Today I was reading a story in the newspaper about a group of women dealing with cancer who meet together for support. One of the women said of the group, "We strive for the condition of consciousness that the Romantic poet John Keats called 'negative capability,' the psychological state of residing in 'benign uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.'" I had never heard of the term "negative capability" before, but was intrigued by the notion. So much of life is uncertain, mysterious, and filled with doubt, yet, we often try to bring some reason and sense to what is happening. Maybe that is the wrong approach, maybe we need to accept the uncertainty. If we stop this "irritable reaching" maybe we will be happier. This seems very Buddhist to me.
Feeling like I didn't have a good handle on all the things "Romanticism" meant, I did a little research (I looked on Wikipedia). Romanticism was, in part, a reaction to scientific rationalization and included a greater appreciation of the natural world and emotions. The people of the early 1800s were reacting to the Industrial Revolution and all the social changes associated with that dramatic shift in life. In sociology, we talk about this same period as the time in which scientific ideas were being applied to social problems, creating the field of sociology. Sociologists were moving in the opposite direction of the romantics, I suppose.
I'm thinking a little more of a Romantic perspective might be good in life.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Falling into Fall
I'll say right at the beginning, summer is my least favorite season. I don't like hot weather, humidity, or bugs. I don't like going from air conditioning to hot air and back again. I don't like feeling sweaty and sticky. I don't like summer.
So, it will come as no surprise that I am happy to see fall weather arriving in Central New York. Today I had a chance to take a short walk in my second favorite place, Pratt's Falls Park (the first being the Indiana Dunes). The leaves are starting to turn color, they are falling, the air is crisper, the leaves are crunchier. I guess some people see autumn as a season for decay, a time of loss, a season of darker days and colder nights. But I like to think of it as a time for gathering up, for resting, for turning inward. Fall reminds me of curling up in front of a fire with a good book and a nice mug of hot tea. It is a comforting season with its own unique smells and colors. Autumn is the time to rest before the exhilaration the cold weather of winter brings.
I like wearing sweaters (and if you don't have a season for donning sweaters you don't get a season for enjoying shedding them!) Autumn is just the right temperature. You can warm up easily and you don't sweat. Fall smells good--leaves, wood smoke, apples--the rich earthy smells you miss in the winter when the snow falls. Fall looks good--the reds and golds, even the shades of brown, bring a new look to the woods and hillsides.
Fall is a time for change. For turning over new leaves. For going down new paths. For gathering and resting. For pausing a moment before falling into the challenges of winter.
I like wearing sweaters (and if you don't have a season for donning sweaters you don't get a season for enjoying shedding them!) Autumn is just the right temperature. You can warm up easily and you don't sweat. Fall smells good--leaves, wood smoke, apples--the rich earthy smells you miss in the winter when the snow falls. Fall looks good--the reds and golds, even the shades of brown, bring a new look to the woods and hillsides.
Fall is a time for change. For turning over new leaves. For going down new paths. For gathering and resting. For pausing a moment before falling into the challenges of winter.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Class differences
This semester I am teaching two courses. One has about 50 students, the other 40. Both classes are made up primarily of juniors and seniors, a few sophomores and no freshmen. One, the larger, meets at 9:30, the other at 12:30. The material and topics are nearly identical, both are research methods courses. The larger class meets in an auditorium style classroom, the smaller in a room with individual moveable desks. In both I use Powerpoint slides and primarily lecture. In the larger class we only meet once a week for 90 minutes, the smaller class meets 2x a week for 90 minutes. But, the classes feel completely different to me. The slightly smaller class is a lot more fun to teach, I feel more engaged, there are more questions. Why is that?
Is it the time of day?
The size of the class?
The student composition?
The room?
The amount of time I spend in class?
I'm not sure, but it is interesting to feel the difference and makes me think about what I might change in my teaching for the future.
Is it the time of day?
The size of the class?
The student composition?
The room?
The amount of time I spend in class?
I'm not sure, but it is interesting to feel the difference and makes me think about what I might change in my teaching for the future.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Is memory random?
Why do we have the memories that we have? What makes something "stick" in our mind? Why do we remember some seemingly random, inconsequential things and forget what seem to be monumental events?
My memories from childhood seem to be associated with years in school. I suppost those were the markers of my life then. I remember a few scenes from kindergarten, a few from first grade, one or two in second grade. But I remember vitually nothing about 3rd grade--nothing about the class, the teacher, my friends, events. Fourth grade is hazy, but from 5th grade on, things become a lot clearer. Is turning 11 significant developmentally? Does the brain change then? Do we become more aware of our surroundings?
