Absence of Mind by Marilynne Robinson

Absence of Mind by Marilynne Robinson, The Terry Lectures, Yale University, 2009.  158 pages.

Marilynne Robinson teaches at the University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop.  She is known for her novels, Housekeeping, Gilead (2005 Pulitzer Prize), and Home.  

Following are a few excerpts from Absence of Mind, one of several books of her essays.

I believe it is only prudent to make a very high estimate of human nature, first of all in order to contain the worst impulses of human nature, and then to liberate its best impulses.  – p. 32

We have had a place in the universe since it occurred to the first of our species to ask what our place might be.  If the answer is that we are an interesting accidental outcome of the workings of physical laws which are themselves accidental, this is as much a statement about ultimate reality as if we were to find that we are indeed a little lower than the angels.  To say there is no aspect of being that metaphysics can meaningfully address is a metaphysical statement.  To say that metaphysics is a cultural phase or misapprehension that can be put aside is also a metaphysical statement.  The notion of accident does nothing to dispel mystery, nothing to diminish scale. – p. 34

Theology has embraced impoverishment, often under the name of secularism, in order to blend more thoroughly into a disheartened cultural landscape.  To the great degree that theology has accommodated the parascientific world view, it too has tended to forget the beauty and strangeness of the individual soul, that is, of the world as perceived in the course of a human life, of the mind as it exists in time.  But the beauty and strangeness persist just the same.

And theology persists, even when it has absorbed as truth theories and interpretations that could reasonably be expected to kill it off.  This suggests that its real life is elsewhere, in a place not reached by these doubts and assaults. – p. 35

The elusiveness of the mind is a consequence of its centrality, which is both its potency and its limitation.  The difficulty with which objectivity can be achieved, to the extent that it ever is achieved, only demonstrates the pervasive importance of subjectivity.

I would argue that the absence of mind and subjectivity from parascientific literature is in some part a consequence of the fact that the literature arose and took its form in part as a polemic against religion. – p. 36

One odd privilege of existence as a coherent self is the ability to speak the word “I” and mean by it a richly individual history of experience, perception, and thought.  For the religious, the sense of the soul may have as a final redoubt, not as argument but as experience, that haunting I who wakes in the night wondering where time has gone, the I we waken to, sharply aware that we have been unfaithful to ourselves, that a life lived otherwise would have acknowledged a yearning more our own than any of the daylit motives whose behests we answer to so diligently.

Our religious traditions give us as the name of God two deeply mysterious words, one deeply mysterious utterance: I AM.  Putting to one side the question of their meaning as the name and character by which the God of Moses would be known, these are words any human being can say about herself, and does say, though always with a modifier of some kind.  I am … hungry, I am comfortable, I am a singer, I am a cook.

The abrupt descent into particularity in every statement of this kind, Being itself made an auxiliary to some momentary accident of being, may only startle in the dark of night, when the intuition comes that there is no proportion between the great given of existence and the narrow vessel of circumstance into which it is inevitably forced. – p. 110-111

It was dualism that pitted the spirit against the flesh, investing spirit with all that is lofty at the expense of flesh, which is by contrast understood as coarse and base.  It only perpetuates dualist thinking to treat the physical as it were in any way sufficiently described in disparaging terms.  If the mind is the activity of the brain, this means only that the brain is capable of such lofty and astonishing things that their expression has been given the names mind, and soul, and spirit.

Complex life may well be the wonder of the universe, and if it is, its status is not diminished by the fact that we can indeed bisect it, that we kill it routinely. – p. 112

The ancient antagonist that has shaped positivism and parascientific thought and continues to inspire its missionary zeal is religion … “What is man that thou art mindful of him” (Psalm 8)?  The very question is an assertion that mindfulness is an attribute of God, as well as man, a statement of the sense of deep meaning inhering in mindfulness. – p. 126-127

What is man?  One answer on offer is: an organism whose haunting questions perhaps ought not to be meaningful to the organ that generates them, lacking as it is in any means of “solving” them.  Another answer might be: it is still too soon to tell.  We might be the creature who brings life on this planet to an end, and we might be the creature who awakens to the privileges that inhere in our nature – selfhood, consciousness, even our biologically anomalous craving for “the truth” – and enjoys and enhances them.  Mysteriously, neither possibility precludes the other. – p. 130-131

Each of us lives intensely within herself or himself, continuously assimilating past and present experience to a narrative and vision that are unique in every case yet profoundly communicable, whence the arts.  AND we all live in a great reef of collective experience, past and present, that we receive and preserve and modify.

William James says data should be thought of not as givens but as gifts, this by way of maintaining an appropriate humility in the face of what we think we know. – p. 132

Language that would have been fully adequate to describe the ages before the appearance of the first artifact would have had to be enlarged by concepts like agency and intention, words like creation, that would query the great universe itself.  Might not the human brain, that most complex object known to exist in the universe, have undergone a qualitative change as well?

If my metaphor only suggests the possibility that our species is more than an optimized ape, that something terrible and glorious befell us, a change gradualism could not predict – if this is merely another fable, it might at least encourage an imagination of humankind large enough to acknowledge some small fragment of the mystery we are. – p. 135 (end of book)

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