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BOOK REVIEW
Silent Transfigurations, by Nick Trakakis, Marrickville, NSW, AU: Southwood Press, 2006,
80 pages; ISBN: 0 646 46229 6. (Amazon)
Reviewed by Marilynn Lawrence Moore
Silent Transfigurations is a collection of poems,
aphorisms, short essays and quotations from the author's sources
of inspiration. The reflections of Nick Trakakis (hereafter
'NT'), are often deeply personal and candid. NT, a religious
thinker (albeit one boldly confronted with God and religion
in postmodernity - NT would likely take issue with the word
‘religious’ – perhaps ‘pious’
would be more accurate?) and professor of philosophy, muses
on Love (awaited, found, lost, sundered or wasted) and other
mysteries, religion, and the challenges of an academic career
- academic philosophy in particular. This work reads as a
diary or journal, and appropriately invites the reader to
pause, ponder, and feel rather than hunt for a commodity of
ideas while abstracting them from their expression, as one
often does when reading treatises of philosophy. Given the
personal style and content of Silent Transfigurations,
NT, a regular contributor to Theandros, may find his
best audience among people who also have a foot in both worlds,
the faithful and the academic.
Below are some of NT's aphorisms about philosophy (the first
an eternally relevant Platonic sentiment):
The goal of philosophy: to look at the sun
directly, even at risk of becoming blind. One needs new eyes
to do this, not the eyes of clay.
Philosophy must be in continual search of philosophy's 'other',
regions unthought (let alone accepted) by the received wisdom.
Between the visible and the invisible - there the philosophy
must stand.
There is much to be gleaned from the fact that it is very
difficult today to find a professional or academic philosopher
who writes poetry or novels. (p. 56)
NT's last statement above is followed by less aphoristic statements
on the oddity of institutionalized philosophy as a commodity.
This is meant in two ways. Philosophy, as an academic discipline
in most universities (some universities, particularly those
geared toward business and technical training, offer little
or no philosophy courses!) is treated as a 'useful' product.
The more stripped of literary creativity it is, and 'applied'
to fields such as science and law, the more useful it is perceived.
NT’s observations also point to a second meaning and
a deeper problem that is not directly about the economy of
producing useful and productive scholars who can attract funding,
but the more ubiquitous issue of the masses of people who
don’t understand the value of depth, who are so entrenched
in consumer culture that they can’t but treat philosophy,
perhaps the freest pursuit, as yet another thing to do and
say you have done:
You cannot approach the shelves of the library or bookstore
as though you were in a supermarket, selecting a philosophy
book (especially one written by one of the Greats) and then
expecting to obtain some kind of deep insight or understanding,
even after reading the book from cover to cover. The transfiguration
of body, mind and spirit demands more than this. (p. 56)
Even those neck-deep in philosophy often treat it as a repository
of ideas rather than as a means of transformation and transfiguration
of the soul. One need not take a position on ‘soul’
as eternal and immortal to appreciate this insight or to undergo
such personal transfiguration through philosophy. But…chances
are that someone who does hold an atheistic position (of the
unfriendly or uncharitable sort – not W. L. Rowe) on
the soul will either remain in the nonintegrated schizophrenic
state that is endemic to the postmodern clash of values (e.g.
values of the person versus institutions, laws), or will necessarily
have to reject the idea of the person as a value in itself;
that is, treating other people as persons, but not quite knowing
or believing why they are valuable as more than meat or socially
useful entities.
NT's pointed complaints and frustrations about contemporary
philosophy (the endless conferences for the sake of holding
conferences, the number of publications to hold tenure, the
divorce of the personal and transformative from the logical
and analytical) result from the direct clash of the spiritual
life and the philosophy that hasn’t found its ‘other’.
