Symbolic Thinking and the Greek Forms

Aristotle and the Greeks believed that every form here on earth was a replica of a "perfect form" in the heavens. Every chair was just a variation of "The Chair", every rock was an imperfect version of "The Rock". These perfect forms were templates by which every replica was made.

Sounds pretty silly? Now as silly as you might think.

During a video called "The History of the World in Two hours", a discussion came up about how one of early man's great leaps forward was cave drawings. Why? Not because it tells us about their lives and not because of their great artistic abilities. But because it proved that these men (and women) had learned to recognize symbolic identity. Symbolic thought. Symbolic speech (which was required for language to develop). They could imagine and create a symbol of a man, a symbol of a mammoth. This style of thinking is something we take for granted, but it is what sets us apart from animals.

When I think about the Greek philosophy of the forms, I wonder if it could be translated psychologically. How do you know when you look at these two images that they are both chairs?

How do you distinguish between a bed and a chair? Between a chair and a couch? We can all do it because we can recognize the forms. Deep in our psyche, we understand the symbolic form of "The Chair". And we can learn to recognize when a piece of furniture is a replica of "The Chair" versus "The Bed" or "The Couch".

While listening to Dr. Rosenthal's study guide in preparation to take the NCE (National Counselor's Exam), I started thinking about Piaget's description of symbolic thinking in a child's pre-operational stage (spanning from 2-7 years).

The major development of this stage is symbolic thinking. Children begin to give labels to objects they see in everyday life. They also develop what are a known as schemes for recognizing new objects. For example, in the early part of this stage, language skills are developing very rapidly, a child may learn that the four-legged creature running around the house is symbolized by the word "dog." Upon seeing a cat, which is similar to a dog because it walks on all fours and is a household pet, the child may label it as a dog. This is because the cat falls into the same scheme as the dog (i.e. walks on all fours and is kept as a pet). Of course, as a child grows older, she will realize the differences between cats and dogs. (https://www.msu.edu/~compeaua/piagettheory.html)

I don't believe that the ideas of symbolic thinking and schemes are mutually exclusive concepts but rather are intricately linked. Remember that it is our schemes that allow us to distinguish between the chair and the couch in the same way that a child learns to distinguish between a cat and a dog. Our schemes are the rules we use to model the symbolic forms by which we understand (and apply labels to) the world around us. These same symbolic forms allow us think about objects that are not physically present and also to express these thoughts through verbal communication.

It always amazes me that philosophical, anthropological and psychological concepts can so beautifully connect with one another, and the idea of symbolic thinking is especially intriguing to me. Perhaps I shall do some more research about it and see what I uncover.

In the meantime, I am enjoying watching my own baby girl (niece) as she learns to build her own schemes and symbolic thinking to her world. Just last week, I was able to speak with her on the phone for the first time. Perhaps it is something we usually take for granted, but the ability to understand that the voice coming from the phone belongs to a person who is not visibly present is a powerful testament to the human ability of symbolic thinking. Even if her vocabulary did only consist of "Hai!" "Bai!" and "Iwuvoo!" *melts*

Orion's Trip to the Pound

Yesterday, I took my new fur-baby, Orion, to BARC, the city pound, to get neutered. I would have taken him to my own vet, but the surgery is expensive and BARC was going to do it for free. So, to BARC we went.

Orion is a ginger tabby, about 10 months to a year old. He's got spunk and personality and a VOICE. Oh my gosh, does he ever love to talk! He was especially vocal yesterday morning because I had removed his food and water the night before and the poor guy was hungry and thirsty! From his perspective, he was being perfectly reasonable. And I must admit meowing "I'm hungry!" and "I'm thirsty!" is much preferred to knocking things over or tearing up furniture (or my leg)! But I had to resist the urge to give in. And yet as many times as I told him he couldn't have any food or water, he just wouldn't listen. Or maybe he couldn't understand.

I put Orion in the same cardboard carrier that we'd brought him home in for the ride back to BARC. We have a nice soft carrier that I use for trips to the vet, but I didn't want to leave it at the pound all day, and maybe not get it back. Of course, when I tried to explain that to Orion, he again did not understand.

The entire way to the facility (a 45 minute trip downtown), Orion cried. He cried and cried. He stuck his paw out through the tiny round holes in the cardboard carrier. He tried to stick his nose out of the holes, which worked about as well as you'd expect. And he would try to turn his head to stair out the hole at me. And all the time, he cried.

