I don't account for it in a fishing blog as if to pump up the ante in an obviously foolish way. Who cares about philosophy or Aristotle? Isn't it an inappropriate subject to raise in a fishing blog? It's not that anyone else should care, and to hope many would take interest would be rather foolish, but people by and large randomly get jogged into taking interest in this or that account. Any account that happens to lean in their direction. Unless the habit of their scanning intelligence simply rejects any further engagement of the information. Two exceptions to such random reception involve, firstly, the trust my followers place in the value of what I offer. Secondly, the accuracy of search engines in responding to what readers key in. In any event, not many people take it upon themselves to think of fortune and misfortune as if they might have some choice in the matter. And besides, Aristotle leaves us no doubt that we may not be able to help succumbing to misfortune. But if we do, we can measure our losses so we know what we're dealing with, and take stock of what remains in our favor, developing in the process a plan for renewal.
A lot of us might care about the founding of the American nation, the nation subject to fortune and misfortune as well, but very few seem to ever consider that the philosophical principles involved in the thought of the founders depended not only on the political philosophy of John Locke (17th century England), but Aristotle's this-worldly perspective of nearly 2500 years ago in Athens, Greece. A countermand to Plato's otherworldliness, without Aristotle's affirmation of happiness in this life, thinkers who took up the task of affirming life here on earth from the Renaissance forward wouldn't have had the same leading advantage. They wouldn't have enjoyed the fortune that led to the American experiment in freedom. Aristotle's work served as the central authority of the West, so it's no surprise that living for the hope of the afterlife became supplanted by the pursuit of happiness here on earth. Aristotle's work captivated the Western mind until Francis Bacon's New Organon made immense progress possible, although the scientific revolution of the 17th century resulting from his work certainly took nothing away from life as we live it for our own sakes.
But the ironic result of the technological conquest of the world stemming from the New Organon is a global temperature rising towards inhospitable levels. A mass extinction of animal species. And, in general, an onslaught upon the environment as no previous ages have seen. These consequences are no argument against seeking fortune. We need it more than ever before.
Happiness would seem to be what Aristotle is all about, but truth concerned him as first principle of achieving what his mentor Plato never had need to talk him out of. During his teens and young manhood, Aristotle did lead a riotous partying life, selling herbs to get by, so one wonders if the herbs included marijuana. I've read that marijuana was available in ancient Greece. I assume--I'm certain--he knew a good time full well, and though Plato clearly straightened him out, the elder philosopher never robbed him of his heart. Aristotle created his own happiness by writing on just about everything. The concept of the university with its academic departments takes the basic blueprint from the range of subjects Aristotle researched and wrote on, just as the modern academic setting seems to take its partying culture from the habits of his youth. But through everything he accounted for in thought and writing, the passion, the happiness, carries his enormous intelligence forward long after he died at the young age of 61.
I've often thought of him at Round Valley Reservoir. This afternoon I came alone and stayed alone. But I was in the company of millennia. A week ago, I thought I might drive over and enjoy the peculiar solitude that includes presences other than human. I managed to keep and fulfill the goal. I told Mike Maxwell a few nights ago I want to get him on lake trout but that if I were to go this coming week now half done, I would need to be by myself.
And the lakers? I did speak to a fisherman as I packed in. He told me during the coldest weather we've had yet, he caught them consistently. If you've followed the blog recently, you've found me wondering if I could garner any evidence to support a certain assumption. For whatever reason they do seem to behave that way, I believe lakers come in close during severe cold. So there you are. The fishermen I spoke to added a piece of evidence. About 50 degrees today, reservoir water is plenty cold despite recent days in the 40's, but severe cold does affect the environment differently. I have no idea how lake trout respond to whatever measurable differences, but apparently, they do.
I didn't even think of lakers as I departed early this afternoon. I got up not much earlier and didn't want to go. I went outside expecting 60-degree weather to make refusal even more stubborn, but the temperature felt about 48. Nevertheless, something stirred, and though I felt wretched gathering stuff from a disorganized mess due to little time to keep order, I got everything and my black Lab Sadie in the Honda. Then I drove off. I realized I forgot to take my blood pressure medicine and resolved to take it later.
I decided I didn't want to spend the day with depression here, no matter the many things I need to get done that could have weighed on my mind. Bliss on Interstate 78 in a matter of less than 10 minutes took care of that issue. Last night before I hit the road, I read Sven Birkerts' opening essay for issue 84 of Agni, the literary journal of Boston University, my wife's alma mater. Agni just so happens to be my favorite among many I've read and do read. Birkerts wonders about the accessibility of the primary level with the tremendous digital overlay increasingly demanding the attention of any given individual. With regard to his doubt, I considered that I made a choice today. A choice of a kind much easier for me to make in recent years. The sort of job you have to work might have a lot to do with your fortune or lack of it, and I am certainly not just referring to monetary amount. I see people worse off than me, and degradation of human life affects me in ways I find very difficult to bear, though which would I prefer? To witness and respond, or to scan the reality out of my awareness?
