It is night-time, and I roam familiar places with a familiar soul. These are two worlds, each represented as a dense web of associations. However, that place and that soul have never before been contemplated at the same time. In doing so, I create a bridge of associations between the two. When I will be in that place, alone, I will be more likely to invoke that soul and all it has offered me. When I will be with that soul, somewhere else, I will be more likely to invoke the monkish life associated with that place. The map of experiences has become more tight, more integrated — and that pleases Diversity.

 

Now, I sit down on a bench and look at the nightsky, and next to me I see something white, small. The composition is scrunched up. It is a kleenex. Or a flower. Why should it matter? As I break the useless association of "kleenex" with "dirty" with "move away" by distancing myself from the web of associations, and approach the stimuli afresh, my associations become malleable. I look at the kleenex and think that it is very much like a flower, but with a form not found in any flower I have seen. In thinking such thoughts, I carve out new associations in my increasingly malleable mind. I find that a used kleenex that has slept outside for perhaps a month is as beautiful as a freshly deposed flower. I prefer both a kleenex and a flower than two flowers, for I praise Diversity.

 

Diversity is praised both horizontally and vertically. Horizontally, I praise as an animal roaming about from ground to ground, marking new territories as inspiring, and then moving on, laughing. Horizontally, I create bridges and associate the distant. Vertically, however, I stand up and dig into the ground: it is a slow worship, but it yields those subtle gems that I hold like a baby and carve throughout my life. Vertically, I block the jumping around and instead focus on refining a single web, sculpting it, contemplating it endlessly — this yields new perceptions I could never find by simply roaming about. Horizontally, I am a monkey. Vertically, I am a monk. In both cases, I praise Diversity, but it is a different aspect of her beauty.

"The brain is a diversity production machine" -André Costopoulos, "A Diversity/Tolerance Model of Cultural Evolution"

Leave A Comment, Written on March 30th, 2012 , Ethics

A more recent essay on the topic can be found here. It covers the same ground, so you might as well read that instead :) .

 

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Imagine: You are traveling. You arrive in a town and see a crowd gathered together, bustling with energy. Curious, you push your way towards the heart of activity, and you hear a shriek–a piercing, repetitive shriek. You see fire. A litre of oil. A litre of oil that was used to burn a cat alive. The cat is screaming in agony and the people are laughing. Your heart rate has gone up. Your palms are sweaty. Your eyes have tightened, wettened — your features are stiff. You ask the person next to you: "But why?". He turns around, you see his face: a cheerful face. A smile. "Why what?", he asks, curious.  "Why are you burning the cat?" He thinks: Perhaps they don't do that where you come from. And then he says "We place bets on the direction the cat's going to run to." Confused by your understanding, you answer with a feeble "ok" and turn away. "Fuck, what kind of entertainment is this?"

I tell you: it used to be a common sort of entertainment, and it still is in some other forms (eg: dog fights). It is analogous to the entertainment you derive from eating meat. Entertainment? Yes, entertainment. In an industrial society, all of the same nutrients can be found elsewhere, therefore it is not for the nutrients. What else is there to eating a juicy steak? Taste, texture — in other words, sensual pleasure. What relevant differences are there between this and the thrill of a good cat burning? In one case it is visual and sound. In the other, it is taste and texture. Neither is necessary. Either can be replaced by other forms of entertainment which, though qualitatively different, are no less satisfying. Both, therefore, must be supported or opposed: to endorse one but not the other implies a contradiction.

While there are nuances that can complicate this image I have painted, the greater problem is that some people may simply not feel any empathy for animals — none for the cat, none for the pig. Empathy for animals is usually justified with a utilitarian argument along the lines of this:

a) everything else being equal, it is better for an animal not to suffer.
b) some suffering is caused in purchasing (increasing demand for) factory-farmed meat;
c) the pleasure derived from eating such meat, minus the pleasure that would be derived from alternatives to meat, does not compare to the suffering caused to the animals.

(a) Could be intuitive to someone who feels empathy for animals, but (c) would certainly pose difficulties: even if it is better for an animal not to suffer than to suffer, why should I give its suffering any weight vis-à-vis my pleasure?

