A chunk about meditation.

Hey everybody! I wrote this recently for my Japanese Philosophy class. Part of this class was taking part in a session of meditation, to better get an idea of the mindset of the prominent thinkers who were so influential in the Far East. The first one was required, but each one after was voluntary, and I've tried to go to each. Since it's been such a big part of my life over here (and since I enjoyed the class so much), here's the paper.

Zazen reflections.

Having tried meditation before and not gained any particular aptitude or benefit from it, I was less than confident that my experience with Zazen would be any different. I viewed the stories of the clarity and interconnectedness it was supposed to bring in the same way I viewed stories of Christian religious experiences or moments of rapture: not impossible, but nothing I had ever gotten even close to experiencing. I had no specific beliefs when it came to spiritual existence beyond the material, but like a good philosopher, I didn't deny the possibility of it either. I didn't have any evidence against it existing, and the evidence for it existing did not convince me. So, like the question of the existence of God or the mind's exact connection to the brain and body, I sort of left it as another one of those questions that I may not come to know the truth of in this lifetime.

Before coming to this class, I had had very little experience with Eastern philosophy as a whole, much less specifics in Japanese. Of course, I knew the stereotypical views of the importance of honor and of the connectedness of one's action and one's philosophy. I knew about chi flow and the importance of ritual actions and fitting in with society. Anime and kung fu movies had taught me that much, at least. But it was not until taking this class that I realized how similar, yet strikingly different Japanese philosophy was compared to my Western experience, and how it all came together in Zazen meditation.

The biggest change revolved around the abandonment of what was, to me, a very basic tenant of existence: living by means and ends. I knew Kant's Categorical Imperative about not using other people as means to your own ends, and treating each person as a morally significant, thinking agent; but adopting the same stance to every aspect of my life seemed impossible. My pencils could not think or reason; the furniture in my room could be ‘happier’ or ‘sadder’ based on where it was placed. These things were only there for me to use. To take care of, true, but only so they could serve me longer before they were replaced. Animals, of course, were different, as were plants, but not objects. Yet, with this new (to me) idea of their perfect ‘oneness’ with the world, of undivided activity and existence exactly as one is meant to, my views were placed into question. While I had never really felt like I fit in with anything in the world, no object, animal, or plant I had seen had ever looked like it did not have a purpose. And more so, a purpose it had any trouble at all achieving. This idea of undivided activity and existing as I was meant to both as myself and as an infinitely interconnected being greatly appealed to me.

Yet I was still missing the point. I wanted to meditate because I thought it would make me a better person, or fix what was wrong with me. I was doing it as a means to an end, not because it was what I was meant to do. It made me concerned when I didn’t seem to be improving, and this only made it harder to stay focused in the present. Any song I had heard stuck was played over and over, and all the worries and cares of the day stirred with the stillness of reduced activity. Trying to stay still and focused for even ten minutes left me achy and sweaty, and I only grew more worried and frustrated. It was not until our first group session that I was able to change this pattern.

It was still uncomfortable, and I was still tense, perhaps more so since I was worried about disrupting everyone with a sudden sneeze or unconscious twitch. But there was something there that wasn’t when I was alone. It’s hard to say exactly, but I think it had to do with everyone sitting together all focused on the same process. We were sitting there by choice, together, all focused on the same activity. Though separate, we were joined by common purpose, shape, and ideal. I’m not sure why, but it made it easier to remain still and focused for the entirety of each 10 minute session, and I left that night a bit stunned at what I had been able to accomplish. I had only gotten the barest idea of what Zazen meditation was supposed to be, but it turned out this was the crucial point I had been missing.

After that, I sat unfailingly twice per day, right when I woke up and just before going to bed. With the memory of that first session, I continued to improve. And, imperatively, I noted the improvement but did my utmost to not feel prideful or egotistical about it. I kept the mindset that this was just what I should do, what I was supposed to do. Soon, I could sit for 15 and even 20 minutes with very few interruptions or stray thoughts. I was very aware of my surroundings and of the time and was not achieving anything close to Samadhi (true emptiness/oneness), but it was still getting easier, and I kept at it. I continued going to the group sessions and renewing that initial feeling from the first time, even as the class size began to shrink. My ritual was as close to the same as I could make it each time, with the lighting of incense, sitting in lotus or half-lotus, deep breathing and swaying, and eventual stillness soon becoming close to effortless. And in truth, I think it did help me in my everyday life. I began to notice that I was more patient in my social interactions, and more relaxed in what would have otherwise been very tense situations. I took the idea of impermanence to heart, and could even deal with the bigger things with calm and focus.

