>Logan, how do you make space for practicing naturalism?
I don’t have a ready-made answer to this, so I’m going to start rambling whatever maybe-nonsense comes to mind, and see what happens. This will probably not resemble “a good answer” very closely.
I think I mostly “make space for naturalism” by having different intellectual priorities than most adults. When I want to learn something, or to solve a problem, or when I’m in some unfamiliar kind of situation, naturalism-type thoughts are way higher on my priority list than non-naturalism-type thoughts. It’s like they get a +5 to their initiative rolls.
I maybe have thoughts milling around like “What would Wikipedia say about this?”, “Who could I learn from about this?”, and “What is the relevant reference class for this thing?” (I have a feeling these are not actually good examples of the class of thoughts I have in mind, except maybe the reference class one. I’d need to, uh, do some naturalism, to give you a more accurate picture here.) But those thoughts are relatively less shiny to me (at first) than thoughts like, “How could I check it out for myself?”, “What would I need to pay attention to if I wanted some data on that?”, and “What could I do to make more contact with this thing over the next two weeks?”.
I think I __do__ a little bit “make space for naturalism” in a straightforward sense. Common tools along those lines include daily five minute check-ins, a mini notebook in my back pocket for holding information without having to keep track of it in my brain, and dedicated time blocks for designing and trying out exercises/problem-sets/toys.
But those things feel like a mostly organic consequence of prioritizing naturalism-type thoughts, the way I prioritize protein when I’m trying to get physically stronger, or perhaps the way many kids prioritize imagination when given a whole five seconds to do whatever they want. When a thought like “How could I check it out for myself?” feels shiny, I pursue that thought, rather than some other thought I could have spent my time and attention on instead; and pursuing it naturally leads me to thoughts like, “What is the natural habitat of this phenomenon and what would it take for me to go there?” which very often leads me to design an exercise or a TAP or a multifaceted research program.
I’ve got a lot of back-and-forth going on in my head as I answer this, a lot of conflict. Part of my brain seems to be saying, “No no, this is a wrong question, it’s founded on a false premise.” But another part of my brain seems to be saying, “You’ve really hit the nail on the head with ‘make space’.” And I’m going to have that second part of my brain talk now.
If I had to choose three intellectual macronutrients off the top of my head right now, they’d be scholarship, philosophy, and naturalism. Scholarship and philosophy share a sort of active, assertive property. They’re quite go go go, do do do, form goals make plans solve problems execute intentions. You have do spend a lot of time doing things on purpose. Thinking on purpose, driving toward solutions, pouring over sources and analyzing data and drawing out implications. Whatever *space* you have in your life, scholarship and philosophy will *fill up that space* if you let them.
Naturalism is different, on this axis. It is relatively receptive and passive. It requires the same amount of space, but not in the same format, and it doesn’t tend to fill up the space with anything. In fact, I think it sort of takes what space is there, and then makes more of it.
When I get a new naturalism student, one of the very first things I ask them to do is nothing. If they go for regular walks, I ask them to turn their phones to airplane mode and to not listen to podcasts or music. If they have a daily subway commute, I ask them to leave their book or laptop in their bag. I help them find places in their daily lives where they habitually fill the space, and would be sacrificing little besides their immediate comfort to leave that space empty. Direct observation only happens in spaces that are not already full.
I don’t think I’ve answered your question yet, but I think I’ve made some headway and I’m going to pause here for now.
>Logan, how do you make space for practicing naturalism?
I don’t have a ready-made answer to this, so I’m going to start rambling whatever maybe-nonsense comes to mind, and see what happens. This will probably not resemble “a good answer” very closely.
I think I mostly “make space for naturalism” by having different intellectual priorities than most adults. When I want to learn something, or to solve a problem, or when I’m in some unfamiliar kind of situation, naturalism-type thoughts are way higher on my priority list than non-naturalism-type thoughts. It’s like they get a +5 to their initiative rolls.
I maybe have thoughts milling around like “What would Wikipedia say about this?”, “Who could I learn from about this?”, and “What is the relevant reference class for this thing?” (I have a feeling these are not actually good examples of the class of thoughts I have in mind, except maybe the reference class one. I’d need to, uh, do some naturalism, to give you a more accurate picture here.) But those thoughts are relatively less shiny to me (at first) than thoughts like, “How could I check it out for myself?”, “What would I need to pay attention to if I wanted some data on that?”, and “What could I do to make more contact with this thing over the next two weeks?”.
I think I __do__ a little bit “make space for naturalism” in a straightforward sense. Common tools along those lines include daily five minute check-ins, a mini notebook in my back pocket for holding information without having to keep track of it in my brain, and dedicated time blocks for designing and trying out exercises/problem-sets/toys.
But those things feel like a mostly organic consequence of prioritizing naturalism-type thoughts, the way I prioritize protein when I’m trying to get physically stronger, or perhaps the way many kids prioritize imagination when given a whole five seconds to do whatever they want. When a thought like “How could I check it out for myself?” feels shiny, I pursue that thought, rather than some other thought I could have spent my time and attention on instead; and pursuing it naturally leads me to thoughts like, “What is the natural habitat of this phenomenon and what would it take for me to go there?” which very often leads me to design an exercise or a TAP or a multifaceted research program.
I’ve got a lot of back-and-forth going on in my head as I answer this, a lot of conflict. Part of my brain seems to be saying, “No no, this is a wrong question, it’s founded on a false premise.” But another part of my brain seems to be saying, “You’ve really hit the nail on the head with ‘make space’.” And I’m going to have that second part of my brain talk now.
If I had to choose three intellectual macronutrients off the top of my head right now, they’d be scholarship, philosophy, and naturalism. Scholarship and philosophy share a sort of active, assertive property. They’re quite go go go, do do do, form goals make plans solve problems execute intentions. You have do spend a lot of time doing things on purpose. Thinking on purpose, driving toward solutions, pouring over sources and analyzing data and drawing out implications. Whatever *space* you have in your life, scholarship and philosophy will *fill up that space* if you let them.
Naturalism is different, on this axis. It is relatively receptive and passive. It requires the same amount of space, but not in the same format, and it doesn’t tend to fill up the space with anything. In fact, I think it sort of takes what space is there, and then makes more of it.
When I get a new naturalism student, one of the very first things I ask them to do is nothing. If they go for regular walks, I ask them to turn their phones to airplane mode and to not listen to podcasts or music. If they have a daily subway commute, I ask them to leave their book or laptop in their bag. I help them find places in their daily lives where they habitually fill the space, and would be sacrificing little besides their immediate comfort to leave that space empty. Direct observation only happens in spaces that are not already full.
I don’t think I’ve answered your question yet, but I think I’ve made some headway and I’m going to pause here for now.