Judith

During the past two years I've been having all kinds of mid-life adventures. One of them centers around the realization that it really is important to have these kinds of people around me, and making it a high priority to find such people and nurture relationships with them when I do find them. Perfection isn't necessary -- "almost" is good enough! Judith

Some of the traits I find myself valuing in people in general: Kindness, honesty, earnestness, dignity, patience. They may sound simple, but in fact they reflect a level of personal development that is increasingly rare. When I was in my early twenties I thought that intelligence was everything. Now, after having spent the last twenty years working pretty much exclusively with highly intelligent people, I've come to value these traits above intelligence. I have to say that I don't know a single person today who exhibits them consistently. I may know two or three people who almost meet the description. Earnestness in particular is quite rare these days; cynicism is in, and it takes rare courage to be earnest in today's culture. Assertiveness is another valuable character trait. Unassertive people drive me crazy! Moral courage. It seems like a simple thing to say what one thinks and feels and wants and believes, but I encounter people all the time who can't do something this simple. I like having company when I call things by their right names and say that the emperor is naked. It gets wearisome when I get quiet little private e-mails from people who say, "For what it's worth, I agree with you." I think to myself, "Why didn't you speak up in public, when it counted?" Judith

Well -- I'm finally home! Really! Hmmm. I never would have guessed. My few experiences with UUs has been like being dropped into a family reunion of ultra-left-wing liberals; not a friendly environment for an Objectivist at all. I don't think I'd be at all welcome in any of the local UU groups, with my pro-gun, pro-war, tough-on-crime attitudes. I didn't get the impression from reading about the studies that the experience was the same as stimulation of the pleasure centers. It was, I believe, perhaps more related to epilepsy. Buried somewhere in the depths of my book collection is a novel that came out sometime soon after this study was published. It was about a nun in a contemplative order who had frequent ecstatic experiences and was revered by others in her order for these visions. At some point it was discovered that she had a medical condition for which she required treatment, and she knew that having the treatment would mean the end of the visions. She had the treatment, and the story ended with her dealing with the knowledge that she would never again have these ecstatic experiences. (On a somewhat related note, there's another book I have in my collection that I haven't yet read called, I believe, "Touched With Fire", which suggests that there's a possible link between artistic genius and manic depressive illness. Apparently there's some evidence for such a link in at least some instances.) When I spoke about Zen masters being experts in the realm of the "eye of spirit" in my previous post, I didn't mean to imply that Zen Buddhists are the only ones who have expertise in this subject, or that Wilber holds such a position. There is a remarkable amount of agreement among "mystics" of various disciplines at advanced levels of just what constitutes "enlightenment" or an advanced degree of achievement, whether the expert be Christian, Jewish, Sufi Moslem, Hindu, Buddhist, or whatever. There's been some controversy in the Catholic church about some interfaith exchanges between Catholics and Buddhists who believed that they had a great deal to learn from each other; the orthodox academic Catholics, of course, would want nothing to do with that, but the more mystical types saw the commonalities. Laboratory stimulation, drugs, epilepsy, etc. constitute handy dandy shortcuts to "opening the third eye", as the jargon of the field calls it, but according to the practitioners, anyone can see what the advanced types see if one is willing to do it the established way, which is to perform meditation practices. Personally, I've never done it because I haven't had the patience for it; maybe I should -- maybe it's worth it. I suppose that if I had a transcendent experience in a lab and it was wonderful, I might be motivated to practice meditation as a means to gain and keep it long-term. I remember being a little kid, no more than four or five years old, and lying on the bed in the bedroom and being totally blown away by the fact that I existed. I used to lie there for long periods of time just thinking about that, staring at my hand or my shirt or the wall, my heart racing. Later I grew out of it somehow and could never recapture that feeling again, but for a few years there it was almost frightening to think about it. Later on, as an adult, I've never felt overwhelmed by existence. When I read "The Fountainhead", I immediately related to Wynand's statement that he never felt small when contemplating the universe. I feel like I expand when contemplating its vastness, to take it all in. I just got back from New Mexico, and I remember last week when I drove around a corner on the highway and the horizon opened up to what seemed like limitlessness. It seemed as if my eyes suddenly widened so that I could take it all in. When I look at the sky at night, or think about the vastness of the universe, I feel as if I expand to take it all in, and I get bigger. Judith

