Some people travel in straight lines:
Sat in metal boxes, eyes ahead,
Always mindful of the target,
Moving in obedience to the coloured lights and white lines,
Mission accomplished at the journey's end.
Some people travel round in circles:
Trudging in drudgery, eyes looking down,
Knowing only too well their daily unchanging round,
Moving in response to clock and habit,
Journey never finished yet never begun.
I want to travel in patterns of God's making:
Walking in wonder, gazing all around,
Knowing my destiny, though not my destination,
Moving to the rhythm of the surging of his spirit,
A journey which when life ends, in Christ has just begun.
Julia McGuinness
Thursday, 23 October 2008
A non-binary poem
Some people travel in straight lines:
Sat in metal boxes, eyes ahead,
Always mindful of the target,
Moving in obedience to the coloured lights and white lines,
Mission accomplished at the journey's end.
Some people travel round in circles:
Trudging in drudgery, eyes looking down,
Knowing only too well their daily unchanging round,
Moving in response to clock and habit,
Journey never finished yet never begun.
I want to travel in patterns of God's making:
Walking in wonder, gazing all around,
Knowing my destiny, though not my destination,
Moving to the rhythm of the surging of his spirit,
A journey which when life ends, in Christ has just begun.
Julia McGuinness
Sat in metal boxes, eyes ahead,
Always mindful of the target,
Moving in obedience to the coloured lights and white lines,
Mission accomplished at the journey's end.
Some people travel round in circles:
Trudging in drudgery, eyes looking down,
Knowing only too well their daily unchanging round,
Moving in response to clock and habit,
Journey never finished yet never begun.
I want to travel in patterns of God's making:
Walking in wonder, gazing all around,
Knowing my destiny, though not my destination,
Moving to the rhythm of the surging of his spirit,
A journey which when life ends, in Christ has just begun.
Julia McGuinness
Friday, 17 October 2008
I love this
'I have always believed that no matter how abstract our theories may sound or how consistent our arguments may appear, there are incidents and stories behind them which at least for ourselves, contain in a nutshell, the full meaning of what we have to say. Thought itself...arises out of the activity of incidents and incidents out of lived experience'
~Hannah Arendt
~Hannah Arendt
Tuesday, 14 October 2008
The Control of Nature
I've recently finished the excellent Control of Nature by John McPhee. He has a lovely turn of phrase and writes very well. What most caught my attention about this book though was the constant integration between the human condition and our relationship to and interaction with nature. Here's an example when talking about Icelandic attempts to redirect a lava flow in order to 'save' a wee fishing village:
'Even in something as primal as a volcanic eruption, the component of human interference could apparently enter the narrative and in complex and unpredictable geometries, alter the shape of succeeding events. After the human contribution passed a level higher than trifling, the human evolution of a new landscape could in no pure sense be natural. The event had lost it's status as a simple act of God. In making war with nature, there was risk of loss in winning.'
Here is an excellent case of the way we continually mould and shape the world around us. Even in a volcanic eruption - surely there can be little else more symbolic of 'raw' or 'pure' nature - the fundamental human capacity to (re)create our environments persist. I have to admit I find this sort of thing very encouraging.
On the one hand there is the pessimism born from seeing the human tendancy to constantly meddle and interfere. To always have the urge to poke around and be nosy, shunning the option to just let be. And examples of folly of this sort ending up in a sticky end are legion.
Yet there is tremoundous hope here also. That we have such agency leaves us largely able to rectify any mistakes we (collectivly and individually) have created. But it also gives us hope for creating the world we wish to live in around us. If we were more aware of these sort of capabilities and were a wee bit more stubborn in carring these out, maybe we could have far greater effect in affecting change?
'Even in something as primal as a volcanic eruption, the component of human interference could apparently enter the narrative and in complex and unpredictable geometries, alter the shape of succeeding events. After the human contribution passed a level higher than trifling, the human evolution of a new landscape could in no pure sense be natural. The event had lost it's status as a simple act of God. In making war with nature, there was risk of loss in winning.'
