“…the great collections of individuals called nations themselves behave to some extent like individuals…” pg. 121 Time Regained

Frequently, Stephen Kern will emphasize that major European powers at the time universally held the belief that a nation was analogous to an individual organism. This philosophy is used as a foundation for Imperialist, Colonialist, and otherwise Expansionist ideologies. On page 225 of Time and Space, “Ratzel applied the organic analogy to the state, which he interpreted as a “rooted organism” that must grow or die… Smaller states develop prematurely and do not reach cultural levels attained in larger states… stands under the law of progress from small to big spaces.” Hindsight being what it is, it seems obvious that European powers, who as Kern states on 236, “the command of space was desirable: it was embedded in their historical consciousness,” given a position of technological supremacy and moral absolution from misinterpretations of evolutionary biology, would embark on their murderous quests for land and resources in the 19th and 20th centuries. I’m having trouble accepting the idea that collections of individuals behave more or less like individuals, though. This isn’t a belief isolated to European powers at the turn of the century either. I see it all around me, even today. Countries, cities, communities are personified and spoken of as if they were persons. “France is too cowardly to invade Syria” or “Evergreen can’t get its shit together”. Of course, these simplifications of multitudinous institutions into individuals are a necessity of common speech. If we all went around talking like, “The French National Assembly, operating on information given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and pressure from its allies and French citizens, the majority of which, recent polls indicate, are against further involvement in the Middle East, is unlikely to pass a–” we would all have P.H.Ds and nothing would ever get done. But, the fact that we all refer to collections of individuals as individuals doesn’t make them any more of an individual, it just makes all of us lazy and delusional.

(in-progress)

As the semester winds down toward the end, and reflections surface more frequently in relation to the self-evaluation, I feel one of my last journal entries should focus on my experience with Proust this semester. I remember reading the introduction by Kilmartin feeling skeptical, and that I wouldn’t face any issues in reading this massive collection. The way he addressed Proust in a personal manner made me feel a little off-put, and I also began to be scared I’d be reading countless biblical-resembling psalm messages. After reading the first few hundred pages I felt similar to my 12 your old self rifling through War and Peace-absolutely confused by all the names, places, and style of writing. I read Tolstoy’s masterpiece 10 years later, and thoroughly enjoyed it, so I tried to keep in mind that Proust was something like Philosophy-you have to suck at it for a while in order to suck a little less at interpreting it.

One of my most vivid recollections of the earlier readings were the scenes of Cottard, and laughing in my hallway as I put his awkward figure toward someone I knew in real life. Another was when I was basking in the sun, reading Proust and noticing the cherry tree in my front yard losing its pink, milky white leaves. There was a certain appreciation in those seconds in trying to absorb the beauty of a moment which I think would have escaped me without Proust-perhaps I would have been playing guitar or drinking prosecco. As the weeks progressed, I began to manage my time better, realizing 30 pages generally took about an hour, which helped subside last minute reading. But, last minute reading was important to me because remembering over 200 pages is like trying to remember the entire Lord of the Rings series scene by scene.

I can’t tell which week it was, but the realization of Proust’s intention of how he creates each character, as impressions rather than creations, mixed with my newfound knowledge of the history and context this series takes place, struck me with awe in how genius writing this actually is. Putting aside all the beautiful philosophical and theoretical parts, I’ve felt myself drawn into an examination of my past, and examining my own self sense of importance slowly deteriorating. Of course this is not a fully life altering experience, and I plan on working through the whole text in the future, but it is a piece of literature well worth attempting in one’s life if they ever wish to take on an introverted examination of self identity.

The biggest impression I’ve gotten from this series is authorship, followed closely by identity and time (obviously), and there’s a certain inspiration in wanting to write that you get when reading this-the pressure to show the world your genius dissipates and you become more interested in sharing sensations. Anyway, these are just a few rumbling ideas I’ve been having of Proust, and my expectations at the beginning of the quarter were definitely unmet, but I’m happier with the reality.

Journal 6: Watching Time Regained.
5/28/15
I think that watching time regained as our last movie was a good choice. It was very relevant to the end of our journey together as a class with Proust. Although it wasn’t really any longer than the average movie, it felt twice as long than it actually was. I don’t mean that in a way to where I feel it was bad thing, but rather I believe that the movie felt so long due to the intensity of it. You could actually feel your brain working and exercising to comprehend what you were watching. Even reading a good amount of the books I was still struggling at times to keep up. It is not one of those movies that you watch to simply relax and not have to think. It is an intellectual challenge, but rewarding once you make it to the end.
I think they did a really great job in constructing this film. They kept really close to the narrative but also did a good job in manifesting the visuals presented throughout the novel. You could feel yourself moving along with Marcel through the depths of his consciousness. I appreciate the creators of this film as I believe you would have to be rather ambitious to try to manifest this piece. They understood that in order for this film to work it could not just be a film but a piece of art and a way to allow our minds to become lost in the thoughts of Marcel.