My heart broke. All Orion knew was that he was hungry and thirsty, and locked up in a dark cardboard box that smelled like the pound, cut off from his new mommy and being taken away from his new big brother. And I would shortly be dropping him off at the pound and leaving him there. WOE IS HE! How much horrible could life get? What did Orion do to deserve such treatment? He had done everything that he could to be a loving, happy kitty. He didn't attack the dogs, he didn't beat up the old cat. He slept well and purred lots and gave lots of love. He might have damaged a few of mommy's possessions beyond repair (*cough*DDR mat*cough*), but he was a good boy about using the litter box and he was learning not to attack the "bedmice" unless they were under 3 layers of blankets! What did he do that was worthy of such rejection?!

I wanted to tell Orion that it would be okay. To explain to him that I had his best interests at heart. I tried to tell him. But he just couldn't understand. So, I just listened to him cry and I offered a prayer for God to keep him safe. And then I dropped him off at BARC and promised him that I'd be back. Of course, he didn't understand.

As I drove away, a thought occurred to me. How often are we in the same position as Orion. We may not be closed up in cardboard boxes and taken to the pound to be neutered against our will, but there are no doubt times when we find ourselves spiritually thirsty, hungry for something we can't find, and lost in the darkness. Life is throwing us rotten fruit after rotten fruit. Nothing is going our way. We may have lost everything that we treasured in life, and we may not know what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps we even believe that God has abandoned us, and we wonder, what did we do to deserve this fate?

What I find interesting in this example is that just as Orion could not comprehend the bigger picture, we cannot always understand the plan that God has in store for us. He'd tell us, I think, if we could understand. But compared to God's omniscience, we are more simpleminded than a 2 week old kitten. We cannot understand God's plans because we are not God. We do not have the mental capacities to wrap our thoughts around all that He is and all that He knows. It's not that God has abandoned us, and it is not that God refuses to let us in on His great plan. I think the issue is simply that we are physically incapable of comprehending what He wants for His children.

Another interesting realization that I made is that when I drove Orion to the vet, I could not explain to him what was going on. I could not console him in terms that he understood. But I was there. I heard him cry out. And I cried with him. Is God not the same? When we cry in the darkness, He doesn't wave us off with a "Oh, you'll get over it." He cries with us. Even knowing what He knows, He cries with us, because we are crying.

Yesterday afternoon, I picked up Orion at BARC just as I promised. I took with me our soft carrier and he rode home in that, where he could look out at me the entire time. He meowed for a while, then he fell asleep. When we got home, I gave him all the food he could eat and all the water he could drink. Trevor gave him a thorough face-bath. And last night, Orion slept the entire night in my arms. He was back home, right where he belongs.

Decorate the Walls

I've been gnawing on an idea lately and I'm not yet sure where I'm going with it, or if there's anywhere to go, but I'll share it with you all anyway. It comes from yet another song by the infamous Jimmy Buffett. This one is a love song called Coast of Carolina. The chorus goes like this:

From the bottom of my heart
Off the coast of Carolina
After one or two false starts
I believe we found our stride
And the walls that won't come down
We can decorate or climb
Or find some way to get around
Cause I'm still on your side
From the bottom of my heart.


Kinda sweet, huh? So, the part that's been nigging at me is the line:

"And the walls that won't come down, we can decorate or climb or find some way to get around."

...we can decorate. Now there's some imagery. And metaphors just waiting to come alive.

I mean, even among the people that we love the most, there are always walls. Those things that divide us. Issues we disagree on. Points of contention. And in a good relationship, we are always taught the benefits of tearing down those walls. Tear down the walls that separate countries, and the smaller walls that separate individual people. All over the place we find this imagery of the wall. In my neighborhood there is a church called "The Church Without Walls." We all know the metaphor, the goal. World peace? It would be a world without walls.

And yet... the pessimist in me can't help but laugh. The goal is all well and good, but like it or not, people are different. There will always be walls, because we will always draw lines. We have to. You know - "You gotta stand for something or you'll fall for anything." But I'm not even talking about those moral lines. There will be other walls, too. Because we are all different. We like different things. We see different things. We are all unique. To tear down every wall would be to tear down what separates our uniqueness. So, I laugh and go, "Yeah right... tear down the walls... sure, you do that. I'm going to go sit in my room surrounded by my safe walls and read a book."