Here is an excellent case of the way we continually mould and shape the world around us. Even in a volcanic eruption - surely there can be little else more symbolic of 'raw' or 'pure' nature - the fundamental human capacity to (re)create our environments persist. I have to admit I find this sort of thing very encouraging.
On the one hand there is the pessimism born from seeing the human tendancy to constantly meddle and interfere. To always have the urge to poke around and be nosy, shunning the option to just let be. And examples of folly of this sort ending up in a sticky end are legion.
Yet there is tremoundous hope here also. That we have such agency leaves us largely able to rectify any mistakes we (collectivly and individually) have created. But it also gives us hope for creating the world we wish to live in around us. If we were more aware of these sort of capabilities and were a wee bit more stubborn in carring these out, maybe we could have far greater effect in affecting change?
Monday, 13 October 2008
Geographies of the Everyday: Resistance & Banality
Here are my notes from a talk I gave in Glasgow on Saturday.
I’d like to begin with a story from the US novelist, the late David Foster Wallace, who died a few weeks ago.
‘There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys, enjoying the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is water?”’
My point here is not to present myself as that wise old fish – here to explain to you what water is. Rather, as David Foster Wallace put it, it is to say that ‘the most obvious, ubiquitous, important realities are often the ones most difficult to talk about.’ That my last sentence when seen written down appears as banal platitude, I won’t brook pointing out to you. Yet this is my point, that the most banal platitudes often have hugely significant consequences, much more so than what are traditionally defined as ‘life-or-death’ decisions. So far this all sounds like hyperbole, or abstract nonsense. So let’s get concrete…
What I’d like to do here is intersperse some of the things I’ve read in the last year or so with some stories that I’ve picked up during the same period, that led me on my journey to this course, but also choose my thesis topic.
I’ll start with the most important: Hannah Arendt.
A German Jew and Marxist, she lived a fascinating life. However here I want to draw on her most well known work. In 1963, this brilliant thinker wrote Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. In it she paints Eichmann both as the orchestrator of the holocaust, yes, but also as a very ‘normal’ human being, who became so focused on his day-to-day living and tasks that he lost the capacity to distinguish right from wrong. As you can imagine, that someone would draw together and compare such a monstrous evil as the holocaust and such banality drew much debate and ruffled a few feathers to say the least.
Now there are many issues that arise from this. I don’t think Arendt was attempting to excuse or make any less monstrous the evil of the holocaust, and neither am I here. I also realise that some of you may have concerns with describing anything as evil, and question what we mean by that, even in something as horrific as (an attempted) genocide. What I think is important here is to realise that the capacity for evil is greatly increased when our thinking and critical awareness are dulled by whatever banality, for example by being absorbed in a task.
Why is this important? Or any different from any other theory of ‘what went wrong’ in the holocaust? Paul Cloke offers three reasons:
The first point is that our unquestioned life practices can, through a myriad of unquestioned banality, lead to great evil. The corollary of this is the great effect that critically auditing our life patterns can achieve. This can be done in a myriad of ways. When I was considering this in preparing this talk I thought of some of the things that have served this purpose in my life, like spiritual retreats, works of arresting art or encounters with some pretty challenging people – the last being more important to me than I think I realise. There’s the saying where two folk agree on everything, one of them is superfluous. Likewise, if I only spend time in my comfort zone, or with comfortable people how can I grow? (etymology of comfort???)
There seems to be in the world around us a stubborn refusal to accept this point – that our life patterns reflect what we continually do. (As opposed to how we justify, reason away any actions that may be too unpalatable to be seen as of our own choosing.) This capacity is perhaps only exceeded by the human capacity to (re)create the world around us, if only we could muster the awareness to do so. I’ll move onto the second point.
Secondly, while our life patterns may not have been originated by our own choosing, they are often sustained by our own doing.
