The Good Life

Mark likes to play computer games. In real life
he fixes televisions. There are solder spots on his hands,
when he sends his armies to the front lines.

Paul, who measures buildings before they are inhabited,
enjoys spinning a lifetime of infinities in his mind.

Oscar, the media guy, prefers sitting in the sun.

Justine with an e, who owns many clothes and signals,
squats tearfully on shattered glass.

Such a grand vision of humanity.

The Good Life was originally published on Meandering home

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Incitement

I hear the frequency of my kitchen

the deafening sound of appliances

that killed the wind, the quiet

murmur of the grass and the cicadas

and the death throes of little animals

I try to remember the smell of the earth

her dirt, her ashes, her streams, her stones

her forests, her oceans, the long traces

of life in her atmosphere. Instead

I glance at plywood fronts and plastic

and marble and steel and glass and all

brand new, and clean. Inert, threatening

to kill me

I am organic life forgetting itself

forgetting that time is in order

and that I am free, because of it

‘Freedom’. 50x50cm, Acrylic on canvas by Camille van Neer

Incitement was originally published on Meandering home

Free like a Tiger

grrr!

Freedom is a very popular concept in philosophy, and the question about the essence of freedom has divided philosophers in many camps while the variety of different answers has been at the heart of different views of science, religion, ethics, and nature itself. The question is still pondered in faculties (and canteens) around the world, with brain researchers, having made mindboggling progress, asserting they have already found the ultimate answer.

I have written a dissertation about freedom and responsibility, yet I have no clue about freedom. I simply fail to grasp the philosophical concept of a generic definition of freedom. What do we have? Imagine a large sociological research project with abundant result in the form of recounts of actual, lived “freedom” – well, what the interviewed people think they think it’s freedom. All the data in the world won’t be enough to formulate a generic definition of freedom. The famous absence of a private language in philosophy implies that the private language of our mind is not translatable into the public language of words, precisely because it doesn’t exist.

So what if we take a modest position, looking at natural objects and considering their freedom? A tree is freer than a rock because it interacts with it surroundings; a fish is freer than a tree because it also has locomotion; and so forth. Why don’t we understand freedom simply as the ability to move within certain “rooms” (space, sensomotorical experience, time, monetary possibilities, the internet, minds, the scale of power). Locomotive freedom is the main metaphor for this, and the main flaw as any philosopher would immediately attest.

A little complication comes to mind. How can we decide if someone is free to locomote, when that person doesn’t locomote but merely understands her own potential movement? A neurochemical test of that understanding seems a bit far-fetched and doesn’t improve our understanding of freedom. Sidetrack: What have we got so far? Is a helicopter freer than an airplane? But they don’t have minds. So it’s all in our heads, and the locomotion metaphor is dead. You can be free with Sartre in a prison cell. Or is it about a balance of potential and actual, enacted freedom? But can such a balance be expressed in language? What is the language of freedom?

And what about the freedom of the tiger? What is his take on freedom?

grrrr.

March 30. Time, being, freedom, etcetera.


Instead of this:
“Time/being/freedom/the soul/matter/consciousness itself is like dripping honey” I advice you to write this:
“I think about dripping honey and I feel good.”
Perhaps you like those abstraction. I reckon you know them much better than I do. I don’t like to talk about these words because it O feels like arguing it feels very bad. Regardless of how many books I read about time, being, freedom, the soul, matter and consciousness, people keep explaining me what it is. And I totally lost my interest in them. I’m almost sorry I don’t like to talk about them.
I don’t remember this day. I probably wrote in a café until the evening and tried in vain to catch a movie at the BAFICI, went home O early thinking about my next writing and falling asleep with sore eyes and without brushing my teeth! This looks like a travel weblog. And tomorrow I’ll write what I had for breakfast. I’ll write I had time, being, freedoom, the soul, matter, and consciousness for breakfast O.

March 30. Time, being, freedom, etcetera.


Instead of this:
“Time/being/freedom/the soul/matter/consciousness itself is like dripping honey” I advice you to write this:
“I think about dripping honey and I feel good.”
Perhaps you like those abstraction. I reckon you know them much better than I do. I don’t like to talk about these words because it O feels like arguing it feels very bad. Regardless of how many books I read about time, being, freedom, the soul, matter and consciousness, people keep explaining me what it is. And I totally lost my interest in them. I’m almost sorry I don’t like to talk about them.
I don’t remember this day. I probably wrote in a café until the evening and tried in vain to catch a movie at the BAFICI, went home O early thinking about my next writing and falling asleep with sore eyes and without brushing my teeth! This looks like a travel weblog. And tomorrow I’ll write what I had for breakfast. I’ll write I had time, being, freedoom, the soul, matter, and consciousness for breakfast O.

March 30. Time, being, freedom, etcetera.


Instead of this:
“Time/being/freedom/the soul/matter/consciousness itself is like dripping honey” I advice you to write this:
“I think about dripping honey and I feel good.”
Perhaps you like those abstraction. I reckon you know them much better than I do. I don’t like to talk about these words because it O feels like arguing it feels very bad. Regardless of how many books I read about time, being, freedom, the soul, matter and consciousness, people keep explaining me what it is. And I totally lost my interest in them. I’m almost sorry I don’t like to talk about them.
I don’t remember this day. I probably wrote in a café until the evening and tried in vain to catch a movie at the BAFICI, went home O early thinking about my next writing and falling asleep with sore eyes and without brushing my teeth! This looks like a travel weblog. And tomorrow I’ll write what I had for breakfast. I’ll write I had time, being, freedoom, the soul, matter, and consciousness for breakfast O.