Journal Entry 5: Sarah Alisbeth Fox
5/18/15
I really enjoyed hearing what Sarah Alisbeth fox had to say. Not only was she well educated on what she had to say to us but also inspiring. I admire her confidence, perseverance and dedication to her passion. She was able to not only keep the listener interested but also get them to think of their own questions about the issues presented. She knew how to craft her information in a way that would draw people’s attention, a real artist. It was nice being able to see where an Evergreen Alumni has done with their education. For some reason the fact that she said she was an “overeducated waitress” really stuck out to me. I think I just find it amusing because as a college student one of the most common fears is getting an education and then not being able to apply it into a career or do something meaningful with your degree. Sarah kind of slaps that fear and stigma in the face, as she has done so much with her education and passion. Being a waitress neither defines her or limits her from doing incredible things.
I think one of the biggest things I took away from her speaking was inspiration. I was interested in what she had to say but what I left with was more of a revitalization of my own creative energy. She explained that she had never had an interest in nuclear power before, and never saw herself going where she went but still ended up falling in love. This helped me feel less scared about the future, as I felt a sense of faith that the universe will open the doors that need to be opened on my journey to my own success. I remembered that you don’t always have to know where the road is taking you, but you can still enjoy the ride. I know as long as I continue to apply myself to my passions and gifts, and continue to work hard; the path will take me somewhere good.

Journal Entry 4: Personal Journey
5/12/15
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this good. I love the subject matter in which I am learning and the people that surround me in the class. I feel like I am finally getting what I came to The Evergreen State College for, a passion and excitement for knowledge and for the exchange of experiences and the wisdom of others, a real education.
I never felt happy at my last traditional college. I was learning yes, but not on a deeper level. I wasn’t learning to learn; rather I was more so learning to get a grade and a good G.PA. I wasn’t walking out of class still thinking about what I had just studied and excited to talk to others about it. Although I love learning and I know I am intelligent, the typical school system is not compatible with my learning style. School has never come easy to me. Because of this I have always had to work extra hard to receive good grades. Working extra hard isn’t all bad, don’t get me wrong; it has equipped me with some very valuable skills, like patience, determination, perseverance, appreciation and gratitude for my successes. Although I am thankful for the strength it has given me, I can’t pretend it was ever easy or enjoyable. I have failed over and over in school. The first quarters are always the hardest, as I am trying to get back into the routine of balancing class work and just the many aspects of school all around. This is usually when I’m working hardest to figure out how I work best in each of my classes and with each of my teacher’s expectations. Unfortunately this requires a lot of trial and error which doesn’t always look so good on a report card. The report card doesn’t explain how hard I worked or how much progress I made in my learning.
I remember I finally done the best I had ever done in school the Spring Quarter of my Freshman Year when I was still living in California. I had taken a 16 credit load and gotten one “B” and the rest of my grades “A’s”. I was so frustrated as I was so close to getting all A’s. Not only was I frustrated but I wasn’t happy. I had worked so hard for this, and for what? Because I had to put all my attention on school and work in order to get those grades I had no social life, I was constantly alone. When I wasn’t studying I was working and vs. versa. I was always completely mentally and physically exhausted and I didn’t even like or care about what I was learning. It had sucked up all my time and all my happiness. This is when I decided I needed a change. My friend told me about how Evergreen worked and I was instantly drawn to the idea. Here, I am actually able to learn, feel excited about what I am learning and still live my life. I don’t feel guilty for having a social life or enjoying my time anymore. I made the right choice in coming here.