Now, there can be issues in how we interpret the capacity for action out of this. Arendt seems to be close advocating individual responsibility for the unquestioned banal actions, yet already I can hear the Che cry that atomised individualism is no solution to one of the creators of the problems we are talking about here. It’s a curious point. Arendt herself, when discussing her reaction to her book about Eichmann pointed out:
However monstrous the deeds were, the doer was neither monstrous nor demonic, and the only specific characteristic one could detect in his past as well as in his behaviour during the trial and the preceding police examination was something entirely negative: it was not stupidity but a curious, quite authentic inability to think.
A greater capacity to think, I believe, is certainly not going to be a hindrance in addressing these issues.
This brings me to her third point, which is I think totally antithetical to contemporary notions of freedom as individual rights to privatise and personalise. Freedom, for Arendt, can only be found within bounds, and is realised in our capacity for action, awareness and awakening.
From this theoretical start point, how can we make the shift from poiesis to praxis.
The first and most obvious example of this knowledge affecting me in my practice of ‘being the change’ can be seen in hitchhiking. As I reflected on some of the key axiomatic problems I have with society and social organisation (By that I mean, not merely specific isolated problems, but rather endemic, structural violations of humanity.) Hitching has become as good an example as any of my embodying praxis over poiesis.
I obviously don’t mean this to be proscriptive. If we were all to become hitchers, we’d all stand still – there being no cars. Rather it’s just one example of a change in lifestyle brought about by an awareness of the unconscious mental patters our habits sustain.
If am fundamentally at odds with a society that is run on principles of atomised individualism, unfettered capitalism, hyperrationialism, control, order, hierarchy, the selfish desire to get in a straight line to a precisely known destination - in short the enlightenment principles - then there appears to me to be no better embodiment of these ideals than car ownership or the car culture we see around us. Our water, if you like.
These philosophical interpretations of the car culture are not merely coincidental to the fact that one owns or uses a car. Rather take Arendt’s point, that we eventually embody these ideas whenever we engage with and carry out the action of car driving. The point here is not whither or not we in moments of critical reflective-ness disagree with the ideological assumptions of using a car, rather the point is we are what we continually do, not how well we justify what we do. It takes a remarkable, critical self-awareness to be able to engage in the activity and continually critically audit why we are doing said activity. Indeed, I would even go so far as to suggest, that it is impossible.
So, hitchhiking removes us from the complicity (both of the car culture and it’s philosophical basis), but it also hints at another possibility in the best possible way. What I mean by this, is that it does not preach or attempt to explain away what our actions are, or why we are doing them. (Of course, certain kinds of explanation can also be seen as enlightenment ideals.) Hitching does not preach, but rather suggests an alternative way of doing things. A way that values eating up the surplus waste of car driving (through taking up the spare seat) and where patience takes the place of control; reliance on others, autonomy and affirms the generous spirit in others.
I could also sketch an outline here too for skipping and for hospitality – which is what I chose to write my thesis about in the end. A hospitality that overcomes the personal individual right to property and ownership, and instead embodies a very different value system.
What I’ve outlined here is certainly not intended to be proscriptive (that would go against the very principles I’ve tried to outline!) Instead, I have tried to show how often, far too often, our stated ideals and principles are compromised by our actions – more often than not whilst we are completely unaware of this. The examples I have chosen here, reflect a broad pattern emphasising removal of oneself from complicity, embodying and reflecting how an alternative way of doing things may be possible. Done in a very self-effacing and practical way.
However this can only happen once we have critically reflected on our own life practices. A couple of helpful indicators of this may include evidence of changing ones mind. If I try to think back over the last year and haven’t changed my opinion on any topic of importance, the chances are I’ve not challenged myself enough.
The most important thing though, is to continually reflect on those obvious, ubiquitous, banal realities, that we so very often miss, by continually reminding ourselves ‘This is water, this is water, this is water.’
I’d like to begin with a story from the US novelist, the late David Foster Wallace, who died a few weeks ago.
‘There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys, enjoying the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is water?”’
