Giant footsteps . . .

t's Odin's day. And, speaking of giants, its the day of James Baldwin's birth. The novelist, essayist, and activist author was born on this day in 1924 Harlem, New York.

As we walk The Way, let us not look up so much at the destination, high above in the mist, but carefully place one foot in front of the other. – Andrew Olendzki

After yesterday's post re: “More Yang bias in the historical record . . . no surprise” I opened a new email that extended the screed. It was posted by Aeon on the historial marginalizion of women in analytic philosophy. It could be applied to any conceivable arena of human activity. Not to beg the issue (beat another dead horse?) but...as we know “history is writ by them who done the hangin,” meaning in our time “white male academicians.” That said, the matter for contemplation is who are all those folks on the margins and why are they there?

What is it that we don't know that our ignorant/unrecognized biases has marginalized? I think this question drives the explosion of the narrative memoir . . . if not this blog.

My bones sense that the combination of quantum computing and AI is likely to rewrite everything we think we know. Which might be a good thing. Or not. Which is a much longer essay than even the Aeon post. https://aeon.co/essays/the-lost-women-of-early-analytic-philosophy

“What matters is the transformative power of metaphor and the stories we tell ourselves about the arc and meaning of our lives. . . .To survive trauma one must be able to tell a story about it ”
― Natasha Trethewey, Memorial Drive: A Daughter's Memoir

Go Tell It on the Mountain – James Baldwin, whose birthday was celebrated yesterday.

Said Mrs. Blake of the poet:

I miss my husband's company – he is so often in paradise.

Of course the path to heaven doesn't lie down in flat miles.

It's in the imagination and gestures with which you honor it.

– Mary Oliver, “The Swan,” The House of Light, Beacon Press; Later Printing edition (April 8, 1992)