Life as an Extreme Sport

Knowledge and Trust

Knowledge induces belief, belief in what one sees clearly or in a coherent and consistent account that supplies evidence or proof. Trust, which is as compelling as belief, is not produced by knowledge. In trust one adheres to something one sees only partially or unclearly or understands only vaguely or ambiguously. One attachces to someone whose words or whose movements one does not understand, whose reasons or motives one does not see.

Is it all the things that are known that encourage the leap, in this one instance, to adhere to something unknown as though it were known? Is it not because of a long past tried and true that someone becomes a trusted adviser? Is it all that one knows about laws, the institutions, the policing, and all that one knows about the values, the education, the peer pressure of individuals in a society that induce one to trust this individual met at random on a jungle path? But the more one knows about a tried and true adviser, the more clearly one sees that every act of loyalty opened an opportunity for disloyalty. The more one understands about the laws and programming of a culture, the more clearly one understands how they are imposed upon, but do not eliminate, can even provoke, impulses contrary to them.

Trust is a break, a cut made in the extending map of certainties and probabilities. The force that breaks with the cohesion of doubts and deliberations is an upsurge, a birth, a commencement. It has its own momentum, and builds upon itself. How one feels this force! Before these strangers in whom one’s suspicious and anxious mind elaborates so many scheming motivations, abruptly one fixes on this one, at random, and one feels trust, like a river released from a lock, swelling one’s mind and launching one on the way.

…The act of trust is a leap into the unknown. It is not an effect of ideological, cultural, historical, social, economic, or ethnobiological determinisms. But trust is everywhere – in the pacts and contracts, in institutions, in forms of discourse taken to be revealing or veridical, in the empirical sciences and in mathematical systems. Everywhere a human turns in the web of human activities, he touches upon solicitations to trust. The most electronically guarded, insured individual is constantly asked to trust.

-Alphonso Lingis, Trust, Typhoons pp. 64-66

the camera eye

I’ve been spending some time thinking about photography, since I hope to do a photo project in the upcoming weeks. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about the difference between the digital camera and a film camera. I mean, yes, there’s the obvious difference, and then there’s the ability to erase with a digital camera. You can take the picture until you’re satisfied with it; some would consider this a bonus, others (say, Zizek) would likely argue that it’s allowing a representational reality to flourish. But what I was specifically thinking about tonight was how a digital versus film camera is used. A TV commercial, adveristing Wal*Mart’s online film processing (upload your digital pictures to pick up film in store in an hour), was showing a mother photographing her child by holding the digital camera away from her, so that she could see what was on the screen instead of looking through the “viewfinder”. You can’t do this with a film camera; you have to hold a film camera to your eye, and to allow the camera to become an extension of you. All you see is through the camera; with a digital, you still see the outside world as you take the picture; it’s no longer an augmentation of self, but a mere tool. It changes the function and purpose, and I wonder how it changes the use.

The time/distance equation

People say, after a break-up, that time and distance will heal the wounds. If there are mutual friends, the advice tends to be make new ones to spend time with, so there are some folks in your life you don’t remind you of your ex, and you don’t have to worry about conversation, parties, or anything else.

I have time on my side; how could I not? No matter what I do or think, time is going to keep moving and dragging me along with it. I’m doing alright at the making of new friends; CHID in many ways has been a lifesaver for it. But the mutual friends are still there, and through them and because of them it’s almost impossible to get distance.

I realize that there’s a very good chance that I’ll achieve that physical distance when I wander off to grad school, but that still leaves me another year of being here and near, and trying to decide what to do about it. In large part that’s why this journal is here; I’m trying to find a place to talk and figure things out without having to worry about being chastised for whatever it is I say.

It might very well be a forest for the trees scenario, but right now it’s tempting to say that the people who’ve chosen to remain friends with my ex have made their choice, and now what’s left is merely for me to act. The promise of distance with that action is alluring.

The 2005 Summer Institute in the Humanities

For health reasons, it was necessary for me to stop blogging for a while. That’s hopefully under enough control that I can get back to this. And with that, I should like to state that I was recently awarded a Mary Gates Endowment to attend the 2005 Summer Institute in the Humanities. In addition, I am also a Mary Gates Scholar, and will be a participant in the next Undergraduate Research Symposium at UW.

Perhaps self-evident, but this is what’s going to be (and really, already has been) on my mind for a while.

Access and the Day Spa

Through the generosity of some mutual friends, I was taken to a day spa today, for a fabulous afternoon of soaking and spa’ing. For several reasons, I opted to indulge and treated myself to a full body scrub, as well. It was an interesting experience, and as I was laying there having someone else scrub my skin, the academic CHIDbrain kicked in and I found myself thinking about issues of access and privilege. After all, it hadn’t occured to me that the only people there were old Asian women and white women of all age until the young woman from India walked into the spa room.

What a privilege it really is, to live in a place where I, a very broke college student, can still pay someone to scrub me clean, to massage me, or to place different conditioners on my face in a facial, or have parafin treatments to soften my hands. What a privilege it is that I can take a day to sit around and soak in pools of different temperature, or repeatedly get up to drench what is essentially mugwort tea all over myself. What about the people who can’t, who don’t have that privilege? Do the people working there have the option for free or discounted treatments? What about those who work in other service jobs – after all, isn’t it a service job to scrub the dead skin off of me? – and can’t necessarily take the time? Or, even more basically, afford it to begin with. I certainly couldn’t have afforded a body scrub if someone else hadn’t been paying for my entrance, and most of the time wouldn’t be able to pay that. What about the people who make less than me (and they do exist, and in more numbers than people want to admit)?

Issues of access came up, as well, although largely tied to privilege. You have to have a car, know about the place, have the time, the energy, the ability. And what a completely and utterly upper middle class thing to spend your time doing, and to pay someone for.

The final thing that kept going through my head was one of colour, of the Indian girl awash in a sea of whites and yellows, and of the fact that all the women doing the body scrubs were Korean, and the women giving the massages were white. An odd hierarchy of colour, prestige, and cleanliness versus less; do you just rub the skin, or do you have to remove it? I didn’t receive a massage, but from what I heard you weren’t handled like a piece of meat, and being scrubbed was a detached cold and clinical experience. Which makes sense, but also makes it seem as though the people who don’t have to so strongly dissociate their clients have it a bit nicer.

I’ll definitely go back to the day spa, but I’m not sure I’ll have another treatment of any type done. Or maybe I’ll just avoid the full body scrub – or just make peace with the part of me that can’t stop thinking about race, access, and privilege.