United in Something Invisible

Beginning Zena Hitz's Lost in Thought

In the initial plan I have laid out for myself, first up is Zena Hitz. As I said in my previous post:

Hitz defends the quiet, contemplative pleasures of thinking for its own sake, arguing that deep intellectual life is a source of dignity, joy, and inner freedom. Why this book? It should be obvious that I agree with her, but I’m looking for Hitz’s help in elucidating this pursuit…A part of my mission here is to evangelize and share the joy of this life with others.

Zena Hitz begins her powerful and challenging (in the best possible way!) book, Lost in Thought, recounting her experience in a remote Canadian religious community and how it helped her rediscover the intellectual life. While I have no intention of relocating to such a remote space, Hitz’s work is still helping me immensely in carving out this new project. Hitz had lost her love of “studiousness” [a term she and I will return to later] as she became swept up in the status games of the academy. While she went to the woods to rediscover it, she, like me, holds out hope that others may do the same less, er, rustically.

Hitz recounts the story of her disillusionment with her life as a successful academic. She describes the isolation of her work- being sequestered (albeit luxuriously!) in a community of scholars which views itself as elite and rather above the concerns of the “everyman.” She explains how her work had become focused on outcomes rather than “the work itself.” This emphasis on the latter gets to the heart of this journey and my quest to engage in the work of building a community of lifelong learners. In this space I hope to engage with the same sort of learning Hitz is enamored with. Of her own journey, she says,

I tried to envision what authentic intellectual work might be, how it might draw in ordinary learners without losing its reach to the depths. (22)

“Drawing in ordinary learners” is one of my goals. As an analytical egalitarian,¹ like Adam Smith, I believe the street porter and the philosopher share a common humanity and likely begin life with common capabilities. The philosopher is vain indeed who fails to remember this about his fellow man. Better for the philosopher to share the knowledge the division of labor has brought him with the porter, whereby they can enjoy both their common humanity and a love of true learning.

As she describes learning as a profession, Hitz says it necessarily “begins in hiding,” and that this solitary component remains real learning’s core. First, we must use our leisure to read- a necessarily solo endeavor. Yet true learning cannot remain solitary. Indeed, Hitz argues learning is what fundamentally connects us to our fellow humans. She uses the term “communion” [more on this later] in the same way I think of “community.” The initial, solitary stage of learning is individualized and solitary; it is a necessary but not sufficient condition for true learning. To truly learn, we need each other. But neither must we exclude the “street porters.” One thing I have learned well from my experience in developing virtual reading groups is that the people without the fancy academic credentials often offer the greatest insights into our texts. Hitz seems to agree:

Intellectual life is not a merely professional activity, to be left to experts. Because its central goods are good universally, it belongs in taxicabs, at the beach house or the book club, in the break room at work, in the backyard of the amateur botanist, in thoughtful reflection whether scattered or disciplined, as much as or more than it does at universities. (24)

Amen, sister!!! So here I am, ready to jump in your taxi, your backyard, or your book club. I’m interested in many of the same questions as Hitz. I stated my project’s three guiding principles in my previous post- curiosity, conversation, and community. You may also have noticed that I chose four books to sharpen my thinking while I only list three principles. I think of Hitz’s book as this project’s preface. I chose it to help me explore some of the same questions Hitz poses in her book [paraphrased]:

1. What does it mean to pursue learning for its own sake?

2. How exactly is hidden learning achieved or nurtured?

3. How should we nurture this learning person to person, and why?

4. What does this sort of nurturing offer beyond utility? Why might others find meaning in such joint work?

For Hitz, intellectual work is “a form of loving service,” a description which resonates with me. I, perhaps like most, started my learning journey largely after my formal education (which was sought for an end, not an end it itself) selfishly. Hitz reminds us that all humans have a desire to learn, but most of us stop at learning in the pursuit of a specific goal. Rather than such instrumental learning, which is wholly natural, how does one progress to learning for its own sake?

Hitz gives much space to the consideration of our ultimate end- that which “structures all of our other choices,” (32) “which end is at bottom structuring [all our] other ends.” (34) I think it’s the last of this project's three pillars- community- that is my ultimate end. But how can I know that this is my highest goal? Must I be tested or subject to great adversity to be sure? Hitz offers plenty of examples of individuals for whom that was the case. Seeking refuge from the world to afford one the space for contemplation is the subject of Hitz’s first chapter, as well as my next post. In the meantime, I hope you’ll help me by sharing your thoughts.

1. What does the intellectual life look like to you?

2. If you’re already here, to some extent I assume you are already interested in being “lost in thought.” What sparked your interest in the intellectual life? Where and how was this spark lit? Does it have any relation to your formal education or profession?

3. How can we avoid the challenge of elitism (or professionalization) Hitz cautions against? How do we reconcile one’s natural desire to learn with all the distractions of the modern world. Leisure, noted by Hitz, seems to me a necessary but not sufficient condition for this kind of work. (And can we really convince people today that they have the leisure available to pursue it???)

4. Finally, have you been able to experience what you would consider a real community of readers? If so, can you describe it? What were its most important characteristics? What about it was most valuable to you?

Thanks in advance for reading and sharing your thoughts.

Photo by Josie Weiss on Unsplash

1. See also, The Street Porter and the Philosopher, University of Michigan Press, by Sandra Peart and David Levy.