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In the Sphere of Silence. Vijay Eswaran is also a highly acclaimed author whose first book, 'In the Sphere of Silence' has been translated into several languages. In the Sphere of Silence book. Read 42 reviews from the world's largest community for readers. In this remarkably simple book, Vijay Eswaran shares the s. By the simple and regular practice of the Sphere of Silence, we acquire an intense insight into everything we do and are able to accomplish great things with our.
Map the success or progress rate of the tasks planned and identify reasons for failure. What was done well and what can be joyfully improved?
What were the learnings from yesterday? What can be done differently next time?
Write down all these reflections. Feel the way you would feel if you have already integrated the learnings.
Present 10 mins This is where we plan for today and list down our activities for the day. It is important to keep this list very realistic. What are the most important things that you must do today? What are some other things that are nice to do?
Apart from doing, what inner attitude or quality of being do you intend to practice all day today? Feel the way you would feel if you have already done all these things, better than anticipated.
As the psychologist William James and a gener- ation of modernist writers sought to demonstrate, stream of consciousness is a ubiquitous and overriding component of mental life.
We can therefore never ascertain his mother tongue. On the threshold of giving us his story only to take it away, Foe interrogates the political platitude of giving voice, which is to say, the devotion to speech whether literal or metaphorical as evidence of the plenitude of political recognition and presence, a view that rests on an uninterrogated conception of language as property.
Language is leased from language itself. Lessees without lessors, we have no choice but to sign an agreement that gives access to the signs in which we dwell but do not fully inhabit. If language is originarily alien to each and every speaking human, even to the vast majority of those whose tongues have not been violently severed, then any claim of property or proximity that would permit language to inhabit us, and vice versa, is undermined by an irremediable ex-habitation.
Yet I wager that we must 6 C. PETERSON risk this allegation in order to demonstrate how the investment in language as property fails to recognise its own colonialising imperatives. Many readers have often associated Derrida with a similar imperative to respect alterity, especially given the Levinasian echoes that resound throughout his work. My monolingualism dwells, and I call it my dwelling; it feels like one to me, and I remain in it and inhabit it.
It inhabits me. The monolin- gualism in which I draw my very breath is, for me, my element. Yet a preoccupation with an insuperable solipsism can be traced all the way back to Voice and Phenomenon , one of his earliest published books. A purely idiomatic sign would not be a sign. A silent utterance that could not be repeated, that was so idiomatic as to bear no relation to the past or to the future, an utterance absolutely tied to the singular life of the ipse, is absolutely dead.
If the phantasm of auto-affection is produced in and through the reduction of an originary hetero-affection, then ironically the plenitude of a living speech that would remain absolutely close to me can only be achieved at the expense of denying language its life, its capacity to signify above and beyond my breath.
PETERSON Here the reference point is the principle of analogical appresentation that Husserl develops in The Fifth Cartesian Meditation: Neither the other Ego himself, nor his subjective processes or his appearances themselves, nor anything else belonging to his own essence, becomes given in our experience originally.
The quasi-monadic self is the condition of possibility for my indirect perception of the alter ego. While Levinas insists that the other is absolutely other rather than an alter ego, Derrida points out that, if the other were not recognized as a transcendental alter ego, it would be entirely in the world and not, as ego, the origin of the world. To refuse to see in it an ego in this sense is, within the ethical order, the very gesture of all violence.
Although Husserl maintains that interior mono- logue constitutes a closed sphere of pure expression in which the indicative function of language disappears, Derrida argues that this absence of indication is illusory. It only appears that the subject does not have to pass outside of himself in order to be immediately affected by its activity of expression.
Auto-affection is thus always already hetero-affection because my own self-relation is appresentive, that is, mediated through rep- resentational traces that precede and exceed me. Such traces haunt the concluding segment of Foe in a number of ways. The novel thus stages this incomplete, appresentational contact when it welcomes us into his home, only to be immediately borne away by the stream emanating from his mouth.
The home of Friday thus des- ignates an impossible place where absolute interiority coincides with absolute exteriority. That standard is the body. What force could an unrepresented or unrepresentable power wield? A language without alterity is no language at all.
The zero-minus-one of this language before language names the empty placeholder of a purely idiomatic language where bodies would have no need of signs. Yet on what basis ought Susan to accept that Friday has no tongue? Why should it not be so?
The world is more various than we ever give it credit for. Moreover, her revulsion towards his ostensible mutilation is not solely an expression of moral outrage against the cruelties of slavery.
If auto-affection is always already riven by hetero-affection, if appresentational spatial and representational temporal traces expose my monadic self to an exteriority that mediates both my self-relation and my relation to others, then neither pure self-containment nor pure openness towards alterity is possible.
What Derrida wants to say is that meaning is always bound up with volition. Yet how are we to separate her wanting to say from his wanting to say? How does Susan even know that Friday wants to say any- thing? Even more than a fetish, it is possible that this ostensible tool of emancipation carries its own techniques of subjugation- that it converges with non-emancipatory tendencies in contemporary culture. As a white woman eliciting speech from a black man, Susan is not unaware of the power dynamic that subtends their relationship: I tell myself that I talk to Friday to educate him out of darkness and silence.
But is that the truth? There are times when benevolence deserts me and I use words only as the shortest way to subject him to my will. At such times I understand why Cruso preferred not to disturb his muteness.
I understand, that is to say, why a man will choose to be a slaveowner. Do you think less of me for this confession? Whereas Susan conceives speech as divided between expressive and repres- sive forms of power, she views silence as unfailingly repressive.
PETERSON cognizance of discursive and confessional power thus fails to dislodge the equation of silence with oppression to which she largely subscribes. As Fou- cault argues in The History of Sexuality, however, Discourses are not once and for all subservient to power or raised up against it, any more than silences are.
We must make allowance for the complex and unstable process whereby discourse can be both an instrument and an effect of power, but also a hindrance, a stumbling-block, a point of resistance and a starting point for an opposing strategy. Discourse transmits and produces power; it reinforces it, but also undermines and exposes it, renders it fragile and makes it possible to thwart it.
In like manner, silence and secrecy are a shelter for power, anchoring its prohibitions; but they also loosen its holds and provide for relatively obscure areas of tolerance. Not only does silence not equate to the absence of speech — as the activity of internal monologue demonstrates — but this ostensibly pure expressivity cannot separate itself from the indicative world, which is to say that it cannot withdraw from alterity tout court.
Yet, the wanting-to-say of signifying practices is inherently fetishistic insofar as the desire to align saying and meaning — whether the meaning of internal soliloquy or of spoken utterance my own or that of the other — always strives for an unachievable plenitude.
The absolute coincidence of sign and meaning may be an impossibility, yet the abandonment of all signifying practices is neither desirable nor achievable.
Nevertheless, the desire for the absolute diaphaneity of the sign can and ought to be curtailed precisely in the name of the alterity that no politics or ethics can do without — in the name, that is, of a lesser solipsism. The spectre of solipsism is often invoked as a menace to be avoided at all costs, a threat to all intersubjectivity, to all social, ethical, and political obligations. The other exists both within and without us as precisely what will always escape the ego and prohibit its total enislement.
There is no world, there are only islands. All humans both do and do not inhabit the same world. I can only bear the trace of you and your world within the worldless world in which I dwell but to which I only have partial access, this veiled world whose opacity owes precisely to the existence of other worlds, spheres whose presence I encounter only appresentationally through the traces those worlds imprint on me.