Having Lunch With Your Parents

Erin:
This is the 6th chapter of the book we are reading, but the first one for me since I am a late addition to this convo. It brings to mind the lunches or linners, as I call them since my lunch is really my breakfast and my lunch/breakfast is usually my fathers dinner. I wake up around 3-5 pm from working a graveyard shift. My father has been taking his kids out to lunch/dinner on a semi regular basis for a while now that he is retired. It is a good idea because without the formal invitations I rarely see my parents or family in general, it is sad but true. So I am grateful that my father has offered his time and money to bring us together.

I have really enjoyed the times that we have spent together. I often don't want them to end. I have always been able to sit and talk with my dad about anything and everything. We are similar in a lot of ways and I have always felt a kindred spirit in him. I also love that he is someone I can talk to and learn from at the same time. If I think back to dinner with my family as a child, it is quite a different picture. I don't remember conversations, but I do remember questions asked about our day etc. I would tend to answer in monosyllabic words to get him off my back so I could resume inhaling my food in order to get seconds before Soren ate them before me. Dinner was usually a contest between myself and my brother Soren to see who could eat their first helping of food the fastest in order to get the scant amount of leftovers that lay on the table getting cold. And, of course, if we were still hungry after dinner we knew what we would hear from Mom, "If you are still hungry then have some toast." It was a cheap way to fill up if we were still hungry after any meal. Needless to say I became a carb addict quite early in life. I am happy to say that I no longer depend on bread at my meals in order to feel "satisfied".

As the author states in this chapter, "Because life depends on food, you've got to feed the lives that depend on you. If it's by virtue of having children together, of jointly forging new life, that parents become parents, they remain so by keeping that life alive and kicking". As a child I tended to focus on what I was lacking and not being grateful for what I had, which was at the least food and shelter which are the basic building blocks according to Maslow's hierarchy of human needs. Without these a person can not reach to the highest levels of self acutalization. So then people in Africa who are starving are not even attaining the most basic of human needs and don't get anywhere close to our human experience and understanding of the world around us. In a developed country we tend to take these basic things for granted. It makes you put things into perspective and realize how much we have to be grateful for.

 I remember hearing somewhere that when you overeat you are compensating for the love you didn't receive as a child. So it probably comes as no surprise that I am the fat one of the family, since I complained the most of not having my emotional needs met as a child and not getting the love I needed from my parents. Even with all my criticizing of my parents I do think that both my parents put their needs ahead of their children which brings up the first paradox in this chapter, "the otherwise impregnable triangle that yokes together parents, children, and food. Without their parents creating them, children can't exist, and once existing, they depend on those parents to keep them in existence with food and water. In this respect, the life of the parent is indispensable to the life of the child". Now instead of depending on my parents to feed me and keep me alive we eat together to sustain and enhance our relationships and enjoy one anothers company. How opulent and incomprehensible this might seem to someone who will never have enough food to eat. If I keep going in this vein I am going to get depressed about the world and all the deprivations therein. But if nothing else, at least it makes me realize how much we have and how much we take for granted. It is a lot better for the soul to be grateful for what we have rather than complain about what we don't have, and it really isn't hard to change perspective if you choose to.

The practice of Constellations that is brought up is very interesting and makes me think of how that would play out in our family. It makes me realize that no matter what our familial relationships are like in the family we are all connected in very profound ways whether we realize it or not, and that we may be affected more by each other than we know. This includes those that are dead in the family but still affecting those still alive. "For in the emotional algebra of the family, the dead count as much as the living". I feel that I have a stronger connection to Grandma Green now that she is dead than when she was living. I feel her comforting me when I am sad. I hear her telling me, in my mind, not to do something that she wouldn't approve of. I know that Dad and Annie are both very affected by dad's parents and always will be. It is the influence they had on us when they were here, and also the memory of them that we choose to keep alive in our minds that affect us now and probably always will until we meet them on the other side.

Breakfast with Socrates Chapter 5

Jon:

 I will make some general comments about Smith’s points in chapter 5 and then I will expand on some personal observations on the medical profession.
 I think we all suffer a little from what Smith calls the “God syndrome” because we all assume the doctor knows much more about illness than we do and that the end result of his diagnoses can often mean the difference between life and death. That’s a big deal to anyone. I’ll never forget my feeling when Dr. Landau first told me that he had discovered some pre-cancerous cells in the biopsy of my prostate. I thought: “I can’t die yet! I’m too young! This is unfair and unacceptable!” I was viscerally mad at someone, but rather than shake my fist at God, I took it out in the privacy of my mind on the doctor and his diagnosis. Ultimately, I’m glad I accepted his suggestion to undergo brachytherapy. It got rid of the cancer and I’m still alive. 
 I don’t agree with his dismissal of the natural human tendency to empathize with another’s pain. For me it has never seemed “as abstract as the suffering we watch on TV.” (54) Mom and I just finished watching a heart-wrenching documentary on TV about America’s aid to the victims of the Russian famine of 1921, a part of history I was totally unaware of. The photos of starving children huddled in suffocating rooms, sleeping naked on the cold floors with totally emaciated bodies was shocking and outrageous, because the Bolshevik authorities blithely ignored the log jam of trains filled with wheat that stood idle in rail yards for weeks while hundreds of thousands of people starved to death in Eastern Russia. 
 His observation about the self-awareness that comes with learning more about our illnesses reminds me of Socrates’ most famous dictum: “Know thyself.” Smith seems to suggest that there comes a point where knowing our ills can make us into hypochondriacs, that a bit of self-unawareness is probably healthy. I think pain can become a spiritual problem when it persists, because it forces our focus inward (we can’t stop thinking about it), thereby compromising our capacity to go outside of ourselves, which is the stance of any good person and the essence of altruism. I take my hat off to persons who can remain positive under conditions of terminal illnesses or long-term pain.
And I’m intrigued by his point that persistent illnesses can range beyond their causes, passing through the light of reason “back once more into the dark.” This touches on a problem I have with the medical profession in general, that doctors are trained in exclusively scientific methods, dismissing (as my own family doctor does) alternative modes like holistic medical practices, herbal remedies, and even ancient practices that still have efficacy. I find this attitude arrogant and harmful to the patient by dismissing other possible remedies because they haven’t passed the muster of scientific scrutiny. Not every malady lends itself solely to one regimen.* 
Even more problematic in modern medicine are the soaring costs of treatments that are often driven by pure greed (the stranglehold pharmaceutical companies have on the doctors who prescribe their expensive medications and the outrageous costs of one day in the hospital). Not only is it prohibitively expensive, it is dangerous to your health to be in a hospital. I don’t want to go there, but medical costs are a huge problem that will break the bank of our financial system unless we can find a way to rein in the costs of Medicare and Medicaid. 
Finally, his reference to the placebo effect is timely and true, because there is so much evidence in the history of medicine that non-physical factors often play a major role in either recovery or death. On the negative side, American soldiers held prisoner during the Korean War simply rolled over and died in captivity because they had lost their will to live. On the other hand, there seems to be ample experimental evidence to suggest that patients who are prayed for during terminal illnesses recover in far greater numbers than those who are not prayed for. 
Personal Observations:  
 I seriously could and well might have become a medical (instead of a philosophical) doctor, had I not had a dream when I was very young. Having lived in the St. George hospital during my year in Kindergarten (my father worked as a fireman at a naval base in southern California during the war), I grew to love the strange smells of disinfectants and the tall men in white coats who were my idols. But I dreamed one night that I was operating on a person, but forgot a procedure and he died. I woke up determined that I could never go into a profession where I might be the cause of another’s death. 

 I have a rather love-hate relationship with the notion of death. As I mentioned above, when I got cancer, I was suddenly overcome with distress over the fragility of my life and the possibility that I would die “before my time.” In the intervening years I have come to a much less stressful attitude, because I realize that the life we move to after death is so much more pleasant than this one. And yet, I also identify with Woody Allen’s concerns, when he said: “I’m not afraid of dying. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” I feel the same way. I would much rather be “twinkled” than go through the process, which I suspect is generally very unpleasant, but I can think of nothing more wonderful than meeting with loved ones again and being in a more beautiful and pleasant place. What really puzzles me is how much effort is expended in our culture to save a person’s physical life and yet how cavalier we sometimes are about saving a person from spiritual danger. I often wish sirens would go off when someone is on the verge of doing something stupid that could really mess up his or her afterlife.
 One final point: I find it brainless and disgusting that prescription medications sold over the counter and through the media are almost exclusively designed to provide “fast, temporary relief” from what ails you, rather than “slow, permanent relief,” which is what any rational person really wants. But permanent solutions, which focus on treating causes rather than symptoms, would quickly lead to bankrupt companies, whose livelihood is linked to repeat customers. Duh!        


*Later in the chapter it seems clear that Smith, while admitting that some alternative methods can be helpful, they can and often are exploited at the expense of the patient’s well-being. True enough, but I have reverted to some herbal remedies and vitamin supplements for the very reason he admits that traditional medical treatments are often harmful and even deadly. I take Nattakinase instead of an 81 mg aspirin each day because the aspirin harms the lining of the stomach. I can thin my blood naturally without that obvious negative side effect. I have stopped taking statins for my high cholesterol because some doctors I trust claim that taking statin drugs to lower cholesterol does not avert heart problems but does harm your liver, often permanently. So, I think the key is to educate yourself and try to make informed decisions by relying on the best of all the available treatments. 

Annie:
Great observations, Dad.  The first thing I thought of when the book spoke of the doctor's authority was when I disregarded it in favor of my own understanding of high cholesterol in women.  And in study after study that I have read statins don't lower women’s risk of heart disease.  I even talked to Grandpa about this to get his take as a chemist and he agreed with me, and also had stopped taking his statins, granted he was close to 90.  My point is it hit me that the doctor works for me.  They can give me their expert advice but I don't have to blindly do what they say, they are not the boss of me.  (Clearly, I have issues with authority.)  However, when I gained confidence that I could disagree with my doctor and act in a way that I thought was best, I believe our relationship improved.