My point here is not to present myself as that wise old fish – here to explain to you what water is. Rather, as David Foster Wallace put it, it is to say that ‘the most obvious, ubiquitous, important realities are often the ones most difficult to talk about.’ That my last sentence when seen written down appears as banal platitude, I won’t brook pointing out to you. Yet this is my point, that the most banal platitudes often have hugely significant consequences, much more so than what are traditionally defined as ‘life-or-death’ decisions. So far this all sounds like hyperbole, or abstract nonsense. So let’s get concrete…
What I’d like to do here is intersperse some of the things I’ve read in the last year or so with some stories that I’ve picked up during the same period, that led me on my journey to this course, but also choose my thesis topic.
I’ll start with the most important: Hannah Arendt.
A German Jew and Marxist, she lived a fascinating life. However here I want to draw on her most well known work. In 1963, this brilliant thinker wrote Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil. In it she paints Eichmann both as the orchestrator of the holocaust, yes, but also as a very ‘normal’ human being, who became so focused on his day-to-day living and tasks that he lost the capacity to distinguish right from wrong. As you can imagine, that someone would draw together and compare such a monstrous evil as the holocaust and such banality drew much debate and ruffled a few feathers to say the least.
Now there are many issues that arise from this. I don’t think Arendt was attempting to excuse or make any less monstrous the evil of the holocaust, and neither am I here. I also realise that some of you may have concerns with describing anything as evil, and question what we mean by that, even in something as horrific as (an attempted) genocide. What I think is important here is to realise that the capacity for evil is greatly increased when our thinking and critical awareness are dulled by whatever banality, for example by being absorbed in a task.
Why is this important? Or any different from any other theory of ‘what went wrong’ in the holocaust? Paul Cloke offers three reasons:
The first point is that our unquestioned life practices can, through a myriad of unquestioned banality, lead to great evil. The corollary of this is the great effect that critically auditing our life patterns can achieve. This can be done in a myriad of ways. When I was considering this in preparing this talk I thought of some of the things that have served this purpose in my life, like spiritual retreats, works of arresting art or encounters with some pretty challenging people – the last being more important to me than I think I realise. There’s the saying where two folk agree on everything, one of them is superfluous. Likewise, if I only spend time in my comfort zone, or with comfortable people how can I grow? (etymology of comfort???)
There seems to be in the world around us a stubborn refusal to accept this point – that our life patterns reflect what we continually do. (As opposed to how we justify, reason away any actions that may be too unpalatable to be seen as of our own choosing.) This capacity is perhaps only exceeded by the human capacity to (re)create the world around us, if only we could muster the awareness to do so. I’ll move onto the second point.
Secondly, while our life patterns may not have been originated by our own choosing, they are often sustained by our own doing.
Now, there can be issues in how we interpret the capacity for action out of this. Arendt seems to be close advocating individual responsibility for the unquestioned banal actions, yet already I can hear the Che cry that atomised individualism is no solution to one of the creators of the problems we are talking about here. It’s a curious point. Arendt herself, when discussing her reaction to her book about Eichmann pointed out:
However monstrous the deeds were, the doer was neither monstrous nor demonic, and the only specific characteristic one could detect in his past as well as in his behaviour during the trial and the preceding police examination was something entirely negative: it was not stupidity but a curious, quite authentic inability to think.
A greater capacity to think, I believe, is certainly not going to be a hindrance in addressing these issues.
This brings me to her third point, which is I think totally antithetical to contemporary notions of freedom as individual rights to privatise and personalise. Freedom, for Arendt, can only be found within bounds, and is realised in our capacity for action, awareness and awakening.
From this theoretical start point, how can we make the shift from poiesis to praxis.
The first and most obvious example of this knowledge affecting me in my practice of ‘being the change’ can be seen in hitchhiking. As I reflected on some of the key axiomatic problems I have with society and social organisation (By that I mean, not merely specific isolated problems, but rather endemic, structural violations of humanity.) Hitching has become as good an example as any of my embodying praxis over poiesis.
I obviously don’t mean this to be proscriptive. If we were all to become hitchers, we’d all stand still – there being no cars. Rather it’s just one example of a change in lifestyle brought about by an awareness of the unconscious mental patters our habits sustain.
