © 1994, 18: 287-308 288Philosophy and Literature The tiiree parts of this essay articulate what I take to be philosophical about Thoreau's sensibility. The first part considers Thoreau as a surveyor of the whole of things, a traditionally philosophical endeavor. The second part examines Thoreau's desire for truth and shows how it must be distinguished from the tenets of transcendental philosophy generally and Emerson's transcendentalism in particular. Contrary to a common opinion, a true estimation of Walden's philosophical depth hinges on seeing why Thoreau is not a transcendentalist. Some may worry that attention to these universal, theoretical features ofThoreau's workjeopardizes doingjustice to his famously idiosyncratic individualism. But Thoreau does not ask one to choose either allegiance to oneself or to universal laws: such a dichotomy is false and must be sublated. Thus the final part of this essay explicates how Thoreau envisions the web of particular and universal, the alignment of individual and cosmos. I conclude by framing my disagreement with Stanley Cavell's reading of Waiden. As the only well-known philosopher to have devoted a book-lengtii study to Waiden, his influence has been great, and on central points his reading sanctions the common emphasis on subjectivity.2 Two last prefatory remarks. First, Waiden is not a work in philosophy, at least not a treatise, for Thoreau does not explain his insights thematically. Nevertheless, the work has a distinct philosophical character, one I shall try to sketch with die degree of precision appropriate to it. This raises my second point. Precision does not sit easily with comprehensiveness or with the need to praise. All three are relevant to philosophical understanding, yet Thoreau evidently felt that synoptic contemplation and all its fruits, including "any memorable praise of God," were in die shorter supply (p. 78). As Thoreau tells it, he wished to "cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms," "to front only the essential facts," "and if [life] proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to die world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion" (pp. 90—91). If Thoreau is right... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 23 (2003) 159-161 [Access article in PDF] Benedict's Dharma: Buddhist Reflections on the Rule of Saint Benedict. By Norman Fischer, et al. Edited by Patrick Hart, with an afterword by David Steindl-Rast and a translation of the Rule by Patrick Berry. New York: Riverhead Books, 2001. xvi + 222 pp. When Buddhist and Christian monastics meet, they recognize each other as brothers and sisters engaged in a (...) similar quest, despite their doctrinal differences. The nature of this quest is explored in Benedict's Dharma, in which four Buddhists (Norman Fischer, Joseph Goldstein, Judith Simmer-Brown, and Yifa, representing the Zen, Theravadin, Tibetan, and Chinese Buddhist traditions) ruminate on their fraternal and sororal feelings.Venerable Yifa, a nun of the prominent Taiwanese monastery Fo Guang Shan, is the only one of the four in monastic vows, and the reader may wonder what the three non-monastics could offer to a discussion on the monastic life. This is not a new problem. Patrick Henry and Donald Swearer's groundbreaking study, For the Sake of the World: The Spirit of Buddhist and Christian Monasticism (1989), spends a great deal of time on Zen monks, even though there are no Zen monks, theVinaya is kept by the Zen nuns or by the monastics of the parent and sibling lineages of Chan, Son, and Thien. (See my review article, "Why Are There Monks and Nuns?" in Buddhist-Christian Studies 12.) The monastic, it seems, is not confined to the habit.Brother David Steindl-Rast, a monk of Mount Saviour Monastery, grapples with this problem in his afterword, "Conclusions about a Beginning." It was at Mount Saviour that the phrase "the monastic dimension" was coined, to refer to those of monastic bent who for one reason or another did not or could not live in the cloister. One of Brother David's books was to be called, he told me, The Monk in Us, "us" meaning laypeople, but the title had an odd sound and was dropped. So, what is the monastic dimension? Brother David suggests that it is mindfulness, and he comes close to saying that wherever there is mindfulness, there is monasticism. "If mindfulness is all that matters, the monastery is merely a most convenient environment for this kind of life, but it can be lived anywhere, by anyone" (126). He goes on to discuss the phenomenon of monasteries shrinking in size at the same time as the number of long- and short-term visitors to monasteries grows, and proposes that we are moving toward a new understanding of the terms "contemplative," "monastic," and "lay."This insight may point to the most important contribution of this book. It is not about monasticism per se, and it is not a comparative study of the Rule and the Vinaya, with practical suggestions for their mutual reform; rather, it is a meditation on how anyone, monastic or lay, might live the contemplative or mindful life. Throughout the history of the Church and the sangha, laypeople have been in the majority, but attention has been focused on the priests and monastics. Pope Pius X [End Page 159] put it bluntly: the laypeople are the sheep who are to be led, and the clergy are the shepherds who lead. The Church, he added, is not a democracy. I do not know of a Buddhist who has been quite this straightforward, but many have come close, and the history of Buddhism is not that of a democracy. Occasionally, lay movements in both traditions have arisen, basing themselves on the doctrine of the priesthood of all believers or on the teaching of universal Buddha-nature, but they have quickly been co-opted by leaders who proclaimed themselves to be more equal than their fellows. The tragedy for both Buddhism and Christianity is that the contemplative or mindful life has become restricted to a group of professionals, with the attendant belief that such a life is unattainable by most Buddhists and Christians. Now that the dharma has come to the land of the red-faced people, where democracy is... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 23 (2003) 165-167 [Access article in PDF] Christianity in the Crucible of East-West Dialogue: A Critical Lookat Catholic Participation; And God, Zen, and the Intuition Of Being. By James Arraj. Chiloquin, Ore: Inner Growth Books, 2001. 335 pp. This book combines an original book-length essay, Critical Look at the Catholic Participation in the East-West Dialogue, and a new edition of the 1988 work God, Zen, and the (...) Intuition of Being. In the first part of the volume, Arraj discusses the approaches of a large variety of individuals and institutions who have been involved in the Christian dialogue with Buddhism (Habito, Enomiya-Lasalle, Jaeger, MacInnes, Hawk, Kennedy, Corless, etc.) and in the dialogue with Hinduism (Abhishiktananda, Grant, de Mello, Griffiths, Teasdale, etc.). The main perspective from which he discusses each of these authors is that of their conception of the relationship between Christian contemplation and enlightenment or realization. Arraj finds most of the existing approaches to the East-West dialogue wanting insofar as they all consider the Christian experience of contemplation from the perspective of the Hindu or Buddhist view of nonduality. As he puts it: "But what does this kind of nondualist imperialism do to Christianity? It eliminates its distinctive nature. Let me be clear about this. Used in this way, Zen awakening, which could be a wonderful gift for Christians, becomes destructive of Christianity" (31). Arraj sees this as but one expression of what he calls reactionary theology or "theology without a net," which has been developing since the Second Vatican Council. As opposed to this form of dialogue, which compromises the essence of Christian faith, Arraj discusses the approaches of Jacques Dupuis and the document Dominus Iesus, which he understands as two different versions of a proper Catholic position. After discussing a number of unsatisfactory approaches to the question of religious pluralism, he introduces the distinction between an existentialist approach, which focuses on the universality of the salvific will of God, and an essentialist approach, which emphasizes the uniqueness of Jesus as the mediator of salvation. This distinction between existence and essence forms one of the dominant themes of the book.Arraj offers an overview and critique of most of the existing approaches to the East-West dialogue, and then moves on to offering alternative proposals for the dialogue. While many are in the process of "overcoming" the metaphysical tradition of Christianity, Arraj sees precisely in this tradition a promising starting point for the dialogue with Zen Buddhism. After analyzing the particularly Thomistic manner of distinguishing essence and existence and some study of references to the experiences of loss of self in the ultimate realization, Arraj comes to the conclusion that what Thomistic metaphysics thinks of as "intuition of being" and what Asian traditions describe as the experience of Enlightenment "are both deeply metaphysical experiences of the same reality, but by different paths, and so they express themselves in different ways" (206). This, then, provides the necessary basis for the two traditions [End Page 165] to retain their respective identities while nonetheless learning from the other. In God, Zen, and the Intuition of Being Arraj offers some thoughts on how this might proceed. The clearest of these thoughts appear to lie on the side of what a discussion with Zen might do for Christianity. This is a matter, first of all, of rekindling an interest in Thomistic metaphysics through an introduction of categories and spiritual techniques that are part of the Zen tradition. At minimum, this would open a way beyond, or perhaps behind, the scholasticism of the manuals that have covered the true profundity of Christian Thomistic metaphysics. Whatever the philosophical stakes of this recovery, Arraj is especially interested in its spiritual promise, in the possibility of inviting certain aspects of Zen meditation—the use of koans, increased attention to nature—to help Christianity in developing a new form of acquired contemplation. Arraj has somewhat less to say about what or how much this sort of dialogue might offer Zen... (shrink)