Ken Wilber, in "Eye to Eye: the Quest for a New Paradigm", summed up his thesis pretty much as follows: There is an eye of flesh, an eye of mind, and an eye of spirit. Each is appropriate to a specific body of knowledge, and information in each body of knowledge is validated by consensus among experts in the field. The eye of flesh deals with empiric physical reality, such as scientific knowledge. Knowledge in this field is gained by direct sensory perception or by using instruments that extend that perception. For example, when Galileo said that the earth moved and the sun stood still, this knowledge required looking through a telescope. To gain this knowledge required looking through the scope. If one refused to look through the scope, one couldn't reasonably argue with him. The eye of mind deals with purely intellectual concerns, such as mathematics. Knowledge in this field is gained by understanding and learning the concepts thereof. For example, if one wants to understand differential equations, one must first learn arithmetic and algebra. If one refuses to gain an elementary knowledge of the field, one cannot reasonably expect to learn and argue about advanced concepts in the field. The eye of spirit deals with yet another level of consciousness. Wilber posits that this level of consciousness is just as knowable and learnable and repeatable as mathematics and science, and has standards and exercises that enable one to become expert in it. The exercises are meditation and koans, and the masters are people such as Zen monks. These masters have an understanding of the advanced concepts and have reached consensus on the advanced subjects in the field. They can tell if you have or have not reached an advanced level in the field, just as advanced mathematicians can tell if you understand advanced math or if you are merely scribbling nonsense on the blackboard. If you refuse to do the required steps to gain advanced understanding in the field (i.e., the required meditation), you have no more business telling the Zen masters that their field is nonsense than a savage would have telling advanced mathematicians that their equations have no meaning and are mere scribbles. I find Wilber's proposition fascinating. I consider myself an Objectivist and an atheist, and have no problem accepting his proposition as being quite possible and entirely consistent with Objectivism. Regarding brain studies, I've read somewhere (can't remember where) that there have been studies in which stimulation of the temporal lobes enables an experience so intense that the subject would swear in a court of law that God had been standing right next to him/her. Some would argue that this result means that all religious experience is clearly the result of electrical impulses in the brain. Others would argue that it means that other sensory experiences have also been reproduced in the lab, and that clearly if this one has too, such experiences must be real and authentic. I say that no one will resolve this argument by arguing. I do know that I'd LOVE to go into one of those labs and have it done to me, simply because I'd like to broaden my range of experiences, and that having had the experience I'd not know what it means any more than I do now. It's terribly important to distinguish between the fact of the experience itself and the interpretation or explanation of the experience. I am very interested in Rich's experiences and in Michael's experiences, and in what others have to say on the subject. And I'm STILL on vacation and won't be back until late Sunday night! (So I won't be posting regularly.) Judith

There's a discussion of this book and its author under the "Links" topic. Judith

I've been on (and am currently still on) vacation, so I haven't had a chance to reply for a while. Angie, regarding some of the questions you posed above, I think it's easy early in a relationship to do the "right" things. We're at our best, and the other person is at his/her best, and somehow it all comes quite naturally. Later on, when "reality" sets in, it's all quite a bit harder, and requires self-discipline to act with kindness and consideration, and to listen when perhaps we're tired, or would rather read a book or play with the dog, or to be sympathetic when we think that our own day was in fact ten times harder than our partner's. I keep thinking about Nathaniel Branden's book "The Romantic Love Question and Answer Book", later republished as "What Love Asks of Us", in which he says that he would often do things that were kind or considerate, but inconsistently, and that his wife Devers said that he had to learn "the discipline of kindness". That kind of says it all. Judith

I also would like to hear more about Rich's experiences. I find Wilber's work fascinating. I agree that the semantics issue alienates a lot of people. Judith (on vacation in Santa Fe and posting and reading VERY sporadically)

Well said, Victor. And something that can never be said too often. Judith

Wow. Sounds great! Down the barrel it is! (Shotgun videos are shot [ouch -- pardon the inadvertent pun!] that way all the time! The shooters just go through great pains to show the audience that the gun is unloaded first. I guess we won't be able to do that in a painting, so the world will have to believe that I WASN'T about to shoot you from horseback while you painted me. It WASN'T a shotgun painting!) Welcome! Judith

