"I Remain"

An exclusive, original song release, Plato’s Symposium as songwriting inspiration, and climbing Diotima’s ladder of ascension

The Lyrics to “I Remain” can be found at the end of the essay below

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I have spent the last couple weeks immersed in one of Plato’s greatest works, his drama-filled story, the Symposium. In a nutshell, his Symposium answers the evergreen question, “What is love?” And he does it through speeches given by several of Ancient Greece’s most prominent figures. But it all culminates in Socrates’ speech, where he introduces priestess Diotima, and her thought-provoking “ladder of ascension.” This series of steps has long been debated among philosophers, writers, and independent Plato enthusiasts.

For me, Diotima’s lesson on love gave me one big “ah-ha” moment, shedding light on why I spend my time producing and publishing creative works as an independent artist. Fame nor fortune,  the two age-old sirens that can push and pull artists into overwhelming, choppy waters of creative corruption if they let them, has never truly interested me. So what is it? What is the reason behind this work that I must do, that feels like breathing, and eating, and worshiping when I do it?

A Light Unlike Any Other

The great thinkers of Ancient Greece have produced more revelations for me than any other philosophical era. As I mentioned before, shedding light on such matters is kind of their thing.

Covered in Michelle Marder Kamhi’s 2020 book release, Bucking the Artworld Tide, she features art historian and critic Robert Payne, who describes Ancient Greek creators eloquently with an enlightening quote about the distinct sky around them that acted as an artistic spring:

“It was not from the land that the Greeks drew their special sustenance and inspiration, Payne continues, but rather from the, “naked light — a light unlike any other light on the surface of the earth. It is a light that can be drunk and tasted, full of ripeness; light that filters through flesh and marble; light that is almost palpable… It is a living thing; so living that the Greeks gave it the physical presence of a god and called it Phoebus Apollo, the god of the divine radiance.””

Eons later, the Ancient Greeks continue to supply that touchable light to me, and so many others.

There is no shortness of entertainment in Plato’s Symposium. There’s wine, naughty jokes, lovers scorned, and a surprise guest that threatens to ruin the dinner party’s jovial, contemplative vibe. From a modern, pop culture lens, this could be adapted for a rousing telenovela series. 

From a classical, philosophical perspective, every page offers lessons and illumination.

A few enlightening reads I’m currently enjoying. Bucking the Artworld Tide by Kamhi; Dialogues of Plato, The Jowett Translations; and Cambridge’s Plato’s Symposium, a Critical Guide

An Encomium for Love

For the orderly doctor attending the party, Eryximachus, love means harmony and balance. Like he treats patients with opposing forces “such as hot and cold, bitter and sweet, moist and dry,” so too does he believe love can be achieved through balancing all opposing forces within the soul, creating an ideal harmony that fosters love.

Plato uses his character of Phaedrus to describe Eros, the great god of love, as a guiding force that emboldens lovers to do great things in honor of their “beloved,” while abstaining from things that may cause “shame.” He mentions mythological figures of Alcestis and Achilles, who were willing to lay down their lives for their lovers, thus being honored with praise and recognition for their heroic actions. He also mentions the sacred warriors of the Band of Thebes, a group of lovers who were also fighters that developed a reputation for being more courageous and cunning in battle than others due to who was fighting alongside them.

For the cheeky satirist Aristophanes, his tale of Zeus splitting up lovers who were once joined as one due to their rebellious behavior plays a key role in his “encomium” (praise) of love. Due to this primordial separation, humans go through their lives in search of their other half and don’t rest until they find them.

With this context in mind, it’s interesting to note how the sayings we hear all the time, such as “opposites attract,” and “my better half,” may have come about, springing forth from the ancient pages of the Symposium and still ringing true today among our modern romantic landscape.

Climbing The Ladder

Though failed commander Alcibiades’ drunken entrance does provide a surprising, entertaining plot twist, the climax of the story really happens when Socrates takes center stage and tells fellow party guests about his time spent with the highly prudent Diotima.

Many years before the night’s dinner party, Diotima taught a young Socrates on the ways of love.

A whole separate article, really a whole book, needs to be dedicated to her teachings. For the sake of this article, I will focus on her ladder of ascension, which contains several steps one takes while pursuing the true nature of this tricky little thing called love.

Those who make the journey often start at the bottom, on the first rung that centers around a love of the beautiful body. On the way up this lifelong ladder, one climbs rungs dealing with love of a particular form of beauty (like art or music), then love of all things that represent this abstract form of beauty. When one gets close to the top, one is able to appreciate the reality of the beautiful. And finally,  one embodies this beauty, and one’s very essence communicates this outward.

To me, Diotima’s ladder of ascension is more like a garden trellis, because as one reaches new heights on the journey, the soul, therefore one’s consciousness, expands along with it. Photo taken from notes in my journal.

But all of this starts within. A lifetime spent working on love, which many of us do (some characters in Symposium argue it’s what everyone does because love is in all things, from nature to plants and animals), is hard work. It takes a growing greatness of soul.

It takes what philosopher and writer Hannah Arendt describes in her book The Life of the Mind, “vita activa and vita contemplativa.”

While climbing the ladder of ascension, one has to take time to contemplate on the beauty of love, and then, put this contemplation into action.

And why do humans spend so much time committing their lives to love?

Because it’s our one shot at immortality.

