An Analysis of Finitude — Part Four

But if we are transcendent beings, a question arises as to how we are then to understand our openness to being….

‘It could be that the ‘who’ of everyday Dasein just is not the ‘I myself’’’, wrote Heidegger. Dasein stretches out of itself towards that which is not itself and in the process it discovers itself to be influenced and moulded by the objects and other Dasein it encounters in the world; Dasein is thereby perpetually subjected to alterations of which the philosophical tradition has failed to account, it is claimed. As John D. Caputo (1940 -) puts it: ‘In philosophy, becoming is always getting subverted by being’.

Philosophers have endeavoured to circumscribe and to scale down the self within the terms of formal concepts, and yet our fundamental manner of existence constitutes an irreducible movement of becoming; it rests in a movement not between possibility and actuality as philosophers have supposed, but between possibility and necessity; which is to say, we are not to begin with merely being here, that is to say, present, and then to subsequently occupy the future; rather, we are simultaneously both necessary and possible amidst actuality.

Kierkegaard therefore contends that ‘the self is just as much possible as necessary; although it is indeed itself, it has to become itself. To the extent that it is itself, it is necessary; and to the extent that it must become itself, it is a possibility’. In order to relate to ourselves it is necessary to reach beyond ourselves towards that which we are transcended by; that is to say, our manner of being has to consist of that which is necessarily never depleted and also indefinite and undefined, lacking in determination. Dasein is a being the essence of which is existence, forever oriented towards the realm of its possibilities and never determined in its totality. The indeterminate character of the not yet is always present in Dasein; and Kierkegaard and Heidegger together regard our manner of being as fundamentally characterised by both a temporal depositioning of possibilities and a temporal determination of necessity; consequently, what is required is a temporal re-conceptualising in order to attain towards a temporal authenticity.

Whereas the Greeks emphasised a reverse movement of recollection, (recall Plato (428/427 or 424/423–348/347 B.C.E.) and the doctrine of recollection or anamnesis, whereby we are born possessing all knowledge and our realization of that knowledge is contingent upon our discovery, or rather rediscovery, of said knowledge), Kierkegaard prefers the notion of repetition, conceived of as a forward movement; the self or human spirit thereby signifies that which is guiding us forward; and existence and the self being characterised as referring to itself is emblematic of our manner of projecting ourselves towards possibilities. Every Dasein is a ‘Being towards a possibility’, according to Heidegger. ‘The actuality is transcendent to the possibility’, declares Caputo, ‘not determined, enclosed, precontained by it’.

But then, how can we understand ourselves and our finitude more thoroughly if we are fundamentally opened up towards, and moulded by, that which is not ourselves? Undergoing a total exposure to the other, that is to say; does this not render our self-understanding unachievable?

It has to be asked, whether Kierkegaard and Heidegger’s analyses, moving away, as they do, from a perceived philosophical tradition and its abstractions, towards a perception of concrete being in the world, really do assist us towards a clearer understanding of ourselves in our finitude. Any analysis of our finitude, of the limits and boundaries to our condition, should of course at some point deal with its most obvious manifestation, namely, death. It is of little help to be informed that it is only because Dasein exists that its non-existence can ever come into being as a matter of concern for it. Given that Dasein does continually relate to itself by means of projection whether voluntarily or not, and given its possibilities to project itself towards a particular way of being or in some alternative way, it thereby exists as a Being-towards-a-possibility; but, ultimately, as a Being-towards-death.

What then becomes significant is the moment at which Dasein encounters the impossibility of projecting itself; it is possible for Dasein to foretell of its non-existence, and to act in advance of it. Death, that condition whereby we can no longer project ourselves towards a possibility. Kierkegaard and Heidegger both hypothesise that only the self and Dasein exist while other beings (existents?) simply are; only the self and Dasein retain the possibility of anticipating and confronting its own demise. That which exists alone can die, and dies alone; the projection of Dasein incorporates within itself ‘the possibility of the impossibility of any existence at all’, as Heidegger puts it.

Death should therefore not be looked upon as that which is subsequent to the cessation of physiological functions, but rather as Dasein’s complete inability to project its possibility. It is always a possibility for Dasein, this impossibility to project its possibility; this is its very manner of being; and as such death does not merely attend upon or foretoken Dasein as that which is yet to be; death in actuality is present before Dasein as its concrete possibility; the mode of Dasein is that of ‘Being-towards-death’. And the argument then goes that through the anticipation of its own death, considered as the total dispossession of all possibilities, Dasein finally has an authentic encounter with itself. Every Dasein has to encounter itself through itself, and such an encounter must be a personal one; in effect, all of the abstract ideas that preoccupied the philosophical tradition are now replaced, by Kierkegaard and Heidegger, through setting aright the direction of interest and attention in the manner just outlined; and now we have a clearer understanding of who we are and of our way of Being-in-the-world.

But is this really so? Does not every self or persona have its own shadow, as Carl Jung, (1875–1961), proposed? At a young age, Jung argues, as we begin to develop a sense of self, a conscious ego, two interdependent psychological systems begin to form; the persona and the shadow. The persona is the socially acceptable mask of personality that we wear in order both to fit into and to succeed in the social world. Many of us identify overmuch with our persona, while our shadow is repressed into the dark corners of our consciousness, with much discord and strife emerging as a consequence of the development of uncontrollable self-destructive proclivities, or addictions, and, as we are on the subject of Dasein and its projections, perhaps of the shadow that is doing the projecting. For we can ask of Kierkegaard and Heidegger, concerning the projection of the mind’s possibilities, what is it that is being projected into what?