I wholeheartedly concur -- both the interview and the book itself are great. I met Fred at the 2005 TOC conference in Schenectady. I talked to him a few times, picked up a copy of his book, and began to read it while I was still at the conference, and I was simply blown away. I reviewed it on Amazon, and I simply NEVER do that. Get it. Read it. You're in for a treat. For more details regarding my reasons, see my review at Amazon. Fred's walking tours are great, too. I took two last May: one on Margaret Corbin, a woman who fought in the Revolutionary War in Manhattan when her husband was killed; she picked up where he left off and kept on firing his cannon (apparently she lived to a ripe old age) -- and one on Ayn Rand's Manhattan, including highlights such as the various apartments Ayn had in New York, apartments of other members of the collective such as Nathaniel Branden, the building where Ayn interned in an architect's office while researching The Fountainhead, Grand Central Terminal, various Art Deco style buildings -- well, I could go on and on, but take the tours if you get a chance -- Fred's a fantastic guide. The former tour taught me to read a revolutionary war map and enabled me to visualize Manhattan as it was over 230 year ago, and the latter tour made "Judgment Day: My Years with Ayn Rand" come alive, and also taught me an amazing amount of information about Art Deco architecture, which I thought I didn't like but have since come to appreciate. Judith

Truly beautiful. Thank you! Judith

I can understand Barbara's frustration, too. I've had that experience occasionally while driving at night and seeing something up ahead that just won't resolve itself into something recognizable, but that seems to be a disjointed jumble of lights or reflections. "What the heck IS that?" I wonder, and slow down until I recognize it. It's downright creepy. Nothing wrong whatsoever with my vision, either -- no astigmatism, etc. Just a natural result of not having all the data we have while driving during the day. Great butterfly photos, by the way. I have a Canon digital SLR and enjoy taking animal photos, but I've never taken pictures of anything smaller than a frog. Judith

Yes! I found that quite encouraging. Judith

I haven't yet stopped kicking myself for not buying tickets to those performances before they sold out. I knew they were happening last summer, and I put off buying the tickets because I didn't know who would be going with me, and I got busy, and then when I called to buy the tickets they were sold out of the 8th. (I wasn't going to make the trip just for the 2nd, since I've seen that one live twice.) Now I'll be lucky to find another performance of it in the continental US anytime in the next 20 years -- and I'd be happy to fly anywhere in the continental US to see a creditable performance of it! I've loved that piece since around 1980. I've had the privilege of performing the finale of the 2nd a few times, but only with organ and brass, not an entire symphony, and not the entire work. (I sing in two local choral organizations. I've been TRYING to talk the local conductors into interest in the 2nd and the 8th, but nagging takes time and lots of people doing it.... Fortunately, I'm not alone in my interest! ) I'll never forget the first time I heard the 2nd -- it was a live performance, not a recording -- May of 1983, Salt Lake City, the Utah Symphony, Varujan Kojian conducting. I don't think my feet touched the ground for two weeks after that. Indelibly printed in my memory is the sight of Kojian poised on the podium for the finale, baton in hand, the perfect image of male ecstasy. I don't know what I wanted to do first -- kneel at his feet or tear off all of his clothes. Anyway, I'm glad you had a good time, Ed! Wish I'd been there! Judith

"Spartacus", without any close second-runners. Everything about it. The general theme (human liberty, fighting for one's values), the sense of life (people handling themselves and treating each other with respect and dignity instead of walking around like so much animated meat, and acting as if what they're doing is IMPORTANT), the earnestness with which the subject is treated, the cinematography (for example, one scene in which Roman decadence is superimposed with the hero and someone whom he respects greatly involved in a fight to the death that neither of them wants), the wonderful Alex North soundtrack, the intense drama of so many of the scenes, a beautiful romance -- well, I could go on and on. After that, perhaps "Ben-Hur" -- despite the religious theme, it has many of the same virtues as "Spartacus". "Contact" -- inspiring, moving, beautiful. I watched it on my birthday over a year and a half ago and was inspired to re-evaluate just about everything in my life and where it was going, and have been having a number of adventures ever since! "Apollo 13" -- enough said. "Braveheart" -- enough said. "Ladyhawke" "Das Boot" -- incredible cinematography and very intense -- and I have a thing for submarine movies, of which this is the best one I've ever seen. "The Hunt for Red October" "Balto" -- a very inspiring animated story about claiming and owning one's own strengths, accompanied by a stirring James Horner soundtrack. Enough for now. Judith

Hi, Everybody -- I've been lurking here for months, planning to join "someday", and the discussion of the Mahler symphonies finally tipped the balance and got me moving. I hail from the upstate New York area. I met some of you (including Michael and Kat!) at the TOC seminar this summer; I attended this year's and last year's, and plan to keep on attending them in future years -- they're wonderful! Maybe some of you will remember me. I've been an Objectivist since 1982, when I picked up Atlas Shrugged and couldn't put it down, despite the fact that I was supposed to be studying for my Ph.D written prelim in chemistry instead. (Yes, I passed the exam, but not by nearly as comfortable a margin as I should have!) My other interests include classical music, choral singing, dog showing, horseback riding (dressage), travel, and shotgun sports. Judith