Tara:

Dad, I am excited to read chapter 5 after reading your great comments. I totally agree with you about doctors being closed minded. I'm married to one! Don't get me wrong. He's great at what he does but anything not "proven" or "known," to him, is a load of hooey. For example, I've become interested and involved with Doterra essential oils and he teases me all the time about them. But I know they work so I just laugh along with him and accept my title as his semi-crazy wife. I would much rather treat simple ailments with a natural remedy than load up on chemicals that the drug companies are shoving down our throats through shiny commercials and magazine ads when more often than not the real solution is a lifestyle change. They figuratively want us to believe that a band aid will heal a broken arm.

Yea, they think they have us over a barrel, but we're not stupid (at least, some of us are not stupid, even though some of us like me are too gullible for our own good). On our hike up Logan Canyon last Thursday, I told mom about my issues with the medical profession and she and I both realized my anger is just below the surface. I tend to overstate the negative. I like doctors (especially our family doctor, Dr. Kennedy), but it's sad that they're not taught some more practical things (like the value of good nutrition) in medical school. Doesn't that seem like a no-brainer? And what's with the food they serve up (throw up?) when you're in the hospital. That's a big red flag in my book. 
     Anyway, thanks for the reply. 
Love you, Dad

Breakfast with Socrates Chapter 4

Annie:
The chapter starts with his saying how 34% of lottery winners would stay at their jobs.  I don't think I would be one of them.  I'd want to travel, and I don't find much satisfaction in my jobs beyond the people I work with, which is a lot!  I'm not saving the world, or curing cancer, or teaching or learning anything new.  Day after day I pretty much do the same thing.  I work for the compensation, and, as I really think about it, to fill my time.  Sad, maybe, but true.  But ever since being done with college, I don't want to take 'work' home.  I don't want to worry about what needs to be done, or what I should be doing.  I felt like I could never just enjoy the moment when I was going to school.  I want work to stay at work, and home to be home.  Therefore, I haven't looked to increase my pay by increasing the requirements of me, and finding something more fulfilling.  I am sometimes plagued with 'what am I doing with my life?'  But I sometimes get paid to read, play scrabble, walk the canyon, etc., doesn't seem too bad, and also makes me think I can't ask for more compensation when I would do these things for free.

Jon:

July 4, 2011
Dear Annie,
      I’m sorry it has taken so long for me to respond to your comments on chapter 4 of Breakfast with Socrates. I had read the chapter a week or so ago and couldn’t remember much so re-read it today to provide a more articulate reaction. 
 Your feelings about your work struck home with me in more ways than one. First, it gave me a huge pang of regret that, whether student or teacher, going to school means having “home work,” work you take home with you. That bane of schooling was an albatross around my neck for all of my professional life. It seems I couldn’t leave my school work at school. I was always worried about what and how I would teach my next day’s class, which definitely interfered with my performance as a husband and father. I haven’t quizzed my colleagues, but I suspect their situation was somewhat similar. This bane of my life is paired to a benefit in terms of job satisfaction. I used to tell my students at the beginning of every semester that I had the dream job: “I would do what I’m doing now if I didn’t have to work for a living.” I then encouraged them to find a similar job situation. But as you can see, it was definitely a mixed bag—lots of pluses and minuses. If I had to do it over, I’m sure I would try to find a job I could leave at work, although I couldn’t have worked at something that was pure rote or doing something I didn’t think made a difference for good in the world, in spite of the satisfaction of liking the people I worked with and taught. Given a second chance, I certainly would have revised my priorities.

 In view of the generous portion of the estate we have inherited from Smith and Katie, I also have mixed feelings. I’m grateful that they were frugal folk. Their frugality was our fortune. Their early earning years forged a strong work ethic, but on Smith’s part, an almost draconian check on spending, which made Katie feel financially marginalized and demeaned, especially when Smith sent so much of their early meager paychecks to Lorana. I don’t know how to sort that all out, but it was unfortunate for them that he saw any discretionary spending (going out for dinner or to a movie) as profligate. Robert Rowland Smith’s emphasis on balance is important in money matters. Being careful, but also being caring, because for each of us, money means something a little bit different. Mom and I have had to compromise many times to work out our different attitudes toward money, borne of our families’ different sizes, attitudes, and practices.

Our commitment to the principle of tithing has helped immensely in resolving our differences and in ensuring our continuing solvency. My job, which I loved doing, has also been a boon to our post-retirement financial stability, with a life-time source of funds more than sufficient to do most of what we have dreamed of doing. Maybe that’s the ultimate test of job satisfaction. It keeps on giving to the end. 
 To summarize: a job should provide adequate financial security for the needs and wants of a family. It should also be a source of personal satisfaction, borne of the feeling that we’re doing something good with our skills and that in the doing, we feel we’re growing toward something better. We should be sure that we are giving a full day’s work for a full day’s pay but that, in the end, the job is always secondary to the primary duty of being a good spouse and a good parent. Striking the right balance is more than a staying upright on the
tightrope. 


