P2B

On an uneventful, grey day last week, during a class excursion to Waller Creek, I found myself downstream from the rest of the group in a state of heightened mental activity. Although I was supposed to be attempting a local adaptation of Matthew Arnold’s reverential Oxford poetry, I must confess that my mind was in a completely different place. I was initially preoccupied with a rather sterile application of a certain social science; thus, I thought to myself, “if interest rates rise and prices fall, then it is necessary to unload x number of futures contracts and purchase y number of options contracts. Yes, I suppose that sounds correct. But, if a rate is fixed, then it cannot rise. Yes, but if a rate cannot rise, then is it fixed? No, that certainly is not right. Now if a rate can rise, then is it unfixed? And what if it falls?” So, you see, as long as I kept my eyes shut and my jaw locked, all of my mental capacity was wasted on a muddled heap of meaningless abstractions. Once the numeric paradox had achieved its purpose, and I was completely confused; I threw off its yoke and opened my eyes. What I discovered was a tangible world completely removed from the one that I had existed in for that entire morning. Free from the laws of science and the books of experience, I caught a glimpse of a world in harmony. The creek was higher than usual, and I noticed a small fish darting through the water. I saw the trees sway loosely in the wind. I saw a squirrel digging in the leaves. I was submersed in this environment and conscious only of the natural vignette that took place before my eyes. I could think of nothing better than to shrink down and exist with the creatures in their small world.[1]

With a sigh, I remembered that it would behoove me to clear my head and resume my studies. Before I got back to my business, I looked to see if the rest of the class was still nearby. To my astonishment, I noticed that during my moment of introspection the scenery behind me had transmogrified. No longer was there a building behind me or a bridge to my left. I was completely surrounded by a forest of giant trees! Turning back around, I was relieved to see that at least the creek was still there, although it seemed to be a bit wider and perhaps a little deeper than it was before. Also, the small fish that I had noticed earlier was now nearly as large as me, and it was swimming rapidly in my direction!

The fish approached with such momentum that it slid up the bank, and stopped at my feet. Its unusual size and grotesque appearance caused me to recoil.

“That is not the question to ask,” replied the now beached mackerel in a slow, lugubrious voice.

As I sat, frozen in a state of disbelief, the fish continued, “The question is: who are you?”

“Why am I here?” I managed to deduce. I was now regaining my senses, and I thought that it was peculiar, if not a bit offensive that this beast had the audacity to demand such information from me.

“I am not sure that I know. “‘Who in the world am I? It is a great puzzle.’”[2] I said as I inspected my limbs and torso to be sure that I was still a human-being. I continued, only half conscious that I was speaking aloud, “did I shrink or did the world around me grow?”

The fish’s deep bass voice answered, “Both, according to the laws of reciprocity, you shrunk first and then we all grew…”

"Faster, faster,” interrupted a shrill voice from over my left shoulder. Looking back, I was only barely able to roll out of the way of a charging squirrel, who was nearly twice my size. “‘If everybody minded their own business,’” the squirrel squeaked, “‘the world would go round a deal faster than it does.’ Now, quickly, who are you?”[3]

The question was directed at me, but the altered intonation of the question further confused me. I could only formulate a simple reply, “Well I was a student, and I was at school, and I was in the midst of studying all types of things before all of this happened.”

The mackerel interrupted, “before all of what? You are where you are. ‘You are at a Pool of Universal Learning. Do you see the assemblage of strangers from all parts in one spot; else, how will you find professors and students for every department of knowledge? and in one spot; else how can there be any pool at all?’”[4]

As I looked around, I noticed that there were many other creatures around, and all were gathered in groups around the creek. I responded, “I said school, not pool. And how can these be students and professors if there aren’t any books to read or tests to take?”

“That is precisely what I say!” said the squirrel. “I always say ‘that in our culture, the aim is to know ourselves and the squirrel, we have, as the means to this end, to know the best which has been thought and said by the squirrel. Thus, I assert reading to contain the materials which suffice for thus making us know ourselves and the squirrel.’”[6]

The fish slowly shook his head and retorted, “‘No brook and no nest can convey the special spirit and delicate peculiarities of its subject with that rapidity and certainty which attend on the sympathy of mind with wind.’[7] Prudent elocution and disciplined attention should be the guiding principles.”

Hoping to make some sense of this discourse, I said, “but I didn’t mean that at all. I said books and tests. Autocratic instruction surely is not the only way, and discourse is not the best way to impart knowledge. One never expresses themselves in the same way on two separate occasions. There has to be a more comprehensive way to convey the intricacies of life. Nobody else is needed. Books are supremely important; if that was what you meant? I have spent half of my life learning great things out of books.”

