The murkiness of knowledge bedevils humankind; not because of what it is, but because of the way we define it. One of the principle definitions—which misleads us into misunderstanding—is this: “the fact or state of knowing; the perception of fact or truth; clear and certain mental apprehension.” Implicit in that definition is the assumption knowledge is fact- or truth-based; that knowledge is “clear and certain.” Knowledge is not an absolute we find. Rather, knowledge is a broad understanding we perpetually seek. In our attempts to uncover truths, we tend to celebrate when we believe we have found unalterable facts. But the universe, and everything in it, constantly plunges deeper and deeper into change. We cling to steadfast certainty until long after evidence thoroughly negates it. Our propensity to delay exploring—and finally accepting—challenges to our knowledge impedes progress we might otherwise have begun to make toward eventual understanding.
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I skimmed an archival piece from The Marginalian this morning that spurred me to think about the differences and similarities between romantic and platonic love. Those subjects, alone, could absorb one’s thoughts for days…weeks…years. And, in fact, I am sure I will give considerable thought to the following passage from the article:
Under the Romantic ideal of love, we’ve come to expect that every great romance should also contain within itself, in addition to erotic passion, a robust friendship. But we hold with deep suspicion the opposite—a platonic friendship colored with the emotional hues of romantic love, never given physical form but always aglow with an intensity artificially dimmed by the label of plain friendship.
~ Maria Popova ~
Popova’s article deals with the author, Rachel Carson (The Sea Around Us, Silent Spring, etc.), her writing, and her strong relationship with a friend.
Specific elements of the piece (which dealt with Rachel Carson’s intense, loving, platonic relationship with another woman) made me think. I wonder whether a longstanding habit (among many writers and their correspondents, at least) is disappearing. Or has already dissolved? Carson’s letters to her friend, Dorothy Freeman, a local housewife on Maine’s Southport Island, have been saved and some of them (at least) published. Written biographies/histories involving writers and other public figures often include quotations from letters they exchanged with people who were important to the subject of them. How often do any of us write letters to friends or acquaintances these days…and how many of us save them? So many such exchanges in published literature have revealed so much about the correspondents; their thoughts, opinions, and emotions. Without the written evidence of their thoughts, left in the form of letters, we would not have the level of appreciation about those people that we do now. What of the future? If not letters, will we somehow have access to email, text messages, recordings of telephone calls? I doubt it, but of course my supposition may be completely off the mark. Some day, someone will look back to our time and our future and will reveal what happened when the exchange of letters ceased. Intimate reflections that personal letters reveal surely cannot be lost to progress, or laziness, can they?
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Whether last night’s experiences (and this morning’s, so far) signal the beginning of my expected unpleasant post-chemo side-effects remains to be seen. It seems to me that it’s a bit early; the treatment was on Monday. But if it is not early-onset chemo response, what is causing a whole raft of unwelcome symptoms? Headache, churning gut, tiredness that does not does not permit sleep, etc. Whatever. They could be worse. Just deal with it, John. As if there were any other choices.
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I have a church board meeting this afternoon. My involvement in the church lately has been so infrequent and superficial that I question the value of the few contributions I might make to board discussions. That notwithstanding, I will do my duty. If I feel as I do now, I will then come home and try to sleep. But if I have rebounded from whatever ailments these are, I may try to replicate some of yesterday’s physical therapy exercises. I need, desperately, to recover and rejuvenate the bodily strength I have lost during these past many (and ongoing) months of chemo; especially in light of the soon-to-be-added 27-session radiation regimen. Ach! What does physical therapy have to do with church? I am not entirely sure, but either there’s a connection or my wandering mind is bouncing around with a vengeance in my skull.
