Saturday, May 6, 2017

The Sum of All Tensions

  Generally, most people don't like tension. If I think about it on a physiological level, the body has a tendency to balance itself: if something doesn't feel right, it might register some kind of discomfort, at least holding up the model of what a balanced body feels like. It's interesting how this works, because whenever there is a twist or dysfunction in the body, there is a kind of inherent template or model for what a 'healthy' body would feel like, almost like a perfect Platonic form of how the body should feel, somewhere in the background. I wouldn't be surprised if scientists one day discover or at least theorize about an innate sense of balance or health that people are born with, much as Chomsky has theorized about an innate sense of language.
   It's interesting to consider, however, does having a model of ideal health (physical or mental) mean that one has to live up to that model? Most of the time, we think that models are things we live up to. For example, when we are kids, we are often encouraged to have 'role models', or people who are just a little bit (or a great deal) ahead of us in terms of growth and development. But I am not so sure if having a model means that we have to live up to an ideal within that model. Perhaps the function of models in science or philosophy is not to tell us what ought to be but rather to tell us what is, and what tends to happen within systems. By thinking of models in this way, we can reduce the idea that we somehow have to adjust our thinking to conform to a happy ideal. It may be that instead, we use the model to seek clarity on what is really, actually happening in this very moment, much of which may even be beyond our control.
     I admit that this may be a controversial view about models. Plato, to use another example, had a model of a chariot rider, which he used to describe how people can use their minds to restrain their emotions and balance them with reason. Such a model seems to imply (at least for some) that reason is superior to one's emotions, and therefore should always have the upper hand. However, I am not so sure if this is the case. It's like saying, between the water and the dam, the dam is 'in control' of the water. Well, is it? Not really, because if dams controlled water, then all the water would simply stop flowing altogether. A dam can influence the movement and direction of water, but dams are not designed to get rid of all the water in the world. In the same way, we can use our models to clarify where we want to go with our different states of mind, but perhaps we can never claim that one part is superior to the other.
    I think that the best we can do with our models is to use them to behold tensions in mind as well as allow us to honor our complexities as human beings. We are never only 'one person', and a lot of times, there are competing parts to us which represent different longings and aspirations. I may, for instance, have an interest in spirituality, but does this make me spiritual all the time? What part do the other aspects of life have if they are subsumed under one concept, such as spirit? Only in cultivating awareness of complexity can one learn to be comfortable with their tensions and behold them in the process of making decisions.

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