I'm in the middle of preparing an honors thesis proposal on Loïe Fuller, a dancer at the turn of the last century, as a transatlantic figure.
The author of one of the books I'm pulling from quotes Diderot's writings on art and literature to describe the "undecidable doubleness implied in any theatrical mimesis" (put simply, the complex process actors go through when they go in character):
"One is oneself by nature; one is another by imitation; the heart you imagine for yourself is not the heart you have."
What's most intriguing to me is the third bit about hearts. What heart do I think I have? Diderot's telling me it's not the one I actually do. Can we know ourselves? I'd like to follow the Delphic Oracle's advice to γνῶθι σεαυτόν, or "KNOW THYSELF." Sounds great! I'd love to say that I know whats going on in my heart and my brain (and my left shin, for that matter), but how possible is that? Will my self-perception always be somewhat aberrant? I know that I am blind to lots of my faults - I think part of growing up is seeing faults, as well as strengths, within yourself.
I don't love to be overtly religious, but I think in this vein, LDS theology points to an important idea. Mormons talk about "eternal progression," or the idea that individuals can perpetually gain more knowledge, become more godlike, have more love, etc. I think a big part of that idea is actually understanding oneself. If I have a clear(er) view of myself, I'm going to be more forgiving of the people and the world around me, I am going to have reasonable expectations of myself and others, I'll be better able to master my own thoughts, emotions, and body, and I'm sure that list goes on.
Michel de Montaigne, for whom this blog is actually titled, based his entire Essais project around the idea that if you know yourself, you know the world around you because he believed that within each individual is contained the whole of human experience. Now, I think that's a bit of a stretch. Having grown up in Suburbia, USA, isolated from the harsh reality that is the existence of so many of my fellow humans on this planet, I'm probably ill equipped to 'understand' the experience of an expecting mother in Namibia with HIV who can't get proper neonatal and early childhood care. However, I would argue that as I try to understand her situation better, I will better understand my own humanity, and vice versa. In the LDS scriptures, there is a line that talks about what individuals will be like that have progressed to a "perfected" (a term that in Mormon theology means something more like "having done everything necessary to be with God" rather than "a terminal point") state: "they see as they are seen, and know as they are known" (D&C 76:94). To me, this means that we ultimately can - and should try now - to see and know clearly ourselves, the state of the world, and especially the individuals that populate our planet.
So maybe what I'm trying to say is that even if total self-understanding isn't possible now, it is something we should work towards because it will help us to be better equipped to deal with the world, both the one within ourselves and the dizzyingly complex one around us. I talk a lot about trying to be open and authentic in my relationships to other people, but that has to start in my being more open and authentic with myself - trying to make the "heart I imagine for myself" the same as the "heart I have."
Bam. That was really good. I will have to process that a bit. Thanks though.
ReplyDeleteI completely agree with Will; I love these same ideas and the pieces you brought together to make them whole.
ReplyDeleteA favorite writer of mine took on this same idea and concluded that if a man could really do this, gain knowledge of every side of himself, both good and bad, they would become "a man: who, knowing his whole true self, cannot be used or possessed by any power other than himself, and whose life therefore is lived for life's sake and never in the service of ruin, or pain, or hatred, or the dark.