Re: Share your own poetry!
Reply #123 - March 07, 2012, 03:04 AM
I'm posting this here, because it is very prose-y.
Dear Friend,
A few weeks back, you asked me a question, the answer of which I stumbled to find the words for at the time. That question was, “What is philosophy.” I have since spent some time reflecting on the question, and though I have no permanent answer, this is what I came up with, for the moment.
Philosophy to me is what allows me to stand on my balcony to stare out at the same view, and see something different every night. To look out upon the blank concrete wall that spans my vision, to see it as it is, think about what it was, and what it could be.
Analytic philosophy is water for my mind, and continental philosophy sunlight for my soul. It is encoded in every word I write, every thought I think, and the stories I tell. It is every word I utter, every sight I see, the music I can dance to amongst the blurry sfumato portrait of existence.
It is the endless momentum of history, of the births and deaths of people, ideologies, and cultures. It is the sprouting of new beauty, the beginning of a concept, and the shift of them as well. It is an endless cycle with no beginning or end, as the mysteries of birth and death can only be surmised from the perspective of the living, with only the hope of overcoming contradiction to propel us forward.
It is the edges of consciousness, of discovery, and of the universe; a race to and amongst the infinite, armed with the fumblings of a rational mind, in a pursuit to discover what rationality means, or if it exists at all. It is groping for the permanent in a world of impermanence; an attempt to stop time as it bears on, containing within itself the seeds of its own demise.
It is the freedom of certainty and uncertainty, a fight to reconcile hopes with truth, predispositions with ideas, and persons with persons. It is a lingering glance, accompanied by a spontaneous reflection, and the irresistible urge to shout aloud “I am,” coupled with the almost crushing burden of the accompanying thought, “Am I?”
Philosophy neither starts with a question to be answered, nor a goal to be reached, but with an insatiable, ineffable feeling of more. A feeling that your outer surroundings and inner states are all staring you in the face, calling out to you with muffled voices, muted by predispositions and covered with a façade, the nature of which is unknown, as the world is slowly transformed and re-transformed into various series of blanks.
Philosophy is the greatest fear of life, and also the greatest comfort, like a hauntingly enchanting lullaby heard off in the distance, coming from an unknown source. It leaves one to question oneself and everything else, but rejoice in the greatest beauty to be endowed with the ability and capacity to entertain the greatest and most important questions that are, knowing that more are just along the way.
I am Philosophy, and Philosophy is I. It is my life at every turn, it is my love, and it is my love for others, as I reflect upon my greatest desires, the desires of others, and desire itself. It allows my every tear to be one of joy, despite the greatest pain. It is the unshakable feeling of existence that chills me as I fall to sleep, only to question the nature of reality in my dreams, as I turn to the person next to me in my dream and ask, “are we real?” and finding it impossible to tell.
This is what philosophy means to me. Thank you for helping me to reflect on the nature and origins my greatest passion not only for studying, but for being.
Best,
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Topic: Share your own poetry!