“In what different shapes
do living beings move upon the earth!
Some make flat their bodies,
sweeping through the dust and using their strength
to make therein a furrow without break;
some flit here and there upon light wings which beat the breeze,
and they float through vast tracks of air in their easy flight.
It is others' wont to plant their footsteps on the ground,
and pass with their paces over green fields or under trees.
Though all these you see move in different shapes,
yet all have their faces downward along the ground,
and this draws downward and dulls their senses.
Alone of all, the human race lifts up its head on high,
and stands in easy balance with the body upright,
and so looks down to spurn the earth.
If you are not too earthly by an evil folly,
this pose is as a lesson.
Your glance is upward, and you carry high your head,
and thus your search is heavenward:
then lead your soul too upward,
lest while the body is higher raised,
the mind sinks lower to the earth.”
—from Book 5, Poem 5
The analogy is a beautiful one, though I hesitate to take it too literally or pridefully, as when I overheard one of my middle school students mocking that he was obviously the closest to God, since he was the tallest in the class. From that day forward I put a toy giraffe on my desk, as a shared reminder of humility. It has, over the years, become a wonderful conversation starter.
A man can rise up, and survey what is around him and above him, not just because he can stand on two legs, but because he is granted the power of a mind. The distinctly human shape is characterized by the spirit as much as by the body; the spindly frame contains a vast sense of wonder.
Even if it is housed within a material vessel, reason has the power to transcend its own particular nature by learning something about the whole of Nature. It admittedly does so in stops and starts, and only by beginning with the limited medium of the senses, and yet its capacity to compose and divide universal ideas is what can elevate a person beyond himself, striving to understand things from a higher perspective.
He not only is presented with the what, but also reflects upon the why.
I have often been told that this is all nice and well for a scientist, or a philosopher, or a theologian, even as it is totally unnecessary for everyone else. “The rest of us just have to go on living, and so we don’t need any of the fancy thinking!”
But don’t we see that even the most basic act of living already presumes conclusions about what is true or false, good or bad? A very statement about not needing to think is itself an act of thinking, not unlike certain philosophers who say they understand that man is incapable of understanding. Taking the reason out of a man is like taking the round out of a circle, or the finicky out of a cat.
It isn’t whether or not we’re thinking, but whether or not we’re thinking well.
On some days I stare at my shoes, because I’m afraid to look anywhere else. Still, it is my own free judgment that has limited me to that view.
On other days I venture to look at some of the things closest to me, but no further, because I’m only stubbornly interested in the trees, not the fullness of the forest. Still, it is my own free judgment that has limited me to that view.
Then, on the best of days, I look up, and I want to see what is around that corner, and over the horizon, and I know that it is only by rising up that I will gain the broader view. That is what my free judgment was made for.
do living beings move upon the earth!
Some make flat their bodies,
sweeping through the dust and using their strength
to make therein a furrow without break;
some flit here and there upon light wings which beat the breeze,
and they float through vast tracks of air in their easy flight.
It is others' wont to plant their footsteps on the ground,
and pass with their paces over green fields or under trees.
Though all these you see move in different shapes,
yet all have their faces downward along the ground,
and this draws downward and dulls their senses.
Alone of all, the human race lifts up its head on high,
and stands in easy balance with the body upright,
and so looks down to spurn the earth.
If you are not too earthly by an evil folly,
this pose is as a lesson.
Your glance is upward, and you carry high your head,
and thus your search is heavenward:
then lead your soul too upward,
lest while the body is higher raised,
the mind sinks lower to the earth.”
—from Book 5, Poem 5
The analogy is a beautiful one, though I hesitate to take it too literally or pridefully, as when I overheard one of my middle school students mocking that he was obviously the closest to God, since he was the tallest in the class. From that day forward I put a toy giraffe on my desk, as a shared reminder of humility. It has, over the years, become a wonderful conversation starter.
A man can rise up, and survey what is around him and above him, not just because he can stand on two legs, but because he is granted the power of a mind. The distinctly human shape is characterized by the spirit as much as by the body; the spindly frame contains a vast sense of wonder.
Even if it is housed within a material vessel, reason has the power to transcend its own particular nature by learning something about the whole of Nature. It admittedly does so in stops and starts, and only by beginning with the limited medium of the senses, and yet its capacity to compose and divide universal ideas is what can elevate a person beyond himself, striving to understand things from a higher perspective.
He not only is presented with the what, but also reflects upon the why.
I have often been told that this is all nice and well for a scientist, or a philosopher, or a theologian, even as it is totally unnecessary for everyone else. “The rest of us just have to go on living, and so we don’t need any of the fancy thinking!”
But don’t we see that even the most basic act of living already presumes conclusions about what is true or false, good or bad? A very statement about not needing to think is itself an act of thinking, not unlike certain philosophers who say they understand that man is incapable of understanding. Taking the reason out of a man is like taking the round out of a circle, or the finicky out of a cat.
It isn’t whether or not we’re thinking, but whether or not we’re thinking well.
On some days I stare at my shoes, because I’m afraid to look anywhere else. Still, it is my own free judgment that has limited me to that view.
On other days I venture to look at some of the things closest to me, but no further, because I’m only stubbornly interested in the trees, not the fullness of the forest. Still, it is my own free judgment that has limited me to that view.
Then, on the best of days, I look up, and I want to see what is around that corner, and over the horizon, and I know that it is only by rising up that I will gain the broader view. That is what my free judgment was made for.
Written in 2/2016
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