my father’s words

yesterday, i received a sweet call from my dear father.

he just called to ask, “i haven’t heard your voice in a long time! how are you? how’s your health? are you eating well? are you keeping your body warm? you have to take good care of your health, it is very important.”

it was very heartwarming, though after we hung up, an aching and almost melancholic feeling washed over me.

i miss him. and of course, i also miss my mother.

i don’t know how to explain the pain of being so close, and yet feeling so far… and this remote feeling is not one of pure and simple proximity, but an absence that is not quite an absence of presence; rather, it is a mixture of an unspeakable burden that has caused a unworthy and unnecessary distance.

i know i’ve said this elsewhere before, but recently my mother’s words has frequently revisited the surfaces of my consciousness. “no matter how busy you are, no matter where you are and what you might be doing, there is nothing more important than your family. and you must take as little or as much time as is required to maintain a healthy bond with them. because you will find out in the end if you haven’t already, that even if you lose the whole world, your family will always be there at ground zero, waiting for you to come home, and waiting for you to restart a new you.”

and so, at moments of solitude, moments of sadness or happiness, in times of sunshine, rain, or snow, i think of my parents, what they have sacrificed for men with their infinite and unselfish love and support, i can’t help but feel a deep sense of longing that i must nevertheless swallow back down.

every once in a while, something will remind me of my parents’ age. they are not old, but i know that when that day arrives that one of them must leave forever, i can’t help but feel that i have not done my duty as a daughter. and i am not just talking about the superficial “duties” of keeping the house clean, doing the dishes, making sure their physical health is in excellent condition, but also the psychological “duties” of genuine love that i can never repay. the gift that they have given me is an impossible gift; i cannot return it. and perhaps in this instance, it is a true gift, one that transcends and exceeds all forms and meanings of human commodification where the gift must be returned. because nothing that is in my capability as a human being can ever be done that will equal what my parents have given me. and this realisation has truly put me in a strange state of being.

i know not how to face the day when either of my parents have to leave me. i know not how to prepare for the death of the other. indeed, it is in the finitude of the other that i am confronted with my own finitude.

Dimensions

It feels as if I’ve been completely usurped into a whole new world. A different world. Of different dimensions that warp the everyday values I take for granted, of unheard rules that shatter the rules of the world that I’m comfortable in.

Discombobulated, I feel myself fumbling around in a sphere composed of mixed shadings of black, white, and grey… Mostly grey. I can’t even discern where one thing ends and another begins. More importantly, I can hardly remember the last time I was certain about what my heart wishes for. Nor can I remember definitively where my limits are.

More than ever, I feel nostalgic. This sickness of yearning that I know not what object it is directed towards. This is my home, is it not? Even at home, I do not feel hospitable.

memories are made of this…

what is it that makes someone so hard to let go? no doubt, it’s the memories. but what kind of memories? it must be those that touch the deepest part of the heart, that has made the strongest and deepest impact, has even planted a seed that had once grown into a flourishing tree… only to be burned down like a forest fire, leaving behind nothing but ashes.

but the seed that has already made firm home is just waiting for the perfect moment to sprout again, and it takes only a drop of water to begin nourishment. before you know it, that seed has become a full grown forest, and is still continuing to grow, crossing over into boundaries that you yourself had erected. and when you try to get rid of it again, by burning it to the ground, you can’t get at the seed that had been firmly implanted… it has already become a part of you. hopelessly, you succumb to its cyclic whims — like the four seasons, there is a time for birth, life, and death.

Some reflections on Arendt, Part I

After finished reading ‘”What Remains? The Language Remains”: A Conversation with Günter Gaus’, I have had much self reflections going on in my mind. I have always been fascinated by Hannah Arendt; she was such a brilliant thinker, and what I love most is how beautifully and simply she explains such complex theories in a way bereft of flowery, extra diction. Simple, yet profound.

