If Bertrand Russell were standing before me now, I’d ask him “what the ____ man?!” Of course, it’s not his fault that I’m slow at understanding… well, everything. But here I am reading my 12th scholarly article and feeling frustrated. I have a 15 page paper due in 12 days and I don’t even have a thesis statement yet.
Luckily, my wondering mind has been semi-productive. In between sips of blueberry ale and listening to cars pass by, I had an epiphany. My wife has asked me why I study philosophy and why I can’t “just go with it” in life. I think the answer is that I’m still looking at what going with life is. I mean, in order to know what I should do in life, I have to know what there is in the world (objects, truth) as well as myself… and then I have to see if there is a point to it all.
I’ve come to the point where I understand more than I want to understand. I have no solid grasp on my identity, no quick purpose statement or definition for “me.” And as my dog and cat run around and flop on me, I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m here. I’m now. I think I’ll just breathe for the moment. I mean, why the ___ not? Russell can’t anymore.