As for the primary level, without it, bless human life on this planet adieu, because what primacy equates to is nature, without which we can't even breathe. Let alone have any reason to manage our carbon emissions so we might prevent global temperatures from rising too high, because without primacy, I believe, none of us can really be sure of living for his own sake. In any case, I don't suffer the same plight as Birkherts. So long as I will continue to make the choice to place my boots on the ground, I will touch the primary level, because my outdoor habits go way back and profoundly deep. When I get outside, I don't remain in a distracted bubble.
Happiness would seem to be what Aristotle is all about, but truth concerned him as first principle of achieving what his mentor Plato never had need to talk him out of. During his teens and young manhood, Aristotle did lead a riotous partying life, selling herbs to get by, so one wonders if the herbs included marijuana. I've read that marijuana was available in ancient Greece. I assume--I'm certain--he knew a good time full well, and though Plato clearly straightened him out, the elder philosopher never robbed him of his heart. Aristotle created his own happiness by writing on just about everything. The concept of the university with its academic departments takes the basic blueprint from the range of subjects Aristotle researched and wrote on, just as the modern academic setting seems to take its partying culture from the habits of his youth. But through everything he accounted for in thought and writing, the passion, the happiness, carries his enormous intelligence forward long after he died at the young age of 61.
I've often thought of him at Round Valley Reservoir. This afternoon I came alone and stayed alone. But I was in the company of millennia. A week ago, I thought I might drive over and enjoy the peculiar solitude that includes presences other than human. I managed to keep and fulfill the goal. I told Mike Maxwell a few nights ago I want to get him on lake trout but that if I were to go this coming week now half done, I would need to be by myself.
And the lakers? I did speak to a fisherman as I packed in. He told me during the coldest weather we've had yet, he caught them consistently. If you've followed the blog recently, you've found me wondering if I could garner any evidence to support a certain assumption. For whatever reason they do seem to behave that way, I believe lakers come in close during severe cold. So there you are. The fishermen I spoke to added a piece of evidence. About 50 degrees today, reservoir water is plenty cold despite recent days in the 40's, but severe cold does affect the environment differently. I have no idea how lake trout respond to whatever measurable differences, but apparently, they do.
I didn't even think of lakers as I departed early this afternoon. I got up not much earlier and didn't want to go. I went outside expecting 60-degree weather to make refusal even more stubborn, but the temperature felt about 48. Nevertheless, something stirred, and though I felt wretched gathering stuff from a disorganized mess due to little time to keep order, I got everything and my black Lab Sadie in the Honda. Then I drove off. I realized I forgot to take my blood pressure medicine and resolved to take it later.
I decided I didn't want to spend the day with depression here, no matter the many things I need to get done that could have weighed on my mind. Bliss on Interstate 78 in a matter of less than 10 minutes took care of that issue. Last night before I hit the road, I read Sven Birkerts' opening essay for issue 84 of Agni, the literary journal of Boston University, my wife's alma mater. Agni just so happens to be my favorite among many I've read and do read. Birkerts wonders about the accessibility of the primary level with the tremendous digital overlay increasingly demanding the attention of any given individual. With regard to his doubt, I considered that I made a choice today. A choice of a kind much easier for me to make in recent years. The sort of job you have to work might have a lot to do with your fortune or lack of it, and I am certainly not just referring to monetary amount. I see people worse off than me, and degradation of human life affects me in ways I find very difficult to bear, though which would I prefer? To witness and respond, or to scan the reality out of my awareness?
As for the primary level, without it, bless human life on this planet adieu, because what primacy equates to is nature, without which we can't even breathe. Let alone have any reason to manage our carbon emissions so we might prevent global temperatures from rising too high, because without primacy, I believe, none of us can really be sure of living for his own sake. In any case, I don't suffer the same plight as Birkherts. So long as I will continue to make the choice to place my boots on the ground, I will touch the primary level, because my outdoor habits go way back and profoundly deep. When I get outside, I don't remain in a distracted bubble.
Birkherts I find fascinating. No other voice I've heard has better informed me of the artistic and literary scene today. And by extension, of the society we live in. It's all the more reason for me to find my fortune in the way sunlight scatters a line of brilliance on wind-stirred water. The way sunlight transforms colorless expanse into an inviting blue.
As for the rest of the world, I might rise to affirmations grand enough to move it, but I am one individual. And the planet is a big rock to push up a hill.
These trollers caught a rainbow trout right out in front of me. A sure sign of better fishing to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments Encouraged and Answered