If philosophy asks the why questions, perhaps it's appropriate for us to ask why philosophy? Why live life embracing the contemplation of the so-called insoluble problems of existence? And why use philosophia as the guiding light that informs and shapes our very being? After all, if the problems contemplated are indeed unknowable and insoluble, then what's the point? Well, there are a couple of reasons why philosophy matters.
The first and most superficial reason is that, like religion, philosophy helps us to better understand our world and make sense of things. But unlike religion, which relies on faith and doctrine, discursive philosophy teaches us how to use our reasoning minds to reach our own conclusions about the nature of the universe and our purpose within that larger reality. And by better understanding ourselves and our universe, we can attempt to reconcile whether or not there's a method to the madness—whether, in fact, there may be a purpose to things.
Our old friend Bertrand Russell discussed the notion of exploring this cosmic purpose as a key reason for the embrace of philosophy. Russell explained that in our quest for cosmic purpose, we might also ameliorate what he called the “terror of cosmic loneliness.” (There's that damned anxiety thing again! I must admit, I often wonder if a horse effortlessly racing through a field experiences the terror of cosmic loneliness.)
What is cosmic purpose? It's the belief that the universe isn't random, that evolution indeed has a purpose. However, whether or not we ascribe theological dimensions to this non-randomness is, according to Russell, entirely optional. That's because, as he describes it, the “doctrine” of cosmic purpose can have three forms: theistic (God controls the universe, and our purpose is God-driven); pantheistic (God is the universe, and it's unfolding in accordance with some larger plan); and, finally, emergent (universal purpose is less obvious and emerges rather blindly from one stage to the next). This third form is more of a secular, DNA-style of universal unfolding.
If we chose to reject all of the above three suppositions, then the default option is that the universe is purposeless, that our lives are random and part of a larger consortium of yet more random processes without any sort of designed telos (Greek for “end”). But how do those who conceptualize their lives as a random process within yet a larger random process experience their world and conduct their lives? Conversely, how do people who embrace some sense of purpose-driven evolutionary unfolding navigate through their world? Answer: Very differently.
And this brings us to yet another reason why philosophy is relevant. It's the notion that the way that we understand our world—the way that we conceptualize our worldview—in turn, shapes the way that we live our lives; in other words, the way we think influences the way we live. And the converse is also true: the way we live influences the way we think. As Russell puts it: “There is a reciprocal causation: the circumstances of men's lives do much to determine their philosophy, but, conversely, their philosophy does much to determine their circumstances.”
And, sure enough, we have centuries of history to bear this out. There are countless examples where we can say that socioeconomic circumstances impacted the belief system a person adopted, as well as the converse, that a person's belief system impacted the many variable factors in that person's life. So a person's philosophical orientation (admittedly shaped by his or her circumstances) will go a long way in determining the trajectory of one's life. We'd expect an anarchist to live a different sort of life than an Orthodox Jew; atheists will experience their world differently than, say, Islamic fundamentalists.
Philosophy, then, can be important if for no other reason than it can shape a person's life by providing a lens that can help that person determine which worldview to embrace—and, in so doing—can change one's life course.
There's also one other reason to embrace philosophy—at least the lived-practice philosophy of ancient Greek metaphysics that we spoke about earlier in this chapter. This final reason can, in my estimation, be the most essential reason of all to embrace philosophy: by living philosophy as a mind-body-spirit purification, as the original philosophers like Pythagoras had conceived, we can experience an alchemical transformation—the Greek miracle—and thus become attuned to our higher cosmic purpose.
This book is an explication of that attunement. Part III will explore and explain some of the fundamental ideas and precepts that informed this type of transformative Greek wisdom. What we'll discover is that the ancient Greeks were very interested in the true nature of reality.
This contemplative exercise deals with how we experience ourselves within the larger universal reality. Philosophy, it has been said, is a pursuit of cosmological and ontological truth. In the first contemplative exercise, we asked ourselves, who—and what—are we? It is time to ask those questions yet again.
But before we begin, take a few minutes to do some sort of physical exercise, being sure to only do as much as your physical health allows. This could include walking, jogging, or bicycling. After fifteen to thirty minutes (depending on your health) of exercise, find a body of water to sit facing in quiet contemplation. This can be a pond, a river, a lake, or a pool. If there are no appropriate bodies of water, light a candle and meditate while focusing on the flickering flame.
Now ask yourself the question, in light of the readings in this previous chapter, who—and what—am I? As you ask it, allow your consciousness to be absorbed by the water in front of you; feel yourself merge into the liquid. As you merge into the oceanic state, become aware of the cells within your body and, more specifically, the neurons—by some estimates over 100 billion—in your mind. Are they alive as discrete living creatures? Are you aware of how their individual and biological functions contribute to your survival as you sit contemplating the water? Ask yourself again, what am I?
Finally, ask yourself this question: am I a neuron in the mind of God? (Or feel free to use the more secular term universe.) Take several minutes to allow the universe to respond.
When you're done, sit for several more moments and become aware of how you feel. Now look around you; do you experience things any differently? Feel free to write down any of these initial thoughts and feelings, as writing these down will help you to process this experience.