One of the qualities of her writing that I found particularly striking when I first read Arendt is her use of masculine pronouns. For some feminists (I venture to say “many”, but won’t be able to qualify with empirical proof, so I chose “some” instead), using “him” or “he” or “men” in place of “humans” is sexist and degrading to women. While I acknowledge and understand perfectly well the problems with using sexist language, personally, I think that one ought not to get too caught up or too offended; after all, words carry meaning because humans collectively impose certain concepts and thereby carry certain connotations. In some languages, like Chinese and Latin, there is no sex distinction between “him” or “her” or “human”. So I find this fascinating because Arendt reminds me of another female thinker, Rosa Luxemberg (socialist thinker and revolutionary). The link: while both being female in a male-dominated society, not only do they use the same so-called sexist language using “men” while referring to both men and women, humans in general, not only were they not bothered by the distinctions imposed and categorised by both men and women, in their intellectual spheres their voices are ostensibly rather “masculine” (i.e. powerful, influential). And yet, on a private level, they can also be considered quite “feminine” (i.e. nurturing, loving caring). While concerned with affairs dominated largely by men, they did not renounce the traditional, old values of women, e.g. being a wife, mother, daughter, ad infinitum. In other words, depending where they are and what is needed of them, they simply assume their roles and responsibilities without complaint and resistance. Now, whether or not these roles and responsibilities is “forced” upon them by society is another matter, one which I do not wish to take up now because I believe that the matter is not that simple, and neither is it something I find – personally – particularly relevant. 

Quoting from Arendt’s response to Gaus about the question of women’s emancipation: “there is always the problem as such. I have actually been rather old-fashioned. I always thought that there are certain occupations that are improper for women, that do not become them, if I may put it that way. It just doesn’t look good when a woman gives orders. She should try not to get into such a situation if she wants to remain feminine. Whether I am right about this or not I do not know. I myself have always lived in accordance with this more ore less unconsciously–or let us rather say, more or less consciously. The problem itself played no role for me personally. To put it very simply, I have always done what I liked to do.” I don’t think she was ever really concerned with the problem at all. And when Gaus inquired the purpose of Arendt’s writing was to invoke influence, she replied that that question itself was framed in very masculine terms, i.e. the need to be influential, powerful. 

I sympathise. I really do. 

I think in them, I’ve found the reason why I’m not particularly moved by feminist theory and their claims. By all due respect, it is not that I find feminist theory to be ridiculous or irrelevant. On the contrary, I think they are valid claims and need to be taken seriously. On a personal level, however, I find it interesting, but believe there are other things that strike me just as (if not more) interesting. 

I mean, I am a woman, and I am also Asian (double plus the minority level). If I am working, I do my duties required of me to the best of my ability. I take orders and if needed I give orders. If I have to, I can discuss feminism, and I can also take their side. But at home, I likewise resume my duties, call it housewife or not, which include but is not limited to, cleaning, cooking, be a loving mother and wife. I rarely take my philophising into our home. One of the reasons, of course, is because Mr. Worm (for those of you who know him) isn’t exactly the perfect interlocutor for a philosopher. To simplify my reasons, it might just be because I like to keep private and public matters separate. That is not to say I don’t philosophize at home; I do. 

Perhaps part of the reason as to why I’m a bit indifferent (though indifferent might be too strong a word) to sexism or racism is because I’ve never really experienced such phenomenon. I am not oblivious to it, because when it happens around me, I am aware of it. But as of today, I haven’t been personally affected. I hope I am not offending any adamant feminist out there, and if I have, please don’t take it too personally, as I have nothing against feminists or feminism per se. 

