Friday, December 16, 2011

it's time to _____!

I need to _____ and continue _____ing until I am done _____ing.

this is original.  insert any verb and it becomes and affirmation.

Chance

From the moment I realized I was a conscious being and but a spec within an infinite universe I was able to see the chaos of the world around me from an enlightened position; I felt unmoved, and free.  When I opened my eyes and viewed what was before me I could no longer see the path I had been walking on or the footsteps in the sand that I had been following; what I saw were paths of an infinite variety.  My eyes were opened to the Libertarian ideal that humans, including myself are completely free.  Each action and reaction is controlled by the individual in a manner that gives us the complete freedom to choose our own fate. 

This essay will attempt to address some of the flaws regarding casual determinism.


Determinism is the belief in which prior events determine human actions.  It does not hold the individual responsible but excuses them from consequences based on the idea that heredity and upbringing are directly attributed to how someone will act.  This is a very dangerous belief as nothing in life is guaranteed, and to act as if it is would be detrimental to society and the individual.  If you were to tell me something true, I would not accept it as truth until I couldn’t prove that it wasn’t.  Humans do not gain knowledge by accepting truth but by attempting to prove it false.  


“Our ability to conceive what is not allows us to form plans that are not determined by the past or present.” 


By accepting determinism, the individual is ruling out the responsibility of error and accepting that things are the outcome of prior events that got them to where they are; which is simply, along for the ride.


The discussion of freedom is extremely important because it can shape the way an individual views the world.   We are a sum of our choices, and as you said in class, the word choice implies freedom.  William James cited a story that was circulating around the time he gave his speech on “The Dilemma of Determinism” and I found it quite humorous, tragic and to the point. 


“The confession of the murderer at Brockton the other day: how, to get rid of the wife whose continued existence bored him, he inveigled her into a desert spot, shot her four times, and then, as she lay on the ground and said to him, ‘you didn’t do it on purpose, did you, dear?’ replied, ‘No, I didn’t do it on purpose,’ as he raised a rock and smashed her skull.”(James 20)


For the determinist this tragic circumstance was unavoidable due to the prior events that took place within the life of this man.  In his defense, there could be examples of abuse that took place while he was a boy or young man.  One could say that he had his father’s temper and his mother’s love for whiskey or that his uncle had showed him more love than a family member should.  These are all unfortunate examples of what could have happened but as Jean-Paul Sartre says,


"Past or present existence, cannot determine a person’s conception of what does not exist.”  Sartre goes on to insist, “In this power to conceive what is not lies our freedom.”.   


Meaning, this mans crime cannot be excused as a result of prior events because whatever happens in the future is controlled by the individual.  The future is untold and we shape it with each action and each choice and each decision we make.  


“Being cannot determine nonbeing”.

 Now, if we entertain for a moment that determinism were true, would no one be responsible for what they do?  Would the rapist rape because there was nothing else he could do and if so how would society deal with these types of repercussions?  Perhaps a world order could be implemented in the respect that all people could be guaranteed an equal and stable rearing.  Determinism already denies choice and responsibility therefore; within this new society, freedom would not be missed.  The world would function as if it were a machine and its people would have no reason to act out because everyone would be exactly the same.  John Hospers wrote that 


“the unconscious is the master of every fate and the captain of every soul”


 and we could consider this a challenge when creating the perfect childhood.
           
 In conclusion I will leave you with the statement by Ayn Rand,  


“the choice to learn, to judge, to evaluate, to appraise, to decide what he ought to do in order to live his life must be each person’s own, otherwise he simply has no opportunity to excel or fail at the task.”  


Life is meant to be lived, choices are subject to debate, what is wrong is meant to be contradicted by what is right and people must enjoy their freedom.  We cannot excuse behavior as a result of the past or present but use our minds and think critically and make decisions based on reason.




this is a short attempt to trick the brain into seeing picture while actually reading words