Unfortunately, this attitude did not last forever. Stress builds up over time, and this world always has another crisis or two to pile on. My mind became busy again, and fewer group sessions over the break made it harder to achieve the same level of focus. Yet here, I think, came one of the biggest breakthroughs. Whenever something like this would happen in the past, it would get me extremely frustrated, usually enough to put me off the activity for a while. This had happened a few times with learning guitar and practicing basketball, and countless times playing video games. This time, I only examined where I was, and continued to sit twice per day same as I had been. Since I was not trying to get better, I could not get worse either, and ‘losing’ some of this skill was not a world-ending occurrence. I could still do it, if not as long. Any frustration that popped up only made me smile and chuckle; what point was there to getting frustrated about something I did entirely by choice and could still do? Sitting was just one of the most versatile ways to go about it. If it ever became the case that I couldn’t do it for whatever reason, there were other ways to meditate besides sitting in lotus. But that is for the future to say. All I can do now is keep sitting and living in the present.

If anybody has questions, I really enjoy talking about this, and I'd love to answer them. I know this is kind of a cheap way to write a blog with just copy/paste, but finals have been seriously sapping my creativity lately. This is also kind of my excuse for not finishing the Galway blog, but that just means I can tell you the rest when I get back!

Two weeks left! It's gone by so fast....

Galway (part 1)

(though this says Wednesday 28th, it wasn't posted until Saturday 1st, so don't believe the lying blogger date attachment.) :)


So, in the aftermath of the Icelandic volcano making it very difficult to travel anywhere by plane, I decided to just explore the bits of Ireland that I had only seen in passing. One city in particular caught my attention.

Though we had stopped in Galway after our trip to the Aran Islands, we had only spent about an hour or two; it was really just a glorified rest stop to most of us. Still, even in the brief time I was there, the beauty of the architecture and the laid back feel of the city (even for Ireland standards) left a lasting impression in my mind. So, I thought, why not head back and actually get to know the place a bit? I researched a bit, found a good hostel and made reservations. On Dad's advice, I took the train (thank you, student discounts!) and with only a short ride and a few transfers, I was standing in the usual Irish rain outside the station. Thankfully, the hostel was right across the street, so I made my way through the traffic and sea of umbrellas (some kindly held up above my head, some needing to be ducked under) and pressed the button to be buzzed into the building.

After a bit of explanation that I was not, in fact, Scandinavian as the hostel's reservations computer described me, I carried my duffel and backpack up to the second floor (the third floor to us Americans, since the Irish set floors as Ground-1st-2nd-etc) and met my roommates. Interestingly (and a bit disappointingly) all were American, with two girls on vacation from their study abroad in Spain and two guys on a Europe backpacking trip. They were fairly typical Irish week visitors, angry at the weather and anxious to get to the pub, but still nice people. We got along well, and traded stories of our overseas experiences, and I shared advice about Irish pub etiquette and good drinks to try. Like most college students, they were more interested in quantity than quality though, and nightfall saw me nursing an overpriced but delicious pint of Bulmers cider while they downed whatever was on tap. Though I eventually convinced them to try Guinness, I think they were too used to conventional American beers, which are generally less potent and flavorful than Irish brew. The pub we had gone to was very tourist oriented, with loud American live music and rather stereotypical pub decor (instruments hanging from walls, an actual stage for the musicians, and overabundant light sources), and was generally the kind of place I would avoid in favor of a more homey, traditional place; all the same, it was a very fun night.

The next morning, after an uncomfortable shower in the co-ed bathrooms, I was ready to hit the streets. Galway has quite a reputation for being a great walk-about city, and it did not disappoint. A particularly well-known street (Merchant's Street, I want to say, but don't trust me on that) has been closed off to road traffic for decades, and can always be counted onto have plenty of great stores and cafes; but what caught my attention was the sheer number of street musicians. Cork has it's share of musicians, but I saw more on this street in a day than I had the rest of my stay in the entire country. Singing, playing instruments (sometimes plural per person), and dancing, entertainers of all ages and skill levels lined the edges of the streets. Earlier that day, I had gotten into a conversation with an older gentleman who had said that, though the economic depression had hit some very hard, the loss of the stress caused by having the intense jobs of the recently ended Celtic Tiger period of Ireland had allowed some people to pursue hobbies and other interests that they otherwise wouldn't have had time for. This did not mean that times weren't hard for them, or that they weren't trying very hard to makes things better; but rather, they were choosing instead to take this period as a bit of an extended vacation, and making the most out of the time they had. I, who feel like I waste altogether too much time in less useful enterprises (video games, among others) felt a lot of respect for that.