The fish narrowed his eyes and thundered, “‘And it shows. Polished manners, which are so difficult of attainment: courtesy, the power of conversing, the talent of not offending, the openness of hand—now open your hand—these qualities, some of them come by nature, but do we expect they can be learned from brooks? The very nature of the case leads us to say no.’”[8]

The squirrel dropped an acorn into my open hand and began his rebuttal, “generosity is the supreme measure of etiquette. One must generously elaborate every description. Poetry captures the true essence…”

Given the opportunity, I quietly slipped away. “‘I wished that these creatures wouldn’t be so easily offended,’”[9] I mumbled to myself. Nevertheless, their discourse had inspired new thoughts to formulate in my head. These creatures each saw the world from such a distinct perspective. Perhaps some middle ground held the answer. Their methods were too abstracted; here I was trapped in a real situation, and I needed a real solution. I decided that the first thing to do was to find one amongst them that might help me. I thought, “‘I must grow to my right size again; and then find my way out of this strange forest. I think that will be the best plan.’”[10]

While my head was bowed and my mind was deep in thought of how to take my approach and make my appeal, I was startled by a new voice. The new voice exuded a kind of tempered complacency, depleted of passion, as it said, “‘Well, what are you? I can see you’re trying to invent something!’”[11]

Looking up, but without seeing the speaker, I replied, “would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”

“‘That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’” said the voice.

“I don’t much care where—so long as it is somewhere familiar” I said as I looked up and saw that the speaker was a hummingbird directly above me. Its wings were beating furiously, but it made no noise and it stood perfectly still in the air.

“But I must get out of here. I simply don’t belong here,” I said. I was somewhat exasperated by the bird’s elusiveness, but also desperate for its assistance. I was not prepared for anymore theory. I needed something concrete to grasp onto.

“You think that you don’t belong, but I know that you don’t belong because you think,” the bird replied. “‘If you continue to dwell in thought on this world, then it contracts still further and that peculiar human trait, your wall of personality, will allow nobody’s real voice to enter.’”[13]

Frustrated, I replied, “but I can’t help it. Nobody here knows me and the surroundings and the creatures are so strange. They are not the normal elements of my life that I knew in the past.”

“‘What is the whole of life in that moment but a combination of natural elements?’”[14] the hummingbird questioned back.

“Well, that is sort of what I tried to impart to the mackerel and the squirrel. Yet, I don’t like these elements and I refuse to live in this moment. I must think about what to do next,” I said.

“There is nothing to do next. There is only the experience now. You must learn to stand still. ‘All that is actual in experience is a single moment, gone while we try to apprehend it, of which it may ever be more truly said that it has ceased to be than it is. Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the end,’”[15] The bird explained.

I thought to myself that this was a very wise hummingbird; it completely contradicted what I had always learned about the nature of birds. This was close to the solution that I was searching for; unfortunately, this solution could not give me the real assistance that I so desperately needed. So, I pleaded, “will you help me then? Will you show me?”

To which it replied, “I already have, but you must learn from experience. Come and hold on to my foot.”

This whole time, while I was being indoctrinated and intimidated by the various animals, I had apparently shrunk even smaller; or, conversely, the outside world might have grown that much more imposing. Either way, I had no problem wrapping my arms around the bird’s enormous foot as it flew over my head. I felt a great sense of relief as the bird lifted me higher and higher. I could see the amorphous creek and the disputing animals, still huddled in groups. I thought about the strange events that led to this experience. As we got higher, I could see the treetops and then the clearing outside of the forest. I thought back about the different ideas espoused by each creature. Each theory had some authority, but none sufficiently answered my question on its own. Higher still, there were other forests and other creeks. The hummingbird, who was now guiding me, was, perhaps, the most astute. Abstractions might be a necessary way to understand and relate my experiences, but the actual experiences are the premises on which all else relies. The truth is different for each individual, but the experiences are the truth for all. Relief turned into the realization that I was never far from home, that at this height, this world looked like the one that I knew. Perhaps this enormous patchwork quilt that was unfolding beneath me connected this forest to the creek where I started, and I could get dropped off right where I began!

“I have taken you here,” the bird replied, “you can go someplace on your own.”

As I reacted to the bird’s ever-ambiguous responses, I began to lose my grip on its leg. I was able to swing around and steady myself with my right arm, but I lost my wristwatch in the process. I hadn’t paid any attention to the passing time up until this point, but the altercation forced me to remember my obligations.

