Choices: The Schopenhauer Cure

My next item on the reading list was "The Schopenhauer Cure" by Irvin Yalom. Aside from a Psych text book here or there I haven't read any of Yalom's literary work thus far (and I probably should). This is also the case with Schopenhauer, a 19th century German philosopher, the absent but very dominant character and force throughout the book.

In short, the book tells the story of an aging psychiatrist, focusing on his final year of leading a relationships working therapy group, as he is slowly dying from cancer. He introduces a new participant to the group, a former patient (or is it client?) that while under his care failed to show any improvement in his sex addiction, but now claims he's been cured by the philosophical insights of Schopenhauer.

The real crux of the tale, I think, is the desired nature of relationships, if one exists. According to Philip, the new participant in the group, life is full of suffering and pain, and similarly to Buddhist thought, some of these hurts are born out of attachments (such as relationships). Therefore, one has to cultivate himself and withdraw from life, living as an observer without taking an active part of life (as it will only lead to more pain).

Opposite of this misanthropic view (of philosophy), Yalom places psychology, almost horrified at the idea of the normal view of man's relations to himself and those around him would be challenged. But such a challenge does take place (to Yalom's credit), even if very subtly and in a somewhat watered down and biased way. While the obvious engineered outcome is clear from the start, there are some moments of hesitations and doubt, enriching the psychological starting point view with new perspectives, for those willing to listen and learn.

This post's songs are about the quest for a cure, from all sorts of pains and ailments. The first is from avant-garde jazz band The Bad Plus, and the other is from indie rock band Dawn Chorus. Both tracks will be hosted for a very limited time and are intended for an introductory purpose only.

Check out The Bad Plus on their website, blog, MySpace and last.fm pages. Buy their album here.
Also give Dawn Chorus a listen on their MySpace and last.fm pages.

The Bad Plus - Radio Cure {MP3} (from For All I Care, originally by Wilco)
Dawn Chorus - I'm Cured! {MP3} (from Florida St. Serenade)

(Bleeding) Song of the Morning: Words, etc.

Blimey, what the heck is wrong with this darn pre-owned vehicle? This bleeding Judas Priest won't play!
Ah, I had you there for a moment. No? Then how did you figure out what I was talking about?
I'm thinking about exploring the subjects of euphemisms and minced oaths and trying to tie them into the use of tautologies in natural languages. After all, maybe we're talking about similar phenomenons from different perspectives. They all utilize expressions and words to signify something other than the given text (or, indeed, the written/spoken words themselves).

In tautologies, especially cliches, the meaning can and usually is different from any direct and immediate interpretation. For example, the Yogi Berra saying "You can observe a lot by watching" seems like a tautology (rhetoric and logical and thus provide no new information on the world) but can actually carry added meaning (the importance of gathering intelligence, for one). Ah, pragmatics.

In euphemisms and minced oaths the meaning is also "hidden in plain sight", to use a cliche. It's obvious to the listeners or the readers a profanity was used and its exact type (and thus meaning) can be readily deduced or inferred from the form of the replacing word or expression.

So, in both cases a decoy that everyone involved in a certain context knows it as such is being used, while the true (or added) meaning is silently pointed to, in a civilized fashion.

Anyway, the Indie paper is currently under review and an abstract of it will be posted here (eventually). Till I get to the whole tautologies business I have some ancient Chinese logic tricks to unravel (don't ask). So in the meantime, here are three songs to use as a bridge between the previous paper (Indie music) and the next ones (tautologies and Chinese logic-music). The first is a classic by Mother Love Bone (which also deals with how words are used by different people). The other two songs are from the Irish indie rock-classical (yep, classical) band Clockwork Noise (MySpace, sort of associated blog), the first of which also deals with words while the other has a lovely violin riff.

Mother Love Bone - Man of Golden Words {MP3} (from Mother Love Bone)
Clockwork Noise - Choose Your Words {MP3}
Clockwork Noise - Egocentric {MP3}
Mother Love Bone's picture from their spot on Last.fm.

Song of the Morning: Trees

Israel is my adoptive home. There, I said it. It's not like I, my parent's or even some of my grandparents were not born here. It's how much I feel at home that I'm talking about. On the one hand, I barely feel comfortable in my own skin. This feeble body has brought its fair share of disappointments and frailties. On the other hand, in this life I'm not likely to experience how it would be like living in another body, which means this is the only body I have and may as well consider it Home (there's a somewhat disturbing dualistic view of Mind-Body acting as a pre-supposition here; disturbing because I'm not sure what I really think or feel about it).