After treating myself to a nice dinner, I decided to walk the other side of town, that which runs along the dock and the beach. Traffic thinned out as I moved away from the city center, and by the time I reached the edge of the bay, I was alone apart from a few evening dog walkers. The sky was that beautiful silvery color that comes along on overcast evenings when the air is clean and clear, and the breeze blowing in from the ocean, water birds hung suspended in it like they couldn't care less if they ever made headway, smelled of salt and ship's petrol. It took a bit of walking to get away from the levees and small boats docked alongside it, but as I continued on, a peculiar thing happened. You know how there are some special areas in the world, different for each person, where you just feel utterly at ease or connected to the world around you? A part of it, rather than an outside consciousness or an intruder? In a class I had recently taken, I learned that the Japanese Zen garden is created with a similar goal of connectedness in mind, but I could only grasp the idea on a superficial level. As I walked along the extended concrete pier that jutted out into the bay, I understood exactly what the professor meant. I had felt it before, usually on top of mountains on hikes I had taken with Dad, or when all of the family is gathered together like for Christmas or Easter, but now having studied it, I think I understood it a bit more than before. When I reached the end of the pier, I had a seat on the provided concrete ledge near the water, and...just sat. An hour passed very quickly, and I realized how late it was by how dark it had (suddenly) gotten. I started back reluctantly, pausing only when I noticed a a small plaque upraised on the end of the seat I was had been sitting on. Unfortunately, now as I dig frantically through the clutter on my desk for the scrap of paper on which I had written the title and author, I cannot recall the exact wording of the poem inscribed there. Internet searches are not proving helpful, no matter how I word them. All I remember is the name, "Galway," and that it was a war poem about the Troubles of the past century. I would learn later that there was evidence of ancient people fishing and living in this area well before the Ancient Egyptians started thinking about building the periods, and that the land had changed hands and been reconstructed many times over its existence. But there, with the wind and sea so close and the birds overhead, I feel that I got a taste, just a small piece, of that ancient history beyond human contact, when it was just the sea and the beach and the birds. I think I will remember that feeling for the rest of my life.

By then, unfortunately, it was starting to rain, and visibility was getting pretty bad. As I walked back to hostel, I thought I would like to return to this place some day, after I had gotten few more years of experience through me, and sit in that same spot if it's still there.


I meant to write about all of my trip in this entry, but it's getting a bit long. I hadn't set out meaning to write so much! So, I'll finish writing this very soon (and I mean it this time! It will be done!), and talk to you all then.

2 months is waaay too long

...to go without posting everything! I let it all build up on me, and now I don't even know where to start! OK, I'll try not to make this TOO long.So, back in the end of February/start of March, Arcadia had set up a trip up to Northern Ireland, specifically Belfast and surrounding area. This meant another long bus ride, mitigated partially by having the movie The Boxer playing in the background. It was a pretty good movie, more than anything just for giving us a more concrete idea of how crazy and dangerous it was living in contested ground during the IRA/ North Ireland "Troubles." I recommend it, but don't expect a comedy fun-fest for the whole family.