Journal Entry 3: The Captive Film
5/4/15
I think out of all the films we have watched thus far, this has been my favorite. I think what I enjoyed about it most was how incredibly obscure and frustrating the characters were to me. The two main characters Simon and Ariane were both so addicted to their unhealthy relationship as they both seemed to find comfort in the fact that they knew what to expect. Their relationship was more of a toxic habit that allowed them to ignore themselves and their real inner wants and problems.
I think that Simon had a lot of intimacy problems. He could not have sex with Ariane unless she was sleeping and was constantly obsessed with knowing her thoughts and feelings completely, which he would never be able to accomplish. Ariane is so absent from the relationship. She still plays along in the games of their relationship but is so closed off. She likes doing her own things; she is independent but pretends to be completely trapped in Simon’s glass cage. She was a challenge to him, something he felt he could control but yet at the same time had no control over. He was so obsessed and addicted to understanding what she got from loving women. He was flustered as he didn’t understand women to begin with. He saw them more as objects. He was threatened by the idea of two women loving one another, a fear of being unnecessary and a fear that he could not provide the same pleasure.

Last night I saw my favorite band, the Mountain Goats, in concert. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen them, but it was just as amazing and moving. There is something incredible about seeing a band, especially one with a really deeply passionate fan base, live. And of course, because I’m a big nerd who spends too much time thinking about this program, I couldn’t help but relate it back to Proust and Schopenhauer. All I know about Schopenhauer is what Stacey said in her lecture, but I remember something about art as the only way to transcend individual, isolating subjectivities and wills and get in touch with the universal Will, and music as the best art for that purpose, as illustrated by Proust and the Vinteuil sonata. Stacey mentioned that the music he was talking about was primarily orchestral music, free of the individuating force of lyrics.

So I was thinking about this at the concert, where I was lucky enough to be at the front of the bar section, raised a few feet up from the main pit, looking across the crowd diagonally towards the stage. I could see everybody moving and singing and shouting and cheering, and I also had a great view of the band: the music being loved, and the music being made. The Mountain Goats, if you’re not familiar, are a folk-rock band whose greatest strength, probably, is their lyrics (singer-songwriter John Darnielle was called “America’s best non-hip-hop lyricist” in the New Yorker), and how well those incredible lyrics play with the instrumentation, which ranges from a single guitar or keyboard to a full band. This tour it’s a full band, with guitar, drums, bass, rhythm guitar/saxophone/oboe(?)/keyboard (all primarily played by one extremely gifted musician).

Their lyrics run the gamut of themes and topics, ranging from extremely personal and confessional to narratives and ballads to who knows what else. Their latest album is about wrestling, but the concert wasn’t limited to the new wrestling-themed songs, and the wrestling theme doesn’t stop those songs from being personal. In addition, however, they have some hits and fan favorites that touch deep, personal nerves, like “Never Quite Free” (a song about trauma recovery), “Amy AKA Spent Gladiator 1” (a song about Amy Winehouse, addiction, and mental illness), and the very popular “This Year” (a song about being young and overwhelmed, to put it in as few words as possible). These songs are certainly musically beautiful and powerful, but I believe it is the lyrics that pack the greatest punch. The evidence of this, to me, is the incredible fervent passion with which the crowd sings along. A lot of this passion can be heard here, in an out-of-order iPhone recording of the concert (it’s better quality than it seems from that description).

Of course the crowd always sings along at a concert; that’s part of the fun. With bands like the Mountain Goats it’s also part of something more than fun, a nearly spiritual, nearly transcendent experience. There’s singing along, and then there’s singing along with your hands clutched to your chest, tears running down your smiling, screaming face. That’s how I found myself last night, looking out across a crowd of people doing variations on the same thing. So I don’t think lyrics get in the way of getting in touch with something more universal. Or maybe there are degrees of universality– not everybody likes the Mountain Goats. But the people in that room last night were definitely in touch with something greater than ourselves, if not truly Universal, then definitely less individual than our typical daily experience.

The other thing that occurred to me was that in Schopenhauer’s time, and even in Proust’s youth, recorded music did not exist. Every time they experienced music, they were experiencing some semblance of what I experienced last night. Even when it isn’t your absolute favorite band, it’s different to see and hear someone playing music while physically sharing space with you than to play it back off a computer, a CD player, a cassette tape, a record. Even when it’s someone I don’t know playing a song I don’t particularly like in someone else’s living room, there’s something different and transcendent about live music. Not that I don’t feel transcendent when listening to certain songs or albums recorded; I do. But it’s better when I’m with someone else who feels that way too, and even better when it’s lots of people, and even better still when it’s live. So I don’t know that lyrics were what differentiated Schopenhauer and Proust’s experience of music from the typical contemporary experience of music– I think the difference that is more important to note is recorded vs live.

Basically: see more live music, get in touch with the universe.

