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On Becoming-Music: Between Boredom and Ecstasy

Buy Ecstasy Saas-Fee

The beauty, the majesty … and yet everything else in the world is wrong. The three characters in the film — all versions of Mrs Dalloway — live their lives in quiet desperation, all miserably unhappy. Saas-Fee was beautiful, unreal and magical. And, yet, shortly after returning to the States, Maui is burning, destroyed: the apocalypse. The images we see on television are absolutely horrifying, beyond imagination and so drastically real — a Real that Lacan says we cannot handle. The white charred landscape, the numbers of untold and perhaps underreported dead — this is beyond what is fathomable. And then there is Saas-Fee. The sheer beauty is almost painful. And yet so does horror. How to think these two things at once? What are we to do? A deeply theological and philosophical question. The horrors of Maui, we must attend to, we must pay attention to. Our calling as philosophers and educators is to do something, not only contemplate something. But contemplate we must, for before we act, we must think. And this is the trouble with the philosophical life. Returning to the cave, returning to the Real, returning to a world in flames in Maui, to return, we must enact what Kant called a categorical imperative: I must do something to help. What is at stake: for Levinas, it is the face of the other, which is not actually a face, not actually an image, but the face of G—d, the divine in humankind. I would extend this metaphor also to the divine in animals, in the landscape, in the ecosphere, in our interrelations. Returning to the world, to the work-at-hand as teachers, mentors, friends, is no easy task. Relationships take work … while everything is wrong. For Virginia Woolf, domesticity — an iron cage — is what is wrong. Domesticity kills the spirit, kills creativity. It kills the writer, the poet, the philosopher. Cummings, in The Enormous Room , writes about being a prisoner of war wrongly accused of treason. His prison cell becomes The Enormous Room. He does not mean to romanticise being imprisoned, but he does — as Wilfred Bion would put it — make the best of a bad job. He writes a memoir in that prison cell, an archive of being wrongly imprisoned during WWI. What does that mean in a world of so much incredible horror? I loved my time in Saas-Fee. I loved studying with the most beautiful philosophers in the world. I loved the chance to study with those I cherish and, indeed, love. For what else is philosophy but Sophia , the love of wisdom? But philosophy is more. Philosophy, for me, means to love the Other. What could be more important? For, in the end, what do we really have? We have one another: we have to attend to our relationships, to our interrelations — whether with our teachers, students, friends or our interlocutors. This might sound trite, but it is not. It is a profoundly critical one. Whether one is an atheist or a theist — the question at hand — what is a child of G-d? I interpret this to mean: how do we become more humane in a world of so much cruelty, violence, disaster — a world where, quite frankly, everything is wrong? But a philosopher and theologian ask similar questions. Sacred spaces are hard to find in a world of horror. But sacred spaces can be very small: that space between one and the Other, where friendships are built. Enormous rooms that are quite small, however, can suffocate. We are trapped in lives of our own making. Perhaps the Greeks had it right. Perhaps it is our fate to be caught up in the vicious cycle of repetition-compulsion and the death-drive. In fact, I think we do not know what anything is. It is all too easy to buy the flowers myself, but then the world opens out towards so many unknowns, horrors. For if everything is a mystery, is that not terrifying? Stepping out into the mad world is a leap not of faith, as Kierkegaard might put it; it is a leap to what matters: the Other. I return to Levinas — his idea of the face, that non-image of the divine — call it what you will — that is not only in us but around us. And yet theodicy — the problem of evil — is everywhere. For the philosopher, it is friendship and love that remain the most important tasks at hand. Just ask Socrates. Perhaps we do not know what a task is, after all, for, in the end, we know nothing. Wittgenstein — in a rather dramatic move — was asked to present a philosophical paper to the Vienna Circle. In so doing, he brought with him poetry. He turned his back on the Vienna Circle and began reading Tagore. When he was finished, he got up and walked out. What a gesture. Why would Wittgenstein have done such a thing? Well, of course, no one knows for certain. But when someone gets up and walks out — something is being said. What that is, is a kind of protest. This is a protest about something that is wrong. You certainly do not get up and walk out when something is right. How many of us have — what Foucault called — the courage of truth? To get up and walk out when, in fact, everything is wrong? Did Socrates not call for radical risk-taking? Perhaps the question is not when to walk out, but when to walk in— to unbearable situations and speak truth to power or do something about a world that is burning. Freud: A child is burning. The tragedy that is Maui: what are we to do? For those of us who cannot go to help, we can give. Sometimes giving means sending something to people who are hurting. In the sending — as Derrida might say — we do not know if what we send actually arrives or who on the other end will receive what it is that we send, for the addressee is never really known. Something to give. There comes a time when philosophers must step out of their solitude and send something to those who are hurting, to the children of the earth, to the earth, to the betterment of the earth and her creatures. To live in a world of beauty and horror at once is hard to think. But think we must. To live the life of the philosopher means both thinking and doing. Do not get me wrong, this is not a preacherly sermon or a self-righteous manifesto. This is what it means to be humane in an inhumane world. This