Tel Aviv at 100 years old is bustling with culture. A large research university is situated north of the Yarkon River. Although I am a member of the faculty of that university, I feel like I belong to another wonderful institution established by the first Hebrew city: “The University of Tel Aviv Cafés”. It is the only place where I can sit for long hours, sink into contemplation without interruption, write, delete and think.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Heidegger and RhetoricPhilippe-Joseph SalazarHeidegger and Rhetoric. Edited by Daniel M. Gross and Ansgar Kemmann. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2005. Pp. 195. $21.95, paperback.I have to confess to double ignorance. I have never paid much attention to/Heidegger and Rhetoric/ (let me use forward slashes to indicate a commonplace) because, in spite of all efforts of reconciliation between France and Germany, my knowledge of German is not (...) so adequate that I would ever contemplate reading Heidegger in his native tongue. As a rule I mistrust translations and rely on derivative knowledge only in cases of extreme urgency. This being said, I must add that such ignorance is somewhat informed by some knowing—where would French philosophy and French philosophy of rhetoric be without the long-standing and continuous dialogue between Heidegger and France, from Levinas’s seminal essay to today’s iterative debate on Heidegger’s so-called introduction of Nazism in philosophy? Be that as it may, I read the edited volume by Gross and Kemmann as a naive reader would, undisturbed by and unaware of intra-ecclesial wrangling. As it happened, as I was reading this book, I had advanced knowledge of a stunning little book byValerie Allen and Ares Axiotis (2007), on Heidegger’s plea for exoneration in July 1945. It was a numinous conjunction.Recalling Arendt’s distinction, in politics of course, among aim, end, and meaning, it is clear that Heidegger and Rhetoric has all three—the gesture [End Page 305] is indeed political, at least within our scholarly community. This book has a meaning—its elucidation imposes on readers to move from chapter to chapter, seriatim. It has an aim, the reality of which only comes to the fore as we close the book. It has an end, which, somehow, allows us to pass judgment with regard to the superior life of the discipline, if there is any.Back to the commonplace, which grounds all three. The difficulty with titles like this is that, more often than not, they promise more than they deliver. One asks oneself: Why not Rhetoric and Heidegger? Which leads to: What “rhetoric”? Aristotle’s? Rhetoric as attributed, by a growing population of ignoramuses, to “rhetoriticians”?The function of a commonplace is to evoke common ground, and in this instance, the common ground has a deep fault line. Indeed, as we read Gross’s erudite introductory essay (chapter 1), it is unclear whether the volume is dedicated to Heidegger’s Summer Seminar of 1924 devoted to Aristotle’s Rhetoric or to rhetoric in/around/about Heidegger. To compound it, we learn, in footnote 1 (41) that in one particular but revealing occurrence, Heideggerian scholars differ about the transcription: although the seminar was on the Rhetoric, does Heidegger refer to Rhetorik or to Logik when he defines “concrete function,” a highly operative definition indeed? Much of the volume hinges on how Heidegger defines the political function of rhetoric. Notwithstanding this casualty of scholarship, and Gross’s thoughtful transcription and explanation of key passages from the seminar, readers will wonder: “Where is the Urtext?” Unless one reads German and has at hand both volume 18 of the Collected Works and the rival transcript (pending, of course, the discovery of yet another transcript), one is reduced to rely on the authors’ word and view (an English translation is in preparation at Indiana University Press). This is the surface of the fault line.Below the surface of the text runs a deeper rift. Nonspecialists are left with the impression that Heidegger’s Summer Seminar of 1924 is a text by Heidegger, when, in fact, if I am not mistaken, Heidegger destroyed his notes and what we are left with are students’ notes cobbled together; they probably turned Heidegger’s lectures into their own commonplaces, which is what students usually do, as we all know. (We may as well have one of the famous imitations of the master with which Heidegger’s brother entertained his drinking friends, perched on a beer barrel like a bibulous orator.)Incidentally, I wish specialists would stop using the acronym SS 1924 to refer to the text. It has a sinister... (shrink)

Torture has become the subject of intense debate in recent years. One facet of that debate is whether there are any circumstances during which it might be an appropriate response by a respectable government. One might wonder precisely why torture receives so much more attention than, say, the "collateral damage" that is an inevitable aspect of contemporary warfare. But the debate also involves what counts as "torture," as distinguished from "cruel, inhuman, and degrading" methods of interrogation or even "coercive (...) but acceptable" methods. This article argues that we sometimes overemphasize the significance of particular acts — i.e., x either is or is not torture — as against the importance of the phenomenology of torture, which involves creating a structure of complete domination and, therefore, complete vulnerability. This is similar to the phoenomenology of slavery. Indeed, in this 150th year since the Supreme Court's decision in the Dred Scott case, it is important to contemplate the full meaning of Chief Justice Taney's declaration that blacks had "no rights" that whites were "bound to respect." Can a liberal political order ever carve out a set of persons — such as suspected terrorists — who indeed have "no rights" that the state is obligated to respect? If the answer is no, then what are the implications for the process by which the United States, presumably a liberal political order, conducts interrogations even of those suspected of being "the worst of the worst"? (shrink)