Jason Wirth

My dissertation proposes a reevaluation of the philosophy of F. W. J. von Schelling by reexamining the tension between system and freedom. I call this tension the "conspiracy of Being." ;The work itself is divided into two parts, corresponding to Schelling's negative and positive philosophy respectively. The first part takes up the question of the negative philosophy by tracing this tension in the figure of Spinoza. Schelling claimed that his project was a "counterpart " to Spinoza. My strategy is as follows: to suggest some of the character of the Pantheism Debate, in which the scandalous figure of Spinoza was central. Schelling attempted to locate in Spinoza a tension that could help articulate the relationship between philosophy and freedom and thereby make bearable the irresolvable yet necessary contradiction that a system of freedom entails. This relationship will be charaterized by the form of tragedy which will serve as an image for the tension within Spinoza and a system of freedom itself. This relationship will be implicated as the conspiracy within Schelling's Philosophy of Nature. I will conclude with a short discussion of Schelling's complex relationship with Hegel. Schelling characterized Hegel's thought as a "Spinozism rewritten in the ideal." I will try to read this claim as emblematic of Schelling's reading of Hegel in general. ;The second part will take up the question of the positive philosophy and, in so doing, take up the question of Schelling's reevaluation of philosophy's own power. In the negative philosophy, philosophy serves divine works by implicating them in the ideal. It is therefore ascensive. The positive philosophy is testimony to the history of light, that is, the dark transfigured into light within time and places. This is the Philosophy of Mythology and Revelation, the descensive history of freedom. I begin with a close reading of the 1809 Freedom essay and conclude with a discussion of the figure of time and its relationship to the figure of Dionysos. Here one finds Dionysian philosophy embodying the conspiratorial tensions of Being itself

This is an essay on place in light of the ecological crisis as an exercise in what Pierre Charbonnier has recently called ecological reason, that is, “the environmental reflexivity of our species.” How do the roots of our prevailing political and economic relationships to the many lands that sustain us appear retroactively from the perspective of ecological reason? In a kind of tragic reversal, the mad rush to global prosperity and political dignity now appears as the emerging catastrophe of our failure to heed the terrestrial affordances that sustain us. I explicate this problem and root about for responses to it by lacing together the recent work of Charbonnier as well as John Sallis, Bruno Latour, and Brian Burkhart in a single weave of place-specific thinking. How can we begin to rethink place from the ground up?