I would be severely troubled if I saw a cat burned alive, or dog forced to fight for men's pleasure, and likewise, I am severely troubled by the existence of factory farms. However, I don't know why. Worse: I am quite fond of Spinoza's "Ethics", but it provides no grounding for animal welfare:

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I wake up in the dark womb of my bivy bag. My vision is gagged. My movements are gagged. But I am extremely sensitive, especially to sound. I hear the whistles of the wind breaking against concrete & against my nest. I also hear various machineric high-pitched sounds. The cold air carries faraway and ugly sounds. Am I in a machine? What the hell is going on? After observation: "Snowblowers", I reason. They swish the snow, grate the icy roads, beep-beep-beep in going backwards. We need snowblowers. But I don't see any snowblowers: I just hear sounds, and the sounds suffocate me. An overwhelming dissonance. Why do I wake up to this painful music? It takes over my mind.

But I won't let it. I cannot strangle the winter sounds. So, I sing with them. I sing and sing and a smile comes up: yes, I fight them off, and in doing so I taste beauty. I then go further than the sound of my voice and the movement of my vocal chords: I think of a friend who told me that, when traveling and unable to find sleep because of disturbing stimuli, he accepts the stimuli rather than rejects, makes it into a metaphor which can then be harmoniously integrated in his dreams. When he told me this, my eyes became damp because it was just that great & beautiful an idea. I make a metaphor out of the machines. I pretend that they are weird creatures that migrate here during the winter to eat all the snow from the streets. I am soothed. I stopped singing when thinking took over. Now I need to sleep, so I breathe in and quiet down my spirit.

But the sounds are still there, still dissonant, and it seems to me that the wind has never been this loud & snowblowers have never been such an enemy. What the fuck? What is going on? I feel restless, uncomfortble, claustrophobic. I want to get out of bed but the wind is not just loud — it is cold. It's -20c tonight. This is a moment when a home or a different season appeals to me: even if such sounds were imposed upon me (eg: construction in front of the home), my home would contain various means to counter them: Benn Jordan's "Lousiana Mourning" would play off my speakers. If that didn't work, then I'd either read or write, or perhaps look at paintings online. I could do that during the autumn (heck, some of my sleeping spots have wifi). But this is either sleeping bag or transition — chilling outside is freezing outside. In the bag, I have my voice, but I can't sleep & sing at once. I also have thought. But thought has been exhausted.

I decide to meditate the riot away. But I keep feeling the urge to move. A mummy bag is not a place to feel restless. OK, I'm not going to stay awake thinking of moving: I'm already awake. I put on my scarves, my gloves. I open my bag, my bivy. I put on my cold coat and cold boots. I stand up:

If not sound or thought, then movement will give me freedom! It's cold, but I'm warming up. I move, and movement turns to dance. Heck, I start singing. If someone saw me, I might end up in the asylum. It's to cold to look straight ahead and there's this person wearing a mess of wool coats and scarves, dancing and singing at 3AM, in the cold, in the middle of nowhere (the middle of nowhere being not near a club where drunkenness might serve as an explanation). But I'm having fun. I play with movements and sound and start to jump in the snow like a child would. I'd throw myself in the snow if that didn't mean bringing snow inside my sleeping bag. A strange night, but this a novel experience: I like diversity.

Now, I start to slow down and realise that since I'm waking up early, I should get to sleep. I take off my armor and slip inside the womb. I'm awake, but my thoughts are interesting & even constructive. I experience one of those peaks of creative insight that I only seem to experience when I'm sleep deprived, hovering between the dream and wakefulness — thought is more discursive than normal, yet not as random as the dream world. After profiting from this state for some time, I finally feel it: my eyelids become heavy and deep sleep is coming. But at the last second, thirst hits me. I am indeed incredibly thirsty. I realise that I've drunk barely any water and, for the first time of the week, I drank coffee — half a litre. No wonder I'm thirsty! I reach for my water bottle, but I rememeber that it's empty. All the discomforts come back. I want to taste fresh air and kinesthetic freedom. I want to sleep. It's now 4:15 and my alarm is set for 7:45. I think about how my day will be if I'm tired. I can deal with it. I put on my scarves and gloves. I unzip the sleeping bag & bivy bags I put on my cold boots and cold coat. I jump around to warm up. I pack up. And off I go to the library. I did not sleep much, but it was a stimulating night.

