A Short Philosophy of Wine

bacchus

Bacchus, by Caravaggio (c. 1595)

Wine lovers know that wine is so much more than a drink, but how to explain the love of wine to those who do not already share it?

When you uncork a bottle of mature fine wine, what you are drinking is the product of a particular culture and tradition, a particular soil and exposure, a particular climate, the weather in that year, and the love and labour and life of people who may since have died. If you know how to read it, the wine, like a book, will speak to you of all those things and more.

The wine is still changing, still evolving, so much so that no two bottles can ever be quite the same. By now, the stuff has become incredibly complex, almost ethereal. Without seeking to blaspheme, it has become something like the smell and taste of God. This moving mirror, this transdimensional distillate, will send shivers down your spine. It will make you burst into laughter. It will knock you right out of yourself, release you from the abstract and self-absorbed prison of the mind and redeliver you into the magic and mystery of the world as though you had just been reborn. Remarkably, every wine that can do this does it in its own way, meaning that there can be no end to your journey.

To get the most out of wine, you will need to sharpen your senses, and you will need to deepen your knowledge. By wine, we become more aware of our senses, and we begin to develop them, especially the neglected, almost vestigial, senses of smell and taste. By awakening our faculties, we begin to experience the world more intensely. We also begin to experience it in a different way, almost as though we were a different kind of animal. Through wine, I have learnt a great deal about geography, geology, agriculture, biology, chemistry, gastronomy, history, languages, literature, psychology, philosophy, religion… By wine, I have communed with, and actually visited, many parts of the world—and should add that wine regions, with their gardened slopes and goldilocks climates, make for the most agreeable destinations. Blind tasting has accelerated my development. It has also taught me about the methods of the mind, and, in the process, made me less bigoted, less dogmatic. On so many levels, wine offers a medium and motivation to apprehend the world. It is, ultimately, a kind of homecoming, a way of feeling at home in the world.

Wine is also an ideal vehicle for alcoholic intoxication, serving to loosen the mind and dissolve the ego. Wine brings people together, helps them be together, and be inventive together, as in the Greek symposia and Roman convivia, in which measured drinking could lead to expansive elation and creative conversation and the voicing of disruptive ideas and perspectives. Wine also played a central role in the secret rites of Greek mystery cults such as the Dionysian Mysteries and the Cult of Cybele, which aimed above all at ecstatic union with the divine—an idea that has survived to this day in the sacramental blood of Christ. Dionysus, who, like Jesus, died and was reborn, was the god of wine, regeneration, fertility, theatre, and religious ecstasy. He was an important god—no doubt, in certain periods and places, the most important—and most fervently celebrated around the time of the vernal equinox.

Let me paint a picture of a Dionysian orgy. The procession begins at sunset, led by torchbearers and followed by wine and fruit bearers, musicians, and a throng of revellers wearing masks and, well, not much else. Closing the parade is a giant phallus representing the resurrection of the twice-born god. Everyone is pushing and shoving, singing and dancing, and shouting the name of the god stirred in with ribaldry and obscenity. Having arrived at a clearing in the woods, the crowd goes wild with drinking, dancing, and every imaginable manner of sex. The god is in the wine, and to imbibe it is to be possessed by his spirit—although in the bull’s horn the booze may have been interlaced with other entheogens (substances that ‘generate the divine from within’). Animals, which stand in for the god, are hunted down, ripped apart with bare hands, and consumed raw with the blood still warm and dripping.

The Dionysian cult spread through the Greek colonies to Rome. In 186 BC, the Senate severely restricted it through the senatus consultum de Bacchanalibus (‘senatorial decree concerning the Bacchanalia’). According to the Roman historian Livy, the decree led to more executions than imprisonments, with many committing suicide to avoid indictment. Illicit Bacchanalia persisted but gradually folded into the much tamer Liberalia in honour of Liber Pater (‘Free Father’), the Roman god of wine and fertility who so resembled Bacchus/Dionysus as, eventually, to merge into him. The 4th century reign of Constantius II marked the beginning of the formal persecution of paganism by the Christian Roman Empire. But the springtime fertility orgy survived through the centuries, albeit in attenuated forms. At last, unable to suppress it, the Church integrated it into its calendar as Carnival.

The Dionysian impulse for irrationality and chaos can be understood as a natural inversion of, and release from, the habitual Apollonian order and restraint imposed by the state and state religion—and blind tasting, with its emphasis on reason and deduction, as an attempt to unite the Apollonian and Dionysian and attain to the ever receding dream of civilization. In the Birth of Tragedy (1872), the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche recognizes the Dionysian impulse as a primal and universal force:

Either through the influence of narcotic drink, of which all primitive men and peoples speak, or through the powerful coming on of spring, which drives joyfully through all of nature, that Dionysian excitement arises. As its power increases, the subjective fades into complete forgetfulness of self. In the German Middle Ages under the same power of Dionysus constantly growing hordes waltzed from place to place, singing and dancing. In that St. John’s and St. Vitus’s dancing we recognize the Bacchic chorus of the Greeks once again, and its precursors in Asia Minor, right back to Babylon and the orgiastic Sacaea.

By diverting the Dionysian impulse into special rites on special days, the orgy kept it under control, preventing it from surfacing in more insidious and perfidious ways. More than that, it transformed it into an invigorating and liberating—and, in that much, profoundly religious—celebration of life and the life force. It permitted people to escape from their artificial and restricted social roles and regress into a more authentic state of nature, which modern psychologists have associated with the Freudian id or unconscious. It appealed most to marginal groups, since it set aside the usual hierarchies of man over woman, master over slave, patrician over commoner, rich over poor, and citizen over foreigner. In short, it gave people a much-needed break—like modern holidays, but cheaper and more effective.

