Caveat: Our Potemkin Planet

I'm not even close to agreeing with everything blogger IOZ writes, but this little summary in a recent post really captures a lot of information and ideas in a very compact bit of prose.  I must quote:

The problem is in fact not that people need jobs but that people need money, and hobbling them to a desk or factory floor is the only moral and legitimate means of funneling currency into their empty jugs.  We need to have fuller employment so that more people are getting paid so that the consumer economy expands ad inf[initum] and repeat as necessary.  There are, if you consider it even briefly, a half million or so unexamined assumptions underlying all of this.

He goes on to declare that both democrats and republicans are silly, which I can marginally agree with, but also that Barack Obama is a murderer (which I will grant is provisionally true, but only in the same sense that every modern American president trying to manage an empire ultimately beyond his control has been a murderer).  I'm less comfortable with such rhetorical flights.  But the preceding thought about jobs cuts to the core of the limitations of life on our increasingly Potemkin Planet. 

His conclusion:  "Beyond the merely pecuniary and the venial: what does your life mean to you beyond your paystub and your appetites?"

I'm working on the answer to this, and feel I'm making only a little progress.  But I agree it needs to be sought.

Caveat: Dreaming the Dialectic

I was dreaming…

that I was trying to explain “the dialectic” to someone. I said that it’s like if you are showing how thinking about a story about a girl isn’t really about a girl. I pulled up an image of a girl, a kind of black-and-white, 1950’s photograph of a rather nondescript girl. “This girl looks like… just a girl. But the dialectic is realizing that something else is actually going on,” I explained.

I said to my invisible interlocutor, “It’s about that moment when you wake up.”

And then I woke up. It was perhaps 11 pm. I had fallen asleep with my face in the book – very much not my tendency or habit, these days. I had fallen asleep, while studying.

This was a former character trait of mine; I was reprising it from years ago: it’s from old, academic years. It developed due to the inevitable sleep deprivations of graduate school, perhaps.

The air around me was close and thick and hot – my window was open, but the earlier rain had stopped. The florescent light, on in the apartment directly across the alley from mine, seemed extraordinarily, unnaturally bright.  It was shining rudely out and illuminating all the unmovingness outside with its overconfident yet highly limited repertoire of wavelengths. I listened to the sounds of the city, vague echoes of a woman singing, buses trundling past on the Jungang-no. I lay very still.

And I lay there, breathing a little bit fast, feeling like I was on the edge of understanding. I felt surprised at how I could have just woken myself up from a dream by suggesting, in the dream, that I could reach a moment of understanding at the moment of waking up. Really, it was nothing short of startling myself awake by confronting the concept of waking up.

picture

The clear image of that story about the girl, from the dream, was falling apart very quickly, like a wet piece of tissue paper.  I’m not sure it was important, though. It didn’t feel important, at all, to what had just happened.  It was arbitrary, I felt myself thinking. I watched myself thinking….

I tried to visualize a slug walking along the edge of a very sharp knife: it just doesn’t work. Not funny. What if it was a fly, landing on that edge – would it… hurt itself? I was momentarily embedded in the digression of a Haruki Murakami novel. I’d been working on digressions earlier in the day – my own writing.  Polishing a few novelistic digressions, like so much antique silverware – wishing they were whales.

I feel like this strange, crystaline moment hasn’t brought me one iota closer to understanding the dialectic; but it was nevertheless a very surprising, lucid dream. It was like an epiphany devoid of epiphanic content. Epiphany for epiphany’s sake.

One might ask, why was I dreaming definitions of the dialectic? The answer is not so obscure… I’d fallen asleep reading a recently purchased book: Valences of the Dialectic, by Fredric Jameson. I’m barely to page 15, in the first chapter, which bears the title, “Three names of the dialectic.”  How about that Diego Rivera on the cover, by the way?

I’ll get back to you if I figure it out. I might not figure it out, though. I’ve not made much progress with feeling comfortable with this essential philosphical tool, over the years. Perhaps I’ve always invested too much in it. Perhaps, with Karl Popper, I am at core uncomfortable with the seeming solution-in-contradiction. But I’m particularly drawn to it as it is so ancient, so inherent – it’s one of the underlying intellectual tools that unifies Eastern and Western philosohpy. It is possibly something innate… even structural, a la Chomsky’s “language faculty.” A dialectical instinct? The insight presented by the dream, if any, is that there exists the possibility of a sort of recursive definition of dialectical practice.

Hmm… recursion as praxis? That’s a whole other post, maybe.

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Caveat: My Life as a Zen Zenoist

Miscellany….

“I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again.” – Oscar Wilde

I took an online quiz that told me what kind of philosopher I am. It turns out I’m a stoic – I was linked to Zeno of Citium. The modern meaning of “stoic,” by the way, doesn’t really capture the original nature of the tradition. Here is Seneca, perhaps one of the best known exponents of stoicism in its classical incarnation: “As long as you live, keep learning how to live.” – Lucius Annaeus Seneca.

Here’s an interesting thought: does my stoic orientation, combined with my sometime pursuit of mahayana meditation, make me a zen zenoist? Or maybe a follower of Zeno is a “zenist”?

Here is a vaguely arty photograph I took in 1983, of the mountains east of Eureka (near Kneeland, I think).

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Caveat: Super-Linear

Returning, once again, to the theme of densities and cities and sustainability, I saw the following TED video (if you’re not familiar with TED, it’s worth going and looking around). I’ll let the guy do the talking.

[UPDATE: the link to the TED talk rotted… and I don’t even know what the title was. It’s unrecoverable knowledge. Yay, internet!]

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Caveat: Trolleyology Revisited

pictureA few years back I discovered trolleyology.

Well, I already knew about trolleyology, but I didn’t know that was what it was called.  Recently, I ran across it again.  Trolleyology is the philosophical practice of setting up hypothetical ethical conundrums involving out-of-control trolleys racing down tracks about to kill oddly helpless innocent bystanders.  Just as an example, from my recent re-encounter with them (linked above):

A runaway trolley is coming down the track. It is headed towards five people who cannot get out of its way. A passerby realizes that if he pushes a nearby fat man onto the tracks his bulk will stop the trolley before it hits the five, though the fat man himself will be killed.

