Day 82: Tuesday
Good morning Zak,
As a writer, or at least as someone who poses as a writer, I like thinking a lot about words. Especially about unusual uses for words.
There are a lot of ways to use the word “right.” People can be right-handed, right-winged, or just generally right about things… In Italian, the word we use for “left” is sinistra, which comes from the Latin sinister, also meaning “left.”
Today’s unusual usage for a spoon: determining a child’s dominant writing hand.
Incidentally, our English word “sinister” has the same etymology. The ancients used to believe left-handed people were daemon-possessed. That’s why right has traditionally carried auspicious connotations and left inauspicious ones. There’s a symbolism behind it all.
But discriminating against left-handed people is clearly not right. I was born ambidextrous, so I know this first hand. I used to drive my parents crazy by picking up my spoon with the opposite hand for every bite of cereal. But I can’t discriminate against half of myself. That would be not only logically incorrect, but also wrong.
In your last entry:
“At work, we have this commitment to ‘being curious over right.'”
But there are some things we simply can’t know first hand. Like, Zak, as much as I’d like to know what it’s like to be you, there seems to be some kind of insurmountable barrier that separates us from each other. I’m not talking about the Atlantic ocean. Although that is one obstacle between us at the moment, it’s nothing compared to the ever untraversable threshold that separates one human consciousness from the next.
We all have different ways of handling that barrier. Some people don’t deal with it at all, which is probably the saddest way. Other people read and write things:
“I felt I had escaped for a moment from the prison of my own head and caught a brief glimpse inside someone else’s.”
And still others just try asking people lots of questions:
“Too often someone will state their point of view, perhaps more confidently than what they could […] back up if [we] continuously asked [them] ‘why.’”
Now that’s one very charming strategy. I’m given to understand that philosophers call this “the Socratic method.”
Zak, when I first met you, before you married my sister, I’m pretty sure you were under the impression that the Socratic method was not only for philosophy but also for socializing. Actually I’m pretty sure that exact thought must have been going through your head during that season of life.
“I like your green tee-shirt.”
“Is green your favorite color?”
“Um… actually, it is.”
“And why’s that?”
Zak, in other letters I’ve often bemoaned the lack of sound advice to be found in classical literature for picking up girls. It turns out I’ve just been reading the wrong books all this time. The Greek philosophers certainly didn’t let you down.
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is I feel like there are some cases where we’re better off doing right than being right. (I’m sure that sentence must be on a bumper-sticker somewhere.) Empathy is one of those cases.
If someone asked me why I believe the people around me are conscious, I’d have a hard time justifying it. I guess I could appeal to older philosophical systems… Descartes certainly comes to mind… but in the end it wouldn’t be a matter of precise science.
We come into this world confident in a few things… Maybe the burden of proof lies on the side that opposes our intuition. I honestly don’t know.
“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”