17 November 2014

Autunno

It certainly feels of autumn here in Rome, in the weather, the smells, the fallen leaves, the fashion, and the routine of life. About a month back (clearly it's been a while since I've posted) there was a significant shift in temperature. It dropped nearly 5 degrees C (10 degrees F) in a matter of a couple of days. It has been consistently in the high teens to low 20s C (60s F).

For the first time in my life, I find myself wearing a winter coat and scarf regularly. I never imagined I would run short of sweaters and long sleeves. The leg warmers that were once purchased for 80s costume purposes are now serving their practical purpose. Fall being my favorite season, I am quite content with the autumn chill.

Europe had their time change the last weekend of October, a week earlier than the USA, so the autumnal season has become even more recognizable. The cool, dark evenings prompt a sensation to be inside with a warm beverage (or perhaps a glass or two of wine), cozy socks, and a good book. The time change and the rainy weather doesn't stop anyone in this town. The routine continues, and the evening hours maintain their liveliness.

The beginning portion of this blog post was written a few weeks back when I intended to write at the onset of the chilly autumn weather. Now in revisiting my writing, I have weathered a bit more of life... pun intended.

Today finds me more seasoned in my routine. Rome is experiencing an abundance of precipitation. Oh how I wish I could push a few of these rainy clouds to the skies of California so the drought-ridden land could inherit the showers of these plentiful forms. I must admit that a part of me feels a sense of guilt when I share the news of daily rain with those who are enduring the drought conditions back in California.

Funny enough, I went over a month since arriving without an umbrella. I managed to escape the rain each time it came. That was until one morning a couple weeks back, when I awoke to the comforting sound of showers. In anticipation of my walk to school, I began to consider my options for cover. Fairly certain that one of those Houdini-like umbrella men would be in close proximity to my building door, I wondered if this early morning hour was one in which he was vending. To my relief, as I stepped outside my palazzo, I was greeted by the sight of Mr. Umbrella Man, a mere 30 meters away. I think he could see the desperation in my glance. That little umbrella is earning its price and is being used now on a nearly daily occasion.



The weeks pass quickly. The sense of balance of which I wrote in an earlier post seems to be continuing. Each area of life brings a particular sense of challenge and fulfillment. My studies and university community continue to fuel my passion for the existential questions of life and the methodology for seeking the truth. The group of students who constitute the philosophy first-years are a lovely bunch with whom I have the great pleasure of learning.

I am understanding better the comparison between the American university system and that of Europe. At this point, I would say that the American system does an excellent job in developing students' writing abilities and their production of essays and projects. Additionally, because I come from the quarter-system (11 week terms), I am accustomed to moving rapidly through material. Here, in the EU system, students attend lectures and read the listed texts. And for those who are ambitious, there are supplemental texts. I am finding this way quite enriching and significantly less stressful.

In initially deciding to enter the philosophy faculty (department), during my period of application, I had a small glimmer of doubt in my love for philosophy and its priority over studying theology. And now, as the history of philosophical thought is further unveiled and my own inquiries are surfacing, I am affirmed in my decision to pursue philosophy.

Just the other day, a peer of mine, a seminarian from England, and I were conversing about our incessant desire to discover philosophical answers to the modern moment and to our own uncovering. He and I have found that we share many of the same questions, at a level of specification that isn't necessarily sought by all of our peers, especially those who have a preference for theology. I shared with my fellow novice that I possess a persistent search for answers that follow the reasoning of philosophy and the path of logic. In my mind, I can't address the questions of theology and revelation until the foundation in reason is solid. Pursuing this in the environment of proper methodology and in light of Aquinas's works, which expand upon the foundations of Aristotle and eastern thought, contrasts the philosophical environment of the public university. It is ever-apparent how my course of study in philosophy is essentially the "day" to the "night" that was my UCSB experience. Perhaps I have retained some remnants of my secular studies. After all, my professor of Ethics did label a response of mine as very Kantian... uh oh. He also described another response that I gave (to the effect of ethics possessing a component of pragmatism) as very American.

To say that I am happy in my studies is the year's biggest understatement. My soul is enlivened here. For a while I have gone about learning philosophy in an amateur and unorganized way. And here I am, now, being guided along the path of systematically acquiring the enlightenment of philosophic tradition. The many interrogative promptings of my past are reappearing in the hope of being addressed in the fullness that is fitting. I can see that the interests of my being possess a cohesiveness that seem to be syncing themselves to this area of study. These topics of questioning provide substance for reflection, reflection that I can take before the Lord in prayer and ponder even more deeply. St. Thomas, the Angelic Doctor, who gifted the world with the richness of faith and reason in his works, rooted all of what became his intellectual fruits in prayer. If he wasn't writing or teaching, he was in prayer, seeking always the counsel of the Spirit. We, the students of life, have much to learn from this practice, the model of Aquinas.