 

Leave A Comment, Written on January 16th, 2012 , Stories

It's better to get more value out of my time. I find that I get more value when a sequence of stimulation is more beautiful. For example, in the next hour I'll probably have to walk to the bathroom. I have an habitual way of walking to the bathroom, but by examining this habit I can refine it so that it yields even more beauty. When I walk, the complex structure that makes up my body moves through space. I feel this structure and I can feel more or less beauty depending on how I act. If I see my going to the bathroom like I see a rock sliding from point A to B, then I will feel very little beauty. But if I see my slide to the bathroom as a symphony of particles dancing through space, then I realise there is great potential for beauty. So, I let my imagination run amock, I let myself speculate, and then I am left with a truly wonderful idea of walking to the bathroom: I have several senses, each of which can be expressed on varying dimensions. This is not just the beauty in the texture of a single sound, but a manifold beauty in the many dimensions of sounds and movement all expressed at once. So, for example, I feel a melody in my movements (I feel that especially in the hands and fingers). I also feel an underlying rhythm (the feet set this part). there is also the volume of my focus (the changes in how I exert some muscles more powerfully than others). And there is much more! Likewise with the feeling of sounds: they hav rhythm, melody, volume, pitch, etc. The symbolic is in the background when I suddenly get up and walk, but it can set an underlying metaphor that structures the whole. Ultimately,I do not quite know what it is that happens when I transition from point A to point B, but I understand more and more by breaking down how each sense and each sense's dimensions of expression fold themselves into a whole to create  feeling of beauty. The more I understand about this, the more substance I have to sculpt my symphony of particles dancing through space.

Of course, when it comes to action, I am a finite being so I never realise the ideal which I imagine. However, the imagination points in the right direction: my walks to the bathroom are much more beautiful if I shift my hands through space, walk with grace and hum to myself. At first, I discover one refinement to be had, apply it, savour it, and it becomes a habit. Then I find another, apply it, savour it, and now I have an even more beautiful experience. My power of action may be finite, but it can be ever-greater, so I can't even begin to imagine how beautiful it will feel to walk to the bathroom in ten-year's time!

I once saw the need to pee as a mortal's curse — a distraction from the heavenly pursuits I was engaged in. Now,  I'm glad when I feel this urge, for it's my body telling me I need to shift from the symbolic to the kinesthetic and musical. And the more kinesthetics I engage in, the more my blood circulates, and the more efficient I'll be at manipulating symbols when I come back and sit. And the more music I engage in, the more peaceful and disciplined will my mind be when I come back to my desk to explore the world via symbols.

That's what I got for examining what it is I do to take a pee.

Leave A Comment, Written on December 12th, 2011 , Ethics

When I tell people I'm homeless, one of the first questions I'm asked is whether it's a choice or a necessity. There are necessities, such as the need to eat, and if the only way for me to eat is to hunt, then it is a necessity to hunt. Another necessity is the need to sleep, and if the only place I can sleep is outside, then it is a necessity for me to sleep outside. However, in a Western society — non-autonomous people aside — everyone who is homeless for an extended period of time is homeless out of choice. This is not to say that they would not choose to live in an apartment if they had one for free — I would use an apartment if I had one for free —, but they made certain choices that prevent them from getting an apartment. Let me clarify:

It is my choice to sleep outside insofar as, in the same situation, with different desires, I could get an apartment. If I compromise my desire to not get in debt, or/and my desire to have as much free time for my projects as possible, then I can get enough money to pay for an apartment (the list of desires is actually longer since, for example, there are many couches I can sleep on).

 

It is a necessity for me insofar as, in the same situation, with the same desires, I have to sleep outside, but in a different situation (wealthy parents, winning the lottery, etc.), with the same desires, I would get an apartment or even a house. If someone gave me a mansion, I would make good use of it. Well, maybe not yet. Here's a twist: while I would never have chosen to become homeless had I always had access to a mansion, I think that sleeping outside for a few years is good for me — it's unlocked many perceptions that would have remained secret had I always had a place of my own. So, homelessness was necessitated by my desires, but it has in turn become a desire. Strange, eh, how our desires can change?