The question being:  is it right or wrong to sacrifice the fat man to save the five?  There’s another conundrum here, far too complicated and full of philosophers’ inside jokesThe picture (above right) shows the Green Line trolley at 43rd Street along Baltimore Avenue, half a block from my apartment where I lived in West Philadelphia in 1995, when I was starting graduate school.  Not shown in the picture:  five helpless innocents just out view to the left, down the hill, tied to the tracks – just another day in West Philly, after all.

Caveat: Poetry is not a civilizer

One of my favorite poets is Robinson Jeffers. He’s not much loved in the literary establishment. Here’s a possible reason why. He wrote:

Poetry is not a civilizer, rather the reverse, for great poetry appeals to the most primitive instincts. It is not necessarily a moralizer; it does not necessarily improve one’s character; it does not even teach good manners. It is a beautiful work of nature, like an eagle or a high sunrise. You owe it no duty. If you like it, listen to it; if not, let it alone.

pictureThe picture is of Tor House, near Carmel, California. Jeffers built the house as his home, by hand (i.e. medieval style), over many years.

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Caveat: Alan Parsons Project – Eye in the Sky

What I’m listening to right now.

Alan Parsons Project, “Eye In The Sky.”

I remember buying this album on vinyl in 1982 when it was released, at a record store in Eureka during a weekend visiting my dad’s house there. It was not the first record I bought, but for some reason I remember the day I bought with weird clarity. Why does music work that way, sometimes?

pictureIf you want something profound about the symbolism of the song, I will leave you with this obscure philosophical reference: it’s about Orwell and the surveillance state (which I think was what inspired me to go ahead and buy the album despite the “soft rock” top-40 stigma surrounding it, which didn’t necessarily impress me at age 17). It seems weirdly prescient from where we sit now. It makes me think of how Foucault deploys Bentham’s panopticon concept as a metaphor.

The video, nevertheless, I concede is cheesy. You have to concede that the concept of the “music video” was only a few years old at this point.

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Caveat: Tik Tok Goes the Bourgeois Ego

pictureI feel like there’s a germ of a novel in this somewhere.

Apparently the number of 20-something female pop-stars are striking up intellectual “friendships” with elderly marxist philosophers is greater than one. I was surprised to have heard that the number was greater than zero, actually. First, Gaga gets with Zizek, and then Ke$ha gets with Fredric Jameson.

Both of these might be untrue, however – I later found a refutation of the Gaga-Zizek flirtation which I failed to bookmark.

I can’t decide how I feel about this. I’ve always admired Jameson hugely, and his books are among the most important influences on my own (oddly continuing-to-be-non-existent) PhD thesis on Cervantes. Do I respect him yet more because he’s so hip and trendy, even now in his doddering late 70’s? Or does this just seem too weird?

How do I feel about Ke$ha – I never really noticed her music before, but I don’t per se dislike it, either. Is it possible she actually understands Jameson, and appreciates him… intellectually? Fascinating. I already suspected that she was not a total intellectual lightweight, based on some interview with her I remember scanning through, a while back. Anyone who exists in the current rap/hiphop/pop mileu but manages to cite Dylan and Banksy as influences can’t be utterly empty-headed.

From her website: “I think people can stand to take themselves just a little less seriously. I’m fighting the war against pretention.”  Does one fight against pretension by hooking up with pretentious philosophers? That’s appealing. Then again, one could fight pretension by simply creating the rumor that one was hooking up with a pretentious philosopher, almost as effectively, right?

Something about the Vanity Fair article I linked to above reads like a hoax. Yet…  one hopes it isn’t.

Really, it makes me want to write a novel. Well… many things seem to make me want to write a novel, but this strikes me as a gold mine of pop-culture references and abstruse marxist philosophy, all stirred together with seedy scandal or tender romance (or both – as a side-note, wouldn’t it be interesting, for example, to novelize the Weinergate scandal as a sincere or angsty romance?).

At the risk of imperiling my blog’s essential G-ratedness, here’s her 2009 video for “Tik Tok.”

being like, ‘The end of the bourgeois ego

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Caveat: Happy Bloomsday

pictureToday is Bloomsday. Hope it’s a good one. 

His (Bloom’s) logical conclusion, having weighed the matter and allowing for possible error?

That it was not a heaventree, not a heavengrot, not a heavenbeast, not a heavenman. That it was a Utopia, there being no known method from the known to the unknown: an infinity renderable equally finite by the suppositious apposition of one or more bodies equally of the same and of different magnitudes: a mobility of illusory forms immobilised in space, remobilised in air: a past which possibly had ceased to exist as a present before its probable spectators had entered actual present existence.

A Utopia. See? And Joyce’s Ulysses ends: “…and yes I said yes I will Yes.”

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Caveat: Goddaith

I’ve been in a weird state of mind, lately. I keep revisiting random poetry and random languages I studied in times long past. I guess I’m trying to live up to the “unrepentant language-geek” part of my blog’s header (see above [UPDATE: Obsolete information – no longer in header. Still true, though.]).

So… I was mucking around at wikisource.org (a place where public domain texts can often be found). I began browsing Medieval Welsh poetry. I took a course on Medieval Welsh in 1988. I loved it – despite (or because of) it being one of the most intense academic undertakings I’ve ever tried. I remember struggling to translate bardic love poetry, as well as, most memorably, the legend of Pwyll and Rhiannon from the Red Book of Hergest. I remember Pwyll blindly chasing Rhiannon down into Annwn (the Otherworld) vividly.

When I found a four-line poem by Dafydd ap Gwilym, I decided to “figure it out.”  I won’t go so far as to say I “translated” it – I got the gist of it by using google translate, but also had to surf to some Old Welsh dictionaries, because google translate is based on the modern Welsh language, and the program doesn’t know what to do with the obsolete vocabulary and grammatical forms of 15th century Welsh. I have no idea how accurate my little translation might be – I was unable to find any “official” translation online.

pictureGoddaith a roir mewn eithin,
Gwanwyn cras, mewn gwynnon crin,
Anodd fydd ei ddiffoddi
Ac un dyn a’i hennyn hi.
There’s a wildfire among the gorse,
Parched by Spring, withered kindling,
It will be difficult to put out
and [to think] a lone man caused it.
[Picture at right: Welsh Summer Landscape Painting]

I actually find the tone of the poem strikingly “modern” in its sensibility – but perhaps that’s a reader’s projection.