Are you a pessimist or an optimist? I didn't realize that you could be both until I started really thinking about Jimmy Buffett's words. He's admitting that, even in his own marriage, he can't tear down every wall. So what will he do with those walls that won't come down? He'll decorate them.

...

I just... hold on, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the novelty of the concept.

Decorate... the walls?

Celebrate our differences? Not just the differences between our cultures, but between us and the family and friends that we love the most?

... wow. Whoda thunk?

Tuesday Evening Chapel - My Devotional

Just this past week, one of the members of my Proverbs 31 e-mail group suggested an experiment. She suggested that we try to come up with as many words that describe God as we can that start with the first letter of that day of the week. On Monday, we came up with magnificent, mindblowing, and the ultimate multitasker. On Tuesday, God was truth, triumphant and totally trustworthy. This continued through Sunday, when God was supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Isn't it amazing how many words we can use to describe our God? We could go on and on, and no one word would be sufficient to describe him fully.

The Bible is filled with a multitude of words used to refer to God. In the Hebrew, we hear names such as Elohim, proclaiming the Lord as the one true God, and El Shaddai which describes God as The Almighty. In English, we have many names for God as well.

We call Him God - the divine being of immeasurable power who created the world and continues to mold it as He wills. He has powers we can not comprehend, and knows more than we can ever dream.

We call Him our Lord. The 'our' is important here, since with these words, we are naming God our superior, just as the middle age serfs answered to the call of the lords who governed their lands. When we cry out to our Lord, we are giving Him the authority to govern our lives.

We call Him Father. Just as a father wishes to have a meaningful relationship with his children, so does our Holy Father wish to hold a meaningful relationship with us. He supports us, teaches us, encourages us as we grow and learn. And He loves us, more than we can imagine.

To be honest, I've only just picked at the tip of the ice berg. What other names do we give God? What roles does He play in our lives? In Grace for the Moment, Max Lucado writes:

God is
The shepherd who guides
The Lord who provides
The voice who brings peace in the storm
The physician who heals the sick, and
The banner that guides the soldier.

In her song "I am," Nicole Nordeman sings:

When life had begun, I was woven and spun,
You let the angels dance around the throne,
And who can say when,
But they’ll dance again, when I am free and finally headed home

I will be weak, unable to speak,
still I will call You by name
“Creator, Maker, Life-sustainer,
Comforter, Healer, My Redeemer,
Lord and King, Beginning and
the End.

Who is God for you today? Who was He for you yesterday? Who will He be for you tomorrow?

Amen.

Word Associations: The Names of God

I don't spend enough time in meditation and Bible study - that is absolutely for certain. I finally got around to picking up Max Lucado's Grace for the Moment book and I'd like to see if I can come up with some "food for thought" for as many days as possible. I'll do this by reading the entry each morning and then going back to contemplate it throughout the day. I can't promise that these thoughts will be coherent or follow any logical sequence. But that's okay.

Today's devotional is about the various names that God has, the roles that He plays. Here is a little excerpt from Lucado's book:

"The shepherd who guides
The Lord who provides
The voice who provides peace in the storm,
The physician who heals the sick, and
The banner that guides the soldier"
- Grace for the Moment, Vol. 1, Max Lucado

I wanted to play a little word association with this piece. Nothing forced, just letting it mule in my head and seeing what came up. Here are a couple of the things that I ended up with.

"The shepherd who guides."

We could do some fun random thought tangents with these kinds of things. Here is how mine went:

"Shepherd" --> Psalm 23 (The Lord is my shepherd) --> Psalms!! --> Psalm 30 (my favorite psalm) --> "Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning" (v. 5b)

Huh. Not really sure how to directly connect the guiding shepherd with Psalm 30:5, but it's a fun little tangent anyway. And I do love that verse.

"The physician who heals the sick."

To be honest, if we are trying to pull out Bible verses here, I am more likely to lean towards one of the ones that says "He comforts the grieving" or something like that. And I did some reflective thinking about why. It seems as though I'm more of an advocate for inner healing than external healing. I'd rather someone be at peace with their life than healthy. Now, I know that the two are often not mutually exclusive (how can you be at peace when you are in pain all the time?) but the counselor in me is still going to advocate for internal healing - and I can tell you from personal experience how often God gives that internal healing. The answer: ALL THE TIME.

"The banner that guides the soldier."

Hmm... this is something that I might have to do some more thinking about. There are some connections to be made.

