“What cause of discord is it breaks the bonds of agreement here?
What heavenly power has set such strife between two truths?
Thus, though apart each brings no doubt,
yet can they not be linked together.
Comes there no discord between these truths?
Stand they forever sure by one another?
Yes, 'tis the mind, overwhelmed by the body's blindness,
which cannot see by the light of that dimmed brightness
the finest threads that bind the truth.
But wherefore burns the spirit with so strong desire
to learn the hidden signs of truth?
Knows it the very object of its careful search?
Then why seeks it to learn anew what it already knows?
If it knows it not, why searches it in blindness?
For who would desire aught unwitting?
Or who could seek after that which is unknown?
How should he find it,
or recognize its form when found,
if he knows it not?
And when the mind of man perceived the mind of God,
did it then know the whole and parts alike?
Now is the mind buried in the cloudy darkness of the body,
yet has not altogether forgotten its own self,
and keeps the whole though it has lost the parts.
Whosoever, therefore, seeks the truth, is not wholly in ignorance,
nor yet has knowledge wholly; for he knows not all,
yet is not ignorant of all.
He takes thought for the whole which he keeps in memory,
handling again what he saw on high,
so that he may add to that which he has kept,
that which he has forgotten.”
—from Book 5, Poem 3
Time and time again, I find myself confronting the danger of false dichotomies, where it is assumed that statements must be in contradiction to one another, when they are, in fact, quite compatible, if only they are rightly understood. We too readily limit our options, immediately seeing disagreement where there should be harmony.
This happens quite often, in my experience, when we do not clearly grasp the meaning of the terms we are using, or when our definitions become too narrow, failing to see the different senses in which we can speak of the truth of a proposition. I also wonder if we sometimes just prefer the thrill that comes from completely unnecessary conflict, the weakness of wishing to divide what is made to be one.
I am prone to missing the whole of something, because I am distracted by only one particular part, and my awareness is narrowed when I allow myself to be caught up in a specifically tantalizing impression. I scratch at the surface, picking away here and there, and I don’t bother to dig deeper, down to the roots. My baser instincts cloud my understanding, as if my eyes had grown atrophied from mucking about for too long in the dark.
Boethius here refers of Plato’s doctrine of Recollection, the idea that learning something new is actually remembering something we have forgotten. All the specifics of the argument, and all the different ways in which it can be interpreted, are a lengthy discussion for another time, but I suggest that the point here is to consider how coming to genuinely know the truth requires uncovering principles that are, in some sense, already present within our minds.
We seek out our own nature, within the order of a greater Nature guided by Providence, and we find that we are only rediscovering ourselves and our place in the world, becoming reacquainted with what we have neglected to nurture.
I may have overlooked who I am in the grand scheme of things, on account of all the petty baggage that weighs me down, and all the clutter I have accumulated in my head, but now it’s time to lift myself up and dust off the cobwebs.
When it comes to approaching the problem of Providence and free will, I do not need to place obstacles in my own path. Seen from a higher perspective, Creator and creature are never at odds.
What heavenly power has set such strife between two truths?
Thus, though apart each brings no doubt,
yet can they not be linked together.
Comes there no discord between these truths?
Stand they forever sure by one another?
Yes, 'tis the mind, overwhelmed by the body's blindness,
which cannot see by the light of that dimmed brightness
the finest threads that bind the truth.
But wherefore burns the spirit with so strong desire
to learn the hidden signs of truth?
Knows it the very object of its careful search?
Then why seeks it to learn anew what it already knows?
If it knows it not, why searches it in blindness?
For who would desire aught unwitting?
Or who could seek after that which is unknown?
How should he find it,
or recognize its form when found,
if he knows it not?
And when the mind of man perceived the mind of God,
did it then know the whole and parts alike?
Now is the mind buried in the cloudy darkness of the body,
yet has not altogether forgotten its own self,
and keeps the whole though it has lost the parts.
Whosoever, therefore, seeks the truth, is not wholly in ignorance,
nor yet has knowledge wholly; for he knows not all,
yet is not ignorant of all.
He takes thought for the whole which he keeps in memory,
handling again what he saw on high,
so that he may add to that which he has kept,
that which he has forgotten.”
—from Book 5, Poem 3
Time and time again, I find myself confronting the danger of false dichotomies, where it is assumed that statements must be in contradiction to one another, when they are, in fact, quite compatible, if only they are rightly understood. We too readily limit our options, immediately seeing disagreement where there should be harmony.
This happens quite often, in my experience, when we do not clearly grasp the meaning of the terms we are using, or when our definitions become too narrow, failing to see the different senses in which we can speak of the truth of a proposition. I also wonder if we sometimes just prefer the thrill that comes from completely unnecessary conflict, the weakness of wishing to divide what is made to be one.
I am prone to missing the whole of something, because I am distracted by only one particular part, and my awareness is narrowed when I allow myself to be caught up in a specifically tantalizing impression. I scratch at the surface, picking away here and there, and I don’t bother to dig deeper, down to the roots. My baser instincts cloud my understanding, as if my eyes had grown atrophied from mucking about for too long in the dark.
Boethius here refers of Plato’s doctrine of Recollection, the idea that learning something new is actually remembering something we have forgotten. All the specifics of the argument, and all the different ways in which it can be interpreted, are a lengthy discussion for another time, but I suggest that the point here is to consider how coming to genuinely know the truth requires uncovering principles that are, in some sense, already present within our minds.
We seek out our own nature, within the order of a greater Nature guided by Providence, and we find that we are only rediscovering ourselves and our place in the world, becoming reacquainted with what we have neglected to nurture.
I may have overlooked who I am in the grand scheme of things, on account of all the petty baggage that weighs me down, and all the clutter I have accumulated in my head, but now it’s time to lift myself up and dust off the cobwebs.
When it comes to approaching the problem of Providence and free will, I do not need to place obstacles in my own path. Seen from a higher perspective, Creator and creature are never at odds.
Written in 1/2016
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