Campbell - Prenatal Preconceptualizations
http://earlyexperience.unsw.wikispaces.net/file/view/decasper1986.pdf
Last class we reopened the topic of preconceptualization, which is openly defined as one's initial sensual responses before a more thorough understanding of the stimulus has developed. Dr. Redick's comedic story of his young daughter exclaiming "manga" at the sight and smell of peas describes that, even though she didn't know exactly what the peas were, she was still capable of expressing an emotional reaction: disgust (I'm with you there, Caroline). Our sensual and perceptual worlds are constantly being defined and redefined as scientists, psychologists, and philosophers alike contemplate what it truly means to exist in such a sensuous world. There are countless examples of humans attempting to make sense of these understandings, from ancient cave paintings in France to liturgical re-enactments of the Last Supper. These ritualistic practices take our sensory experiences and apply them to the knowledge we have previously gained, along with the insights which our gut is telling us to follow. Take the dawn of humankind, for example: what did our early ancestors see? What did they smell? What vastly bewildering sensual challenges did each new day bring them? We are able to gain a peek at what archaic times were like with the preserved cave paintings found all over the world, most prominently in France. These paintings expressed what ancient humans saw, what was important to them, and what they considered sacred.
A similar narrative is found in today's churches. During Sunday Mass, the priest recites a passage from the Bible when preparing the Eucharist, a small bell rings several times, and the priest then consumes the Communion. After this process, the entire congregation is welcome to participate in receiving Christ's body, and this procedure is repeated every week. What is the point of such re-enacting? In a similar sentiment, archaeological researchers who have studied the caves at Lascaux believe that people across generations would visit the caverns to paint over older works, thus insinuating some sort of ritual was practiced here. In Catholic Mass, this ritual holds comparable tones: the repetition of a specific act further empowers it, and strengthens the bonds between those practitioners. Repeating the act of Communion - or the act of cave painting - consistently will award it more meaning because it becomes more familiar, more powerful, more experienced.
Another concept which features this act of repetition is oral storytelling. As with the campfire story made famous in Yellowstone National Park, mythological narratives are fundamental in any culture, past or present. They not only unite members of the shared society, but also reinforce the beliefs, values, and customs of this society. The story of Jonah and the whale has just as much meaning to Christians as does the ascension of Mohammed on the Temple Mount to Muslims. Before written language - well before the Bible or the Quran - these stories were uniquely told and retold since, without a concrete account of the story, it varied time after time contingent upon the narrator's preferences. Thus, these stories probably differ greatly from when they were first conceived, but this is not the point of oral narration (as we have learned over and over). Rather, the deeper meaning behind the stories, along with the specific way in which they are told, hold the true significance of primal orality.
Why, then, does repetition have meaning? What is it about hearing or seeing or otherwise sensing something over and over that makes it so important? According to psychological evidence, the concept of conditioning may be the cause. Conditioning is (as defined by Google) "to train or accustom (someone or something) to behave in a certain way or to accept certain circumstances." Conditioning practices were made famous by psychologists such as Pavlov and Skinner, but their principles are rather expansive beyond the realm of psychology. In a study done by DeCasper and Spence (1986) on pregnant mothers, these researchers found that infants were more likely to prefer a story read to them while in the womb than a new story. The idea behind the results of this study are centered on the notion of parsody, or the specific pattern of rhythm, intonation, and stresses of speech found in literary or musical works. Thus, merely reading "A Cat in the Hat" will sound different than reading a page from "A Spell of the Sensuous."
The repetitive nature of storytelling, along with the sensory experience which is tied to it, necessitates the meaning of such narratives. Humans, whether infantile or adult, recognize the innate sensual ties which we as mankind share in ritual sacredness. There is something quite holy in the habitual processes which we come to accept and understand - even though sitting in Mass each week doesn't always seem appealing, it leaves believers with a sense of refreshed spirituality, of carving a deeper connection with the transcendental attachments of religiosity. This concept is not new: our primal ancestors understood and felt it as well, which is why such seemingly-tedious deeds have persevered into modern times through human history.
