What's the Fig Idea?

Examine the environment around you. What do you see? Lift an ear to your surroundings. What do you hear? Take a healthy whiff of the air. What do you smell? Almost every person will have a different answer for each question. However, every response has one characteristic in common. Let’s say you see the oak tree outside your window shedding leaves in the autumn air. Your initial reaction to that observation might be, “Ugh, more leaves to rake out of the yard.” Nevertheless, study the leaves a little closer. Now you might notice that the leaves add a beautiful shade of orange, yellow, and brown to the once dull, green grass. When we isolate objects and events aside from our immediate reactions, we feel a sort of charm or attraction to that focal point. Marcus Aurelius’ work Meditations provides readers with numerous relatable illustrations of this natural phenomenon.

Aurelius supplies one example of the charm of individual, natural occurrences through his model of baking bread. He states, “The loaf splits open here and there, and those very cracks, in one way a failure of the baker’s profession, somehow catch the eye and give particular stimulus to our appetite” (16). Aurelius gives a perfect paradigm of this incident by appealing to the appetitive desire that every human experiences. Even though we do not often bake bread, we are certainly familiar with other types of baking, such as those of cakes and brownies. Likewise, cracks in cakes and brownies are a symbol of a chef’s deficiency. However, the ever-so-subtle peak of the chocolate layers underneath the icing accompanied by the sugary, sweet smell seems enough to arouse even the most self-disciplined individual. Aurelius provides other representations of this phenomenon.

Aurelius presents another illustration of the pleasure of singular, incidental observations through his various examples of ripened fruits. He describes how figs “burst open at full maturity,” as well as how the ripened, decayed olives are considered beautiful (16). These instances accurately describe the phenomenon because they solicit the attention of our most trusted, yet least trustworthy, sense of perception, sight. If you know anything about figs, or if you have ever tried to grow them, you know the cracking of their shells is frustrating when the fruits are not ready. However, it gives you a glimpse into what the fully ripened fruits will resemble. Now your thoughts consist of fig newtons, fig pies, and fig muffins. Similarly, olives are best when they are fully ripened. You should pick olives in their last stage of growth when they are dark green or purple. They may not look as tasty as the bright greens of the growing olives, but they are sure to satisfy your taste buds. Set aside your initial reaction to the unsightly colors of the ripened olive or the unpleasant nature of the cracked fig and focus your attention on the particulars that lead to the positive outcome.

Through Aurelius’ examples of the bread, fig, and olive, the phenomenon of natural, isolated observations can be easily identified. Objects and events are not always what they initially appear to be. Another aspect of this phenomenon seems to say that you should always look for the positive rather than the negative in everything you see, hear, smell, or even touch. For instance, maybe you should not view this essay as another text to read. Try looking at it as a learning experience. Even if you do not agree with what I said, you are still familiarized with the concept and Aurelius’ examples. Try this approach in everything you do, and I promise your life will be more fulfilled.

The Conversation

By Gracie

Translated by Me

Introduction:

Peers of the Conversation

Gracie, who is the narrator.

Dr. Calebs.

Adrianne.

Tommy.

Maria.

Patty.

Bailey.

Dawson.

Cathlyn.

And others who were silent participants.

        The setting of the retold conversation is in the Great Books Honors room in the M.B. “Pop” Myers Fine Arts building on Faulkner University’s campus; and the entire conversation is narrated by Gracie the week after it actually took place to you.

The Initial Question

      I was walking back from chapel last week on my way to Great Books class, that I might gain some valuable knowledge; and also because I wanted to discuss Plato’s The Republic. At that moment, Cathlyn caught up to me and wittily inquires, “Are you mentally prepared for this class yet?” I replied, “I never am.” We reached the classroom and plopped down in our normal chairs. My peers strolled into the room one by one, all with a grim look on their face. Dr. Calebs briskly strides through the door and takes his seat at the table. He begins in his usual manner by discussing the syllabus, distributing the sheets containing our questions about the book, and he then asks, “So, what were your feelings on Plato’s Republic?” Dawson viciously proclaims, “I hate it!” The whole class chimes in unanimously with a general inclination towards his opinion. After everyone has announced their utter distaste for the book, Dr. Calebs turns the tables over to Bailey so she could make known her question. Bailey perplexingly queries, “Why do they conclude that the painter of the bed isn’t a creator of a bed?” She then flips to page 197 of The Republic and provides a brief summary of the section that essentially says that Socrates, the narrator of the book, poses the notion that the painter is not a maker of the bed, only an imitator. After her concluding statement, a brief silence crept through the room.

Response 1

      Patty breaks the silence and declares that the reason the painter is not the creator is because the painter does not make a bed, but only paints what a bed would look like. In order to legitimize her claim, she cites a phrase on page 197 that reads, “… we may fairly designate him as the imitator of that which the others make.” She affirms that this statement by Glaucon, the subject of Socrates’ questioning, adequately explains the idea that the artist only “imitates” the likeness of the painting and does not, in fact, “make” a real bed.

Dr. Calebs nods approvingly and indicates, “I think you are onto something.”

Tommy articulates, “But isn’t creating a bed technically ‘making’ a bed??”

Response 2

        Adrianne had been quietly contemplating her thoughts with a glazed expression in her eyes. In response to Tommy’s sub-question, she finally postulates, “Making a bed in this sense constitutes building an actual bed that can be used to sleep in. Painting a picture of a bed is only creating a likeness of the actual bed, so it is not a real bed.”

Dawson folds his arms on the table, and harmonizes with her assumption by asserting, “Hence, the painter is the imitator.”

Maria further elaborates, “The text on page 197 also states that the ‘true’ bed is the one that is made by God, and the other two beds, the carpenter’s and the painter’s, are imitations of the ‘true’ bed.”

In that brief moment of tranquility, Dr. Jacobs remarks, “We are still hitting on the answer, but we are not quite there yet.”

Conclusion

        Throughout the whole conversation I had been gathering facts and translating them onto paper in the form of a diagram to help me understand the concept. However, the diagram, like my thought process, was incomplete. What was I missing? I had no clue. The bell that marked the end of class chimed. Holy moly! Where had the time gone?? In our usual manner, the class drew silent. Meanwhile, as the chimes continued, I searched the text for an answer that would complete my chart. Alas, I discovered the missing piece! The answer was in plain sight on page 196. It reads, “… if any one were to say that the work of the maker of the bed … has real existence, he could hardly be supposed to be speaking the truth.” Let me detail my revelation in terms of diagram. There are three types of beds. These beds are God’s bed, the carpenter’s bed, and the painter’s bed. God’s bed is the true bed. The carpenter’s bed is one step from the true bed. The painter’s bed is two steps from the true bed. Therefore, both the carpenter and the painter possess imitations of the true bed, or variances of the truth. Essentially, on a truth spectrum, God’s bed is the truth and every step from the truth is closer to what is false. I felt relieved to know the truth.

But then I realized … my diagram is an illustration of the truth, so do I really know the truth?