The negative aspect of this “mucking about” with other languages: I’m still trying to reignite my former passion for learning Korean. My heart hasn’t been in it. I’m plateaued.

A parting thought:

“I did not learn any Welsh till I was an undergraduate, and found in it an abiding linguistic-aesthetic satisfaction.” – J.R.R. Tolkien said this. But it’s precisely true for me, too – I could have said exactly the same. But I didn’t quite end up so creatively productive as Mr Tolkien.

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Caveat: The Ajummocracy

So, after about a six month hiatus, I’ve finally resumed my Korean-rom-com-drama-watching habit. The show I selected to take up is not really as likable as most of my previous efforts – in fact, it’s a bit of a struggle not to end up just despising every single character in this show. But I’m sticking with, partly for that exact reason – I think it’s maybe innovative precisely in just how deeply flawed all the characters are.

And yet it manages to match most of the Korean rom-com conventions quite well, despite this. And maybe my perception of flaws is culturally related – which is to say, Koreans may not perceive the characters as all equally as deeply flawed as I do.

pictureThe show in question is 내조의 여왕 [nae-jo-ui yeo-wang = Queen of Housewives]. The title already tells you just how atrociously tight to every conceivable bad Korean stereotype this show manages to stay. And as usual, I don’t want to post here an in-depth plot summary, as it’s not really interesting to me to try to do so, and I don’t want to spoil it for those interested in watching it.

It’s quite complicated. There’s a sort of “love hexagon” going on: three married couples, A-B, C-D, and E-F. But E and C love B, D loves A, A might love D too, but is loyal to B. F despises B because B was mean to her in high school, so nobody likes F, but she’s the nerd girl I thought I should feel the most sympathy for, but she’s the villain. E is A’s boss, and C is E’s boss, but C hates his wife D, it was an arranged marriage. Etc.

There’s lots of interesting moments of self-reinvention and intentionally symbolic behavior – i.e. the characters engaging in symbolism in a sort of self-aware way. There’s a resurrection scene like that, in episode 5 or 6, I think. B digs a grave and lies down in it with husband A, and they have a deep conversation. Then they both sit up, and resolve to do their best, moving forward, despite the obstacles.

I understand that A and B are supposed to be the protagonists, but B’s cruelty early in the story line is close to unforgivable, and she seems shallow and painfully self-centered. Her husband A has a heart of gold but is clearly dumb as a rock. He dances along from one out-of-control crisis to the next, never seeing anything coming.

Lastly, my favorite website for downloading these dramas (which shall remain nameless, here), has disappeared from the internet – which is partly why I dropped my drama-watching habit. The website posted free copies of the dramas with English subtitles, but I suppose the copyright police have taken them down. Fortunately, there is now a commercial website in the US that offers subtitled Korean drama, called mvibo.com. So I’ve broken down and started paying for the privilege of having subtitles. I hesitate to recommend it, though – the ironical act of sitting about 5 blocks from the MBC studios headquarters and watching streaming MBC content from some website in America means that the streaming quality is quite poor: the tubes under the Pacific are clogged with dead fish from the radiation in Japan, maybe. I wish I could figure out how to find the subtitled content from a Korean website – but I’ve given up hope on that.

So, you’re still wondering: what’s the ajummocracy? Ajumma [아줌마] is a Korean word used to refer to a particular type of middle aged or older woman, generally in an assertive, forceful sort of aspect. The ajumma represents the matriarchal “power behind the throne” that everyone says exists behind the monolithic facade of Korean patriarchy. Like all cultural stereotypes, it has some grains of truth, of course. I have coined the term “ajummocracy” for the concept of “government by ajummas.” The idea is that Korean women do, in fact, wield considerable political power, even in deeply traditionalist and Confucian (or pseudo-Confucian – this is important but I don’t want to get into it here) contexts. But they do so by manipulating their “men” behind the scenes. Again, I’m not endorsing this – I’m talking about cultural stereotypes. And it’s an interior cultural stereotype. That’s important – ajummas refer to themselves within this context, both deprecatingly and with pride. There is, in fact, an “ajumma pride” movement in Korea. Yes – really.

Back to the drama. This drama is perhaps the best encapsulation, in rom-com format, for that cultural stereotype. Every single female character is manipulative and ambitious. Every single male character is inconstant, mercurial, and temperamental. Each man submits, at some level, to his wife in private, while in public, they play macho games that seem to be either ghost-reflections of the ajumma politics or just male ranting and venting without consequences.

I do not suffer under the delusion that this portrait of Korean society is “real.” But it’s deeply interesting to me, the same way that reading Calderon de la Barca’s or Lope de Vega’s Spanish Golden Age dramas are deeply interesting, as each so transparently display all kinds of fascinating cultural detritus.

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Caveat: 개성

A poem by Kim Gwang-seop:

개성
빈천한 묏골에서
하나의 돌맹이로 태어 나서커
다란 바위가 되지 못할지라도
또한
하나의 시내로서 흘러서
넓은 바다에 이르지 못할지라도
그대는 무한에 비상하는 순간을 가지라

My feeble effort at translation, with lots of doubts and confusions and caveats:

Individuality
from poor dead bones
born and raised as a lone pebble
unable to become the great rock
also
flowing as a lone stream
unable to arrive at the wide sea
you hold an extraordinary moment to reach infinity

A more professional translation, by someone who goes by the name “Doc Rock” online (but who is apparently a PhD in Korean Lit):

Individuality
Though from an impoverished mountain valley,
Born as a pebble
Never to be a great boulder
Or
Flowing like a stream
Never to be wide as a sea
You will have moments to soar limitlessly

Why am I attempting this kind of thing, when I still can’t put together a coherent sentence most of the time? I just feel like doing it, I guess.

개성

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Caveat: the metaphysic of the test

Or: how I learned to stop worrying and love the test.

pictureThis blog entry emerges from a typo I found in a book I’m rather casually perusing.  The book is Formalism and Marxism, by Tony Bennett.  The book is one of those lit-crit books that I picked up out of my mother’s collection during my last visit to Queensland in January.  It examines the relationship between the Russian Formalists and more recent works – I was attracted to it because it discusses Althusser and Eagleton, specifically.

