5. Ascendancy and Descendancy
‘…We seem not to have learned this lesson that the slimy body close at hand is holier that the dry distant mind, because we still pray to abstract gods and look beyond the sensuousness of the moment for redemption.’
Thomas Moore — Original Self
This work is divided into two sections, Eros and Agapé. The broader meaning of the terms and how they relate to the text is explained in the Introduction. Now we can equate these terms to another means by which the world is divided — ‘ascendancy’ and ‘descendancy’. The ascendant aspect of life is mainly connected with Eros – although as we will see, it is in large part an Eros gone wrong. The descendant part of life is associated with Agapé. As explained in the Introduction, the term descendant is used advisedly — in truth this should be a horizontal relationship, but because our culture assumes a hierarchical, dominating stance, in this sense it might be seen as ‘descent’. In terms of ultimate reality of course this is again a false split. Everything is both and none of these things. The division of the world into ascendancy and descendancy is a construct and a means of viewing the world in order to try to better understand it.
We make a further relation here by equating ascendancy with spirit and descendancy with soul. Both terms are of course loaded and can come with a lot of religious interpretations and perspectives. It is not the intention to use the terms in a religious or a spiritual sense in this work. Again, they are just tools for eliciting an understanding. Without their religious connotations, the two terms are nonetheless useful and informative. Our Western culture is greatly lacking in soul, it could be said. There is little respect for the notion of a life that seeks to be at home in the body and perhaps has a purpose distinct from our minds and egos. The notion sounds quite archaic to modern ears and perhaps somewhat self-indulgent. On the other hand, our culture has an interest in spirituality, as distinct from organised religion. This is somewhat complicated by the way these words have changed their meaning. The spirituality to which some in the West aspire is often better described as soulfulness, whilst the religion which is rejected is often not religious in the older sense of the word, but just a kind of formal and idealised spirituality.
Theism and pantheism also express this duality well — the one always aspiring to something which is forever beyond, whilst the other relates only to what is earth-bound. The middle way, ‘panentheism’, (as conceived by the German philosopher Kraus, amongst others) potentially recognises the aspects of ascendancy and descendancy and balances them both. Again, without necessarily ascribing to a religious perspective, these terms help us to understand this need for balance.
The two terms ‘animus’ and ‘anima’ also reflect the duality. Animus involves thought, judgement and heroics and relates to what we will henceforth describe as the ‘economy of ascendancy’. Anima involves imagination, care-taking and depth of vision — we will describe this as the ‘economy of descendancy’. The gendering of these terms is also highly significant (animus — male, anima — female).
‘Deconstruction’ in the manner of Derrida looks at binary oppositions, or polarities, with which Western philosophy has long been engaged. First it looks at emphasising the element of the binary that has historically been suppressed — Derrida was particularly interested in speech over writing and presence over absence. Then it moves on to look at the creative possibilities opened up by seeing beyond the binary opposition. We have been looking at such an opposition with regard to our economy of ascendancy and economy of descendancy — in which the latter is very much the suppressed. The next several chapters examine the economy of ascendancy and the economy of descendancy in more detail and examine the consequences of the suppression of descendancy.