I didn't used to relate to this line. I didn't now anyone overseas or in the army or anyone who knew anyone who was. But that has changed. My sister's long-time boy friend is currently in Iraq, and we're hoping to see him come home in February. And I have watched my sister go through all of the trials that any army "wife" goes through. It's definitely made the situation more real to me.

Once I made that connection to this line, I tried to think about a Bible verse. And you know what I came up with? You'll laugh. The first verse that came to mind was the one about the armor of the Lord. You know, with the sword or righteousness and stuff? Apparently, in my subconscious mind, the armor of God would not be complete without the banner of the Lord for us to rally at in the middle of the fight.

An Except from Captive Hearts

I haven't visited Captive Hearts on this blog recently. For those of you who are new to this little Blog or have forgotten (it really has been that long), Captive Hearts is the story that I am co-writing with a friend of mine, just because. You can find a basic background to Captive Hearts in my opening post, here. It's a fantasy romance/adventure. Our fantasy world is watched over by four gods: Solarus, Lunos, Vulcos and Aquios. I love working with these gods and their mortal children because each one shows me a different face of our own Holy Father. And it's interesting how often we get to touch on issues that are as real in our world as they are in this fantasy one. Here's something that happened this week in the Heartlands:

((Elliod and Kyra have just discovered that their unborn daughter, Rena, has shamanistic sensitivities.))

Elliod swallows hard, "There have only been 3 shamans among the tribes for a long time... if one is born, then one has to die."

Kyra frowns. Of course she knows this, but... "You, Hanna... and who else?"

Elliod swallows, "Rebecca... she's a cousin in the nearby Holston tribes." He pales, "Hanna... Greatmother. She's the oldest of us... unless..." He bites his lip. "Vulcos is replacing the lost shaman."

"Lost? You mean, from... from the histories?"

Elliod nods, "Do you remember the story of the first male shaman? His greatmother was killed when Dracos broke free of his bonds. Vulcos never replaced her."

Kyra nods, "But Vulcos is sleeping. She can't have enough energy to create a new shaman, can she?"

Elliod takes a deep breath, "I don't know. When she was awake, I would ask her all sorts..." He pauses, "I wonder if I would be permitted to speak to Lunos."

Kyra blinks, then can't help a bark of laughter. "Speak to Lunos? Like, what, just request an audience? She's a goddess! And not even your goddess! You can't do that... can you?"

Elliod smiles, "But see, I have an in. I'm assisting one of her beloved sons... and she allowed me to see you pregnant and fighting. Vulcos doesn't give future visions."

"Still," Kyra shakes her head, "She comes to you when she wills it. You can't just order a goddess to appear before her so that you can interrogate her."

"I'm not going to..." He sighs and reaches up to touch his forehead. "She has to understand how important this is to me. If Rena is born what will happen to my greatmother and cousin!?"

Kyra lets out her breath in a huff. "Gods, Elliod! You are as egotistical as you are dense! The world doesn't revolve around you! And you aren't a god - you don't have to know what the future holds! You have to trust that the gods will care for us. If our child is a shaman, then there's a reason for that. Stop questioning Vulcos' intentions!"

Elliod opens his mouth and gasps, "I'm not!" He protests. "I'm..." He shuts his mouth and stands, walking over to the window and looking out into the darkness with his arms crossed.

Kyra scowls, "You are," she insists. "You just can't bear not to be in total control."

Elliod readjusts his arms and glances back at Kyra without a word. He humphs and shakes his head as he looks back out the window.

Kyra narrows her eyes and says, "Prove it."

Elliod knees the bed and kneels before his wife, "I worry. I think that's part of my job too, to worry."

Kyra snorts, "That's yet another stupid thing that you've said today. Elliod, the gods don't want us to worry. They want us to trust in them."

Elliod leans forward and presses his lips to Kyra's forehead, "I can't help it sometimes." He draws his wife close. "If I love someone, I want them to be safe."

Kyra nods, "I know." She kisses Elliod on the forehead. "But we're Vulcos' children first and formost. She will take care of her own, even asleep."

Elliod sighs and chuckles. "Since when is it the Protector's job to teach about faith, Kryanthia?"

Kyra scowls, "Since you never learned it right." Then her expression does soften. "You've been spoiled, Elliod. The holy child, the gifted one, the singer, the storyteller, the dreamer. You've always had Vulcos' ear. You don't have any idea what it's like for the rest of us who simply have to trust."