Anyway, I’m not reading it very deeply.  Some of it is familiar if somewhat stale territory, and certainly the fact that it’s now almost 40 years old dates it somewhat in the realm of lit-crit.  But actually I don’t want to talk about marxist literary criticism or Terry Eagleton (who would have been one of my marxist muses had I ever written that PhD thesis on Cervantes, perhaps, along with Frederic Jameson and Gilles Deleuze).

You see, on page 157 of the paperback edition of Bennett’s book, there is a typo.  Instead of saying “metaphysic of the text” it says “metaphysic of the test.”  And the thing is, I’ve been thinking about tests a lot lately.  Tests are a big part of work in education, and especially, Korean education, and more especially, Korean hagwon-based eduction.  The test is the thingthe only thing.

I have been developing a new feeling about testing.  Part of this is influenced by certain fragments of data emerging from the bigger world (see my  blog entry from a few weeks ago, for example).   Part of it is trying to make peace with the huge discrepancy between my dreams and ideals about education (which are vaguely Waldorfian and deeply influenced by my own unusual educational experiences in alternative “hippy schools” during my elementary years, during which tests were essentially verboten) and the reality-on-the-ground here in Korea (which is that testing is god and all bow down before it).

Running across this typo, in Bennett’s text, caused me to perform a bizarre mental experiment.  Instead of replacing the word “test” with “text” in the evident error, I decided to replace the word “text” with “test” in the subsequent paragraph.  Here is my sublime paraphrasing of Bennett’s idea, then, reframed as being about tests, rather than texts (I’ve italicized the original typo and bolded my substitutions).   Bennett is writing about the thought of Pierre Macherey, so my substitution game has inflicted on Macherey some thoughts about tests that I’m sure he never had.

More radically, Macherey breaks unequivocally with what we have called ‘the metaphysic of the test‘.  Urging that the concept of the ‘test‘ or the ‘work’ that has for so long been the mainstay of criticism should be abandoned, he advances the argument we have noted above: that there are no such ‘things’ as works or tests which exist independently of the functions which they serve or the uses to which they are put and that these latter should constitute the focal point of analysis.  The test must be studied not as an abstraction but in the light of the determinations which, in the course of its history, successfully rework that test, producing for it different and historically concrete in modifying the conditions of its reception.

The thing is, the quote mostly still works fine, despite this substitution.  This is because texts and tests are obviously related, from a metaphysical standpoint.  They both are functional, performative emissions of a broader cultural and ideological context.   And it leads me to an insight about my changing attitude to testing:  tests are not abstractions, but emerge from concrete cultural conditions and serve broad social purposes above and beyond just pedagogy:  they’re disciplinary systems and indoctrination engines as much as they are evaluative tools.

Here’s what I’m beginning to think:  it’s not so wrong to “teach to the test” as we say.  But let’s teach to the test in an enlightened way, making kids aware of the functions these tests serve, and openly discussing the role they serve in society and their strengths and weaknesses.  I recall, specifically, some concepts about “conscientization” in the context of Liberation Theology, to which I owe a huge debt to a certain professor Hernan Vidal at the University of Minnesota – one of those incredible teachers that leaves a permanent change with a person’s way of thinking about and seeing the world.

The idea of teaching to the test with an admixture of “conscientization” regarding the ideologies of the modes of production that are embedded in these tests, in the context of trying to be an elementary and middle school English as a Foreign Language teacher in Korea – well… let’s just summarize by saying:  “easier said than done.”

But… it’s possible.  With a modicum of humor, hints can be dropped.  Smart kids get it – I’ve done it before.  Now, I’m starting to feel I have a philosophical frame or justification for doing so.  And I’m making peace with the test.

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Caveat: Intents and Purposes

"We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will." — author Chuck Palahniuk.

I think this is a good philosophy.  I hope I can eventually have a more interesting legacy than a few lines of meta-code in some business's data warehousing toolset, which is the closest thing I have to having created something that might outlast me. 

Caveat: Consumption and Environmental Impact

Last week I posted a blog entry in which I mentioned my belief that a high-density urban lifestyle is more “sustainable” and has lower environmental impact.  This was in the context of a cartoon which I posted there, which included the words:  “Do you use roads?  Do you live in civilization?  You are responsible for cruelty to animals.”

An old-new acquaintance of mine, Jeannine (really, my absolute oldest friend – she was my best friend sometime around second grade), commented on facebook as follows: “I think that whether high-density urban living vs. country living is “more impact” depends on how one lives one’s life in either environment. And well, then, there is ‘do you use roads?’ So it’s probably a draw.”

Now, the thing is, I respect her opinion highly, on this matter, because I happen to know that she is a professional ecologist of some kind. I’m not one of them types o’ people. The best I can say is that I completed a minor in botany in college (which I failed to declare because I already had two other minors and the paperwork was annoying, but trust me, I did the course work, and it was fun). Oh… and I was once a card-carrying member of the Green Party.

But I have thought long and hard about this stuff, and all during the past week, I tried thinking through just how strongly I believe this. Here’s a modified (somewhat caveat’ed) version of my statement:

All things being equal, a high-density urban lifestyle has lower environmental impact than a rural one.

The key phrase is “all things being equal” – I mean by this, that “to the extent we can make the same lifestyle choices in different environments.” Lifestyle, obviously – in the broadest interpretation – is where the greatest environmental impact comes into play. And lifestyle includes a great deal more than the binary choice of urban vs. rural.

Here’s my thought experiment, at its most simple.

It’s related to the Econ 101 idea conveyed by the phrase “economies of scale.” If you live in a giant apartment building, with your workplace near by and/or easily accessible by good public transportation, your day-to-day existence will have less impact on the environment, overall, than if you tried to live a basically equivalent lifestyle in a single-dwelling house in the suburbs or out in the country. That’s because, for example, in an apartment building, you use less energy to heat your apartment, since you share resources with your neighbor. And you drive less to get the same results in terms of commuting for work and leisure.

But it’s key to remember that I’m assuming equivalent lifestyle – to the greatest extent possible.

Obviously, one can make choices about how one lives, in either context, that increase or decrease one’s environmental impact. Some of those choices are easier in the country, and some are easier in the city. My personal choice of recent years – not to own a car – is much easier in the city, now, than it was living in the country, last year. Someone else’s choice, say, to consume only locally grown, organic produce would maybe be much, much easier in the country.

