Phaedrus-The Incessant Knocking

Phaedrus. I first encountered Plato’s Phaedrus by mistake. I once signed up for a course “Speech Writing and Meaning.” Speechwriting! But I failed to notice the commas, “Speech, Writing, and Meaning.” No Lincoln’s Second Inaugural, I got blindsided by Plato to Derrida and Augustine to Nietzsche.

Fast-forward to this past winter break. Phaedrus. After enough “you should read this” recommendations for Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, a Goodwill paperback find, a 22 hour bus ride to Denver, and a 22 hour bus ride back to Minneapolis, I can say “you should read this.”

Three weeks later in this class—knock, knock—“who’s there?”—“Phaedrus”—“Who the hell are you!” So now, being in the Department of Blog, I will try to answer this incessant knocking in this blog entry.

Phaedrus is the incessant knocking not satisfied with crumbs. Knock, knock—“What is Love?” (Phaedrus). Knock, knock—“What is Quality?” (Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance). Knock, knock—“Is the way I have sought to follow Christ the proper way?” (The heading of a “reflection” I wrote one month before my religious “fallout” quite a few years ago).

I bring my reflection into this discussion deliberately. Who was the author of my reflection? I concluded the reflection, “I guess I am coming to the conclusion that humans are incapable of properly following God by their own judgement and beliefs. Therefore they must imitate the Blessed.” “Must imitate”—did my values prevent me from being an author? Did my “fallout” allow me to become an author?

I will throw one more twist in. I had extensive paper journals and reflections that after my “fallout,” I gathered up, and threw every last scrap of paper away. I couldn’t stand to look or have in existence what I had written only weeks or months before. For some reason I was fine saving a few of the files on my computer, perhaps since they did not bear my handwriting. I am not sure what to make of this. Did I throw away the journals to become an author or to destroy an author?

To tie the discussion back to Phaedrus, I am intrigued that Robert Pirsig, the author of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance refers to his “insane” previous self as ‘Phaedrus.’ Pirsig does not speak in terms of when he was younger but rather when he was Phaedrus. The twist Pirsig throws in occurs near the end in an exchange with his son Chris:

“Where you really insane?” [Chris to his father]
Why should he ask that?
No!
Astonishment hits. But Chris’s eyes sparkle.
“I knew it,” he says.
Then he climbs on the cycle and we are off.

After constantly referring to Phaedrus as an other, the question and response to “were you really insane?” knocks down the distinction. Instead of simply being a referent, Phaedrus steps into the realm of the author. The incessant knocking does not close a door but opens one.