If am fundamentally at odds with a society that is run on principles of atomised individualism, unfettered capitalism, hyperrationialism, control, order, hierarchy, the selfish desire to get in a straight line to a precisely known destination - in short the enlightenment principles - then there appears to me to be no better embodiment of these ideals than car ownership or the car culture we see around us. Our water, if you like.
These philosophical interpretations of the car culture are not merely coincidental to the fact that one owns or uses a car. Rather take Arendt’s point, that we eventually embody these ideas whenever we engage with and carry out the action of car driving. The point here is not whither or not we in moments of critical reflective-ness disagree with the ideological assumptions of using a car, rather the point is we are what we continually do, not how well we justify what we do. It takes a remarkable, critical self-awareness to be able to engage in the activity and continually critically audit why we are doing said activity. Indeed, I would even go so far as to suggest, that it is impossible.
So, hitchhiking removes us from the complicity (both of the car culture and it’s philosophical basis), but it also hints at another possibility in the best possible way. What I mean by this, is that it does not preach or attempt to explain away what our actions are, or why we are doing them. (Of course, certain kinds of explanation can also be seen as enlightenment ideals.) Hitching does not preach, but rather suggests an alternative way of doing things. A way that values eating up the surplus waste of car driving (through taking up the spare seat) and where patience takes the place of control; reliance on others, autonomy and affirms the generous spirit in others.
I could also sketch an outline here too for skipping and for hospitality – which is what I chose to write my thesis about in the end. A hospitality that overcomes the personal individual right to property and ownership, and instead embodies a very different value system.
What I’ve outlined here is certainly not intended to be proscriptive (that would go against the very principles I’ve tried to outline!) Instead, I have tried to show how often, far too often, our stated ideals and principles are compromised by our actions – more often than not whilst we are completely unaware of this. The examples I have chosen here, reflect a broad pattern emphasising removal of oneself from complicity, embodying and reflecting how an alternative way of doing things may be possible. Done in a very self-effacing and practical way.
However this can only happen once we have critically reflected on our own life practices. A couple of helpful indicators of this may include evidence of changing ones mind. If I try to think back over the last year and haven’t changed my opinion on any topic of importance, the chances are I’ve not challenged myself enough.
The most important thing though, is to continually reflect on those obvious, ubiquitous, banal realities, that we so very often miss, by continually reminding ourselves ‘This is water, this is water, this is water.’
Friday, 3 October 2008
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
Excerpts from Common Sense
This weekend I was at a graduation ceremony for a course I've just completed looking at many of these issues. In it a poem was read that has stayed with me since, and that I find quite beautiful. I thought I'd share it here:
Excerpts from Common Sense
We have been born
into a moment
of unprecedented danger and opportunity.
Our failure to act
is itself a choice.
There is nowhere to hide
from this awareness.
It is time.
Our purpose here
is to build a bridge.
The purpose of the bridge
is to span the distance
between our present situation
and our vision of a better world.
The beauty of a bridge is that,
once it is in place,
anyone can walk on it.
A few people can build a bridge
that can be walked on by many.
. . .
On the edge of the dream
we face our deepest doubts.
Now that it all is almost real
a terrible fear of success takes hold
and we grab desperately, incontrollably, for failure.
One last chance to get off easy.
Who among us really wants to save the world,
to be born again into two thousand more years
of struggle?
How much sweeter to be the doomed generation,
floating gently on the errors and villainy of others,
towards some glorious apocalypse now . . .
Hallelujah! It's not my fault--
Bring on the end times!
We hate our enemies
to provide ourselves in advance
with excuses for possible failure.
Only when we give up
the comforts of pessimism
the luxury of enemies
the sweetness of helplessness
can we see beyond our own doubts.
I am speaking today of a great possibility
a chance to return to life
a chance to create a world for our children
not worse than the one we have
How dare I be discouraged in the work
by anything so trivial
as the fear of personal failure?