We stayed at a hostel very similar to the one we stayed in back in our first week at Dublin, but crazier. Many of the room were only separated from others by sliding partitions, meaning that you had about 25 people jammed into what was technically a single space. Thankfully, I wasn't in that one, so I could visit the craziness without having to worry about sleeping there.
The next day, we were off bright and early (about 10:00) to the Giant's causeway. Now, this is almost impossible to describe without seeing it yourself, so pictures first!This doesn't really do the whole thing justice, but it shows the shapes of the rocks and natural columns. it all has to do with how the lava(!) that burst out of the area cooled over an unnaturally slow amount of time, in the 10s of thousands of years. At least that's what the guide said.
From the side, it looks a bit closer to this, without each rock being about 2 feet in diameter.
It just juts out a couple of hundred feet straight into the ocean, and it's all surrounded by these massive volcanic rock cliffs, of which I am not-too-intelligently standing on the edge of here:
We were lucky it was such a clear day; we could easily make out the outline of Scotland in the distance, which apparently is pretty rare to see. Ooo right, and it's got this great background story. Supposedly, the famous Irish hero and giant Finn MacCool (awesomest name ever) got into a shouting match with the Scottish giant Benandonner. Since Benandonner couldn't swim but both demanded satisfaction, MacCool starts tearing big chunks of the cliff out and building a causeway between the islands. The next day, . Finn looks out to see if Benandonner is coming, and realizes that the Scottish giant is big. And not just big, but BIG, as in much larger than MacCool. So, he runs back home to his wife (a very cool-headed druidess supposedly , but unfortunately nameless) who tells him to get into the baby's cradle and feign sleep. Confused, but compliant, he does so just as Benandonner comes pounding on the door. MacCool's wife open the door, and says Finn is out, but invites Benandonner in for tea while he waits. Inside, Benandonner looks into the cradle to give a compliment, and realizes sees how huge the 'baby' is. He thinks, if the baby's this big, how ferkin' big is his Da?! He excuses himself and hightails it back to Scottland, followed at a distance by MacCool, who tears down the causeway from the Ireland side. Hence, big broken Giant's Causeway.

OK, time for lunch. More to come soon!

Finally...

Pictures!
You thought I was making it all up, didn't you!? Well now I have proof!
Direct to you from facebook. =D

Here's about half of the Arcadia group (yes I CAN remember their names...most of them) in front of a cathedral on the way to the Old Jameson Distillery. The weather was absolutely terrible, and we were having a fantastic time.


This is another group (almost the whole other half, oddly enough) out for a walk along the river on the most beautiful day we had in Dublin. Literally ever person except one (Kate, 3rd from the left in red) slipped on the incredibly icy sidewalks that day. Good times...


Mary Kate, Liz, and Me, obviosuly enjoying our bus tour of Dublin. The bus was packed, so some of us had to stand outside up on the observation deck in the 30 mph wind and 30 degree rain/hail. After the numbness set in, it was a lot of fun and we saw some great stuff.


I wish I'd gotten a better picture here, but oh well. Kate, Marian and me on top of one of the parapets on Bunratty (*snort*) Castle on the way to Galway last weekend. There was this whole medieval/victorian town to walk through, and plenty of gift shops and restaurants. Lots of those here. I love this picture! Me on top of the tower on the highest point above the Cliffs of Moher. You had to pay a flippin' Euro to walk up the last 20 or so steps to the top of the tower, but man was it worth it. Aaaand finally, a good chunk of the group sitting amongst the ruins of Dun Aengus, an ancient fort built by the warrior King Aengus. The whole thing is situated right, and I mean RIGHT on the edge of a cliff over the sea. It was one of the coolest things I've ever seen, though I think some of us had anxiety attacks from the height of the cliff and the fact that there wasn't a single bloody guardrail or fence to be seen. Didn't stop some of some us from dangling legs over the edge, though. =D

Whew! That's all I got for now, but I'll upload as I get 'em!

'Cuz I feel like bloggin'!

Yes! Finally a complete eclipse of having something to say and really feeling like saying it! Not to say I haven't wanted to write the other blog posts; it's kind of like when you're just sitting there and it strikes you,"Wow...I really want to do X/Y/Z." And you do it, you know? Well, now I feel like blogging. Unfortunate that it should happen at about 1:00 AM when I have to wake up early tomorrow, but hey, you take what you can get right?

Well, any way, I wanted to write because tonight, I have been to my first European-style Rave. For those of you who don't know what a rave is, it's kind of like a big dance party with lots of flashing, multicolor (Hah! I almost wrote Colour) lights, over-loud music, glow sticks, and UV lights. It makes all kind of weird effects as you look at the room and the people around you, and makes it everyone look like they at least half-way knows how to dance (lucky for me). \\
Take this picture and then pound your head repeatedly against your desk to simulate the bass notes, and you get the basic idea:





















But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

We went on what is called a Pub-Crawl, or a guided tour of several of the pubs in the area. It was originally meant to be geared towards the more tradition Irish pubs, but seeing as more people showed up than the planners originally allowed for (about 80 more than the original 40-ish), we had to fit in at any place that would take us. This meant a lot of long distance walks around Cork, impromptu sprints and runs to be among the first 50 to receive, for example, the drink and crisps discounts, and, eventually, rave parties. Most of the places were pretty nice, and I get the feeling that it would be fun to return to them with a small group of friends IF we could arrange some kind of discount again. Otherwise...yeah. When you can have a handful of change that actually equals 20 or 30$ US, you have to be careful how you spend. I swear, they make 1 and 2€ just to make us Americans spend too much.