The thing about country life that perhaps makes it seem like it has lower environmental impact is that you’re not surrounded by millions of others also having an impact on their environment. The other thing about the rural life that must be noted is that, unlike the urban lifestyle, it can be “unplugged” completely – which obviously is a very, very low impact lifestyle. But just because such a choice is possible in a rural environment doesn’t mean many people actually bother to make such a choice, and the fact of the matter is that in developed countries, country people and city people mostly make very similar lifestyle choices, which means their overall impact is quite comparable.

Ultimately, in my thinking at least, it comes down to the issue of per capita environmental impact. And that’s crucial. I think the inhabitants of Seoul City have devastating overall environmental impact in comparison with, say, the residents of Molokai (which I choose since Jeannine lives there, and which happens to be almost exactly the same size, in square kilometers, as the area enclosed by the Seoul City limits).

But, if you look at per capita impact, I bet Seoul, with its 10 million, has Molokai, with its 7,000, beat. Hands down. I mean, I can’t guarantee that, obviously – I don’t know enough about all the components of what environmental impact really even means. But how likely is it that a individual Seoul resident, on average, has more impact on his or her environment than an individual Molokai resident?

One thing I do when I think about this, is that I try to find some intellectually comfortable, more simple proxy for the concept of overall environmental impact. I think one good proxy is the much touted (recently touted, anyway) concept of carbon footprint. Again, Seoul’s carbon footprint is greater than Molokai’s – but on a per capita basis, and accounting for inflows and outflows (meaning imports and exports of goods made by / consumed by inhabitants), I would bet that Seoul’s is lower than Molokai’s.

This is really just a thought experiment. Another thing that I think about, a lot, is that for most of us, figuring out our overall environmental impact is stunningly difficult. There’s carbon, of course, but there’s also all the other chemicals we put out, directly or by virtue of what we buy. There are disrupted ecologies, due to infrastructure ranging from farms to factories to highways to human-oriented “parks.”

I remember reading somewhere that, perhaps coincidentally and perhaps by causation, our rate of overall consumption, in dollar terms (or in terms of whatever currency we’re using), is an almost perfect proxy for our carbon footprint. Which is to say, if someone consumes at a rate of $40000 per year, their carbon footprint for everything they do (travel, food, etc.) will be double a person’s who consumes at $20000 per year and half of a person’s who consumes at $80000. It’s just a more or less perfect statistical correlation, obviously grounded in the way our human ecology (which we call economy) happens to match up with our natural ecology (which includes our carbon footprint). Of course this is hardly an accident – just as it’s not an accident that both “ecology” and “economy” start with “eco-.”

I therefore imagine that there might, in fact, be a strong correlation between our rate of economic consumption and our overall environmental impact, too. This makes it much easier for amateurs in ecology to think about, and evaluate, their environmental impact. It boils down to a simple question, with easy ways to make changes and adjustments in behaviors.

We can ask ourselves: how much am I consuming, in dollar terms? And, in most societies for most people, this isn’t that different a number than what we’re earning – very few of us are socking our income away at high rates and spending low proportions of it.

The end of this metaphor or analogy is that we can simply look at our tax return and decide what our environmental impact is. I mean… very roughly speaking.

Some time back, once I decided this analogy or way of thinking made sense to me, I made a very conscious decision, starting in about 2006, that I was going to lower my environmental impact by simply attempting to reduce my rate of consumption. I set for myself a somewhat conscious goal of lowering my income. That sounds horribly un-American.  But it’s not hard to do – you have to admit that. I changed careers from something lucrative (computer programming) to something unlucrative (teaching – and overseas, at that!). I gave up driving – except for road trips. I happily live in a smaller apartment than an average American would consider acceptable. I limit meat consumption (as I’ve described here many times before, I basically only eat meat when in the company of others, in the context of them deciding what to order). I buy mostly locally grown produce (easy to do in Korea since they grow everything here in hothouses and discourage food imports through massive tarriffs – those Chilean grapes in the store ain’t cheap like in the US). Etc.

I don’t mean to come off sounding “high and mighty” or superior. I am certainly not blind to the irony of the fact that my previous post was about consumption, and about my “stuff” and how happy I was to have some “stuff.” My only point is that trying to understand and control our overall environmental impact is incredibly difficult, if not impossible, without degrees in economics or ecology. But if we just think in terms of consumption, then we have a ton of options in front of us, and anyone can make lifestyle changes that lower consumption, and thus, almost inevitably, also lower environmental impact and/or increase sustainability. And to return to the urban vs. rural dilemma, I can say that urban lifestyles are more easily adaptable to patterns of lowered consumption in the context of maintaining certain minimum “privileges,” vis-a-vis the Western, modern lifestyle, and thus they’re more sustainable.

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Caveat: …and no matter what, don’t think about elephants

Another excellent comic from “pictures for sad children.”

picture

Now, take the concept above, please, and invert it. Sorta. Make it something wonderful, something positive, that you’re not supposed allow to change your behavior. It’s not a bomb – it’s the potential loss of nirvana.

I have a weird theory that this is how enlightenment works. Or salvation. Or grace. It’s something that changes everything, but you’re not really supposed to change what you do – because it’s what you’ve been doing, that brought it on.

… and no matter what, don’t think about elephants, either.

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Caveat: Proverbs 24:17

"Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth, And let not thy heart be glad when he is overthrown."

All the celebrating is wrong.  Sorry.  It's wrong.  No death should be celebrated.  Not even that murdering man's.  Otherwise – in what way are we better than he?  Are we as God, to judge and dispatch another without trial, without qualm, without an ache in our heart?

"Conduct your triumph as a funeral." – Lao Tzu

Caveat: Science

I was reading a review of a book I intend to read:  Nicholas Humphrey’s Soul Dust: The Magic of Consciousness.  I'm always fascinated by new, especially evolutionary, takes on the phenomenology of consciousness.  At one point, the reviewer, Caspar Melville, mentions another negative review of the book by a philosopher named Mary Midgley.  He writes, "Humphrey remains on her black list of reductionist scientists who think that science is the only way in which we can access the truth."

I had an immediate reaction to this thought:  I believe that science is not the only way we have to access the truth, but it is always the only way to confirm the truth.  This seems to best capture my anti-transcendentalist take on human spirituality – on my own spirituality – as much as referencing such a vague concept makes a certain inside part of me squirm unconfortably.