Yes, this is where it gets heavy.

Pregnancy of Soul

During her lessons with Socrates, Diotima references two interesting phrases that may take a second to grasp in relation to one another (it did for me at least). “Pregnancy of body” (easily understandable), and “pregnancy of soul.”

Someone who conducts their life from the standpoint of philosophical love is not simply focused on recreation, but procreation. And this comes in many forms.

Offspring is the obvious first example of procreation, ensuring a lineage is passed on to the next generation as time marches on.

But pregnancy of soul, I was quite taken with this phrase. I had never heard of a soul being put in this type of context before. But after her explanation, it easily clicked.

Just as children may carry on the legacy of the ones before them, philosophers, artists, creators of all kinds produce works of the soul in an attempt to carry on their legacy after they’re gone. Their artistic offspring, books, songs, paintings, are cultivated, birthed, and nurtured from start to finish, with the thought of the future in mind. Maybe these soul-willed children leave a mark. Maybe they ignite a movement. Or maybe they are discovered by a quiet introvert who just wants to be left alone in a library to read for a few hours.

It’s not the end we’re interested in, but transcending it.

If you peruse the depths of history’s greatest stories, and its marginal ones, isn’t this what lies at the heart of each of them?

That long, arduous push that makes one’s spirit greater than one’s circumstances or body, even time.

In the end, whether we realize it or not, we all strive to be great conquerors.

The Most Important Work of All

These thoughts swirled through my head all last week as I began work on what I hope will be a well-received series here at Classically Cultured.

While I’ve done plenty of writing so far for this publication, I also want to devote a good amount of space to music. This article is the first of a series of posts that feature an acoustic video of either one of my own original songs, or a culturally significant song from the public domain that perhaps deserves more attention than it gets.

For “I Remain,” I actually wrote this tune a couple of years ago. During 2020, with extra songwriting time on my hands, I set out to write a love song. This theme has always been elusive to me, not because love has eluded me, but because of how I love.

I cannot love in a passive, sugary way often portrayed in contemporary music. Much like Diotima’s ancient view on the nature of love, I love in this ancient kind of way. In the days of tinder and social media, how I view the topic is often lost in translation.

“I Remain” makes many bold statements. Listeners of my music who know me will not be shocked by this, I’m a bold kinda’ gal.

But as someone who has never been boastful when it comes to the romance category (I’m more Athena than Aphrodite), the perceived hubris I found in the song after I wrote it was a bit shocking to me.

So I played it occasionally for a live stream here or there, but never did much with it.

Only after I spent some time with Socrates and friends did I realize it wasn’t cockiness I was communicating in “I Remain,” but the confidence and courage to declare, like the sun rise, the ocean tide, and the wind itself, my love, and these works done in love, are the same as nature. They’re ancient. They defy time, and have no expiration date. They’re eternally alive.

This song is my implicit way of saying, “I love you,” as both a steady force against the storms life brings and a soft place to land when storms pass. As someone both unsatisfied with myself and my art therefore I’m always reaching for new rungs on that ladder, but settled enough to know I have definitely earned my place on the ladder — always minding the Aristotelian Golden Mean.

I wrote “I Remain” for my husband about two years after we married, but it took almost a decade of us being together to get the lyrics out.

I hope the time it took me to write the song isn’t an insult, but a recognition of how careful I am with such an important topic. 

I stepped carefully on the ladder as I wrote this one, understanding it’s not really my spiritual immortality at its center, but what it promises. As an artist, in the recesses of my mind, I do hope these works of mine endure. As a lover, with a beloved that would inspire both Socrates and Diotima to marvel and praise, the purpose of my climb is to ensure through this ancient, perennial love, we endure.

Besides the music, besides the words, and the melodies, and the writing, and performances.

That remains my most important work of all.

Whether I ever get to the top of Diotima’s ladder of ascension remains uncertain.

But my goodness, this beautiful, abounding climb is certainly worth it.

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”I Remain” Lyrics

I’m never gonna change.
I move like the wind,
Pour down like a hard rain.

I’m the ashes in your cigarette tray.
Pour me out,
But my memory stays.

No, I’m never gonna change.
I remain.

I never fade away.
I burn like the sun,
Roll in like a freight train.

I’m the first cool breeze when summer comes undone.
When you breathe me in,
I linger deep your lungs.

No, I’m never gonna change.
I remain.

Chorus:
As sure as the sun rise.
As strong as the ocean tide.
I’ll always live inside two fault lines,
Of settled down, and unsatisfied.

I’m never gonna change.
I turn like the earth,
Fly high like an airplane.

I’m the line in the horizon you get lost inside.
Stare too long,
You lose time.

No, I’m never gonna change.
I remain.

As sure as the sun rise.
As strong as the ocean tide.
I’ll always live inside two fault lines,
Of settled down, and unsatisfied.

Bridge:
Baby, I ain’t afraid.
When bad weather knocks us down,
I won’t break.

I’ll send thunder back to heaven.
Turn dust into rain.
If you feel a cold snap coming,
I’m your heat wave.

No, I’m never gonna change.
I Remain

As sure as the sun rise.
As strong as the ocean tide.
I’ll always live inside two fault lines,
Of settled down, and unsatisfied.

No, I’m never gonna change.
I remain.

No, I’ll never go away.
Honey, just call my name.

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