is my calling and my task. Like Wittgenstein, I work in a hospital, although I am also a professor. I do this kind of work to help those who are suffering. I have written other columns for PESA Agora about my work as a hospital chaplain, so I shall not belabour the point here. What I am attempting to say is that I do not have to work in a hospital: I choose to do this work. I am at home in the hospital — a place where hospitality is hard to find. The concept of the hospital is rooted in hospitality, as Raymond Barfield, a palliative care physician, points out. Richard tells Clarissa that all one has is hours and hours and hours, and more of the same. Suffering and hopelessness know no bounds. In The Hours , death as a theme hovers over all of the characters, foreboding and grim. But perhaps what is worse is suicidal ideation, something that Virginia Woolf not only knew but acted out in the end. Camus once said that suicide is the most important question of philosophy. We all have our dark nights of the soul, as St. John of the Cross put it. But not all of us have suffered from suicidal ideation. Most people live quiet lives of desperation. But there are worse things, as Virginia Woolf knew full well. The vast range of emotions, psychic upheaval, early childhood trauma, wounds too old to undo, psychic tragedies beyond words, unspeakable, those bewildering thoughts of the end, of endless and hopeless suffering, for whatever reason or for no reason at all: what must we do? Philosophers who get lost in their heads — travel in very dangerous terrain. Getting lost is important, however — for it is in the midst of lostness that we find things out, or we discover that we do not know anything at all. We do not even know what getting lost means. Political astuteness is of the utmost importance in a world where everything is wrong. I am not so certain I understand what he means, for how can a core be eccentric — for there is no core in the eccentric. An ironic turn of phrase, perhaps. But, sometimes, I wonder what the Republic i s about, after all. It is not only about building a Republic. It is perhaps one of the most difficult and obscure books that Plato wrote. In fact, it is so difficult that I would not even dare teach it. I am still learning what it means: I have many, many questions. I read the book as poetics, not politics per se. I see parallels between Tagore and Plato, both poets, both philosophers. Call them philosophical poets. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fill it ever with fresh life. The Hours is a film about vulnerability: about just how fragile life is, just how fragile human beings are in the face of so much that we do not understand, in the face of how much we suffer endlessly, hour upon hour upon hour. And, yet, there are stars in the sky, there is the beauty of the Alps; there is the beauty of friendship and the beauty of love. This is something that both Tagore and Plato capture in their work. For it seems that something always already goes wrong. And, yet, there is something else too. To utterly give up — what Camus considered nihilism — is not an option. Or is it? To live the philosophical life means to not give up — but it does not mean that hope is possible either. This is a hopeless world. I have said this repeatedly throughout my work — much to the horror of friends and colleagues. Hope is something that terrifies me; it is so out of whack with the Platonic question: what is? There are things to do in this life that are worthwhile, like taking care of one another. For what else is there? Concepts, ideas, arguments, disputations — call them what you will — are all fine and are part and parcel of what it means to be a philosopher. But there is more work at hand, there is more work to be done — the serious work of being with the Other — attending to the Other. There is nothing I cherish more than my time with others. Philosophy is not merely about building systems or working with clever ideas. Cleverness, in fact, is something I try to avoid, for there is no point in being clever. This is what Socrates might have called sophistry. There are plenty of people who can spin clever arguments. But there is nothing more meaningless than being clever. Saas-Fee was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. I spent the happiest days of my life there. I had epiphanies every day. I felt so happy that I feared I was experiencing mania. I feared I was setting myself up for a terrible fall into the abyss later on at home. And, yet, I am not now in the abyss, for I have returned to the world of work, to the work I need to attend to. I have returned to the work that is most important to me, to being with others, to being with my students and with my patients at the hospital. Tagore had it right: there comes a time when the spell of solitude must be broken to do the work at hand. The European Graduate School has given me a life I never thought possible, for I am surrounded by people I love and cherish beyond measure. I have been given a second chance, a new life — to breathe life anew. I have become what I was meant to be: a philosopher. A word I can barely utter. In fact, the word makes me stammer. I have been given the gift and the promise — as Derrida might say — of lifelong friendships, of being with people who are so dear to me that it is painful to leave them to return to my world at home, where the hard work begins. The hours and the hours and the hours of waiting until the next time I can meet my friends, the next time I can meet those with whom I have built a new home and a new life, to be renewed, seems endless, and endlessly painful. I have only just arrived home, only to long for an impossible elsewhere. But, still, there is work to be done, for all is not well with the world. How to traverse ecstasy and agony? Her main interests are postmodern philosophy, psychoanalysis, curriculum studies and systematic theology. Marla has also worked in Holocaust studies, trauma studies, medical humanities and chaplaincy. Video Journal of Education and Pedagogy. Share Tweet LinkedIn. Republish this Article. 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Buy Ecstasy Saas-Fee