I think there is also a deeper aspect as to why women like Arendt refrain from using any sort of antifeminist or feminist diction. Whether you use it or blatantly attack those who use it, it seems you are still caught within that dialectic. One could also argue that refusing to use that kind of language is also a kind of feminism. But I would venture that while this is true, on the other hand, it can also simply mean one does not wish to partake in distinguishing a woman for her sexuality. Either way still means that you are caught in that opposition. What does it really mean to address woman as woman? Why not woman as simply human, just as man is simply human? Arendt would have never wanted people to recognize her as, say, the Jew who had an affair with Heidegger–neither as a woman, as a Jew, or as a philosopher. Rather, I think, simply as Hannah Arendt. That is, Arendt as one distinguished by her thinkings and what she deemed as important; Arendt in her own right, not as Arendt attached to something/one else. 

“I have never in my life “loved” any people or collective group, neither the German people, the French, the Americans, not he working class or anything of that sort. I indeed love only my friends, and the only kind of love I know of and believe in is the love of [particular] persons. Moreover, this “love of the Jews” would appear to me, since I am myself Jewish, as something rather suspect.” This was in her response to Gershom Scholem, who accused her as an intellectual from the German Left and as a Jewish unaware of the “Jewish problem”. For those of you interested, I recommend reading first some biographical background on Arendt, and her controversial report Eichmann in Jerusalem. So as I was saying, I believe there is something quite profound in this statement of hers. The more I think about it, the more I think that she is right in pointing out the practical impossibility of a true love for a group/collective of people… at least for me. Who knows? Many there are some out there who, like Jesus, love people. I just find that kind of love too abstract. Admittedly, I am not a person of such profound integrity. If anyone knows of such a person, consider yourself one-in-a-million lucky.

Indecisiveness

I’ve made up my mind.

After talking to our department and to other colleagues, I feel much better and relieved now that I know that there are open options. And because technically I only attended the first week of class, it might even be possible that I can get a full refund back on my tuition – which saves me a little over $8,000.00. (Education is expensive, yes, particularly if you are planning to go to grad school.)

I *will* miss school – in fact, I miss it already.

But as my professors and colleagues encouraged, don’t stop! Keep doing what I’m doing. I can still continue my readings, and continue writing articles for conferences and for publication.

After all -

Philosophy is life.

It can be done anywhere.

Heck, I may even be able to get to those readings that I’ve always wanted to spend more time on. This semester I would have to do a complete withdrawal for leave of absence. Hopefully, next semester I will be able to work something out with my professors. Perhaps I might be able to take two independent reading courses (which I had planned to do before this situation arose anyways) and maybe take a class at UW, that is, if they offer something good. According to Dr. Swindal (the Chair of our department), the philosophy program at UW is as analytic as heck. (Philosophy terminology: Many scholars have identified two sort of different strands in philosophy, the analytic tradition and continental tradition. Analytic philosophy continues from the British empiricists centered around claims of definite truth and logical reasoning. Continental philosophy takes a more intersubjective strand; this includes many of the German and French philosophers such as Edmund Husserl, Friedrich Nietzsche, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Jean-Luc Nancy, and of course – my favorite – Jacques Derrida. Whether or not there is a truly a difference between these two traditions is up for debate.) Usually, the analytics are scorned by the continentals, though now there seems to be an intent on reconciling the differences, or at least come to a common ground for dialogue. Anyhow, my point here seems to be that my choice might not be so grim.

What freaks me out is really meeting the future mother-in-law. I’ve talked to Mr. Worm, and he says that it shouldn’t be so bad. After all, she was the one who wanted me to return.

That still does not take away my anxiety.

I am leaving back to Seattle this Friday, and at the moment, I am not feeling too distressed; I’ve had about two weeks to sort of “get into the zone” and letting reality settle in. “It’s really happening!” I keep telling myself.

Last night, when I told my roommates, I think Naoko was the one who took it the hardest. I didn’t even know until I sat down moments later and talked to her one-to-one. She started crying, saying that she could not understand why I would make such a decision, but could not say anything more because it is my life, my choice, and because she does not exactly know the whole story… and of course, she will miss me, and more importantly, she worries about my future and whether I will have a good life.

