Spencer Reid (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
polyhistor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tushanshu2013-02-06 08:10 am
polyhistor) wrote in tushanshu2013-02-06 08:10 am
Entry tags:
- † agent north dakota,
- † albel nox,
- † alcuin nó delaunay,
- † ariadne,
- † arthur,
- † assorted characters,
- † astrid farnsworth (alt),
- † cassandra cain,
- † charles xavier,
- † clark kent,
- † combeferre,
- † damian wayne,
- † death the kid,
- † dominick cobb,
- † donnie darko,
- † enjolras,
- † jack frost,
- † jean prouvaire,
- † kon-el,
- † kyle rayner,
- † leonardo (2003),
- † oliver queen,
- † ororo munroe,
- † pepper potts,
- † stephanie brown,
- † tommy shepherd,
- † tony stark (mcu)
[video || cafe post || action?]
[Reid hates technology. No, he really, genuinely does. Computers don't move fast enough to keep up with him, and he has a long-established love of hard copies where literature is concerned. But the fact of the matter is, there are very few books here. So here he is, seated at a console, half a dozen of the local books he could find stacked beside him and several empty coffee cups as well. Recently, he's taken to drinking green tea, but a lapse in that particular habit seems appropriate considering his surroundings.]
You know, the terminology relating to a meta or 'multiverse' was originally coined by William James, a philosopher and psychologist in the late nineteen hundreds. His paper, titled 'Is Life Worth Living?' was published in the 1985 October Edition of the International Journal of Ethics. He postulated that, with the decline of social religion all 'visible' nature (that is to say, everything we see and experience) is in and of itself a 'moral' multiverse as opposed to being a moral 'universe'. He was referring to the visible nature of the world - good existing alongside evil, with every imaginable shade in between. Each nuance of the world then became in and of itself a 'multiverse' in James' ideal.
The neologism didn't actually enter into common vernacular until much later and under a drastically different context, but the concept of other worlds or parallel universes - what we today call a 'multiverse' - has actually been around for centuries, generally tied to religious philosophies of the time. Muslim theologian al-Ghazālī believed that it was not only possible but highly probable. His extrapolation was that that Earth was the best of all possible worlds and that humans occupied it as a form of divine right, stating that 'there is in possibility nothing more wondrous than what is'.
[a brief pause, because... he's generally not used to speaking so long without interruption.]
Essentially, the concept of a 'life, death or dreaming' state faintly echoes several Buddhist or Hindu philosophies, though equally suggestive of liminality. The continual repetition of that 'life/death/dreaming' theme represents a trinity; three is often considered a holy number in any number of doctrines. Three also represents the body (life), the soul (death) and the spirit (dreaming). And then, the fact that there are five districts also reinforces the ties to numerology. If you go by the numerical value of the Hebrew letter 'He' or 'five' it symbolizes the universal life, the breath of man, the air, the spirit and the soul.
Oh-- right, liminality. Liminality was another word coined in the same philosophical era as William James' 'multiverse' by Arnold Vann Gennep in his 1908 paper Rites de Passage. It's from the Latin līmen which means 'threshold' and it's a word used to describe the transitionary phase during a ritualistic transformation, during which the participant's own identity is considered to be void until the process is complete and the individual can be reborn. It's almost a contract – during this process you forsake your identity, your sense of self, your titles and earthly possessions all for the sake of a form of theoretical transcendental enlightenment. It's this fluidity of self that enables change and dissolution of old habits or customs to make way for the new. It's not limited to an individual, either; it can be applied to groups of people – such as a graduating highschool class – or to societies and cultures as a whole and I believe it's what we're technically undergoing now.
Liminality is considered a tripartite structure, and each segment of that structure is as follows: preliminal rites, or rites of separation. This stage involves a metaphorical 'death' undergone by the initiand. They're essentially forced to leave something behind by breaking away from previous practices and routines, or by, say, coming to Keeliai.
The liminal rites – or transitionary rites – involve the creation of a sort of... tabula rasa, a blank slate, through the removal of limits and forms previously taken for granted. There are two primary characteristics to this stage of the rite, first: the rite 'must follow a strictly prescribed sequence, where everybody knows what to do and how'. Because this rite is a fundamental deconstruction of the self and self-held values, it's meant quite literally to mirror the act of walking over a threshold between two worlds.
The postliminal rites, or 'rites of incorporation' are the third and final sequence. During this stage, the initiand is re-incorporated into society, essentially born again as a 'new' being.
[CRICKETS. CRICKETS ARE CHIRPING IN THE BACKGROUND, REID. He awkwardly clears his throat.]
All... right so... um, hi. I'm Doctor Spencer Reid. Any questions...?
[for those of you who didn't turn the console off ten seconds into his impromptu lecture??
ooc; also: a permissions post.]
You know, the terminology relating to a meta or 'multiverse' was originally coined by William James, a philosopher and psychologist in the late nineteen hundreds. His paper, titled 'Is Life Worth Living?' was published in the 1985 October Edition of the International Journal of Ethics. He postulated that, with the decline of social religion all 'visible' nature (that is to say, everything we see and experience) is in and of itself a 'moral' multiverse as opposed to being a moral 'universe'. He was referring to the visible nature of the world - good existing alongside evil, with every imaginable shade in between. Each nuance of the world then became in and of itself a 'multiverse' in James' ideal.