But I digress. My point is I don't always feel at home here, like I belong or long to be here. Whether this is the result of me being a snob, some remnants of another (and better) life elsewhere, plain escapism or a correct reading of the facts, I don't know. I like forests and rivers. The desert has its charm, but I'd prefer it'd keep its distance from me.

So yes, I'm at home here. But maybe I need a little RV time before I can finally settle in.

This post's song deals with similar issues. It was written by one of Israel's greatest poets, Leah Goldberg, expressing longing for her birthplace (she was born in Königsberg). Achinoam Nini (also known as Noa), along with Gil Dor, composed the music for it as well as adding a few verses of her own in English. She spent most of her childhood in New York and has, as she sings, "roots on both sides of the sea".

Perhaps it's possible to have roots in a far away land one has never been to. Perhaps we grow our own roots after the fact. Right now, I think I have some packing to do.

Achinoam Nini (Noa) - אילנות (Trees) {MP3} (from Achinoam Nini/Gil Dor [Leah and Rachel])
Achinoam Nini's picture from Last.fm.

Late Edit: When I first heard Amit Erez's "Postcard" a couple of years ago, I thought it dealt with the same feelings I mentioned earlier - not really belonging here and longing to be elsewhere. With the video clip of the song, released a few months ago, you get a somewhat different meaning. See below the beautiful clip.

Song of the Morning: No More Running Away

I haven't posted anything lately because I am consumed. Consumed by work, by school, by the many papers I have to submit.
Musically, I am very much devoured these days by Shearwater. I just can't stop playing Rook (the CD, not just the haunting song of a similar t name) in my mind or the stereo.

But it's not just that. All this strain is challenging me in ways I've not let myself feel or be exposed to. I admit - there are some PC games I use "cheats" to win. Have I "cheated" elsewhere in my life? Perhaps, mainly by avoiding it. But there comes a time when you just can't use "cheats". It does not work, and I don't mean just morally. It feels wrong.

Sure, the fear is great and yes, the anxiety is paralyzing. I am tired all the time and my body works out of automation as if I were a zombie (besides the brief unpleasant bodily reminders that I'm still alive). In a very deep sense I am not happy. So, usually at this point I'd get depressed. The thing is, I'm actually not depressed (and that is weird). So either I'm masochistic (possible), too busy or in denial to be depressed (also possible) or maybe I'm actually trying to deal with life and myself (could it be?). Am I beginning to grow up?

I didn't wake up with this post's featured song, unlike in previous posts. I actually woke up to Damien Rice's "Cold Water" (from the wonderful 'O'), specifically the lines "Lord, can you hear me now? Or am I lost?". But I'm going to sleep with another song. It's not because I turned optimistic (I'm not). The more I think about it the more it seems overly simplistic to live life as either "optimistic" or "pessimistic". As if that was all to life. It's because I need to face my fears, face my challenges and do my best, while I can. So, no more running away for me.

Air Traffic - "No More Running Away" {MP3} (from Fractured Life)
Air Traffic's picture from the lovely music review podcast site "Have You Heard".

Inner Voices

Those inner voices - what are they? How do we relate to them? How do they relate to us? What
kind of existence do they have, if any?

By inner voices I mean those quasi-collections of thoughts and emotions that act as representations of 'Significant Others' in our mind. Those we consult with, those who tell use to do this and not that, those who we imagine what they'd say and think about our choice of clothes. I'm not talking about a modern Jiminy Cricket or a Freudian super-ego, nor the detached voices that often plague a schizophrenia patient. Those voices represent others who we care about but they do so by being a part of ourselves, by being our own creation. They are an integral part of the human way to internalize others (and so play a pivotal social and ethical role within us) while also manifesting and testing desires and thoughts of our own (thus enhancing our creativity, our sense of order and our cohesive-seeming Self). Sometimes, they show that we are not alone in the dark.

But how is this phenomenon called? Why do some people get 'internalize' and not others? Are all
the representations the same (in essence, power, function, internalization status)? Where do they
fit in in relation to our 'own' internal monologue, our own main 'Stream of Consciousness'?

I'm looking for some answers.