endsthegame (
endsthegame) wrote in
fandomhigh2016-05-12 12:28 pm
Entry tags:
Practical Philosophy, Thursday
The weather wasn't great, but it also wasn't cold or rainy - so Ender had invited his small class to attend here, on the dorm lawn. He was sitting on the ground, a bag of sandwiches and some bottles of water in the grass next to him.
He greeted the arriving students with a, "Sit down in a circle, please." He smiled briefly. "Well, there aren't many of you, so I'll accept any formation that makes all of us more or less equal."
He shoved his sandwiches to the center of the circle, so everyone could access it.
"Welcome," he said. "My name is Andrew Skywalker. I'm an alumnus of this school; I graduated several years ago." That was all they needed to know, as far as he was concerned. "And you might be wondering what you signed on for. I'll give you the spiel I give my students every year I'm here - but this is the only class that is prepared or rehearsed to any capacity. That, after all, is the point of it."
"While 'philosophy' is in my class's title, we're not here primarily to talk about the philosophers of old or the specifics of particular lines of thought in philosophy. In this class, we try to put our own experiences into a greater perspective through conversation and debate. Above all, philosophy is about asking questions about everything in the world around us - and about everything we feel about it. That means I expect some level of participation from all of you."
He smiled wryly. "That doesn't mean you always need to speak up about yourself," he said. "No topics are everything to everyone. If that week's subject veers too close to something you want to keep private, be my guest - just try and pitch in when someone else speaks. Ask questions."
"You can even ask questions of me, if you feel the need. And maybe together we can get to the core of our joint and individual experiences." His mouth quirked a bit more. "That doesn't mean we're always going to be lingering on the existential questions - or staring at our belly buttons. It just means we're going to try and dig and come to some understanding about each other, ourselves, and the world."
He picked up a bottle of water. "As for today, let's open a dialogue," he said. "I think only one of you is new, but still: how do you feel about where you are now? You've been on this island for close to a week; is it speaking to you, in a metaphorical sense? What kind of experience has it been for you? As for the rest of you, how has the past year treated you? Has there been anything that made you cry or made you think or made you wonder?"
"We can talk about that. Or you can bring up something else you feel is worth questioning. I consider most topics fair game, as long as they're brought up with regard for your fellow students. I can't claim knowledge on most, but I can claim an ability to annoy you with questions about just about anything."
He grabbed a sandwich from the bag. "Every week, we'll reflect on something that happened since we last met, but I'm always open to talking about anything that comes to mind." He nodded at one of the students. "Anyway, I've talked for long enough. It's your turn."
He greeted the arriving students with a, "Sit down in a circle, please." He smiled briefly. "Well, there aren't many of you, so I'll accept any formation that makes all of us more or less equal."
He shoved his sandwiches to the center of the circle, so everyone could access it.
"Welcome," he said. "My name is Andrew Skywalker. I'm an alumnus of this school; I graduated several years ago." That was all they needed to know, as far as he was concerned. "And you might be wondering what you signed on for. I'll give you the spiel I give my students every year I'm here - but this is the only class that is prepared or rehearsed to any capacity. That, after all, is the point of it."
"While 'philosophy' is in my class's title, we're not here primarily to talk about the philosophers of old or the specifics of particular lines of thought in philosophy. In this class, we try to put our own experiences into a greater perspective through conversation and debate. Above all, philosophy is about asking questions about everything in the world around us - and about everything we feel about it. That means I expect some level of participation from all of you."
He smiled wryly. "That doesn't mean you always need to speak up about yourself," he said. "No topics are everything to everyone. If that week's subject veers too close to something you want to keep private, be my guest - just try and pitch in when someone else speaks. Ask questions."
"You can even ask questions of me, if you feel the need. And maybe together we can get to the core of our joint and individual experiences." His mouth quirked a bit more. "That doesn't mean we're always going to be lingering on the existential questions - or staring at our belly buttons. It just means we're going to try and dig and come to some understanding about each other, ourselves, and the world."