. . .
There are bridges to build
new maps of consciousness to be delivered
to every planetary address
in every planetary language.
We are ironworkers, skywalkers,
stubborn messengers
of light and life.
O friends
don't forget
why we're here!
The truth is, we have the skills
and we have the courage
if we could only keep our minds
on what we really want.
. . .
How to prevent world catastrophe:
1) Admit that it could happen.
2) Decide that it will not happen.
3) Commit your vision and energy to number two
without ever forgetting number one.
To choose to build a bridge
is the essential act of love.
- Paul Williams
Thursday, 11 September 2008
EarthAbbey
Related to the post below. The writer of that article, Chris Sutherland, has a side-project called Earth Abbey. It seems an interesting wee venture, and one I'll explore further...
http://www.earthabbey.com/
http://www.earthabbey.com/
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Sinning Against the Earth?
http://www.biblesociety.org.uk/exploratory/articles/sunderlandsummer08.pdf
This is quite some article, in such a short space it seems to perfectly critique the need of any spiritual discipline to be rooted in its environment and to be aware of the surrounding geography.
I like the way he starts the piece by bringing past campaigns, or raising of 'human consciousness', that seem 'obviously' in the right or wrong to us now, like slavery. It also reminds us of the past successes these campaigns have achieved and what can be possible. That Christian people played such a big part in anti-slavery is also interesting. Chris Sutherland is right to appeal to Christian folk to get involved in this next great shift in 'human consciousness'. Christianity needs to be more rooted in environmental issues. The environmental movement likewise, I believe, can learn much from spiritual disciplines.
It is interesting that Chris Sutherland here mentions Joanna Macy, whose deeply held Buddhism profoundly influences her work. It is clear when you read her work that her spiritual disciplines come through in her environmental activities, indeed, I would say, they are the reason for her involvement in the environmental movement.
Obviously this article is coming from a Christian viewpoint and speaking to a Christian audience. The environmental movement ought to be all the richer from wherever it draws its spiritual sustenance, but there is hope here for both movements. If Christianity can re-connect with its environment, it can challenge itself to look at what it really stands for.
"The challenge goes right to the root of capitalism and it finds the Church deeply compromised. Authentic Christianity has always been deeply suspicious of material views of prosperity..." Here here! If this message was heard more often I would reckon that the (Christian) churches - in this country at least - wouldn't be dying like they are. This is a much needed voice for Christians to hear.
It's also a much needed voice for environmentalists to hear too I think. Sunderland says the challenge we face "... is ultimately a spiritual one" Again I could agree more. In order to get through the impending ecocide, we need to address both our material greed and spiritual shallowness. At least in the West we do. This is an environmental issue, but it's also a spiritual issue.
"The time is coming when it will be hard to call yourself a Christian and live an earth destructive lifestyle. That is a challenge to us all."
I really hope so. Both for Christians and for any other spiritual tradition. It is in crisis's such as these that we see the inadequacy of either spirituality or geography by themselves.
This is quite some article, in such a short space it seems to perfectly critique the need of any spiritual discipline to be rooted in its environment and to be aware of the surrounding geography.
I like the way he starts the piece by bringing past campaigns, or raising of 'human consciousness', that seem 'obviously' in the right or wrong to us now, like slavery. It also reminds us of the past successes these campaigns have achieved and what can be possible. That Christian people played such a big part in anti-slavery is also interesting. Chris Sutherland is right to appeal to Christian folk to get involved in this next great shift in 'human consciousness'. Christianity needs to be more rooted in environmental issues. The environmental movement likewise, I believe, can learn much from spiritual disciplines.
It is interesting that Chris Sutherland here mentions Joanna Macy, whose deeply held Buddhism profoundly influences her work. It is clear when you read her work that her spiritual disciplines come through in her environmental activities, indeed, I would say, they are the reason for her involvement in the environmental movement.
Obviously this article is coming from a Christian viewpoint and speaking to a Christian audience. The environmental movement ought to be all the richer from wherever it draws its spiritual sustenance, but there is hope here for both movements. If Christianity can re-connect with its environment, it can challenge itself to look at what it really stands for.