“I have completely forgotten about my examination. ‘I must be terribly late. Oh, no, my professor will be terribly angry if I’ve kept him waiting,’”[16] I

exclaimed. Just as soon as I had said this, I noticed that we were losing altitude quickly.

“Well that is that. We all must grow a bit, but ‘I grow at a reasonable pace, not in this ridiculous fashion,’”[17] said the bird as it shook me loose and flew off.

Falling, I looked up and saw the enormous sky above, and the stars above that, and the multi-verse outside of that. Twisting and facing downward, I saw the clouds, continuous and pristine. Falling further, I saw the blended colors of the earth and the oceans below.

The narration of my thoughts slowly morphed into a familiar voice on the other side of the bridge, “…the whole country and all of the activity going on from one coast to the other... Now imagine just this city, from the hills in the west to the planes in the east… Picture just the University, the thousands of students going about their daily routine... Finally, see the creek. See your immediate surroundings. Think about the dragonfly on the water, the fish under the water, the squirrel on the ground, and the bird in the sky. How do they connect to you? Why are you here?”

“It seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.”[18] – Alice

[1] “How she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head though the doorway…” Carroll, The Annotated Alice, p. 16

[2] Alice: “Who in the world am I?’ Ah, that’s the great puzzle!” Carroll, The Annotated Alice, p. 23

[3] “‘If everybody minded their own business,’ the Duchess said, in a hoarse growl, ‘the world would go round a deal faster than it does.’” Carroll, The Annotated Alice, p. 61

[4] Newman: “‘School of Universal Learning.’”…the assemblage of strangers from all parts in one spot; else, how will you find professors and students for every department of knowledge? and in one spot; else how can there be any school at all?” Senior Seminar: Literature, Architecture, and Art. Vol. I, p. 175

[5] Matthew Arnold: “that in our culture, the aim being to know ourselves and the world, we have, as the means to this end, to know the best which has been thought and said in the world.” Seminar: Literature, Architecture, and Art. Vol. I, p. 196

[6] Arnold: “I assert literature to contain the materials which suffice for thus making us know ourselves and the world.” Seminar: Literature, Architecture, and Art. Vol. I, p. 197

[7] Newman: “no book can convey the special spirit and delicate peculiarities of its subject with that rapidity and certainty which attend on the sympathy of mind with mind” Seminar: Literature, Architecture, and Art. Vol. I, p. 175

[8] Newman: “polished manners…which are so difficult of attainment…courtesy, the power of conversing, the talent of not offending, the openness of hand; - these qualities, some of them come by nature… do we expect they can be learned from books?... The very nature of the case leads us to say so…” Seminar: Literature, Architecture, and Art. Vol. I, p. 176

[9] Alice: “I wish the creatures wouldn’t be so easily offended!” Carroll, The Annotated Alice, p. 53

[10] Alice: “The first thing I’ve got to do,” said Alice to herself, as she wandered about in the wood, “is to grow to my right size again; and the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think that will be the best plan.” Carroll, The Annotated Alice, p. 44

[11] “Well, what are you?” said the Pigeon. “I can see you’re trying to invent something!” Carroll, The Annotated Alice, p. 55

[12] Alice: “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?” “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat. “I don’t much care where—” said Alice. “Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat. “—so long as I get somewhere,” Alice added as an explanation. “Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.” Carroll, The Annotated Alice, p. 65

[13] Walter Pater: “if we continue to dwell in thought on this world…it contracts still further…Experience, already reduced to a group of impressions, is ringed round for each of us by that thick wall of personality through which no real voice has ever pierced on it way to us.” Seminar: Literature, Architecture, and Art. Vol. I, p. 203

[14] Pater: “What is the whole physical life in that moment but a combination of natural elements to which science gives their names?” Seminar: Literature, Architecture, and Art. Vol. I, p. 202

[15] Pater: “experience… all that is actual in it being a single moment, gone while we try to apprehend it, of which it may ever be more truly said that it has ceased to be than what it is… Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the end… To burn always with this hard, gem-like flame, to maintain this ecstasy, is success in life.” Seminar: Literature, Architecture, and Art. Vol. I, pp. 203-204

[16] The White Rabbit: “Oh! The Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! Wo’n’t she be savage if I’ve kept her waiting!” Carroll, The Annotated Alice, p. 22

[17] “Yes, but I grow at a reasonable pace,” said the Dormouse: “not in that ridiculous fashion.” Carroll, The Annotated Alice, p. 114

[18] Alice: “It seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.” Carroll, The Annotated Alice, p. 19