Back to reality, back to the United States, and school…  Back to Proust.  I have been telling the story of my amazing adventures in Australia, and feel like I had some very magical experiences while I was there.  I think about the way that Proust puts his memories on the pages of In Search of Lost Time, and wonder if I will be able to some day put my experiences down on paper and keep the attention of people with the somewhat insignificant stories of my past.  Can I do justice to the people that I met there?  Can I bring their spirit and their energy to life, so that other people can have the true experience of what it was really like?  Can anyone do that or is it always a matter of everyone seeing things through their own lens, no matter if it’s an experience they are having in real time or if it’s a book and a story that they are reading over one hundred years later.

I’m not sure if it is more helpful for me, being a visual person, or not, by there being no images in the book.  I took 468 photos on my trip to Australia, and I will use those images to tell my story and to help map out the progression of my journey.  Is that necessary?  Or is it better to just describe things in very delicate details and let the person on the receiving end of the story created their own images in their mind?  I guess that answer would depend on the individual.  I suppose that both ways can be both beneficial and detrimental in their own ways.

I had a hard time putting faces to the names of the people in Prousts novel.  It wasn’t easy to keep everyone straight.  For me, it would have been helpful to have an image to attach to the name.  But, like I mentioned, I am a visual person.  I will remember someone’s face after meeting them once, but I will not necessarily remember their name.

Seeing the picture of Marcel Proust was helpful for me to see in the beginning.  It gave me a frame of reference while reading the story.  That is my query for the day.  To use photos or not to use photos…that is the question.

On page 264, Proust defines the elusive, joyous moment brought on by involuntary memories as: “a fragment of time in the pure state.” Further on, “But let a noise or a scent, once heard or smelt, be heard or smelt again in the present and at the same time in the past, real without being actual, ideal without being abstract, and immediately the permanent and habitually concealed essence of things is liberated and our true self, which seemed to be dead… is awakened and reanimated… A minute freed from the order of time has re-created in us, to feel it, the man freed from the order of time.” These joyous moments are representative of a successful synthesis between past and present within our minds, ending the painful disparity between the true nature of Things (which is extra-temporal*) and our usual perception of them (which is rooted in a conception of time that is linear and distinct). The experience of Time is described as both liberating and creative, simultaneously birthing and emancipating our true, joyous self. Our true self is joyous because it does not fear death, as death is a result of time and our true self exists outside of time. Perplexingly, the very next passage is a meditation on the necessity of death (or at least the existence of a past (which then necessitates death)) to true enjoyment of life. Proust describes the present and future as distinct and opposed, “Always, when these resurrections took place, the distant scene engendered around the common sensation had for a moment grappled, like a wrestler, with the present scene. Always the present scene had come off victorious, and always the vanquished one had appeared to me the more beautiful of the two.” He goes onto explain that it is impossible to experience both the past and present simultaneously for more than an instant, I suppose it is just a limitation of our biology. For Proust though, it is still “the only genuine and fruitful pleasure,” measured against the bittersweet and ultimately trivial pleasures of society, friendship, and love, and he redoubles his efforts to try and understand it. On pg 271 now, “I knew that Lost Time was not to be found again [in the physical places of my past]… Impressions such as those to which I wished to give permanence could not but vanish at the touch of a direct enjoyment which had been powerless to engender them. The only way to savour them more fully was to try and to get to know them more completely in the medium in which they existed, that is to say within myself…”

God knows if Proust was ever successful at it or not because I lost track of what he was trying to say around this point. The thing about these Proustian ideals of time and death is that it creates a consumptive model for humanity. His entire theory is couched in terms of feeding upon, tasting, savoring, this experience of Time, as if it were some decadent dessert. The reason he wants to understand the phenomenon of time is because he wants to enjoy it more thoroughly, more consistently. When I look a the whole arc of Proust’s argument, I (the humble, pig-headed, undergrad) can clearly see that he is equating truth and pleasure. His perception ‘outside of time’ is exalted and true and the common perception of time as linear is false, but the only real difference he describes between the two is that one causes him joy and one causes him pain. “The unreality of others is indicated clearly enough–is it not?–either by their inability to satisfy us…  or else by the sadness which follows their satisfaction.” What the hell kind of garbage, cop-out, reasoning is that? If it doesn’t make me happy, it’s not real? A young man’s acne may cause him endless torment but that doesn’t make pimples an unreality. Jesus Christ.

*Pg.262, “The truth surely was that the being within me which had enjoyed these impressions because they had in them something that was common to a day long past and to the present, because in some way they were extra-temporal, and this being made its appearance only when… it was likely to find itself in the one and only medium in which it could exist and enjoy the essence of things, that is to say: outside time.