Surely . . .

. . . his conscience was loaded with grave sins against

the spirit of lucidity.*

How on earth did anyone ever pick up a work by Husserl and decide that it would or could be helpful to anyone? That's what I want to know.

Granted, if you've done a deep study of philosophy, especially the first principle addressing universality and being, you can see that he's asking the right question: but heck if he's not totally befuddling things in trying to concoct an answer by the clear-and-distinct-cognitions-inside-your-head approach. You'd think, having seen and recognized the disastrous end met by his predecessors, he'd get a clue.

Maybe seminar will help me to see some sense in what he's saying. Right now it just sounds like he's babbling and hoping something sensible will come of it in the end.

Have a great week, everyone! God bless,

Emily

*this intelligently funny little phrase was taken from "Relativity" by Albert Einstein

The Equality of Sexlessness

In almost all the modern opinions of women it is curious to observe how many lies have to be assumed before a case can be made. A young lady flies from England to Australia; another wins an air race; a Duchess creates a speed record in reaching India; others win motoring trophies; and now the King's prize for marksmanship has gone to a woman. All of which is very interesting and possibly praiseworthy as means of spending one's leisure time; and if it were left to that, even if no more were added than the perfectly plain fact that such feats could not have been achieved by their mothers and grandmothers, we would be content to doff our hats to the ladies with all courtesy and respect which courage, endurance and ability have always rightly demanded.

But it is not left to that; and considerably more is added. It is suggested, for example, that the tasks were beyond the mothers and grandmothers, nor for the very obvious reason that they had no motorcars and airplanes in which to amuse their leisure hours, but because women were then enslaved by the convention of natural inferiority to man. Those days, we are told, "in which women were held incapable of positive social achievements are gone forever." It does not seem to have occurred to this critic that the very fact of being a mother or grandmother indicates a certain positive social achievement; the achievement of which, indeed, probably left little leisure for travelling airily about the hemispheres. The same critic goes on to state, with all the solemn emphasis of profound thought, that "the important thing is not that women are the same as men -- that is a fallacy -- but that they are just as valuable to society as men. Equality of citizenship means that there are twice as many heads to solve present-day problems as there were to solve the problems of the past. And two heads are better than one." And the dreadful proof of the modern collapse of all that was meant by man and wife and the family council, is that this sort of imbecility can be taken seriously.

The London Times, in a studied leading article, points out that the first emancipators of women (whoever they were) had no idea what lay in store for future generations. "Could they have foreseen it they might have disarmed much opposition by pointing to the possibilities, not only of freedom, but of equality and fraternity also."

And we ask, what does it all mean? What in the name of all that is graceful and dignified does fraternity with women mean? What nonsense, or worse, is indicated by the freedom and equality of the sexes?

We mean something quite definite when we speak of a man being a little free with the ladies. What definite freedom is meant when the freedom of women is proposed? If it merely means the right to free opinions, the right to vote independently of fathers and husbands, what possible connection does it have with the freedom to fly to Australia or score bulls-eyes at Bisley? If it means, as we fear it does, freedom from responsibility of managing a home and a family, an equal right with men in business and social careers, at the expense of home and family, then such progress we can only call progressive deterioration.

And for men too, there is, according to a famous authoress, a hope of freedom. Men are beginning to revolt, we are told, against the old tribal custom of desiring fatherhood. The male is casting off the shackles of being a creator and a man. When all are sexless there will be equality. There will be no women and no men. There will be but a fraternity, free and equal.

The only consoling thought is that it will endure but for one generation.

--G.K. Chesterton, GK's Weekly, July 26, 1930--

"My Antonia"

I am incredibly happy right now, having just read this novel. I simply cannot express how much it lies in accord with my soul.

When I was eighteen, I was passionately in love with the countryside. Despite feeling myself irresistably called to the pursuit of universals, I came to college resolute that I would dutifully gather up my universals and go right back home with them. Why? Because home was where people knew how to love the land, in the old-fashioned, American way. At home, they knew that the land was there for their use and not their worship (these Californians can't seem to get that straight), but was, nonetheless, also there for their love and admiration. True, my young ideas were, in part, due to a very romanticized attachment to a particular young farmer. However, I often wonder whether I was as attached to him as much as I was attached to that which he had come to stand for. Oh, how I loved the ideals of the farm life! "They loved children and animals and music, and rough play and digging in the earth. They like to prepare rich, hearty food and see people eat it; to make up soft white beds and to see youngsters asleep in them."

My academic advisor learned of my attachment at home in my freshman year, and he assured me that the rigour of this program would soon make me unsuited to a life on the farm. I didn't believe him at first. They say hindsight is 20/20, and I cannot say that I at all regret the intellectual development in my life; so many of my gifts would never have been used or developed. The intellectual, contemplative, suburban, easily-sunburned man I have been given is so well-suited to my mind and soul I just know God fashioned him especially for me.
However, I cannot help but remember that all my favourite childhood friends were country folk. I loved chasing chickens and climbing haystacks - even in the rain. The smells of the farm never disgusted me; those were wholesome, hearty smells, and I relished them. My best friend lived in the country, and she always said I behaved like I'd been pent up too long when I came to her wide open place to stay the night - I can remember how she'd shake her head at me as I bolted through their field. I hope that, somehow, God grants me the opportunity to live and raise my children in the country.

More importantly than all else, reading this novel did show me the kind of woman I always wanted to be. Remarkably enough, this ideal has not changed for me in the least since I was eighteen years old.

I want to be Antonia.

"She . . still had that something which . . . could stop one's breath for a moment by a look or a gesture that somehow revealed the meaning in common things."