Going back to pre-school years, I have memories that I can't believe are really mine. I think they must be stories I've been told enough times that I remember them. But, there are "images." For instance, I clearly remember my father knocking through a wall connecting the new addition of the house to the old. I remember playing in the foundation of that same addition, but I would have been very young at the time.
I'm surprised sometimes at the physical nature of my memories. I remember how I felt more than I remember what I thought. Recently I heard a young man interviewed. He had been in a car accident when he was 10 or so and was left with his legs paralyzed. He says he remembers nothing of the accident, yet sometimes will have feelings in his body of flying through the air, hitting his head, etc. His body remembers the sensations of the accident even if he doesn't recall them consciously. I sometimes feel the same way. I can "feel" something that happened or with a strong emotional memory my body will recreate the physical sensations of the time. I feel it in my bones.
My memories from childhood seem to be associated with years in school. I suppost those were the markers of my life then. I remember a few scenes from kindergarten, a few from first grade, one or two in second grade. But I remember vitually nothing about 3rd grade--nothing about the class, the teacher, my friends, events. Fourth grade is hazy, but from 5th grade on, things become a lot clearer. Is turning 11 significant developmentally? Does the brain change then? Do we become more aware of our surroundings?
Going back to pre-school years, I have memories that I can't believe are really mine. I think they must be stories I've been told enough times that I remember them. But, there are "images." For instance, I clearly remember my father knocking through a wall connecting the new addition of the house to the old. I remember playing in the foundation of that same addition, but I would have been very young at the time.
I'm surprised sometimes at the physical nature of my memories. I remember how I felt more than I remember what I thought. Recently I heard a young man interviewed. He had been in a car accident when he was 10 or so and was left with his legs paralyzed. He says he remembers nothing of the accident, yet sometimes will have feelings in his body of flying through the air, hitting his head, etc. His body remembers the sensations of the accident even if he doesn't recall them consciously. I sometimes feel the same way. I can "feel" something that happened or with a strong emotional memory my body will recreate the physical sensations of the time. I feel it in my bones.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Flipping Burgers
I read the New York Times online and often check out the feature, "most e-mailed article." Today's lead article was an opinion piece on raising successful children. The author, psychologist Madeline Levine, recently wrote a book about parenting and summarizes some of her advice in this column. She notes that allowing children to fail is an important part of their development. They need to learn from their mistakes, learn to recover, learn to persevere. I really liked this one excerpt:
“Think back to when your toddler learned to walk. She would take a weaving step or two, collapse and immediately look to you for your reaction. You were in thrall to those early attempts and would do everything possible to encourage her to get up again. You certainly didn’t chastise her for failing or utter dire predictions about flipping burgers for the rest of her life if she fell again. You were present, alert and available to guide if necessary. But you didn’t pick her up every time.
You knew she had to get it wrong many times before she could get it right.”
Being present, alert, and available. Pretty much what we want from any relationship I would say.
But, how do the kids flipping burgers feel? Can't that be a noble profession, too? Does it have to be a dire prediction?
“Think back to when your toddler learned to walk. She would take a weaving step or two, collapse and immediately look to you for your reaction. You were in thrall to those early attempts and would do everything possible to encourage her to get up again. You certainly didn’t chastise her for failing or utter dire predictions about flipping burgers for the rest of her life if she fell again. You were present, alert and available to guide if necessary. But you didn’t pick her up every time.
You knew she had to get it wrong many times before she could get it right.”
Being present, alert, and available. Pretty much what we want from any relationship I would say.
But, how do the kids flipping burgers feel? Can't that be a noble profession, too? Does it have to be a dire prediction?
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Puzzles of my life
I have a few things in my life that are puzzles. You know, the type, like where do all the missing socks go. Here are a few of mine.
What happens in the refrigerator between the time you take a bunch of things out for dinner and the time when you try to put them back in? I went to the refrigerator a week ago, arms filled with mustard, ketchup, dressing, bowl of watermelon, bag of carrots, and other assorted items that JUST MOMENTS before had all come out of same refrigerator. They would not fit back in. The spaces where they had been were gone. Things had shifted or moved or morphed or grew...how does that happen? These things were all in there, they must be able to go back. But they would not fit....