Caveat: Virtuous Reflectivity

I've been rereading fragments of Terry Eagleton's philosophical/critical masterpiece, Ideology.

He talks about Aristotle's surprisingly still-relevant (almost post-modern) ethics (at least as he chooses to interpret them, in the context of a critique of what he calls neo-Nietzscheanism):

"Part of what is involved for Aristotle in living virtuously – living, that is to say, in the rich flourishing of one's creative powers – is to be motivated to reflect on precisely this process.  To lack such self-awareness would be in Aristotle's view to fall short of true virtue, and so of true happiness and well-being.   The virtues for Aristotle are organized states of desire; and some of these desires move us to curve back critically upon them." – p. 172 in my edition

I'm not really going anywhere with this.  Just thinking "out loud," I guess.

Caveat: The Consecration of Class Interest

Well some of you know, there was a point in my last career (in database design and business systems analysis) when I came very close to applying for business school.  I took the GMAT in 2005, and scored quite well.  I had filled out applications for several high-powered business schools in Europe, and had written some essays, for entrance to International MBA programs.  Why was I thinking this?  Well, before I realized that I needed a job/career that was more humanly (and humanely) fulfilling, I was working hard to find the more "human" side of my last, computer-related job.  And that seemed a logical direction to take it – I was interested in project management, management consulting, that kind of thing.

Sometimes, therefore, I return to surfing management-theory-related texts and blogs online.  Not very often – my interest in this stuff has definitely faded.  But now, and again, I go looking around.  For some reason, a line by Matthew Stewart has struck me as rather insightful – and ties into my interests in epistemology and philosophy and marxism, too.  In an article entitled "The Management Myth" (from The Atlantic, June 2006 issue), he writes, "Much of management theory today is in fact the consecration of class interest—not of the capitalist class, nor of labor, but of a new social group: the management class."

I suppose this struck me, too, in my thinking about how Korea as a society "works," who the vested interests are, that kind of thing.  Although what passes for management in Korea is radically alien to what happens in the "West," it still ends up working the same way, from a sociological standpoint.

Unrelatedly, two developments. 

1) With two weeks remaining at Hongnong, I have discovered that my blog's admin website is no longer blocked on my school's network.  Lucky me.  Hence this post, on a slow Thursday morning of desk-warming.

2) I am not so narcissistic as to assume every person likes me.  Or even respects me.  I suspect I have aspects of my personality that grates on a lot of people.  But I nevertheless feel depressed and dismayed when I get evidence that someone whom I have grown to respect and even like in fact doesn't seem to think very highly of me.  I wonder what I'm doing wrong.  Well… I'm not going to go into details.  But life is full of these revelatory negative social epiphanies, I suppose.

Caveat: Let’s not be hypocrites

I'm really annoyed at all the people who, seeing the nuclear mess unfolding in Japan, jump onto the pseudo-green anti-nuclear bandwagon.  It's pure hypocrisy. 

Yes, there are dangers with nuclear power – and some of them are truly terrifying.  But let's make a parallel.  There are dangers in travelling by airplane, too.  They are truly terrifying.  But statistically, airplane travel is one of the safest we have.  It's just that when accidents happen, they are catastrophic in nature.  Likewise, nuclear power's failures tend to be catastrophic, but statistically, it's much safer than most carbon-based energy sources – meaning that adding up things like respiratory illnesses, mining accidents, and, of course, global warming, carbon-based energy is much worse for human health and the human environment, but it's much more rarely catastrophic.  Making an SAT-style analogy:  carbon-based energy is to nuclear energy what automobile travel is to airplane travel.  More catastrophic, but safer.

Get it?  Stick to facts.  Human fear is irrational.  Don't let it rule you.

I'm far from saying I'm an unconditional defender of nuclear power.  But I will only say, I'd rather ban carbon than nuclear, in the world-of-today.  And since realistically, politically, that's not going to happen, that means, in my desire to avoid hypocrisy, I'm driven to the strictly rational position that since nuclear is less dangerous than carbon, and since carbon is un-bannable, then therefore nuclear's risks must be socially acceptable.

To argue otherwise is irrational hypocrisy.

Caveat: Right now is sometime!

picture“Me get it, cookie is sometimes food. You know what? Right now is sometime!” – Cookie Monster, after a lecture by some other character, urging moderation.

I miss Cookie Monster. And I love surfing the tvtropes.org website. I can find quotes like that, and spend hours and hours surfing a deeply ironical, often very well-written (mostly by vaguely anonymous volunteers a la the wikithing), pop-culture semiotician’s paradise.

It claims, “This wiki is a catalog of the tricks of the trade for writing fiction.” No, it’s not that – it’s much more. It’s a tool for navigating pop culture, and a database of semiotic trivia. I can’t recommend it more highly.

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Caveat: Philosophical Cake

"Optimism and pessimism are buddies sitting together on the same sofa."
– John McCrea, lead singer of the band Cake, overheard in an interview on NPR.

Cake is a very eclectic band.  They can make songs I really like and others I abhor.  But they're always rather cerebral, in a funky, alterna way.  I'd never heard the lead singer interviewed before.  He's an interesting guy.

Caveat: tweegret, NSFW version

My third twinge of tweegret, today.  Rather than try to explain, read this article. Seriously.

Normally I try to stay away from the vast internet realms characterized by the charming label “NSFW.” But @MayorEmannuel is a new masterpiece, apparently: Literature meets Politics meets Cultural Crit meets NSFW Obscenity. And Madrigal’s article about it is brilliant!

And no, I still have no twitter account.
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Caveat: Atentado Celeste

LA POESÍA ES UN ATENTADO CELESTE

Yo estoy ausente pero en el fondo de esta ausencia
Hay la espera de mí mismo
Y esta espera es otro modo de presencia
La espera de mi retorno
Yo estoy en otros objetos
Ando en viaje dando un poco de mi vida
A ciertos árboles y a ciertas piedras
Que me han esperado muchos años

Se cansaron de esperarme y se sentaron

Yo no estoy y estoy
Estoy ausente y estoy presente en estado de espera
Ellos querrían mi lenguaje para expresarse
Y yo querría el de ellos para expresarlos
He aquí el equívoco el atroz equívoco

Angustioso lamentable
Me voy adentrando en estas plantas
Voy dejando mis ropas
Se me van cayendo las carnes
Y mi esqueleto se va revistiendo de cortezas
Me estoy haciendo árbol
Cuántas cosas me he ido convirtiendo en otras  cosas…
Es doloroso y lleno de ternura

Podría dar un grito pero se espantaría la transubstanciación
Hay que guardar silencio Esperar en silencio

– Vicente Huidobro, 1948

He estado meditando sobre poesía, sobre permanencia, sobre silencio.  Por eso…  y ¿qué hago, acá?

