For decades I have had a visceral dislike for philosophy. It seemed to me that the only value of a philosophy degree was to teach philosophy, and for the most part that may still be true. It all just seemed like a pretentious effort to engage in esoteric self aggrandizement.
I found Descartes’ famous quote, “I think. Therefore I am,” amusing. My response was these philosophers just needed a real job. Then they could say, “I have calluses. Therefore I am.” It just seemed like the whole discipline offers nothing to the average person to enhance their ability to live more fulfilling lives. Therefore, I simply rejected philosophy as unworthy of any further consideration.
Over the years, I have learned that the original meaning of the word philosophy simply meant a lover of wisdom. Of course, we are then left with the challenge of defining wisdom. To me, it is the ability to apply knowledge, experience and good judgment to new situations in a way that optimizes the outcome. Now, that is something I can fully embrace. So I must confess that I am apparently a philosopher, one who truly loves wisdom.
As early philosophers sought to gain knowledge and define wisdom, they developed specific perceptions and axioms that they taught to their followers. Consequently, the word philosophy eventually meant more than merely a love of wisdom. It represented particular ways of thinking and conceptualizing reality. Using this latter definition, we can reasonably say that everyone has a philosophy of life. Some are more defined than others, but we all have a basic guideline for living.
Is it essential for us to know what our philosophy is? If I am thoroughly content to allow life to direct my path, then probably not. Otherwise, I may want to be aware of my priorities, motivators and attitudes that contribute to my decisions and emotional responses to stressors. Mindful living can make all of the difference in the world.
Of course, nobody ever said that philosophies had to be hopeful, creative or positive. Some philosophies I have encountered over the years include: “If it feels good, do it”; “Do unto others before they do unto you”; and one from Timothy Leary (a psychologist and social influencer of the counter culture during the 1960s who promoted the use of LSD and social disconnect) “Turn on, tune in and drop out.” These may not be particularly uplifting, but they are certainly clear and concise.
In my early twenties, I encountered a Pentecostal church and became thoroughly emerged in a narrow Christian philosophy. Over the next twenty years, I began reading much more than the Bible and eventually concluded that the core principles of love, mercy, gratitude, forgiveness and reverence of the eternal are universal human aspirations that are evident in most of the major religions and philosophies of the world. Now I find the Tao Te Ching extremely inspiring and embrace traditional Stoic philosophy.
I suppose that academic philosophy has some value if it can encourage college students to be more introspective and clear about their individual outlooks on life. However, I wonder how applicable the old Buddhist saying is, “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” It is certainly possible to present philosophical precepts and theories, but a love of wisdom must truly come from within.
I was deeply impressed with the potential influence of philosophy teachers when I recently read Teacher: The One Who Made The Difference by Mark Edmundson. In a class of high school students in Massachusetts, he inspired members of the class to actually think about what they believed, using a variety of creative methods. This was not an exploration of philosophic theory and history. It was an examination of their society and individual selves. Socrates would have been proud.
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