In response, I gave her a long, philosophical speil about my decision, about love, about friendship, about life. And now I reproduce it here.

Humans can never predict the future; even knowing this, they still attempt to predict, and strive strenuously to prepare for whatever ills may come there way: advancements in technology and medicine to ward off biological diseases and natural disasters is a good instance. Unfortunately, shit life happens.

Life happens. Life is happening, and life will always be happening.

There are many things about life that we cannot change, many circumstances that we cannot control. And when shit life happens, and we are thrown in the most disagreeable, most paradoxical situation that seems to defy all possible solution and drains our contentment, making us believe as if there is nothing to be done, estranged in the odds of life – one wonders if life is indeed already paved for us. I am no deterministic. While there are many things we cannot control (we cannot control how the other person will act, we cannot control the weather, we cannot control what will happen tomorrow), and many other things that are extremely difficult to control, what I strongly believe is that with just a switch of our perspectives, the situation, however painstakingly difficult, suddenly becomes much more bearable.

Humans are solitary beings. Solitary beings that yearn for company of others. We are born alone, and one day we shall die alone as well. It’s a brute fact of life; nothing can change this. The people around us will never always be there. There will come a time in the future where one friend must see the other friend die; before I become a friend, there is already the condition that we will go our separate ways, I cannot always be there for you. One of us will carry the burden of the other after this separation.

This has not been an easy decision. But it is because of this indecisiveness that I must make a decision. I cannot bear (I don’t think anyone can) being internally torn, contradictory, split. I must side. As Jacques Derrida put it, you cannot feed all the stray cats that come running to your front porch. You will one day run out of resources, and many of the stray cats will die, no matter how good your intentions are. You must make a decision.

I must make a decision.

But this indecisiveness is precisely the beginning of responsibility. It is because one is responsible to the other that one is torn between decisions. Humans are selfish, yes, but they are also considerate, sensitive beings.

Of course I will miss Naoko, and Ching-Chia, and Nancy, and all my beloved professors and colleagues…. I’ve grown accustomed and fond of this place.

But like what Dr. Swindal said, You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do. Everything else can be reappropriated in the future… if I have the ambition and determination.

I do.

So trust in me.

Law & Philosophy

Academic [insider]  joke:

What happens when philosophers turn bad?

                -They become lawyers and politicians.

 

So it is quite true that in professional, practical disciplines, such as (and not limited to) law, business, medicine, and of course politics, as a prerequisite for theory you must learn rhetoric/argument so as to give a foundation for communicating certain elements. But now, more than ever, theory is insufficient. Rhetoric seems to lack an ethical dimension, as it only teaches you how to dress up, so to speak, your argument, allowing you to say something in many different ways (in some instances, warping the entire meaning). So now in addition to learning the basics of say, marketing strategies, business schools now offer a a required course of so-called “business ethics”. I do not mean (at least, not directly) to poo-poo the marketing industry, but really that’s just BS. There is no such things as “ethics” in marketing. When all else narrows down, monetary profit is what really drives the industry. 

Anyways. So what I was trying to get at, is really that when students of philosophy get tired of the seemingly endless formulations and reformulations of life and its phenomena, they drop out and go into law. Really, what law is, is a more practical form diverged from philosophical theory. This can be traced back to Ancient Athens and the establishment of the city-states. Socrates was the paradoxical epitome of this division between the philosopher and the political arena. 

It is interesting to note that students of law and politics all read the same basics as those in philosophy: they have to read Plato’s Republic where Socrates discusses what constitutes the perfect state, and Aristotle’s Rhetoric of how to formulate a good argument. This is not an accident. 

I dare to venture that it is philosophers that know how to make a better, more well-rounded argument than lawyers. At the same time, there is a great difference between them. That is, I truly believe that philosophy has intrinsically an ethical dimension to it. That is not to say that lawyers do not, but because they have to argue for both sides of the case, there is bound to be something lacking of truth–it is more flowery rhetoric than genuine understanding.