‘Ecstasy’ literally means ‘to be or stand outside oneself’. It is a trance-like state in which consciousness of an object is so heightened that the subject dissolves or merges into the object. Einstein called it the ‘mystic emotion’ and spoke of it as ‘the finest emotion of which we are capable’, ‘the germ of all art and true science’, and ‘the core of the true religious sentiment’. More than ever before, modern society emphasizes the sovereign supremacy of the ego and the ultimate separateness and responsibility of each and every one of us. From a young age, we are taught to remain in tight control of our ego or persona with the aim of projecting it as far out as possible. As a result, we have lost the art of letting go—and, indeed, no longer even recognize the possibility—leading to a poverty or monotony of conscious experience. Letting go can threaten the life that we have built or even the person that we have become, but it can also free us from our modern narrowness and neediness, and deliver, or re-deliver, us into a bigger and brighter world. Little children have a quiescent or merged ego, which is why they brim with joy and wonder. Youth and ecstasy are the echoes of a primordial wisdom.

Neel Burton is author of The Concise Guide to Wine and Blind Tasting

Concise Guide to Wine 2e

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On the Pleasures of Evacuation

poop

Source: Pixabay

Entire volumes are written on the pleasures of eating and drinking, sex, or meditation, but the pleasures of evacuation, though frequent and free, barely ever get a look in.

Natural versus vain desires

The Ancient philosopher Epicurus recognized that pleasures generally arise from the satisfaction of desires, and distinguished between two different types of desire, ‘natural desires’ and ‘vain desires’. Natural desires can either be necessary, such as the desires for food and shelter, or unnecessary, such as the desires for luxury food and accommodation. Vain desires, such as the desires for fame, power, or wealth, differ from natural desires is that they are (1) inculcated by society, (2) not urgent, (3) not naturally limited, and (4) neither easy nor highly pleasurable to satisfy. To minimize the pain and anxiety of harbouring unfulfilled desires, one should submit to necessary natural desires while detaching oneself from unnecessary natural desires and entirely avoiding vain desires. In other words, if you want to be happier, stop being so ambitious and make more of your time on the toilet.

Moving versus static pleasures

Epicurus also distinguished between two different types of pleasure, ‘moving pleasures’ and ‘static pleasures’. Moving pleasures involve the satisfying of a desire, for example, eating a meal when hungry. Static pleasures on the other hand involve the state of comfort that arises from having had a desire satisfied, for example, feeling sated after having eaten the meal. Static pleasures are better than moving pleasures because they free us from the discomfort of need or want. Evacuation, like eating and sex, clearly leads to both types of pleasure; and though the static pleasure is the greater, the moving pleasure is the more intense, and the more neglected.

The physical pleasures of pooing

Defecation involves complex physical, physiological, and psychological processes. At a physical level, the colon propels stool into the rectum, leading to rectal distension and reflex relaxation of the internal anal sphincter. At this point, the urge to defecate leads to the voluntary relaxation of the external anal sphincter, with the stool expelled by peristaltic waves and the combined action of the pelvic floor muscles, abdominal wall, diaphragm, and expiratory chest muscles. The urge to defecate can be successfully resisted, with the stool returned into the rectum by reverse peristalsis. But repeated postponement leads to hardening of the stool and, eventually, constipation. Relaxation of the external anal sphincter is linked with relaxation of the urethral sphincter: once the feces have been extruded, urination signals that defecation is at an end. The act of defecation is intensely physical, and offers some of the same rewards, and risks, as exercise.

Physiological pleasures

The anus is rich in nerve endings that are stimulated by the passage of feces. But more importantly, defecation fires up the enteric nervous system, the mesh-like system of neurons that inhabits the gut. Though the effect of this action remains unclear, the enteric nervous system contains over thirty neurotransmitters, including about 50% of the body’s dopamine and more than 90% of the body’s serotonin. Activation of parasympathetic afferents from the gut leads to a fall in blood pressure and heart rate, often accompanied by feelings of light-headedness and euphoria. Rarely, the fall in blood pressure can lead to loss of consciousness, so-called ‘defecation syncope’. The relaxing effect of defecation is heightened by the withdrawal and seclusion offered by the toilet. Toilet time, like prayer or meditation, offers a hiatus from the pressure and tumult of everyday life, or just a few moments to catch up with phone messages.

Relaxation goosebumps brought on by defecation may be accompanied by a tingling or shivering sensation that begins at the back of the head and runs down the neck and spine. A similar phenomenon is also experienced towards the end of urination, as the sympathetic nervous system acts to restore blood pressure. These ‘pee shakes’ are more common in men, perhaps because men usually pee in the standing position and therefore require a bigger sympathetic kick. Urine is generally odourless but certain foods can lend it a more or less appealing aroma. Among my favourite pee smells are asparagus and the French oak found in certain barrel-aged wines. Feces on the other hand never smell appealing. Oddly, many people enjoy the fragrance of their own farts, but not, generally, that of other people’s. This could be because other people’s farts are a vector of disease, whereas our own bacterial bouquet, assuming no one is around, cannot do us much harm.

Psychological pleasures

Sigmund Freud identified the anus as the most important source of pleasure in the so-called anal stage of psychosexual development. For Freud, potty training represents a child’s first conflict with authority, and establishes his or her future relationship with all forms of authority. Even in adult life, successful evacuation—especially involving big, well-formed feces—evokes positive feelings such as achievement, mastery, and pride. Happy defecation in the face of diarrhoea, constipation, haemorrhoids, and so many other potential problems is no mean feat. Happy defecation is a testament to health and vitality, and an endorsement of lifestyle choices involving diet, fluid intake, exercise, stress management, and much else besides. As a medical student, I literally learnt how to read poo, and few people, I think, can resist peeking at their poo.

But now you’ll never see it in the same way again.

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