The neologism didn't actually enter into common vernacular until much later and under a drastically different context, but the concept of other worlds or parallel universes - what we today call a 'multiverse' - has actually been around for centuries, generally tied to religious philosophies of the time. Muslim theologian al-Ghazālī believed that it was not only possible but highly probable. His extrapolation was that that Earth was the best of all possible worlds and that humans occupied it as a form of divine right, stating that 'there is in possibility nothing more wondrous than what is'.
[a brief pause, because... he's generally not used to speaking so long without interruption.]
Essentially, the concept of a 'life, death or dreaming' state faintly echoes several Buddhist or Hindu philosophies, though equally suggestive of liminality. The continual repetition of that 'life/death/dreaming' theme represents a trinity; three is often considered a holy number in any number of doctrines. Three also represents the body (life), the soul (death) and the spirit (dreaming). And then, the fact that there are five districts also reinforces the ties to numerology. If you go by the numerical value of the Hebrew letter 'He' or 'five' it symbolizes the universal life, the breath of man, the air, the spirit and the soul.
Oh-- right, liminality. Liminality was another word coined in the same philosophical era as William James' 'multiverse' by Arnold Vann Gennep in his 1908 paper Rites de Passage. It's from the Latin līmen which means 'threshold' and it's a word used to describe the transitionary phase during a ritualistic transformation, during which the participant's own identity is considered to be void until the process is complete and the individual can be reborn. It's almost a contract – during this process you forsake your identity, your sense of self, your titles and earthly possessions all for the sake of a form of theoretical transcendental enlightenment. It's this fluidity of self that enables change and dissolution of old habits or customs to make way for the new. It's not limited to an individual, either; it can be applied to groups of people – such as a graduating highschool class – or to societies and cultures as a whole and I believe it's what we're technically undergoing now.
Liminality is considered a tripartite structure, and each segment of that structure is as follows: preliminal rites, or rites of separation. This stage involves a metaphorical 'death' undergone by the initiand. They're essentially forced to leave something behind by breaking away from previous practices and routines, or by, say, coming to Keeliai.
The liminal rites – or transitionary rites – involve the creation of a sort of... tabula rasa, a blank slate, through the removal of limits and forms previously taken for granted. There are two primary characteristics to this stage of the rite, first: the rite 'must follow a strictly prescribed sequence, where everybody knows what to do and how'. Because this rite is a fundamental deconstruction of the self and self-held values, it's meant quite literally to mirror the act of walking over a threshold between two worlds.
The postliminal rites, or 'rites of incorporation' are the third and final sequence. During this stage, the initiand is re-incorporated into society, essentially born again as a 'new' being.
[CRICKETS. CRICKETS ARE CHIRPING IN THE BACKGROUND, REID. He awkwardly clears his throat.]
All... right so... um, hi. I'm Doctor Spencer Reid. Any questions...?
[for those of you who didn't turn the console off ten seconds into his impromptu lecture??
ooc; also: a permissions post.]
no subject
And then she quickly shakes her head.]
No, it's - you don't have to. Apologise. [A small, fond smile.] I know - someone else, who loves words. Works for her.
I just - um. [She raises a hand, turning it about.] Use actions, more.
no subject
[He smiles a little.]
I know sign language too, if you'd rather speak that way?
[Since... that's kind of what he's assuming she means.]
no subject
Really? Didn't think - anyone understood that.
[She shakes her head, smile lingering.] Thanks, but - no. [Her gaze turns thoughtful.] Maybe I should - learn that, though.
no subject
[And everything he can profile about her over the console tells him she's a good person. So.]
Would you like to? I could teach it quite easily.
no subject
[Then he makes his offer, and for the second time, she's a little stunned.]
You would? But - you don't... [But he feels like he knows her enough. There's - it's not quite familiarity, but a certain confidence. The sort she feels, when she sees that a person means no harm.
So she smiles, soft and grateful.] Thank you. I'm Cass.
no subject
[Morgan would like her. The thought occurs to him with a sort of absolute certainty.]
I'm, um, free I guess almost any time. So don't be afraid to ask for lessons.
no subject
[Barbara would like him, she's sure of it now.]
Most of my jobs are in the morning - you'll need those, soon.
no subject
[... slight, mischievous look.]
I don't suppose the city needs a stage magician.
[This is the story of how he performed a neat sleight of hand directly in view of the camera. A simple matter of moving a coin (juulan are heavier than American coins, but he's had a lot of practice) from one hand to the other.]
no subject
That's great!
[Then she's rummaging around for a coin of her own. When she finds it, she spreads her hand in front of the camera, and imitates the trick.]
no subject
[She seems like the sort of person who appreciates gentle encouragement, and god knows he didn't get enough of it in his life (save from his mother, but... although he never doubted she loved him, sometimes her statements of praise were suspect. If she'd been off her meds). He likes handing it out to other people that deserve it.]
no subject
Sounds fun. How much - do you know?
no subject
no subject
Could you teach me that, too?
Never really had, um. Hobbies.
no subject
I-- yeah, of course. I'd like that.
no subject
You're...worried. About me.
no subject
Not... worried per se. I'm just not sure what it would be like to grow up without any hobbies.
no subject
no subject
I'll bet.
[And there's sympathy there. Understanding, too.]
no subject
Better, now.
no subject
[It's written in the way she moves, and it's good to see.]
no subject
no subject
I had help. [A tiny, shy little smile.] Friends.
no subject
Never - had any. Growing up.
no subject
[bonding???]