 

Note the reasoning that goes here because it applies to other states of being which people call either choice or necessity when it is in some sense both choice and necessity.

 

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Leave A Comment, Written on December 11th, 2011 , Minimal living Tags: , , ,

Here are some fragmented, speculative thoughts (exams –> no time to edit): Evolutionary psychology, anthropology, etc. are useful value-sources. Any point in the past that is studied in depth reveals a system of thoughts; each individual has such a system, and each culture groups a constellation of systems — a set of points gathered together in similarity. Speculation concerning the structure of hunter-gatherer systems offers points of comparison against the one we naturally have — comparison, then refinement. Note: I refer not specifically to living cultures of hunter-gatherers, since they represent a biased sample (eg: marginal environments are disproportionately represented).

One reason for this is that hunter-gatherer systems devleoped in relation to a set of conditions/possibilities that has framed the greater part of our evolutionary history. Our set of conditions is very different, and we do have a culture that tries to adapt itself to it. But there is an issue: because the set of conditions/possibilities has been changing a lot, there has not been much time for the culture to establish a relationship with the necessary set of c/p, to make better use of it and guide us in this direction. Too much has changed and the culture can only keep up. After thousands of years of relative stability, a culture is relatively well-established. Biological evolution is interesting, but cultural evolution too.

A second reason is that a greater set of c/p requires more processing, leading us to spread out our processing power. This in turn causes us to have axioms which have not received as much refinement — they're too numerous for that. If, instead, we start with a well-refined and simple model, and build it up when the model is not enough, then we are in a much better position than if we start with a broad and crude model which will often mislead us.

It is possible to correlate the set of c/p a hunter-gatherer had with the ones we had today.I do this with food, for example. The grocery is a special micro-climate in the stone jungle — it contains an abundant supply and diversity of foods. Imagine the face of a hunter-gatherer that found himself in a city, roams around anxious about being in such a strange environment, and at a peak of discomfort finds himself in a grocery, two employees and no one else. He walks around and see the equivalent of the most densely diverse patch of nature he ever found. Roots that don't need to be dug out, fruits from every tree! I think that way about the market I go to. The oasis which requires 1 hour of travel back and forth (1 hour of work at minimum wage = 10$ = enough for a day's supply of food), so it's a very good deal compared, say, to what the !Kung of Nyae-Nyae had access to. What's poverty when you have that perspective?

Shelter: Hunter-gatherers have no qualms about sleeping outside and would judge a down sleeping bag, pad, and goretex bivy bag to be wonderful gifts of nature that make life even more comfortable.

Social: When it comes to people, it's better to treat every human as part of one's extended tribe, since sharing an environment with complete strangers is awkward for a hunter-gatherer. This done: what hunter-gatherer wouldn't feel joyful to have a tribe so large and powerful, to know that that there are friends around every corner of his environment (if only you treat them as such)?

This relates to the stability-refinement article: While we are subject to much instability and the culture itself is misadapted to the set of conditions/possibilities , as individuals we have the potential for better refined axioms today since we can look at the systems that past and faraway spirits have represented through books, and benefit from these. Likewise, population density allows us to tribe up with spirits towards whom there is affinity — friends are a rich source of influence. In both examples there is a continumm of diversity based on how much affinity of constitution, influence, and condition that we have with each spirit ( three axis thread). This is one clear example of the fruits of modernity. But isn't it interesting that both the long and fragmented records of our development and present experience offer us such wealth? Primitivism is the core, stable model to which we adapt ourselves. Technologism is the means by which we extend from that core and reach out beyond our primitive modes of perception.

There is a bit of the High Road principle in here, which is also mentioned in Stability-Refinement article.

Both paintings are by Ferdinand Hodler

—–sidenotes

.The refinement of axioms, Spinoza might say, allows us to refine our understanding and in turn increase our awareness of what we are embedded in — of what gives us the flesh. When this awareness is expanded beyond the flesh, the shell, and the limits of our senses, etc., we become aware of our mind's unity with God. ("God" has too many strong connotations, but it's a word I learned from Spinoza and have come to like.)