Caveat: 35) 어리석은 말로 상대방이 잘못되는 악연을 참회하며 절합니다

“I bow in repentance of any ties to the mistakes made by others because of their foolish talk.”

This is #35 out of a series of 108 daily Buddhist affirmations that I am attempting to translate with my hands tied behind my back (well not really that, but I’m deliberately not seeking out translations on the internet, using only dictionary and grammar).


33. 오직 나만을 생각하는 것을 참회하며 절합니다.
        “I bow in repentance of thinking only of myself.”
34. 악연의 씨가되는 어리석은 생각을 참회하며 절합니다.
        “I bow in repentance of any stupid thoughts [that are] the seeds of evil.”
35. 어리석은 말로 상대방이 잘못되는 악연을 참회하며 절합니다.

I would read this thirty-fifth affirmation as: “I bow in repentance of any ties to the mistakes made by others because of their foolish talk.”

This is exceptionally pertinent to my principal’s Friday night pontifications. So I will try not to attach to his words.

In Suwon I stay at my Korean friend’s guesthouse, which is near the Hwaseong palace. Here is a dark and fuzzy picture of the palace I took last night walking around.

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Caveat: …y en un abrir los ojos nos morimos

El pájaro

En el silencio transparente
el día reposaba:
la transparencia del espacio
era la transparencia del silencio.
La inmóvil luz del cielo sosegaba
el crecimiento de las yerbas.
Los bichos de la tierra, entre las piedras,
bajo la luz idéntica, eran piedras.
El tiempo en el minuto se saciaba.
En la quietud absorta
se consumaba el mediodía.

Y un pájaro cantó, delgada flecha.
Pecho de plata herido vibró el cielo,
se movieron las hojas,
las yerbas despertaron…
Y sentí que la muerte era una flecha
que no se sabe quién dispara
y en un abrir los ojos nos morimos.

— Octavio Paz

Meditemos sobre la mortalidad, pero sea posible sin vergüenzas, sin miedos, sin acrimonios.   Destaquemos que siempre estamos solos en un universo lleno de vida, que el tiempo no funciona para nosotros sino para sí mismo.  No sé.  Leo la poesía, disfruto y padezco mi soledad a la vez, no tengo razones para vivir y sin embargo, llevo conmigo una firme compromiso… para vivir.  Así es.

Caveat: …entre o céu e a terra

My entry earlier this morning started me thinking about Leonardo Boff. He is one of the most charismatic humans I have ever met in person – that was 24 years ago. From his website, a compelling quote is easy to find:

"Hoje nos encontramos numa fase nova na humanidade. Todos estamos regressando à Casa Comum, à Terra: os povos, as sociedades, as culturas e as religiões. Todos trocamos experiências e valores. Todos nos enriquecemos e nos completamos mutuamente. … Vamos rir, chorar e aprender. Aprender especialmente como casar Céu e Terra, vale dizer, como combinar o cotidiano com o surpreendente, a imanência opaca dos dias com a transcendência radiosa do espírito, a vida na plena liberdade com a morte simbolizada como um unir-se com os ancestrais, a felicidade discreta nesse mundo com a grande promessa na eternidade. E, ao final, teremos descoberto mil razões para viver mais e melhor, todos juntos, como uma grande família, na mesma Aldeia Comum, generosa e bela, o planeta Terra." – Leonardo Boff. Casamento entre o céu e a terra. Salamandra, Rio de Janeiro, 2001. pg 9.

Caveat: That is called tautology

“Buddhists, Christians, Islam; nobody knows the truth of God or the truth of Buddha because such a thing does not exist. When you talk about truth, that is already based on what you know. But what you know is originally supposed come from truth, right? So in order to talk about truth you have to know the truth. If you don’t know the truth you can’t talk about it. That is called tautology. You are chasing your own tail.” – Shin, Myo Vong, Cookies of Zen, p 382.

This quote cuts close to what I think of as religion’s “epistemological problem.” And I don’t mean that despectively – I, too, as a practicing faith-based atheist, have the same epistemological problem. Only sincere agnostics (and I am one of those cynics who believes most agnostics are insincere, or, minimally, self-deceptive) can avoid the problem – and they do so only by refusing to play the game. At some point, each believer makes a commitment to some kind of truth. And there is no resolution to the paradox lurking behind the question of where such truth comes from. In fact, perhaps in a slightly Lacanian sense, it is the elision of that paradox that is the definition of faith, although I still prefer the definition of faith I once heard in a lecture by Leonardo Boff: faith is a sort of positive inversion of fear. Cf Kierkegaard?
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Caveat: centro de asfalto, yo impertérrito

Cada fin de semana, me he dedicado a leer un poema.  Hice una vuelta a Miguel Labordeta, poeta vagamente surrealista aragonés de posguerra, sobre quien hice un par de ensayos durante mi época en estudios graduados en U Penn, con el mejor profesor que tuve ahí, Ignacio López.  Creo que entre los poetas específicamente españoles del s. XX, éste ha sido el que más me ha influido, después del infinito Federico García Lorca, por supuesto – y dejando al lado el más voluminoso número de poetas iberoamericanos.

“Letanía del imperfecto”

Sed antigua abrasa mi corazón de lentitudes.
En música y llanto mi ubre roída de pastor.
Tumbas de aguas y sueño,
soledad, nube, mar.
Doncellas en flor, cementerio de estrellas,
cuadrúpedos hambrientos de paloma y de espiga,
en náusea y en fuga de amargos pobladores oscuros,
mineros desertores de la luz insaciable.
Cráteres de lluvia. Volcanes de tristeza y de hueso,
despojos de pupilas y hechizos desgajados.
«Me gustas como una muerte dulce…»
Arrebatado. Sido. Aurora y espanto de mí mismo.
Viejos valses con calavera de violín
en la cintura de capullo con sol ciego de ti.
«Pero me iré…
debo irme… pues el jardín no es leopardo aún
y tu caricia una onda vaga tan sola
en los suelos secretos del atardecer…»
Canes misteriosos devoran mi perdón.
Mi distancia se pierde en las columnas de tu abril jovencito.
Cero. Vorágine. Desistimiento.
Nueva generación de hormigas dulces cada agosto.
Viento y otoños por los puentes romanos derruidos.
Golpeo a puñetazos besos de miel y desesperanza
en pavesas radiantes de futuras abejas.
Veintisiete años agonizantes
sonríen largamente a lo lejos.
Buceo. Soles y órbitas indagando los cubos del olvido.
El misterio. Eso siempre.
El misterio a las doce en punto del día
y en su centro de asfalto
yo
impertérrito.