Kristin: 

I really liked both of your comments. I have actually been thinking about this lately, namely "being-at-work". I have decided to stay and do this summer job at Tech Boston Academy because I figured it paid a lot, it was worth not going home for, and it would provide experience I need. However, when I woke up today I didn't want to go in and I wanted to quit right then and there. So, when I was reading the first part of the chapter, I felt that it somewhat applied to me. But, I think we often wake up and don't want to go to work (especially when it's summer). I love teaching. I do. I just don't like the disorganization that comes with secondary education. It has been a zoo these past two days and the aspects of team mentioned in the chapter could not be truer. I even noticed this in my school this past year. We were in discipline teams and had two meetings weekly. I noticed how a couple teachers did most of the work while a few others did nothing. It was easy to be a team member and do absolutely nothing. I found it ironic that we were so poor at successful teams yet when we would put our students in teams, we would give each member of a team (or group) a job so that everyone had a job to perform. We could learn from this and do the same in our meetings. I'm not at that school anymore so whatever. But at my next school, it's something that I will definitely bring up and try to cultivate. It doesn't have to be hierarchical but each team member must have a responsibility if we want to avoid overburdening the few and letting others off the hook.  
In other observations, I have noticed that a lot of the teachers I've come in contact with in Boston Public Schools have no life. Their life is teaching. They go to work early and stay late. They have no friends, no outside life, their life is their students. In fact, I was talking to a former TNYer today who is working at Tech Boston and has been for 6 years. He is Scottish and looks like the guy from Bridesmaids, the good cop...anyway, he said the same thing. All he does is work, he loves it and it's his dream job but that's it. I don't know, but I kinda don't like that. I want to have something besides just my work. It was ominous to think that my life could possibly become so one-dimensional. Dad, you made a good and vital point. We need balance. Work shouldn't be our life, even if we do love it. There's more life to be had, more experiences to have.

Breakfast with Socrates Chapter 3

Tara:
Breakfast has sure been tasty so far... Chapter 3 is all about traveling to work and I should qualify my email with traveling anywhere that takes you from home sweet home out into the world and then back again. The story of Martin Guerre fascinates me but I've been jaded by Broadway making every story in the universe into a musical. I am still trying to get the overly trite lyrics from the Martin Guerre musical out of my head that Rob played maniacally when it came out around ten years ago. Unfortunately for me (and you) the words of the title song made a permanent residence in my memory. (Look I'm Martin Guerre! There's no disguise, look in my eyes, I'm him I swear! And there's more... Look! I'm Martin Guerre! Broken and torn, I was reborn, out of despair!) The real story, though, is a doozy of a philosophical thinker "of a sixteenth-century French peasant who goes off to work in the fields one morning and doesn't come back. Time passes, and six years later he-or someone claiming to be him-returns, to take up again with his wife." The villagers compare the Martin they remember with the current man claiming to be him and they're not quite sure it really is him. How do we KNOW that the person we know and love that left for work is the same person who comes home at the end of the day? I know it's Rob who comes home because when the door opens I listen for a whistle and when I hear the chirp there he is, in green scrubs traipsing into the living room. But what if he didn't come home for six years and then came in the door one day in green scrubs with his old standard whistle? I know I wouldn't be sure it was him, even with the whistle because he'd been away so long. But what if you're sure it's the same DNA but the personality is startlingly different? Since I've been using Rob as my example I'll just make him the star and share my own Martin Guerre experience. In the summer of 2000 when Rob started his highly demanding and sanity taxing 2nd year of residency the kids and I went to Provo for six weeks and when I returned I really did wonder who this alien was in Rob's body. The Rob I encountered was not the same person I left six weeks before. In place of the happy, involved and social father and husband was a cranky, exhausted and glassy-eyed robot from the deep, murky pit of a maternity ward. I knew it was Rob because he still was semi-interested in Broadway musicals and golf but he didn't talk or laugh very often and his eyes had lost their sparkle. He didn't even want to tiglet Jonny who was one year old and, as you all know, highly tigletable. It was still the same genetic soup I kissed goodbye six weeks earlier but the personality I came home to was completely and permanently different. He truly was a different person from the experience of 2nd year residency. Smith says, "All of this means that if you do arrive at work as the same person who left your house, it's somewhat a matter of chance" just as one person's personality and life experience that walks out your front door is never the same that walks back in at the end of the day or the end of six weeks. Time changes everyone. The story of Martin Guerre is unique in that they weren't sure it was actually him but every one of us who leaves on a journey to anywhere "harbors the possibility of being blown off course...no matter what maps we use."

Annie:
Tara, I loved your review!  Very fitting that Ch. 3 was yours, as you had some experience with Martin Guerre.  I had never heard the story, but very interesting.  Thanks for sharing about Rob, to not want to tiget Jonny is insane and I might have demanded a DNA test!  I loved the last line - everyone who on a journey to anywhere "harbors the possibility of being blown off course...no matter what maps we use."  Very thought provoking, because it could mean emotionally - depressed, work was horrible, physically - car accident to or from work, or any number of things. 
Ideally we all come home from a trip or day of work better off than when we left. Maybe by being aware and thinking of it I can come home from a bad day at work and not let my negative energy take over.  Great ideas, Tara.