If the shadow is to be integrated with the persona then necessarily the darkness must become visible, so to speak; that is to say, conscious. For the shadow has within it strengths and sources of rejuvenation, and yet over the course of our development we have been led to consider what the shadow has to offer as negative, improper, shameful and valueless; for it is unclear what the reason could ever be to repress properties of personality that are positive; and with regard to their role in socialisation the processes of repression are clear enough. But the question is really how to adequately deal with the more dangerous qualities that inhabit the shadow, such as the suppressed hostility, and the impulse to destruction that exists within the structure of our being.

Recognition of and compliance with the shadow is not only a necessary but also a most wished for and desirous aspect of our personality. While it is often a troublesome and turbulent an encounter that we have with the shadow it can be the beginning of a psychological rejuvenation, for the shadow is the part of your personality you have repressed throughout the course of your development; and to then encounter it is to unearth a completely different side of your personality, together with energies, impulses and distinguishing qualities that can assist you in conquering the unrest and anxieties, and limitations (finitude) that you presently have to face up to in your personal lives.

According to Jung, that which is indispensable for a robust and properly functioning personality is individuation… one ponders if this is the same as, or at least similar too, Kierkegaard’s observation:’… to have a self, to be a self, is the greatest concession made to man, but at the same time it is eternity’s demand upon him’.

The Jungian analysis proceeds thus: a personal unconscious suppresses elements from its personal history while inflating other parts of the psyche (to which I always think, if only suppression were really possible, if only it were true I could suppress either memories or anything that disturbs me about myself). And of course that which lacks proper expression in consciousness, whatever that may be, results in a confrontation with the contents of the unconscious; a conflict which, so the theory goes, will eventually bring about a much more harmonious balance between these different parts of the psyche.

Dreams, so many interesting dreams, I have had. (‘The clouds methought would open and show riches. Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked, I cried to dream again’, declared Caliban. (Shakespeare, ‘The Tempest’, Act 3, Scene 2)). I do not recall a dream I ever wanted to return to; that may be just me; but the point is that, according to Jung, dreams provide us with access to the unconscious domain; and by recording and analysing one’s dreams, (which personally I would prefer not to do), determining their meaning and relevance, (does that not presuppose a meaning and relevance imposed by the conscious mind?) one could then integrate the content of the unconscious into the conscious. And then the first stage into the investigation of the unconscious is an encounter with the shadow’s archetype… during the progress of your life certain traits of your personality elicit negative feedback, and even disciplining and chastising from others; a negative feedback that produces anxiety; hence such traits are put out of play, no longer in consciousness, but forming the shadow in the unconscious… that dark side of one’s personality, (shades of the ‘Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’, by Robert Louis Stevenson, (1850–1894))). Such negative feedback thus creates anxiety; and to become aware of and to integrate the shadow into consciousness is an often difficult and sometimes a courageous endeavour, (but then, what is courage? See Plato, ‘Laches’).

Which brings us back to the exploits of our unnamed Danish film director in the Brian Aldiss story, ‘The Moment of Eclipse’, (see ‘An Analysis of Finitude — Part One’). Having spent much of his time in the story pursuing another man’s wife, on the very point of receiving the sexual favours he has craved for, he is suddenly assailed by a mysterious ailment:

‘… my sight was eclipsed from within….

……

… Nothing can convey the terror of that experience! Something that moved, that moved across my vision as steadily and as irretrievably as the cursed shadow in Hardy’s sonnet. And, as I managed still to stare at my gold-haloed face in the mirror, I saw the shadow move in my eye, traverse my eyeball, glide slowly — so eternally slowly! — across the iris from north to south.

Exquisite physical and psychological pain were mine. Worse, I was pierced through by the dread of death — by what I imagined a new death: and I saw vividly, with an equally pain-laden inner eye, all my vivid pleasures, carnal and spiritual alike, and all my gifts, brought tumbling into that ultimate chill shadow of the grave.

There at that mirror, as if all my life I had been rooted there, I suffered alone and in terror, spasms coursing through my frame, so far from my normal senses that I could not even hear my own screams. And the terrible thing moved over my eyeball and conquered me!’

What he is experiencing turns out to be loiasis infestation; a parasitic worm that has a three or four year incubation period before the adult stage emerges; the loiasis vector is a blood-sucking fly, the larva of which enters the bloodstream upon being bitten by the fly; the victim is then an involuntary host to a parasitic worm habitually moving from place to place and with a particular predilection for subcutaneous tissue. The eclipse of the eyeball in this instance produces something of a reverse epiphany, or rather,what is revealed are the dark subterranean meanderings in which consciousness itself is a mere side effect, a trick of the light; a dark condition of our being, and in our endless delving we surface now and then by accident into a position and a moment where our presence can influence a broader labyrinth of feelings and sensations.

All of which recalls some lines of a Shakespeare sonnet, in which the poet is apparently reproaching a youth for taking away his mistress, though our imagination must necessarily provide the details. The point, however, is that there are flaws, dark spots, to be discovered even within the most beautiful things; and once it was believed that clouds and mists brought with them pollution and contagion, and eclipses potentially were even more treacherous and deadly, foretelling destruction…and the loathsome canker is a worm or disease which is destructive of flowers. All men and women make faults, that is, they are prone to error; or commit sins, if you like; a heart of darkness, a shadow of an inherent sinfulness, if your view of human nature tends that way, or of something even more dark in its mysteriousness and its self-destructive effects:

No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:

Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud:

Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,

And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.

All men make faults …

‘Sonnet 36’, William Shakespeare, (1564–1616).

THE END