But finally, tired and sore, we arrived at our last location, a fancy club called The Classic. There must have been literally 4 people who checked me before I got through the door. This kind of worried me at first, until I realized that this meant that there would be few if any really drunk or belligerent people inside. Security was tight, but once you got in, you had nothing to worry about.

I thought it would be the same as the others, just sitting down and talking, having a good time, until Kate got up and pulled me and the rest of the group around a corner to a...something I couldn't actually see really well. There was too much fog and too many lights and effects to see very well. Despite this, we waded in and, with bass beats pumping and strobe lights flashing, just danced the night away. Others from our group joined us, and we formed a big circle with each of us getting pulled in and out of the middle, jammed against other groups doing the same thing. It was a wonderful time.

So what happened afterword? I'm sitting here writing in my blog and eating a bowl of oatmeal You know, a real Wild and Crrrazy Guy! And tomorrow, I have a long bus ride over to Galway for the weekend that starts waaay too early. But even so, I'm very happy to be where I am.

Studying abroad really is one heck of an experience.

Ireland Update

I would like to say that me not updating as much as I said I would is because of how busy I am, but it wouldn't be the whole truth. It's weird, the only time I get the urge to write something down happens in transit; like, when I'm walking back from class or walking to pick up some groceries. Very rarely do I feel like writing anything once I'm actually sitting in front of my computer. Maybe it's because there's so many beautiful things to look at outside, whereas inside all I see is piles of dirty laundry. Meh, who knows?
But enough rambling. I've finally gotten all of my classes figured out and attended each of them at least once (which, oddly enough, is apparently kind of a rarity for classes in January here), so I can finally give an honest opinion on them.
We were told coming over here that we should expect aloof professors who are more interested in their research and writing than their classes, and that we'd have to do most of the work ourselves outside of the classroom. Yeah, well, that's not the case. The professors are really, REALLY similar to Pomona's, in that they really engage with students and take into account individual opinions. The only big difference is how disorganized some of them are, but considering that some of them have classes with hundreds of students, I think this is justified.
Going into the classes themselves, the rate of transfer is about 1 1/2 classes per American class, so I'm enrolled in six for the semester. This sounds like a lot, but the time I spend in class and on homework really isn't much more than at home. In general, most of them just require that you show up having done most of the recommended reading. But this may be an unbalanced perspective, given that I don't have any science or math classes.
Speaking of which, enough dancing around! Onto the actual classes I'm in!
First in the week is Japanese Philosophy. I know, not very Irish, but my thoughts on it were that I know next to nil on any kind of Eastern philosophies, and this would be a good chance to learn more without getting massively bogged down with obscure reading like I would in Pomona. Given, there is a lot of obscure reading, just not quite so much at a time. We started the class by examining the fundamental beliefs in Buddhism, Shintoism, and Confucianism, and then taking a closer look at how Japanese culture differs from our own. It really requires you took to question the some of your fundamental beliefs in the purpose of each individual within a society, and what rights we consider to be fundamental (as well as what duties these rights require of us.) For example, fundamental to everything is the idea of Buddhist Causality, which is kind of like a mix of Newton's Third Law of each action having an equal or opposite reaction and Chaos Theory, but on a more fundamental level. This takes into account the enormous and unlikely series of events that had to take place for any one of us to be here, and the equally huge consequences of everything we do. As such, everyone adopts a way of life that tends to be much more conservative and well-mannered, since that one bad meeting or decision can come back to hurt you years (or even lifetimes in the case of reincarnation) later.
Shintoism relies on the idea of Kami spirits which exist in literally anything that someone could consider to be phenomenal, spiritual, beautiful, or even just really interesting. Especially big rock that kind of looks like a pig's head? Got a Kami for that. Beautiful waterfall? One for that, too. Huge manmade temple, graveyard, battlefield, anything can have a Kami, and many have multiple. This brings about a certain need for respect of all things that the West often neglects. I guess the biggest difference is that, while Americans are taught that to be an individual with rights and your own way through life is the best way to live, the Japanese are taught that being one with your community and world and respecting those things greater than you is the ideal life. It's no wonder each thinks the others are weird.
Oh, and Shintoism is a religion of life, which means lots of big, obvious phallus in their sacred temples. Just thought I'd throw that out there.
Wow, I wrote a lot on that class. And that's one of six! I'll make the others a bit shorter...
Next is Philosophy of Film, which looks at...well...the philosophy of films. It's kind of hard to explain. It's not so much about the plot as it is the shots, the angles, the music/score, and the purpose behind it all. Why did the director choose to open with this scene? Why do we focus on this character ( or a part of this character) so much? Films give us a glimpse into a world in which we can only speculate from the sparse images and sounds we are shown; just about everything we infer about the setting or the characters is hinted at at best. In truth, each film is only a series of still photos that when placed together, provide the illusion of movement; half of what we see in a film is just the darkness in between the slides, but our brain only picks up on the moving picture.
I was kind of hoping to come to some sort of conclusion on this line of thought, buuuuut I got nothing. It's a bit early in the class to try and bring it all together, so just take what you will from it.
Next is Introduction to traditional Irish Music, which has been very interesting. So far, we've looked at the different instruments traditionally used in Irish music, and listened to several examples of different play styles. Most are what you'd expect; lots of flutes and whistles, drums, fiddles, accordion-like instruments, etc. I don't know many of the musicians, but the style tends to be very difficult to play. You get the feeling that most of these people have done this their entire lives, and unlike in America (minus Native Americans), the traditions and legends stretch back thousands of years.