Kristin:
Agreed! I loved your response Tara. I hadn't heard about the Martin Guerre story either but found it really interesting and the play on his name also ironic. My response from the chapter is the issue of the crowd phenomenon. Yes, when commuting to work I feel like the crowd at its worst as we "revert to the lowest common denominator". I don't like borrowing my roommates car for the mere fact that I can't stand the drivers and the rat race. I digress and exhibit some road rage and shaken fists. Anyway, from the experience I encountered at the Triathlon yesterday as kind of changed my perspective on things regarding crowd mentality. No where is it more apparent than in a race, i.e. the triathlon that each individual is competing for this common goal (kind of like going to work). But since life is full of paradoxes, why is it that in races one encounters so much encouragement and motivation from fellow runners/swimmers and cyclists? My roommates and I talked about it for a while yesterday: the phenomenon that encouragement, motivation and camaraderie exist in an environment where individuals should be competing against each other. I think it's largely because all of us realize the training and heartache gone into training and that the competition is really against oneself and not each other. For this reason, I love the common purpose and becoming "more than the sum of its parts" in crowds, particularly the one I found at the traithlon. There's more I could say on this but I'll stop. I also like the piece on showing up. I have a hard time with wanting to show up but I feel better every time I make the effort to not call in sick.

Dad:
Tara, this is a very impressive piece of writing that I didn’t know you had in you. It’s tightly constructed, painfully personal, and striking in its comparisons to Martin Guerre, a real tour de force of what appears to be a spontaneous outpouring of deeply connected thoughts and feelings, all traits that make for memorable writing and compelling reading. Its painful application to your personal life (the “completely and permanently different” Rob you discovered after the six-week hiatus) is a sobering commentary on your significant discovery that “Time changes everyone.” The questions that gnaw at me as I contemplate this inescapable truth is: Will the change be for good or ill? What makes the difference? And do the negative effects have to be permanent? Does the person whose changes seem so evident to the loved one realize that the light went out? 
 In retrospect, I wonder if my two years of agony trying to finish my dissertation after beginning a full teaching load at BYU in the fall of 1970 killed something in me. Did a light inside me go out permanently? I remember feeling more serene and laid back about life before that marathon nightmare of perpetual work, returning to the office from 7-12 each night to research and write after teaching all new classes during the day. I remember being furious that my graduate studies hadn’t prepared me for the reality of teaching large sections of basic humanities classes, where many of the topics were as new to me as they were to the students. It proved to be a real trial by fire that almost burned me out before I got started.  But the most deleterious effect was a subtle, unwitting shift in my priorities that has produced negative consequences in the lives of those I love the most: my wife and children. I won’t go into my past regrets for too often choosing career over family in my daily priorities, but that trial created permanent consequences that I’m now attempting to rectify and will continue to work on for the
rest of my life. The good news is that progress is being made, slowly but surely. Prayer and fasting have helped immensely. Your revelations sparked resolutions in my own life. Thanks.
 I wish I had simple answers to the weighty questions posed above. The profound truth that we are altered by the unexpected traumas and trials of daily life is much like a strong cross wind that blows an artillery shell slightly off course in the trajectory to its assigned target (I’m borrowing from your apt metaphor). One click of difference in the azimuth at the source equals a huge difference at the other end. So it is with our lives. Nothing is insignificant in the tests we face, yet nothing that attempts to deflect us from our eternal course can permanently alter our reaching the target if we let Him into the equation. This hopeful truth, made real by the Savior’s limitless love, was powerfully reinforced by my recent re-reading of George Ritchie’s book, Return from Tomorrow, about his near death experience during WWII. Dr. Ritchie’s life was permanently altered for the better by his brief exposure to the Savior’s light and love, the only power that can permanently eliminate the darkness of this life.
The Prophet Joseph endured more cross winds than anyone I know of except Jesus and look what it made of him. Without continual adversity, Joseph would have remained a simple farmer from upstate New York, but not the mighty prophet of the Restoration he eventually became. We know something Robert Smith probably has never even thought of, that we all have the potential to make permanent the good changes that are forged by our most painful experiences. We don’t have to be “blown off course” if we hold tight to the iron rod (the word of God). With His help, “Time changes everyone” for the better.

Chapter 2 "Getting Ready"

Kristin:

Smith mentions this process as "collecting yourself both to experience and not to experience the day ahead" (16). I found this to be so true for me and my year of growing pains. I would wake and get ready with the idea that I'm going to be an offensive player, no matter what (I would classify this as wanting to experience the day). Then, there are days when I wake up and think, "ok, here we go". This approach is a more defensive one where I merely survive. Teachers go through phases and unfortunately I was stuck in the 'survival' phase for too long. Perhaps I'm still there, but at least I'm enjoying what I do. Let's just say that the Boston winter killed me. And like Smith says, I could only plan so much for the winter until it became an unpredictable beast I cowered in front of. The book is reinforcing the idea that life is full of paradoxes, something I was aware of but only speculated on in conversations. It's nice to know that I'm not alone out there and that it's ok to feel so torn in two separate directions (being defensive and offensive almost simultaneously).  