This post seems to be that of the miscellaneous nature, the consequence of delaying this long.

On the other side of the balance scale, there is the complementary world of teaching. It's life-giving to be in the classroom, encountering expansively the teacher-student relationship, the practices of pedagogy, and the features of language acquisition. Seeing how my journey in education has unfolded fortifies further that synchronization of which I spoke earlier. From a distance these realms of studying philosophy and teaching English seem disparate. For my many acquaintances who are in either education, philosophy, or both, the complementation of the two is certain. A couple years back, if I had been asked exactly how these realms would collide in my own life, I would have struggled in trying to make such a projection. Now that I am here, though there remains still the mystery of life to come, I can revel in the insights I glean from these two devotions of mine. What could easily be witnessed as the professional versus the academic or the practical versus the passion, is really the collision of the juxtapositions. It's as if I have looked back at the map of my life and discovered that those detours were actually necessary roundabouts. In great gratitude, I hold firm to the blessing that God has directed me in the freedom of my passions and the inspirations of my environments. Each interest that has manifested in my life has been sought with intention.

Speaking of intention... I reflect upon a recent lecture topic: the four causes, according to Aristotle. I had a moment of great excitement in connecting a reality of life to an explanation presented in our Philosophy of Nature course. It was in discussing the final cause as the intentional cause. That is, the final cause or purpose of something prompts the intention. The intention, however, is not the efficient cause. That is to say, the act doesn't take place merely by the presence of the intention. My intent to clean my house doesn't cause the cleaning to take place. It is the will that causes the cleaning. The will is the approximate efficient cause. The cleaning occurs by choice of the will, and so it is not the intention that brings about the cleaning but the human will.

And so, this tiny molecule of the organism that is philosophical thought sparked a reflection for me on the reality of the human will becoming an impediment to the final cause. To what am I referring? Well, one example is the "lazy day", the day when I have ninety-seven different tasks I have the intention of completing of which zero actually get done. Because I am interested in psychology and the spirit, this minor designation presents a bridge for me. In the realm of the spirit, there is virtue (generally speaking) associated with obedience. I've often thought about what is "wrong" with the fact that sometimes I don't complete those things I intended to do. There isn't a moral judgement placed on failing to complete what I intended. And yet there seems to be some component of deficiency. What I mean is that I wouldn't include among my sins in Confession that I didn't do my laundry last weekend like I intended. There seems to be some link of following through with intention, a form of obedience, with virtue. In our rational form, we have free will. This freedom gives us the opportunity to choose either in accordance with our final cause or against it. I have yet to fully apprehend the complexity of the will, so for now I have these small pieces of wonderment to chew on.

Perhaps I should have designated each of these unrelated topics with a line or something.
On to the spectaculars of being a resident of Rome...

Ester and I have vowed to attend Mass at a different church each Sunday. In this adventure we have made our way to Santa Maria della Vittoria, where the Bernini statue of the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa resides. Oddly enough, this world-renowned statue sits in a rather quaint church.
Among the other visits we've made are: San Giovanni in Laterano (St. John Lateran, the Cathedral of Rome), San Pietro, and San Clemente delle Quattro Fontane.

My first visit to St. John Lateran was for the feast of the dedication, two Sundays ago. There was no way that I could miss Mass on the dedication feast day, at the basilica that stands a mere twenty minute walk from my apartment.

We went to Mass at St. Peter's yesterday. In the rainy weather, we made our way for evening Mass. As Ester and I were awaiting her Spanish friends, I stood in view of the giant pillars that surrounded us. I thought, "Here I am, standing here casually, outside this destination of pilgrims, the home of our Catholic family, awaiting evening Mass." Ester and I spoke of our recognition of such a blessing, and how there are many who go without ever encountering this grandiose monument.

So in case you are wondering if I have become just another body roaming these Roman streets in neglect of the story that surrounds me, I haven't. Though there is sometimes a delay in the reminder, it never escapes my consciousness. I do have to admit, though, that the other day I passed by the Trevi Fountain and nearly failed to notice its existence. To my defense, it is covered in construction materials as it is currently undergoing restoration. I passed quickly in route to the bank and in pursuit of escaping the loads of tourists that swarmed the area. That is the only time I haven't given a site its proper adoration.

These are a few captured encounters of the beauty and grandeur that is Rome:


  La Basilica di San Pietro in Vaticano






La Basilica di San Giovanni in Laterano, Cattedrale di Roma





Piazza Venezia, evening stroll around town




view of Piazza del Popolo





evening gaze, passing through Piazza di Montecitorio



ceiling of San Clemente delle Quattro Fontane 



panoramic view from Villa Medici

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