I am enormously grateful to everyone leaving comments on this blog. You have no idea how much you are helping me. And while the congratulations on being "brave" are appreciated, it's the comments that resist my central thesis that are most helpful.
I have put a good deal of thought into the problem of stuff. I think I need to call it that: the problem of stuff. Stuff is a great word. It diminishes the value of what it denotes. I like that. That helps my purpose here. Two issues have been raised: stuff as bulwark against loneliness and the possibility that all stuff is not equally valueless. But I would argue that they are, in the end, the same problem. Casey agrees with Mary Ellen who wants me to find the line between useless stuff and that which she describes as "unique to you and your mind, and every time the object facilitates the release of memories and feelings, it ceases to be yet another disposable object and instead becomes a relic, a holy vessel." I completely understand this sentiment and I know that it comes from love. However, I do not believe this is true. And, again, I thank Mary Ellen, Casey, and Patrick for helping me be true to my blog's purpose: experiments in truth. I am now off to my mother's basement where I will make a little video illustrating my perspective on memories, feelings, and stuff.
[An aside to my concerned students: At this moment, I feel I am putting in the best day's work I have ever done. Forgive me for leaving you but I think I am where I am supposed to be right now. I love you.]
7 comments:
It's funny that you focus in on the actual word STUFF. I like to capitalize the word, I guess that is the only way I can show how oppressive the word is. It almost has it's own weight. It's as if the word alone could drown you, weigh you down and make you immobile. You can STUFF your face, STUFF your pockets, STUFF your drawers ... in every case you are in filling a space, almost greedily, past a reasonable limit.
STUFF is scary STUFF.
I would like to take a minute to explain some of my thoughts that have become interwoven with those of Robert Pirsig. Pirsig largely dealt with the idea of quality. It would seem that there is a potential to use fragments of his ideas to discern the "threshold of uselessness," as it were, of an object.
In other words, when we see an object and make a judgment or decision to assign a level of emotion and attachment to said object, we instantly transform the object. While the object certainly possesses all of its original components, we are essentially adding to the object fragments and shards of memories and emotions - past or present - to create a simulacrum of what we long for or have lost.
e.g. We are afraid of loneliness, therefore we attribute feelings of fondness, say, to the character of a book. We transform this character of the book into a simulacrum that is representative of a friend we dearly desire to have.
Now, to move onto the quality of the object. The only time this object's innate quality can actually be observed or assessed is in the moment that said object exists prior to our judgment. How to observe this particular moment is a different matter entirely, and far beyond me - perhaps this removal of a dualistic dichotomy is simply a desire to create a scapegoat of having to explain what I mean.
What I'm proposing, while seemingly simple, is unfortunately not, at present, something I can achieve. Simply put, the most efficient way to determine this "threshold of uselessness" would be to observe the object without any "a priori" associations and, therefore, see it for what it truly is free of any human feature or bias.
I hope that you find this blending of ideas useful and/or applicable. If not, well, I apologize for taking up space!
With very much love to both you and dad,
Blake
Dr. Cowlishaw, I fully support your decision to leave the university and I will miss seeing you. You are a huge inspiration to me and this blog is pure brilliance!
Neely, Yes! In fact, that's a focus of my book projects. I've entertained the idea of naming one of the books "Gluttony"--the one about inauthentic food and feeding in America. Yes, STUFF as a verb is probably one reason I like the word too.
Ah, Blake, you philosophy student, you! Here's what I'd say about the "essential" quality of any given thing: it's an illusion for philosophers to play with. Humans can image something like an "essence" that lives separately from our lived experience, but that's not how we live in the world. I am inspired now for my next post! THANK YOU!
And this is all helping me enormously with working out my voice for the book manuscript.
Amy, I miss all of you! Now, stop praising the writer. It's not good for her--like feeding the animals in zoos.
Thank YOU, Bridget! And you're welcome. Let us always vow to help each other by challenging each other's thinking.
One topic I hope you write about in the future is religion, and how stuff works into a person's religious home life. We've been discussing your grandmother's cup as a focal point where these ideas are coming together, but, as has been said, that is a very private, sentimental investment of an object. What about religious artifacts, relics, and icons? I am not sure precisely what religion you'd identify with, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on how this all pertains to, say, a few crosses you have in your house, or some menorahs in the attic. Do we make different stuff-rules for objects from religious value-systems? Or do those objects just show us (in your view) how enslaved to stuff we've become?
Keep it up!
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