So, what can we do about waking up and then getting ready? How is it possible to be more offensive? It reminds me of this Youtube video that I’m going to include here. I watched it a lot in London and I still think of it. My Muslim friend Sanda and I would have deep religious conversations and we would often come back to this talk by Baz Luhrman (this guy rocks: Annie and Tara know), "wear sunscreen". I think what impressed the most was the line that says, "Do something everyday that scares you". I feel as though it has become my motto without my having forced it. It seems as though I have lived my life in a way that always leaves me wondering to myself: 'What the hell was I thinking?" Honestly, why do I do the things I do? Why did I wake and get ready to live this transitory life that challenges me in ways that hurt? There are times when the pain leads to joy and those moments are rapturous. But still, if any of you have any insight into why I am the way I am, I'm still trying to figure it out. I was talking to a friend who mentioned that I never do things the 'easy' way. "You've always been like this," she said. Go figure. 
I like this, "We may be God's children, but we've got to be licensed as adult, with genuine choices and decisions to make". So, if you ever hear me complain, remind me of this. I have made choices and I am experiencing humanness in all its forms, as we all are. Kristin

Tara:

There is a radio lab podcast called "Limits" that I told Annie about that reminds me of Kristin's quote, "Do something everyday that scares you." We have so much more potential than we can comprehend. The power of our minds, spirit and intellect are without limits but we can only find that out by exposing ourselves to pain and fear, by doing things that scare us. Check it out. It's life changing.

Kristin:
So, I'm totally addicted to podcasts lately and radiolab is one of my favorites. Spencer introduced me to it. Thanks Tara for the suggestion. If you want to hear about a tranny mayor in the Northwest check out the New Normal on radiolab from last year. It's irrelevant to our discussion but it's interesting to see how normalcy is being redefined.

Jon:
Dear Kristin,    You've given this chapter some insightful glosses. It's exhilarating to read your gut reactions. For me it's a rare look into your struggles and soul-full experiments with doing things the hard way. It made me wonder if I chose the harder path, like when I realized that I might have been happier teaching at a small, liberal arts college than trying to juggle heavy teaching loads and onerous publication expectations my whole professional life. In retrospect, I think I did the right thing, because of the joy of teaching good students (morally and intellectually) and having the chance to connect my deepest religious convictions to my academic field was what gave me the greatest fulfillment in my professional life. 

Breakfast with Socrates: Chapter 1 "Waking up"

Monday, April 11, 2011

Dear Three Amigas:

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading the first chapter of Breakfast with Socrates. Smith has a gift for making complex philosophical issues accessible to the uninitiated mind (I include myself among those non-philosophical types). However, since I have read a lot over the years in philosophy, mostly in aesthetics, the branch of philosophy that deals with questions of beauty (natural and artistic), I’d like to clarify and expand upon one section of the chapter to lay the foundations for a possible dialogue among the three of us (a “trialogue?”) on the larger issue of Reality and Truth. 

I assume you’ve grasped the role that Descartes’ rigorous doubt has played in laying a solid foundation under the scientific attempt to come to unequivocal certainty about the world as expressed in one of the most famous of philosophical statements: “Cogito ergo sum” (“I think, therefore I am.”). It could have been better translated as “I doubt, therefore I am.” As brilliant as is Descartes’ paradoxical removal of the existence of doubt by doubting everything, it leads us to a more practical and convincing sense of how we perceive what’s around us, moving from whether we exist to what it means to exist. These kinds of questions belong in another branch of philosophy called Epistemology, which answers the question: “How do we know what we know?” which I find a lot more interesting and useful. As Smith writes, “Even if [Descartes’ conclusion] provides firm support for the idea that you exist, it can’t be trusted to bear the weight of your perceptions.” (6)
Smith refers to Kant (b. 1804) in the next sentence, but doesn’t elaborate on why Kant matters in this discussion of perceptions, so let me briefly explain. John Locke in 17th-century England had come up with an appealing answer to how we know by suggesting that our brains at birth are like a blank sheet of paper, which he called tabula rasa, which means an “erased tablet” (a second important Latin phrase in philosophy). * On the face of it, Locke’s explanation seems logical and acceptable enough, but Kant didn’t buy it, and for good reason, because it didn’t go far enough. While it appears true that our experiences in life “etch” themselves into our brains through experience, they don’t just sit in there absorbing what’s out there. Certain a priori (a third Latin phrase) conditions (meaning they exist prior to our thinking) also help influence what we perceive, namely, space, time, and causation, which he claimed were three necessary relations. In other words, whatever the empirical laws of nature, they must conform to the necessities of space, time, and causation as we know them.** Therefore, part of what we know is planted in the brain by experience, but the other half of perception is governed by how that experience is altered by those three forces. Thus, perception is a two-way process: receiving sensa (bits of sense experience) into our minds and then our minds imposing a sense of time, space, and causality on what we experience. I find Kant’s contribution an indispensable contribution to the whole question of perception.  
This conclusion is a perfect segue to an open-ended question about the relationship of Reality (how we perceive things individually) to Truth (the way things really are universally). Another way to ask this is: “If reality is defined by how we perceive things (and we all perceive things a little differently), how are things really (truthfully, universally)?” Can the two be reconciled or are they by nature different and thus irreconcilable? Just share some of your thoughts on this issue. Remember: no idea is stupid and every thought matters. 