Last class we reopened the topic of preconceptualization, which is openly defined as one's initial sensual responses before a more thorough understanding of the stimulus has developed. Dr. Redick's comedic story of his young daughter exclaiming "manga" at the sight and smell of peas describes that, even though she didn't know exactly what the peas were, she was still capable of expressing an emotional reaction: disgust (I'm with you there, Caroline). Our sensual and perceptual worlds are constantly being defined and redefined as scientists, psychologists, and philosophers alike contemplate what it truly means to exist in such a sensuous world. There are countless examples of humans attempting to make sense of these understandings, from ancient cave paintings in France to liturgical re-enactments of the Last Supper. These ritualistic practices take our sensory experiences and apply them to the knowledge we have previously gained, along with the insights which our gut is telling us to follow. Take the dawn of humankind, for example: what did our early ancestors see? What did they smell? What vastly bewildering sensual challenges did each new day bring them? We are able to gain a peek at what archaic times were like with the preserved cave paintings found all over the world, most prominently in France. These paintings expressed what ancient humans saw, what was important to them, and what they considered sacred.
A similar narrative is found in today's churches. During Sunday Mass, the priest recites a passage from the Bible when preparing the Eucharist, a small bell rings several times, and the priest then consumes the Communion. After this process, the entire congregation is welcome to participate in receiving Christ's body, and this procedure is repeated every week. What is the point of such re-enacting? In a similar sentiment, archaeological researchers who have studied the caves at Lascaux believe that people across generations would visit the caverns to paint over older works, thus insinuating some sort of ritual was practiced here. In Catholic Mass, this ritual holds comparable tones: the repetition of a specific act further empowers it, and strengthens the bonds between those practitioners. Repeating the act of Communion - or the act of cave painting - consistently will award it more meaning because it becomes more familiar, more powerful, more experienced.
Another concept which features this act of repetition is oral storytelling. As with the campfire story made famous in Yellowstone National Park, mythological narratives are fundamental in any culture, past or present. They not only unite members of the shared society, but also reinforce the beliefs, values, and customs of this society. The story of Jonah and the whale has just as much meaning to Christians as does the ascension of Mohammed on the Temple Mount to Muslims. Before written language - well before the Bible or the Quran - these stories were uniquely told and retold since, without a concrete account of the story, it varied time after time contingent upon the narrator's preferences. Thus, these stories probably differ greatly from when they were first conceived, but this is not the point of oral narration (as we have learned over and over). Rather, the deeper meaning behind the stories, along with the specific way in which they are told, hold the true significance of primal orality.
Why, then, does repetition have meaning? What is it about hearing or seeing or otherwise sensing something over and over that makes it so important? According to psychological evidence, the concept of conditioning may be the cause. Conditioning is (as defined by Google) "to train or accustom (someone or something) to behave in a certain way or to accept certain circumstances." Conditioning practices were made famous by psychologists such as Pavlov and Skinner, but their principles are rather expansive beyond the realm of psychology. In a study done by DeCasper and Spence (1986) on pregnant mothers, these researchers found that infants were more likely to prefer a story read to them while in the womb than a new story. The idea behind the results of this study are centered on the notion of parsody, or the specific pattern of rhythm, intonation, and stresses of speech found in literary or musical works. Thus, merely reading "A Cat in the Hat" will sound different than reading a page from "A Spell of the Sensuous."
The repetitive nature of storytelling, along with the sensory experience which is tied to it, necessitates the meaning of such narratives. Humans, whether infantile or adult, recognize the innate sensual ties which we as mankind share in ritual sacredness. There is something quite holy in the habitual processes which we come to accept and understand - even though sitting in Mass each week doesn't always seem appealing, it leaves believers with a sense of refreshed spirituality, of carving a deeper connection with the transcendental attachments of religiosity. This concept is not new: our primal ancestors understood and felt it as well, which is why such seemingly-tedious deeds have persevered into modern times through human history.
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