Recordings + population density –> greater set of possibilities; greater potential wealth of experience; lower average degree of adaptation to set of possiblities

:)

 

Leave A Comment, Written on December 9th, 2011 , Ethics Tags: , ,

 

 

In this post, I describe what I think of as the stability-refinement problem. There's goodness in having a stable set of possibilities (environment). But there's also goodness in having an improved or refined set of possibilities. If I refine my set of possibilities, I change it, and thereby create instabilities. This is true both for the organism (individual) and superorganism (society, culture).

 

Stability & Individual

I have access to a certain set of possibilities. If this set of possibilities is stable, then I have the time to adapt myself to it and relate to it in the most beneficial way. If the set of possibilities changes to another set of possibilities, then I go through a period of adaptation to the new set of possibilities — a period of misadaptation in which I make more errors in how I use my possibilities —, and then, with time, I come to adapt myself to the new set of possibilities. If, however, the set of possibilities changes at a rate greater than the rate at which I can adapt myself to new possibilities, then I am in a continual state of misadaptation.

 

 

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In his Meditatations, Emperor Marcus Aurelius told himself (Book VI, Sect. 13; I prefer the Grube translation):

"How useful, when roasted meats and other foods are before you, to see them in your mind as here the dead body of a fish, there the dead body of a bird or a pig.  Or again, to think of Falernian wine as the juice of a cluster of grapes, of a purple robe as sheep’s wool dyed with the blood of a shellfish, and of sexual intercourse as internal rubbing accompanied by a spasmodic ejection of mucus.  What useful perceptual images these are!  They go to the heart of things and pierce right through them, so that you see things for what they are. You must do this throughout life; when things appear to be too enticing, strip them naked, destroy the myth which makes them proud.  For vanity is a dangerous perverter of Reason."

The desires that Aurelius refers to – for meat, for alcohol, for luxury clothes, and for sex – are often pursued in a crude, unthought way.These desires must be broken down into the raw perceptions that form these desires. This is the destruction of myth. This done, the perceptions can be rebuilt into richer myths. Then, they are not be desired for their own sake, but as a means to an end. There is beauty to be found in the eating of flesh one has hunted, killed, and nobly thanked for satisfying one's hunger. But what about paying factories to pump out a certain combination of taste and texture through some thoroughly cruel process? There is beauty to be found in alcohol that is consumed to harmonise and sensitise perceptions. But what about drinking to dull one's consciousness? There is beauty to be found in the wearing of visual stimuli which sets a mood to the mind and decorates a space. But what about seeking identity in pieces of fabrics designed by someone else? There is beauty to be found in bodies caught in a feedback of expression and reception pertaining to all the senses (multi-sense jamming). But what about spending one's time with a soul towards whom there is no affinity except the mutual desire to alleviate genital pressure? There are activities which distract, and others which feed.

Aurelius sometimes resisted his impulses as bad when he could have instead redirected them towards good. When the higher pleasures are teased out from the lower pleasures, they no longer take over the mind, but enrich it. Since they are rarer, this creates a tendency to diversify one's activities. Regardless of towards where we tend, the Goddess of Diversity must not be forgotten. 

Montreal is covered with a blanket of snow. I’ve seen this many times, but it’s the first time it woke me up, and it’s the first time I found myself under it. New delights!

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The Québec government is going to increase tuition  by $1,625 over five-years. In response to this, students are having a one-day strike. While I have no opinions on the numbers at play, I want to touch on two issues often raised by strikers and their like: that higher education is not accessible to the poor and that we have (or should have) a basic right to higher education and thus free access to universities. I argue that university is perfectly accessible to the poorest students (of which I am one), but, due to deficiencies in the loans and bursaries program, there are students who are left out. I suggest a reform of the loans and bursaries program that will account for this.

Then, there is another desire amongst protesters: that everyone who wants higher education can go to university even if only for the purpose of self-cultivation. I point to a fundamental problem in this claim: as more people go to traditional (stone and flesh) universities, the average quality of university education is bound to decrease. I suggest a policy that resolves this tension between the noble goal of having both high-quality universities and a freely-educated populace.

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