This is a philosophical rumination on Shawn Loht’s important extension of “film as philosophy” into a Heideggerian phenomenological account of the philosophical response that cinema can engender. After considering the importance of these kinds of approaches, I turn to Loht’s phenomenological engagement with Terrence Malick’s early masterpiece, Days of Heaven (1978). After sympathetically reviewing his “interpretation”, I expand upon its delineation of “earth and world” to include the “fallenness” of the world as well as the possibility of a metanōetic awakening to the vocation of “mud doctor”, that is, to heal the rift between earth and world, a rift made more exigent by world war, economic exploitation, and the ecological catastrophe of the Anthropocene.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Shinto: The Way Home: Dimensions of Asian SpiritualityJason M. WirthShinto: The Way Home: Dimensions of Asian Spirituality. By Thomas P. Kasulis. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 2004. Pp. xx + 184.Thomas P. Kasulis wrote his fine new book Shinto: The Way Home: Dimensions of Asian Spirituality as the result of a promise made over a glass of scotch to Henry Rosemont, who is currently editing a series of volumes highlighting various Asian spiritual traditions. These volumes promise to be strong, advanced introductions, and it is already clear that they should be seriously considered as introductory texts for courses in the Asian spiritual traditions. However, feeling "queasy" about his promise, Kasulis confessed that he was "primarily trained as a scholar of Japanese philosophy and there is simply not that much Shinto philosophy to write about" (p. xvi). Yet it appears that the scotch did not inspire frivolous behavior. The book is written by someone who has much love-perhaps even a pure heart and mind (makoto no kokoro)-for the Japanese spiritual heritage, and hence it makes an outstanding introduction to the basics of the Shinto tradition and its many practices. "Reading this book should help readers begin, not end, their study of Shinto" (p. xvii).Kasulis argues that Shinto is for the most part not a religion in the conventional Western sense. In fact, the Japanese word for "religion," shūkyō, is a neologism to designate the teachings (kyō) that comprise a shū, that is, a "discrete religious community with common practices and teachings" (p. 30). Yet Shinto operates in the background for most Japanese people, and so does not necessarily originate or result [End Page 358] in a clearly articulated doctrinal position. It comprises part of the cultural ambiance of Japanese life. It shapes the Japanese wedding ceremony and governs the Japanese relationship to rice (including sake).More significantly, it helps ritualistically inculcate the rudiments of what might be called something like a deep ecology. Certain remarkable locations in nature, certain foci that are spectacularly aberrant or startlingly exceptional, are marked off by a sacred portal (torii) or rope (shimenawa). They are designated as places of awe and wonder, as places inhabited by the kami (gods). In this way, a Shinto ecological aesthetic contrasts directly with a classical Western sense of beauty. The latter is achieved when an object is in maximum proximity to its idea-when it deviates as little as possible from its inherent nature. In Shinto the kami are present in an awesome deviation from the norm (as in a gnarled pine or a wondrously twisted rock).Yet Shinto does not necessarily ghettoize the sacred space, truncating it from its circulation with all of nature. Rather, sacred spots (like sacred practices) are isolated in order to serve as an opening into nature as sacred. They are sacred portals to the sacredness of the whole-"they are holographic entry points for experiencing kami everywhere" (p. 23). Kasulis traces these themes from Japanese prehistory, including their eventual appropriation in the early-eighth-century chronicles the Kojiki and the Nihonshoki, both of which were commissioned by imperial decree. Furthermore, there was much in Shinto that was compatible with the emergence of Buddhism in Japan. The latter helped Shinto remain dynamic and nondogmatic (p. 93), and Shinto helped make some of the more difficult aspects of esoteric Buddhism (Shingon and Tendai) more accessible to commoners (p. 99).However, in the isolationism of the Tokugawa period, Shinto was slowly wrested from its ensconcement in Japanese Buddhism. The influences of Neo-Confucianism and the Japanese code of the warrior (bushidō), the demilitarization of Buddhist monasteries, the relegation of monasteries to census taking, and other measures helped the Tokugawa clan consolidate their own power and enervate Buddhism's hold on Japan. Shinto itself would have to be freed from its Buddhist housing. The most fateful instance of this purification process transpired inadvertently with Motoori Norinaga (1730-1801) and the dawning of the kokugaku or "native studies" movement. Norinaga spent more than three decades deciphering and annotating the linguistic labyrinth of the Kojiki. Yet this was not a mere scholastic exercise. Norinaga assigned the Kojiki the status of scripture...

Schelling and Nishitani both confront the problem of absolute negation in post-Kantian philosophy and drive it beyond its eventual development into existentialism. This essay seeks not so much to sort out all of the similarities and contrasts between these two thinkers on this issue but rather to consider the issue of absolute negation itself and to consider it in and between the two thinkers as a gateway to an ontological conversion, a transformation into the positive manifestation of beings just as they are. Just as access to Dante’s paradisio demands that one first traverse through the inferno, or as the rebirth in Zen of heaven and earth requires the Great Doubt and the Great Death, we must plunge into the depths of absolute negation. Yet this descent is not an end itself, but rather the opening to a new image of thought and a new sense of philosophy.

How are the teachings of a thirteenth-century master relevant today? Twenty contemporary writers unpack Dogen's words and show how we can still find meaning in his teachings. Engaging Dogen's Zen is a practice oriented study of Shushogi (a canonical distillation of Dogen's thought used as a primer in the Soto School of Zen) and Fukanzazengi (Dogen's essential text on the practice of "just sitting," a text recited daily in the Soto School of Zen). It is also a study of the entire self. Here, the principles of Soto Zen practice are unpacked and explained by leading contemporary Buddhists from the living tradition--monks, priests, academics, and community teachers. Tackling Dogen's approach to key issues, such as the preeminence of shikantaza, universal buddha nature, and what it means to be a Mahayana Buddhist, the contributors to the volume help Zen practitioners and any who are trying to deepen their lives to appreciate better the teachings of Soto Zen and make these teachings part of their lives. By revisiting what remains precious in Shushogi and Fukanzazengi, we let them breathe just as we learn to breathe in zazen. We find that Soto practice not only engages Dogen and Sakyamuni, but all of our sisters and brothers, and indeed the great earth itself. Includes essays from Kosho Itagaki, Taigen Dan Leighton, Tenshin Charles Fletcher, Shudo Brian Schroeder, Glen A. Mazis, David Loy, Drew Leder, Steven DeCaroli, Steve Bein, John Maraldo, Michael Schwartz, Tetsuzen Jason M. Wirth, Leah Kalmanson, Erin Jien McCarthy, Dainen David Putney, Steven Heine, Graham Parkes, Mark Unno, Shudo Brian Schroeder, and Kanpu Bret W. Davis.