Why is the only bag of groceries to tip over in the trunk the one with the loaf of bread on top? First, at the checkout line I try to group my items in sensible ways--put the frozen foods together, the cans and boxes, the produce. My hope is that the bagger will likewise bag them in sensible ways. I have about a 50% success rate on that. However, most are at least cognizant of the need to place items like bread and eggs on the top of the bag (unfortunately, fewer recognize the fragility of raspberries). I go to my car, carefully place the bags in the trunk, strategically keeping the heavy bags away from the one with the bread. Still, when I get home and open the trunk what do I see? A gallon of milk on top of a loaf of bread.
What happens in the refrigerator between the time you take a bunch of things out for dinner and the time when you try to put them back in? I went to the refrigerator a week ago, arms filled with mustard, ketchup, dressing, bowl of watermelon, bag of carrots, and other assorted items that JUST MOMENTS before had all come out of same refrigerator. They would not fit back in. The spaces where they had been were gone. Things had shifted or moved or morphed or grew...how does that happen? These things were all in there, they must be able to go back. But they would not fit....
Why is the only bag of groceries to tip over in the trunk the one with the loaf of bread on top? First, at the checkout line I try to group my items in sensible ways--put the frozen foods together, the cans and boxes, the produce. My hope is that the bagger will likewise bag them in sensible ways. I have about a 50% success rate on that. However, most are at least cognizant of the need to place items like bread and eggs on the top of the bag (unfortunately, fewer recognize the fragility of raspberries). I go to my car, carefully place the bags in the trunk, strategically keeping the heavy bags away from the one with the bread. Still, when I get home and open the trunk what do I see? A gallon of milk on top of a loaf of bread.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Sullivan, Schwartz, and Slaughter
Three stories, all in the first section of today's New York Times, seem oddly connected.
First, the headline, “Elite Women Put New Spin on Old Debate,” which discusses Anne Marie Slaughter’s recent Atlantic article about why she stepped down from the State Department caught my eye. She talks about the choices to be made in work-family balance, the advantages of an academic life, and the role of parents in the lives of teens.
Second, I read the obituary for Anna Schwartz, an economist who worked with Milton Friedman but got only a fraction of his recognition. At a time when women were not encouraged to pursue intellectual pursuits, especially not economics, she was a force. She was not a demographer, but demography as a discipline had some very strong women leaders early on and I’ve benefited from their successes.
Third, there is the ongoing story of the ouster (and possible reinstatement) of Teresa Sullivan as president of University of Virginia. I have a lot of respect for her and disdain for the creeping corporatization of academia. I thought her statement a few days ago outlining her accomplishments and leadership style was superb.
I’ve usually considered myself a “small f” feminist, believing that the right path was to do my best at work and home and carry on; I would be judged by my actions, not my gender. I know that is not always the case, and at times I am surprised when I run up against the “boys” at work. Still, for the most part, an academic life has afforded me the balance and recognition I’ve sought. Three stories about women, leadership, family, balance, academic life, intellectual pursuits…it’s like the basis for a novel, how the lives of these three women in different places and times intersect, connect, and illuminate my own experiences.
First, the headline, “Elite Women Put New Spin on Old Debate,” which discusses Anne Marie Slaughter’s recent Atlantic article about why she stepped down from the State Department caught my eye. She talks about the choices to be made in work-family balance, the advantages of an academic life, and the role of parents in the lives of teens.
Second, I read the obituary for Anna Schwartz, an economist who worked with Milton Friedman but got only a fraction of his recognition. At a time when women were not encouraged to pursue intellectual pursuits, especially not economics, she was a force. She was not a demographer, but demography as a discipline had some very strong women leaders early on and I’ve benefited from their successes.
Third, there is the ongoing story of the ouster (and possible reinstatement) of Teresa Sullivan as president of University of Virginia. I have a lot of respect for her and disdain for the creeping corporatization of academia. I thought her statement a few days ago outlining her accomplishments and leadership style was superb.
I’ve usually considered myself a “small f” feminist, believing that the right path was to do my best at work and home and carry on; I would be judged by my actions, not my gender. I know that is not always the case, and at times I am surprised when I run up against the “boys” at work. Still, for the most part, an academic life has afforded me the balance and recognition I’ve sought. Three stories about women, leadership, family, balance, academic life, intellectual pursuits…it’s like the basis for a novel, how the lives of these three women in different places and times intersect, connect, and illuminate my own experiences.
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