*This phrase clearly implies that there was something on the tablet previously to erase, which plays conveniently into the LDS belief in a pre-mortal existence that was “erased” by the Veil of Forgetfulness before we were born into mortality. 

**I must add that Einstein’s early 20th-century Theory of Special Relativity (1905), which proved that time and space were interchangeable, rendered Kant’s conclusions false. But for our daily experience, they make sense and still contribute to explaining how we perceive things. 


Annie’s Response: (May 10, 2011)
Dad, I liked your use of the word ' trialogue'!  So I just finished reading Ch. 1.  I'm enjoying this book.  I wasn't a big fan of my philosophy class in college, but because of it these names and their ideas are all familiar to me.  
Dad, I liked your observations.  Your question is very provocative.  

“If reality is defined by how we perceive things (and we all perceive things a little differently), how are things really (truthfully, universally)?” Can the two be reconciled or are they by nature different and thus irreconcilable? Just share some of your thoughts on this issue.

My first thought is - then what is reality?  We tend to believe reality is truth, but when individual perceptions are taken into account then everyone's reality will differ.   Interesting and kind of boggles my mind, because I have considered reality to equal truth but this is saying that is not always the case.  On page 5 Smith states that Kant is concerned with pure reason that which lies above, beyond, and before any interpretations that are made about reality.  He says to remind yourself of certain cults --100% of the members believe one thing to be true and 100% of them are deluded.  "Universal belief in something doesn't equate to universal truth."   So we need to remove our perceptions and judgments from life to be able to see the truth????  I don't know.  Interesting ideas.  

Jon’s Reaction: (May 14, 2011)
You've written some probing questions. As for defining reality, I've concluded that it's the way things appear to individuals, like seeing through one's own special contact lens without being aware that it's modifying the way things really are out there. I think it's useful to play this definition of reality against the equally provocative definition of truth as the way things really are. Then, as you suggest, the dilemma comes with the question: "How can I see things as they really are?" Or as you ask: "So we need to remove our perceptions and judgments from life to be able to see truth????" 
    Not really. We just need to link up with a global view of things like God has. I'm reluctant to go there, but if you want a theological answer, which is the only way I know of where we can get out of our limited and distorted ("through a glass darkly") human perspective, I could give you some ideas if you're interested. I'm hoping Tara and Kristin will weigh in on the issue. 
   At any rate, I'm so glad you're enjoying the book. Smith's a good writer with an original slant on the topics philosophy loves to tackle. But, as I mentioned in my previous email, even philosophers admit that Truth is hard to come by. Plato, in the Seventh Epistle, said something like: "Words are insufficient to bring us to the truth as it really is." So then, I ask myself, what can bring us there? What would you say? His solution was to couch his philosophy in dialogue form and let the reader contribute to the closure. Not a bad idea.

Tara’s reaction:
There is a universal truth although most people aren't aware of it, deny it or pretend it doesn't exist. The reality we inhabit is, I think, comprised of thoughts, past actions, feelings, influences and desires that are either correct and truthful or, for lack of a better term, wack-a-doodle. The 100% of people in that cult who killed themselves were all 100% wrong in their view of reality just like people who are truly enlightened, logical and willing to test faith are, for the most part, living in true reality. I don't think it's a big mystery because of the knowledge I have of the gospel but then, as you wrote, it delves into religion which becomes a sensitive issue for a lot of people.

Kristin’s Reaction:

“Waking Up:” I really loved this chapter. I agree with Annie when I say that I'm really enjoying the book. However, I also really liked the philosophy I was exposed to in college. I remember reading about Descartes, in particularly discussing some ideas as a class. The most influential tidbit I received was on epistemology–the study of what we know and what we don't know. Descartes preferring the truth that we think and thus came the famous line, "I think therefore I am". I remember Dad mentioned once how he received his greatest inspiration when he would wake in the morning. I don't know if this is still true, but maybe that is when we are allowing the bed-fellows of truth and waking to enhance our own understanding of 'truth'. There's still quite a lot I need to digest. 