He picked up a bottle of water. "As for today, let's open a dialogue," he said. "I think only one of you is new, but still: how do you feel about where you are now? You've been on this island for close to a week; is it speaking to you, in a metaphorical sense? What kind of experience has it been for you? As for the rest of you, how has the past year treated you? Has there been anything that made you cry or made you think or made you wonder?"
"We can talk about that. Or you can bring up something else you feel is worth questioning. I consider most topics fair game, as long as they're brought up with regard for your fellow students. I can't claim knowledge on most, but I can claim an ability to annoy you with questions about just about anything."
He grabbed a sandwich from the bag. "Every week, we'll reflect on something that happened since we last met, but I'm always open to talking about anything that comes to mind." He nodded at one of the students. "Anyway, I've talked for long enough. It's your turn."

Re: Talk.
He was careful to use the same expression Hyacinthe had used; there was no reason to offend.
Re: Talk.
He didn't worship Elua and his companions, exactly, but it oddly bothered him that no one else knew who they were. Especially since Elua was pivotal to both sides of his heritage.
"It's a story of some length," he said. "And has to do with the founding of Terre D'Ange. Are you sure you wish to hear the tale? I cannot promise to do it justice, either. Unlike the scions of Elua and his companions, I was not raised learning the story at my mother's knee or from the mouth of a priest."
Re: Talk.
Re: Talk.
Bitter? Hyacinthe? Well, maybe a little.
"When Yeshua ben Yosef hung dying upon the cross, a soldier of Tiberium pierced his side with the cruel steel of a spearhead. Later, when Yeshua's body was lowered to the ground, the women grieved, and the Magdalene most of all, letting down the ruddy gold torrent of her hair to clothe his still, naked form. The bitter salt tears of the Magdalene fell upon soil ensanguined and still moist with the shed blood of the Messiah. And from this union the grieving Earth engendered her most precious son; Blessed Elua, most cherished of angels."
What Hyacinthe lacked in knowledge of the story of Blessed Elua's birth and the eventual founding of Terre D'Ange, he made up with a Mendicant's flair for storytelling. "Abhorred by the Yeshuites, reviled by the empire of Tiberium as a scion of its enemy, and scorned by the One God of whose son he was begotten, Elua wandered the earth, across vast deserts and wastelands. He trod with bare feet upon the bosom of his mother Earth and wandered singing, and where he went, flowers bloomed in his footprints and animals wandered to watch."
"But the hearts of men are not as pure as those as animals and when he wandered to Persis, he was captured and put into chains by the King. Tales of his wandering had come to reach the ear of Heaven, and when he was imprisoned, there were those among the angelic hierarchy who answered. Choosing to flout the will of the One God, they came to earth in ancient Persis."
He paused to take a drink of water and to see if Messire Skywalker wished him to continue. He'd answered the original question, after all.
Re: Talk.
Re: Talk.
"Elua and his companions spent many years wandering, searching for a place to settle," he continued, eliding over a fair chunk of stuff, like Persis' betrayal and the trip through Bhodistan and the creation of the Tsingani and the Lungo Drom. "When they wandered through the wilderness, the animals saw that Elua had enough to eat; when they traveled through cities and towns, Naamah would lay down with strangers in the marketplace for coin."
Which led to Terre D'Ange's religion of sacred prostitution, yup! "At last, he came to Terre D'Ange, still unnamed and unclaimed, a rich and beautiful land where olives, grapes, and melons grew, and lavender bloomed in fragrant clouds. And here, the people welcomed him as he crossed the fields and answered him in song, opening their arms. For three-score years, they dwelt there, divvying up the land into six different territories to be claimed by each companion. Blessed Elua took none of those territories for himself, choosing instead to live mostly in the city that bears his name, and Cassiel stayed steadfastly by his side. Cassiel, the Perfect Companion, alone stayed true to the One God's commandment and abjured mortal love for the love of the divine, remaining chaste by Elua's side. The rest of the companions, like Elua himself, took mortal lovers of all stripes, from the highest of the high to the lowest of the low, and thus does the world know of D'Angeline beauty, born in the bloodlines from the seed of angels. And first of all laws of our land is the precept Blessed Elua handed down: love as thou wilt."