— Miguel Labordeta Violento idílico (1949)

 

“Violento idílico” (1949)

Caveat: Trying to Understand Slavoj Žižek

And it wasn't because of his ideas.  It was just the accent.

Slavoj Žižek is a well-known, contemporary, post-modern philosopher of the so-called "continental" school that I often like to read.  I have read (or attempted to read) several of his books, and find his thinking fascinating.  If I was a "practicing philosopher" – as opposed to a strictly recreational one – his is the sort of philosophy I'd be trying to practice.

So I was excited to find a two hour presentation of his on FORA.tv.  An amazingly smart fellow-foreigner-in-Yeonggwang, a Quebecker named Matty, pointed me at the website FORA.tv a week or so ago – there's a lot of interesting things there, and I can tell it will be a place I visit regularly. 

Unfortunately, as compelling as I find Žižek's thought in writing, his spoken English is quite difficult to understand.  It was like listening to someone you really want to understand in a language you don't know very well – in other words, exactly like every single day of my life, here in Korea.  I hope I can find the text of his presentation on "God becoming an atheist" and other Lacanian approaches to Christianity – which is, as best I can figure out, what he was talking about.

While at FORA.tv, I also found a much more enjoyable presentation by the linguist Daniel Everett, on the issue of disappearing languages and his seemingly somewhat Whorfian take on why they should be preserved.  I might disagree with that aspect, but I like that he's challenging Chomsky on such issues as the universality of syntactic recursion, and he's a compelling presenter.

I don't really trust my little apartment's thermostat, but it alleges that the temperature inside has dropped below 20 C, for the first time that I've noticed.  So far, I haven't turned on the ondol (floor heating) – it seems to be well-insulated and/or to benefit from the heat of the neighbors' apartments (unlike most Korean apartments that I've ever experienced or heard about).  I was watching the news last night in Korean, and they say (well, I think they say – there's always some room for misunderstanding) that snow and cold are coming.

 

Slavoj ŽižekB

Caveat: 20) 교만 함으로 인해 악연이 된 인연들에게 참회하며 절합니다

“I bow in repentance of the ties that become like an evil destiny due to arrogance.”

This is #20 out of a series of 108 daily Buddhist affirmations that I am attempting to translate with my hands tied behind my back (well not really that, but I’m deliberately not seeking out translations on the internet, using only dictionary and grammar).


18. 성냄으로 인해 악연이 된 인연들에게 참회하며 절합니다.
       “I bow in repentance of the ties that become like an evil destiny due to anger.”
19. 모진 말로 인해 악연이 된 인연들에게 참회하며 절합니다.
        “I bow in repentance of the ties that become like an evil destiny due to harsh words.”
20. 교만 함으로 인해 악연이 된 인연들에게 참회하며 절합니다.

I would read this twentieth affirmation as: “I bow in repentance of the ties that become like an evil destiny due to arrogance.”

Arrogance. My issue with arrogance is complicated. I don’t really feel that it is one of my major problems – but I know that almost anyone who knows me would say that they suspect it is.

Which is to say, I think many of those around me perceive me as arrogant. I’m intellectually prideful, yes. I can’t deny that. And I talk “down” to people because of my vocabulary, and my refusal to conceal my weird, academic interests in normal conversation. And for people who don’t understand what being a nerd really is like, I’m sure that that comes off as arrogant. The point is – I really do talk that way. I really do think that way. I really do have those interests – I’m not showing off or using it to push people away. I’d much rather talk about linguistic theory or geopolitics than sports or food. I’m sorry. Is that arrogant, for me to want to talk about my interests?

Hmm, there’s another aspect. Which is that I am judgmental. I mean… I come off that way. But that’s not really meant, either. Again – I’m merely expressing what’s interesting to me, and, in the area of “judgment”… well, I have strong values – strong ideas about what’s right or wrong, what’s appropriate. It can be difficult to set aside (or more accurately, to avoid expressing) those values when in conversation with people who don’t seem to share them. But I try.

Really, if I re-read the above, it just comes off as more arrogance. Why does assertively stating ones feelings come off as arrogance? Is the key simply to “shut up”? Is it only possible to be humble with one’s mouth shut? Maybe. This is more plausible than I’d like to admit.

On the other hand, just because I’m intellectually prideful doesn’t mean that I don’t struggle with self-confidence in other areas. Lately, I’ve been very anti-social. Avoiding people. Feeling unmotivated. On retreat.

Inadequate as a teacher, unskilled in language acquisition, lazy as an artist.

Can’t.

Won’t.

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Caveat: 18) 성냄으로 인해 악연이 된 인연들에게 참회하며 절합니다

“I bow in repentance of the ties that become like an evil destiny due to anger.”

This is #18 out of a series of 108 daily Buddhist affirmations that I am attempting to translate with my hands tied behind my back (well not really that, but I’m deliberately not seeking out translations on the internet, using only dictionary and grammar).


16. 내가 저지른 모든 죄를 망각한 채 살아 온 어리석음을 참회하며 절합니다.
       “I bow in repentance of any foolishness lived, forgetting any sins committed.”
17. 전생 , 금생 , 내생의 업보를 소멸하기 위해 지극한 마음으로 참회하며 절합니다.
       “I bow in repentance with a sincere heart, taking care to destroy the karma of my past, current and future lives.”
18. 성냄으로 인해 악연이 된 인연들에게 참회하며 절합니다.

I would read this eighteenth affirmation as: “I bow in repentance of the ties that become like an evil destiny due to anger.”

Anger. Anger-with-self? That’s my vice. Destiny? Do I believe that?

Walking familiar paths.

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