Empirical and Practical Truths; Questions for the self

Zach--As I understand it from your last post, when the empirical and practical come into phase, the fact that these two different approaches fall into accord can point to a metaphysical truth. If I understand it correctly, it brings to mind some of the research into emotion I did. Psychologists--"not the useful kind" as one of my professors put it--researching emotion list all of the effects of having an emotion. Some write, when you are sad, you are more focused. When you are happy, you are more creative. What they have done is set up strict experiments with a theoretical structure of emotion in mind, and then observed these effects. But sometimes I'll read a paper and say to myself, "This doesn't make much sense! Why would being primed with sadness make one do so and so?"

There are many times when psychologists and lay people alike will read empirical results and extrapolate away. In an article in Wired, Brendan Koerner extrapolates from research into creativity that reading or posting Twitter messages can be beneficial not detrimental to workers. After all, research shows that external and less obvious routes to overcoming stress, such as doing yoga or taking a walk, can promote greater productivity. But we know that not all forms of distraction are equal. Working on a hobby or playing a sport are simply not equivalent to watching TV or browsing Twitter posts.

Of course there are many good scientific articles, where the psychologists have a sense for the full scope of human nature, and consider their research of an emotion in light of the full and complex workings of the human. These are articles where the empirical truths coincide with the felt truth. At any rate, reading William James sounds very interesting, and I'll have to get my hands on that book. All this talk makes me want to read Kuhn's Structure of Scientific Revolutions.

Shifting gears, I want to share a paragraph that I set aside for posting on this blug, a few days ago. It comes from Haruki Murakami's gentle and thoughtful "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running," a take-off of Raymond Carver's "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love."

Most of what I know about writing I've learned through running every day. These are practical, physical lessons. How much can I push myself? How much rest is appropriate--and how much is too much? How far can I take something and still keep it decent and consistent? When does it become narrow-minded and inflexible? How much should I be aware of the world outside, and how much should I focus on my inner world? To what extent should I be confident in my abilities, and when should I start doubting myself?

In addition to thoughts about not doing/producing/creating enough, these are questions I encounter every day. Also I think lots about the nature-nurture debate...

I'm reading Chabon's Mysteries right now. It's hysterical, and about to get gay (I can only guess). I love how Arthur LeComte has lived in so many places in Pittsburgh. I love all of the places, Highland Park, the corner of Forbes and Wightman, Elbow Room. I lived at the corner of Forbes and Wightman, I had a few dates at the Elbow Room, and while I didn't know the Bellweathers, I was a Hebrew who ran through the Highland Park neighborhood and enjoyed a coffee there.