This philosophy seeks solutions and conclusions (NT provides
several examples culled from journals) rather than provides
spiritual exercises or a way of life. The uncomfortable relationship
between philosophy and religion plays out in the university
context by placing restrictions on what can or cannot be researched:
“The Establishment is simply unwilling to place its
resources behind those who do not follow its agenda. Students
with religious inclinations are particularly at a disadvantage
here….” (p. 52). This observation is overgeneralization,
but certainly true in some places. Whoever represents the
Establishment of academic philosophy at any given time (department
chairs, conference organizers, etc) have agendas, often competing
ones, promoting either political, atheistic, or religious
views, or some notion of what constitutes ‘pure’
philosophy. Diversity is an overall goal (even if only understood
as a half-digested catchphrase) for many universities in terms
of hiring practices and course offerings, and also guides
and limits research interests. Unfortunately, often times
the call for diversity ignores Christian theological points
of view or even uses a stereotype of Christianity (one sadly
perpetuated by Christians who ignore and disdain philosophical
thinking) as the counter to the goal of diversity.
NT writes briefly about a number of other topics related to
his personal experiences and background, from his ancestral
roots in Greece to art to the state of the Greek Orthodox
Church in Australia to the general obsession with sports in
Australia. Why is this obsession with sports so worthy of
meditative thought? This certainly isn’t the first time
a philosopher expressed disturbance at this obsession (which
is not unique to Australia) – such distractions from
the deeper questions were noted by existentialist Karl Jaspers
(Die geistige Situation der Zeit or Man in the Modern
Age) and by Heidegger in his famous passage about the
boxer as cultural hero. NT, however, makes his observation
unique to Australia, perhaps extending Nietzsche’s insights
on climate and culture:
It seems, too, that the hot Australian climate
saps the cold, misty and wet atmosphere that is so conducive
to the spiritual life. Hard-headed realism is at home in this
barren terrain. (A terra nullius it has become.) (p.
58)
Maybe. I'm not yet convinced, but think sports fanaticism is
climatologically neutral. Isn’t England equally obsessed
with football? How many UK residents in fact turn to the spiritual
life and avoid shallow distractions? Is “hanging on in
quiet desperation” the English way? The philosophy culture
in England has traditionally tended toward hard-nosed realism,
pragmatism and ‘common sense’. I also need not mention
the countrywide (across diverse climates) obsession with American
football in the U.S, or the same with hockey in Canada. NT,
though, takes his point further. Australians turn to sports
while finding
something deeply threatening about the arts. Perhaps
it is the vulnerability involved in any artistic endeavour
of looking within oneself and being prepared to find what
one does not like. Perhaps it is all simply too dark and gloomy
for our sun-drenched beachgoers. In this climate of brightness
and sunshine, it is a crime to be sad. Indeed, it is the
fear of sadness that lurks beneath the contemporary contempt
for the life of the mind, in Australia and elsewhere. (p 58)
How far is NT's view on art from a pious relationship with
the great mystery? Only a few pages away: “God is wholly
other – the mysterium tremendum et fascinans.
It is this that continues to be overlooked.” (p. 67).
There can be nothing more personal than one’s relationship
to God (in presence or absence). One’s sexual preferences,
health, family, career choices, conformities and deviances,
pale in comparison to this issue.
NT is gloriously sad. From “Notes on a Rainy Day”
(p. 12):
Slip away
cut away
keep away
a miracle
I found
a metaphor
for a missing moment
a silent transfiguration
peaceful
rain falling slowly
syllabically
refreshing
keeping me
from killing me.
NT chose to publish this journal, Silent Transfigurations,
as a book, rather than blog, which would have been easier
and would have had the chance of attracting some of the millions
of web readers, the sort who read and publish in Theandros.
This is a little book with silent meditative pauses that should
be handled and flipped through rather than viewed on a computer
screen. NT made the right choice, and a daring one, because
when a contemporary philosopher publishes poems and
thoughts of a deeply personal nature in book form, he or she
must face the suspicion that such a publication is a vanity
effort, assuming that enough people care enough to buy it.
Given NT’s sources of inspiration, some well-known ones
being Kierkegaard, Dostoyevsky, and Pascal, I highly doubt that NT
is concerned about attracting a wide readership. NT certainly will
inspire the few who know philosophy as a transformative
journey, and who are, too, appropriately sorrowful.
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