Speaking of myths and legends (or not!) next is Celtic Religion and Mythology. This was kind of my hobbyist/nerdy class that really doesn't have much to do with my major, but just looked so interesting! And I haven't been disappointed. We've spent the first couple weeks focused on historical evidence and descriptions of the Druids and their place in Celtic society. Julius Caesar, who fought them and wrote down first-hand accounts of their practices, gave us a good idea of their leadership/religious/philosophical/military roles, as well as the spiritual rites and practices. Apparently the druids were very busy, but had considerable power and sway to make up or it. There are even records of druids from opposing clans stepping out in front of their clan's armies, talking things over, and stopping a war before it even starts. Of course, records exist of the opposite too. Teaching in their sacred oak groves, special rites for gathering holy mistletoe, sacrificing people in order to read the future based on their death spasms (not making this up), the druids had a lot to do. But under all of the crazy rituals and the like, the base job of the Druid was teaching the next generation the verses and rights of the natural religion and debating, and discussing the moral and natural philosophies of the Celtic culture. Oh, and it's important to take all of this with a grain of salt, since the records we have aren't 100% reliable; believe what you will.
Next up is Intro to Irish History, which is your basic Irish-history-for-people-who-don't-know-jack-about-Irish-history history course. I was worried this was going to be kind of boring, but the professors have been good at getting us involved in the struggles the Irish people have had to go through, particularly during the Great Famine and the subsequent mass emigrations mostly to America, but really all over the place. This means that, just about everywhere you go, say Haiti or New Zealand, there will most likely be a small group with a strong Irish heritage and a passionate patriotism for the homeland. This has been very interesting, with the only side effect being a new found simmering hatred for any and all things British. Just about everything bad that happened to the Irish has at one time been connected (truthfully or not) back to their British lords. Nowadays not so much outside of the most conservative Irish families, similar to what we have in the US.
Last is Questions in Moral Theory, which is much, much more interesting than it sounds. I thought this would be one of those classes that would be very important to my major but not particularly exciting, but I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the entire purpose of the class is to take a deep look at the ethicacy of poverty. Like, does our status as a rich country mean we have a responsibility to help third-world countries? Should we expect recompense for this, or is it just the 'right thing to do?' We examined the Moral Contractualism (like the social contract) as well as some different reasons why we should/n't be doing more than we are. One thing I thought was particularly interesting was the idea of the Veil of Ignorance, which I had often heard of but never really understood. So, the idea is that each person can set the exact world they live in; the laws, the resource management, the organizations, gender and racial institutions, the importance of one's appearance, etc. However, you are missing all crucial information as to where you fit in this world; what social class, race, gender, looks, athleticism, really anything about yourself. As such, you will have to live under whatever cruel or unfair laws you set; so, it would be natural for someone under the veil of ignorance to pick the most extensive and equal laws for everyone, since he/she has no idea how well off he/she will be. Unless they want to play the odds and end up ultra-poor, sick, hated, and futureless, (or get lucky and be a dictator) that is.
We also looked back at older ideas of virtue ethics, like Aristotle's ideas on what makes a good or excellent human being rather than a legalistic set of what one can or can't do. A good person, he reasons, will have no trouble following just laws. Overall, I think this may end up being one of the most interesting and enriching courses I will ever take (meaning that after I finish it I will be more indecisive and wishy-washy than ever before, but hey, that's ethical philosophy for ya), and I really look forward to where the professor takes this.
Since I've been focusing all on classes, here's a bit on life in Cork. I know this has been long; bear with me, almost done. :D
The room is nice, especially as the weather has warmed up a bit. I was never really cold, but the weather sure made for some uncomfortable midnight bathroom trips. Coooooold toilet seats...
We're so close to the city center that just about everything I need is only a short walk away, which has been really nice when it comes to buying groceries without a car. Oh right! And practically no place in Ireland offers paper OR plastic bags! You're supposed to bring your own reusable bags to save the environment. The first time this happened, it was only my respect for my major and the environment that kept my jet-lagged, sick, irritable self from pulling the impatient teenage cashier over the counter and demanding his shirt to use as a bag.
More on the weather; you really can't predict it. At all. This week, 2 days have been foggy, 2 beautifully sunny, 2 rainy, and one absolutely storming. And in no real order; you wake up, look outside, and decide how many layers you need. But really, I don''t mind rain too much. It was worse when the sidewalks were all slippery from the uncharacteristically cold and snowy winter. This didn't last long, but each day it snowed (or thawed) I saw no less than 8 people slip and fall on the sidewalk. I'm proud to say I never fell, despite often saying this to others and tempting the heck out of fate. It may sound crazy, but I'm actually really enjoying getting out of the Southern California lukewarm weather bubble and into some real winter weather. Not having the seasons change kind of throws me for a loop.
I wish I had pictures, but my camera has been on the fritz. So, heres an overlarge online picture of the church I walk by each day to class, St Fin Barre's Cathedral:
There's a lot more I can say about pub culture, sports, and the people themselves, but I've just looked back at this entry and seen how long it really is, so I'll leave off with this: pints aren't actually pint-sized, rugby is fun and brutal (though not as brutal as the sport of hurling), and the people would be personable if it WEREN'T SO BLOODY COLD.
Talk to you all soon.