In the Beginning was the Word....(DAD)

“In the Beginning was the Word. . . “

Sunday, August 29, 2010
Dear Green Kids,
A couple of things have happened since returning from China that have given me an idea that could help us become more connected as a family. First, I recently started playing Facebook Scrabble with Annie and Spence. It’s fun, even addictive, and also helps keep my creeping senility at bay, to say nothing of the value of staying in almost constant touch with each other. Second, I’ve read a couple of books recently that have given me a keen interest in continuing education: the first one, Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, is required reading for Dylan at his new high school, which outlines the conditions that lead to success in life (and they’re not related to IQ); I’m about 1/3 through a second book called The Core by Leigh A. Bortins, a book I wish I’d discovered at the outset of our marriage and family. It is written by a mother who homeschooled her sons and then went on to nationalize her approach to what she calls “classical education,” which involves learning well the ancient trivium (grammar, logic, rhetoric) of the classical seven liberal arts and applying these learning techniques to primary texts in literature, philosophy, and science. If we’d successfully applied some of her principles to our own family over the years, some things might have turned out differently. 
    These experiences have reminded me that learning and interaction with curious, intelligent people is one of the true pleasures of this life. And since I think we all would agree that open communication was not always one of the fortes of the Green family in the past, we might benefit from expanding our range of interaction into cyberspace and see what happens. So, being somewhat of a cockeyed optimist, I thought to myself: “Why not see if the Green family might be interested in starting a  kind of philosophical dialogue among its members on topics timely and topical that could 1) keep our brains from atrophy, 2) learn from and about each other so our affections and connections don’t wane over time, and 3) learn to become more motivated to increase our common knowledge and (and this is one of the greatest assets) to pass on a love of learning about the Good, the True, and the Beautiful to our posterity. 
     I’d like to invite any of you who are interested to participate in an unscientific experiment by responding to the following philosophical question: “What did Socrates mean when he said: “No evil can happen to a good man?” Sometime this week send back your response to the question and a tentative reaction to the whole idea of creating a forum for discussion based on issues from primary texts we’d read together. We could call it “The Great Conversation” or “The Little Green Schoolhouse,” or something else. It just might set in motion a tradition of on-going communication that could benefit us all down the generations.

Sunday, September 5, 2010
 I am grateful to have finished this long letter to the Green Kids early this morning. Here it is. I wanted to keep it all in one place, even though I split the quiz from the opening paragraphs as an attachment.

Dear Green Kids:
 I’m elated, even delirious, over your support of my last week’s suggestion that we all share ideas in a “great conversation” by reading some great documents from the past together. It has been gratifying to receive such an unexpected flood of enthusiastic responses, most of them carefully thought through and some eloquently expressed. It gives my old heart a tremendous lift
to find that my own children, unbeknownst to me, have heartily embraced Socrates’ most famous dictum—“The unexamined life is not worth living”—and have ascribed whole-heartedly to his belief that “our primary duty in life is to discourse on the Good, the True and the Beautiful.”
 Seriously, in truth no one responded. Actually, one of you sent a one-word reaction. But one word can mean a lot. One of you wrote “Thanks” in response to an earlier email I wrote. That one word made my day!  It was so wonderful to discover that I’d made a small difference for good. But I’ve spent the past couple of days trying to decide “What’s it all about, Alfie?”
 It’s possible that no one reads my letters to the Green Kids. Even Mom complains that they’re too long. First clue for you: I have a need to interact with my children beyond small talk (think little old lady in rest home who never gets visited—I have a poignant story about that one if you’re ever interested). If you’re just too busy, I’ll understand, really. Just tell me.
 It’s also possible that some read my letters but have no interest in responding, which in a way is even more troubling, because one of the “primary duties” of all human beings is to (see above). Socrates’ statement has been the philosophical mantra of my whole personal and professional life. It’s what drove me to become a teacher and what I tried to inculcate in the lives of my children.
 Which leads to the third possibility for the deafening silence. It’s a generational thing. I can understand that, because I treated my own patient, incredibly loving father the same way when I was an adolescent. But I can’t accept that explanation here, because you children are hopefully beyond that black hole condition of human development.
 So, where do we go from here? To make this short, if not sweet, please take a few minutes to answer the quiz in the attachment. I will tabulate the results and try to act accordingly in the future (Note: Be honest; I can handle it). For the ten-minute version, add a personal note to the questions you find most compelling or most irrelevant.
[Note: I have omitted the quiz and the pages of responses. It makes the introduction too messy.]

Tuesday, September 7, 2010
I woke up this morning with the impression that I should keep a record of the beginning of a new tradition in the Green family, namely, sharing our insights with each other from reading the classics, which I have chosen to call “The Great Conversation.” I will begin including what I have written and what my interested children contribute to this classical conversation in hopes that their children and our grandchildren will someday see that this endeavor is worth more than all the tea in China for its power to keep the wisdom and truth of the past alive in our present lives and to inform the decisions we make in the future. Only second in importance to a firm foundation in religious truth, learning the wisdom of the past in a family setting binds parents to children and gives children the indispensable tools of a classical education (logic, grammar and rhetoric) that will lead to more fulfilling lives and significant service to humanity. What more could parents want for their children? What greater legacy could parents leave them than this? 
 I will organize the conversation chronologically, as I have already done with my “Gratitude Journal,” beginning with my first letter to the Green Kids from Sunday, September 5, and proceed to add email responses of those willing to participate in the pages that follow. I’m enormously grateful for the encouragement I have been given so far by the only two who have expressed an interest sharing insights about the great ideas of the past. I trust more will come on board as they see the intellectual stimulation it produces. At least that is my hope.