Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Rampant Nescience

A time comes when you can't remember things.  So when looking into the past, mirrors cloud, and not much can be relied upon.  My own view is that such mistiness should not interfere with the inventions of memory, and here I'd like to try to recall the first time I heard the phrase "very intelligent."  Nor, and on this you can trust me, was this a phrase directed at me. I can distinctly remember thinking, "What's that got to do with anything!"  And because the "he" who was "very intelligent" sat smug as a snail, yet totally without the charm of eye stalks, I chose to devolve into what I will call "Rampant Nescience," a deliberate unchecked ignorance.  You can call it an antagonistic reaction, if you wish to, but I'd rather think of it as a reaction to "not knowing the Latin for table."  An entirely limbic response in me, because I could feel the flow of emotion, hunting down solace.

Older now, I understand that past moment as an attempt to train me, form my young mind, make me useful.  Think of it as "patriot" if you wish to, a dialectic, a give and take in the great unknown. And all very sensible had I chosen obedience. "Once more over the hill, my friends."  And we all know what doing the same thing over and over again is symptomatic of.  But quite clearly rampant nescience still runs true in me, because recently I have decided that I am more like plant than like a person.  So join me on a truly frigid first day of a new year, as we revel in the brilliant expression "The Fetishization of Neurons."  Not my phrase, it belongs to Stefano Mancuso. And because I cannot insult him with "very intelligent," I think when the weather improves, my better tribute, is to dig a small temple to him. Over there, just beyond Saint Teresa of Avila.

7 comments:

Gin said...

The last I heard, if I remember correctly, St Teresa was suffering from very wet feet. Has that situation resolved itself?

tim candler said...

Saint Teresa of Avila was a founding member of the Barefoot Carmelites. And yes, I regret to say I sometimes find her sporting flippers. Interesting, she wrote about prayer as a "watering of the garden." And would occasionally enter an ecstatic trance during her communion with the Great One.. So who knows what is going on. My own suspicion is that sometime this past summer, she must have spotted a mortal attempting to be patient with a hose pipe.

Gin said...

You may be right. I suspect mortals, not money, are the root of all evil.

Gin said...

Interesting. The captcha I had to type for that last post included "666."

tim candler said...

In her youth Saint Teresa was attached to worldly things. Her father sent her off to an Augustine Monastery, because he thought her a little too fond of her cousin. It was a lax, devil may care sort of monastery, and because she was very beautiful and very entertaining many a noble person would visit her, and she them. The church describes this seventeen year period of her life as being one of "Spiritual Mediocrity" My own view is that ergot changed everything for her. I think it just wonderful that 666 was required of you. It means I think that She could be returning to her old ways.

Gin said...

"Spiritual Mediocrity"....love it!

tim candler said...

She was a wild one. When she was around ten, she and her brother decided to leave home to fight the Moors. They were discovered outside the city walls. Sent home in disgrace. In the sixteenth century, being sent to the monastery was for well to do parents kind of like sending a child off to Reform School, or Military school. No accident there is a tribute to her here in the garden. I too love that expression. It says it all.