P.S. I forgot, here's my address for people who want to know:
Deanshall, Apartment 10
Summerhill
Crosses Green
Co Cork.
(no zip codes in Ireland!)
Also, I'm reliably on Skype every day, user name Kory Hook; just remember the 8 hour time difference, please. : )

Dublin, 1/1/10

Whew! This is like the first afternoon I've had where something wasn't going on. Things have been awesome here, if a wee bit expensive, especially since I've finally gotten over the worst of my jet lag. I just got back from a late breakfast with friends at a nice little restaurant, after slipping and sliding all over the streets. It snowed here last night for the first time in years, and the locals were all talking about what a gorgeous night it was. Every other night has been just raining like crazy, all blasted by this freezing wind, but Last night, with a light snowfall and hardly any wind all under a huge full moon...just amazing. A good group of friends, an almost comically large 'pint' of Guinness (which I have to say beats the pants off of anything I've had in America), and a whole city full of dancing, happy people makes for one fantastic New Years, I'll tell ya.
We've had meetings just about every afternoon now, first on just adjusting to life in Ireland and what we should expect in terms of customs, conversations, taboos, etc., then on specifics with life at the University. I tell you, it's going to be quite an adventure. Study is very different over here, much more reliant on individual determination and independent research than on a carefully laid syllabus and lesson plan. I'm a bit worried, but given the fact that we'll be able to choose from a big list of articles and books, I'm sure I wont have any trouble finding something good and readable.
Ooo right, and we've got a homestay trip planned for the first weekend there, so I'll be with another guy (Justin, great guy) of in the rural Irish countryside with a retired farmer, wife, and thirty year old sons. Apparently, they like golf, chess, and horseback riding. I was worried at first, but seriously everyone I've met here has been very personable and easy to get along with, so I think it'll be a lot of fun.
Bleah, time to pack everything back up. But hey, I'll be in Cork setting up my new room and meeting my Irish roommates by this time tomorrow!
Happy New Years all!