Standing in line at St. Vincent's Pharmacy she was reluctant to admit she agreed with the pediatrician. His diagnosis supported by that ancient degree that had been hanging in his office since the death of Igor Stravinsky antagonized her thoughts. She had always been a classical enthusiast and often heard a quite capable philharmonic in sequence with her daily errands. Today however, the score choked on what seemed to be an itch of irritation. The more society and technology progressed the less the past seemed relevant. "People have a choice of considering History but we often opt not to," she mumbled towards a child exploring the bright colors of an addicting electronic device. War is the greatest blunder of man yet we still have wars, so how much do we actually consider history. If we have learned anything in this past century of advertising and consuming it would be that everyone has an agenda. She shuffled her feet forward in line as so not irritate the body behind her by leaving too much of a gap between herself and the body in front of her. Sixty dollars per visit and one dollar-fifty per prescribed pill really put a dent in the checking account but how could she argue with a professional. Four visits in four months with the same symptoms and each time the doctor sang the expected chorus "Anti-bi-ot-ics". It was if she was wheeled in on a moving sidewalk, her child bent-over, smacked, choked and checked, then wheeled out into a delightful line in which time seemed to stop. She had spent nearly six minutes with the doctor before he ushered himself out of the room. Still feeling cheated she was meant to suffocate here until she could move forward. She was jolted back into reality by the short clap of a sneeze that had originated somewhere feet behind her. She instantly started to imagine the circulating air carrying the bacteria towards her. It made her shift uncomfortably hiding the back of her neck between her short brown hair and the non-existent collar of her flowered blouse. She hissed under her breath at the suggestion that God actually bless the body, which had shared its sickness with the crowded room. She closed her eyes and imagined a staircase.

The staircase was white and smooth with sharp angles and every six steps it seemed to turn either left or right forty degrees. It was difficult to determine the size of the room as the white and gray marble floor seemed to stretch and almost curve upward before it met the vertical wall. The windows seemed to let in light originating from the heavens and she basked in its warmth for a moment before involuntarily drifting up the staircase. Her thoughts no longer weighed on her soul las they always do. The score of Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring began faint and with each ascending moment, it grew louder until it was gloriously echoing off the great walls of this massive auditorium. Her heart felt heavy with anticipation as something, though she did not know what, was about to happen. She immediately directed her attention to this feeling that had started rumbling her insides. It was as if the whole room was about to climax and she would receive a supreme revelation. The staircase suddenly as if becoming aware of its weight for the first time and fell out from under her. She opened her eyes. Tightly gripping the steering wheel, she felt the tension of her muscles stabilizing throughout her body. She began to cry and her child for the first time noticed.



Laughter
"No one could see me hidden in the tree. I had been there as long as I could remember, simply being. I had felt a chuckle in my lungs, which produced a force of air strong enough to break through several layers of phlegm that had built up. It was if I a child had climbed into my body. I remembered my wedding day and all of its nervousness." mid thought with an air of judgment and participation a remark whipped by and nestled in the ears of the others at the dinner table. "If only divorce was that easy!" The quip came from a former colonel turned grandfather. Recently divorced himself he felt a renewal of life. The crowed dinner table burst into a subdued laughter and with it my moment to speak withdrawn.

My name is Manuel Blanc and I am a pacifist.

Enjoying a tightly wrapped cigar on the patio over looking the garden I began to notice the neatly laid cement that seemed to stretch seamlessly amongst the flowers. "How are you?" The former wife of the aged Colonel addressed me in a mocking manner. Respect was something gained at dinners like this and unfortunately someone must die and a newer member join before ones status were considered more than a handful of change. I turned on my right heel and tightened my gaze upon the light and how it shown on her loose hairs. I had the habit of falling in love easily. This was generally known throughout the circles of which I socialize so she must be referring that this evenimg I am not two but one. "I have been preoccupied with sadness." My reply seemed too forthcoming for she simply turned and walked away. I had learned as the first rule of socializing not to try and trap people into feeling anything but happiness. This task had become more difficult since I had become less involved in my work. I had once been a somewhat opinionate for the Gazette which featured up and coming artist of language. Unfortunately, a swift kick to the head had slowed my ability to think as accurately. I often closed my eyes and imagined the night of what I considered my fall. I had just left the apartment of a young woman I had met at the taproom on the border of the university. She was lovely and anxious to change the world and her opinions flew from her mouth like flies on a rotten piece of meat. What had attracted me was her right bosom and how when she turned towards me it put just the right amount of pressure on the other so that it created a breathtaking view of her cleavage. It reminded me of being sixteen years old looking into the Grand Canyon with my father. His hand on my shoulder I cocked my arm back and let soar a paper airplane. The airplane few and twenty-years later seemed to land here between this young femmes breast. We made love a top a faux suede cushion situated next to a large window that reflected the lights of the city. Naturally, I announced my needing to get home and I said I would call shortly after the cymbals crashed which I don't think she understood.

As I descended the ancient staircase that seemed to creak under my every ounce of weight I began to hear a symphony. It started cool and collected until I bust out the door and the cold wind seemed to have picked up where the staircase left off. My lungs sucked felt frigid right as the cold brass connected to the front of my skull. I remember the lights spinning around me and my legs slowly weakening before I collapsed into myself, and blackness.