This concept is fascinating to me, and something that I think has a lot of meat to it. The idea that the poor will be rich and the last will be first all spirals around to this same idea. The idea that in order to have faith, in order to trust, you must first be uncertain. To say it with different words, you can't let God take control if you are still clinging to the reins. Wow.

Questions for Heaven

"I guess in Heaven I'll learn
I'll be waiting my turn
To ask about quasars and feathers
I hope the line isn't long
I hope Your patience is strong
It's a good thing forever's forever"
-Questions for Heaven, Chris Rice

I haven't posted in a while, mostly because I've been on Summer vacation. My classes start on Monday, and I'm sure I'll have a lot of material to share then. But for now, I wanted to share a little experience of mine.

In my kittypix community, there was a famous kitty named Dusky. Famous because we all knew him by name. Dusky was a newborn kitten, abandoned by his feral momma and adopted by a pair of good samaritan humans. Kimberly and Amanda worked day and night to keep Dusky fed and when he got sick and had to go into the vet, they continued to go in every couple of hours to feed him while keeping him on oxygen. It cost lots of money as well as time and effort. But he recovered. He finally got to come home to Kimberly and he was almost off of oxygen and was looking so much better. Meanwhile, we rooted and cheered for the little guy on kittypix, basking in the multitude of pictures that Kimberly posted. He was our little hero.

And then, suddenly, he was gone. He was at the vet's and in 30 minutes, he went from fine to... gone.

Kimberly was crushed, and so were we all. I was a wreck for several days, and I have amazing friends that were here to help me through it. Now, weeks later, I have finally gotten the courage to talk about what I learned from that experience, in an e-mail to one of those close friends:


I've been doing a lot of thinking about Dusky. He's the kitten who died a few weeks back when I got really upset. The thing is, part of the reason that I was upset was that he was doing so well, and everyone was so excited and then he was just gone. It was like God had given him a challenge and the girls worked so hard and he got better and God gave everyone hope that he'd be fine, and then God just took him away. Kimberly (Dusky's foster mom) was crushed. And the other reason that I was upset is that when my sister found out, she pointed out that the mother had abandoned Dusky and a mother knows. And that pissed me off because, even though I know she's right (in nature, mothers can tell when one baby isn't likely to survive), it just... I mean, it was like, does that mean that we should just let someone die, "Oh, he's predestined to die, so we shouldn't ever bother trying to heal him." I'm sorry, but that's bull shit! God wouldn't punish someone for trying to give someone else a chance to live. So, yeah...

Anyway, this morning, something occurred to me on the way to work. I know when you face these hard questions, the response is almost always either, "You just have to accept that God has His reasons," or "We can never know the answer." But when a question is really important to you, those are not easy answers to swallow... And the truth is, I don't think they should be. Because as God's children, we SHOULD be truth seekers. And part of seeking the truth is asking questions.

Which is what led me to my realization this morning. This realization is that when I get to heaven, I am going to ask God why he took Dusky. Does that seem kind of petty and silly? Perhaps. But... The difference is subtle. It's like... I realized that I could ask questions and still trust God to know the answers, while at the same time accepting that I cannot comprehend the answers RIGHT NOW. But someday... Someday I'll see the whole picture.

I think this is a concept that I'll use when I start my practice as a Christian Counselor. There's a subtle but powerful difference between just saying, "I can never know the answer to my questions," and writing a journal of "all the questions I will ask God when I get to heaven." If the questions are important enough to us, we should not be afraid to ask them, even if we know the answer will be long coming.

So, yeah, sorry for that tangent. The reason for all of this is that when I got to work, after coming to this realization, I found that Kimberly had made an update on kitypix. Apparently, she and Amanda and several others have gone out to track down Dusky's littermates. They've found Dusky's littermates, but can't get to them yet. But they also found another little of kittens of a feral momma and brought them home so that they can have happy lives of petting and loving and sleeping on laps.

Is that why God took Dusky? So that half a dozen other kittens would get a chance to live the same life? I don't know. It's possible. Wouldn't Kimberly and Amanda have gone back for the other kittens anyway? I'd like to think so. But would Kimberly have been as determined (she spent 3 days of searching) if she hadn't just lost Dusky? I don't know. But... It's something to think about. At any rate, yeah, Dusky is on my list of things that I want to ask God about when I get to heaven.