"The challenge goes right to the root of capitalism and it finds the Church deeply compromised. Authentic Christianity has always been deeply suspicious of material views of prosperity..." Here here! If this message was heard more often I would reckon that the (Christian) churches - in this country at least - wouldn't be dying like they are. This is a much needed voice for Christians to hear.
It's also a much needed voice for environmentalists to hear too I think. Sunderland says the challenge we face "... is ultimately a spiritual one" Again I could agree more. In order to get through the impending ecocide, we need to address both our material greed and spiritual shallowness. At least in the West we do. This is an environmental issue, but it's also a spiritual issue.
"The time is coming when it will be hard to call yourself a Christian and live an earth destructive lifestyle. That is a challenge to us all."
I really hope so. Both for Christians and for any other spiritual tradition. It is in crisis's such as these that we see the inadequacy of either spirituality or geography by themselves.
Saturday, 30 August 2008
Ethical Architecture
"Architecture may well possess moral messages; it simply has no power to enforce them. It offers suggestions instead of making laws. It invites, rather than orders, us to emulate its spirit and cannot prevent its own abuse." Alain de Botton, Architecture of Happiness (2006:20)
I've recently been chewing over this quote again. I remember it striking me when I first came across it a few years ago, and recently did so again researching for a thesis I've been writing. I love what it says, about the beauty of good architecture. That it is not forceful, good architecture does not automatically lead to good people inside or around the building. But I also like this quote for what it does not say.
In Architecture I think we see much clearer, than for space, just how much capacity we have to mould our environments. But also acknowledged above is the way that the influencing is not one way, it's profoundly reciprocal. We influence our space, and our space in turn influences us.
But I think the thing I like best about this quote is the fact that this reciprocal influencing, this iterative relationship is not carried out in a neutral manner, it's profoundly an ethical (one might even say spiritual) dilemma.
I've recently been chewing over this quote again. I remember it striking me when I first came across it a few years ago, and recently did so again researching for a thesis I've been writing. I love what it says, about the beauty of good architecture. That it is not forceful, good architecture does not automatically lead to good people inside or around the building. But I also like this quote for what it does not say.
In Architecture I think we see much clearer, than for space, just how much capacity we have to mould our environments. But also acknowledged above is the way that the influencing is not one way, it's profoundly reciprocal. We influence our space, and our space in turn influences us.
But I think the thing I like best about this quote is the fact that this reciprocal influencing, this iterative relationship is not carried out in a neutral manner, it's profoundly an ethical (one might even say spiritual) dilemma.
Friday, 29 August 2008
To Begin at the Beginning
I can't think of many better ways to start than to quote Dylan Thomas.
In short this 'blog is a way of exploring those twin passion in my life, spirituality and geography. Unlike Paul Ricoeur, who always kept firmly separate his strong Protestantism from his brilliant philosophy. Rather more like the belated realisation of Thomas Aquinas who declared, describing all his oeuvre, including the thorough Summa Theologica 'All is straw' compared to the daily spiritual living. So, I want to take a holistic look at 'private' spirituality and 'public' geography.
So, to paraphrase the psalm 85, I'm looking for the place where geography & spirituality, spirit & space embrace and kiss in the street.
I believe the depth of connections here are almost eternal, lets take a look...
In short this 'blog is a way of exploring those twin passion in my life, spirituality and geography. Unlike Paul Ricoeur, who always kept firmly separate his strong Protestantism from his brilliant philosophy. Rather more like the belated realisation of Thomas Aquinas who declared, describing all his oeuvre, including the thorough Summa Theologica 'All is straw' compared to the daily spiritual living. So, I want to take a holistic look at 'private' spirituality and 'public' geography.
So, to paraphrase the psalm 85, I'm looking for the place where geography & spirituality, spirit & space embrace and kiss in the street.
I believe the depth of connections here are almost eternal, lets take a look...
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