My tryst with philosophy began at the end of my teens. I found a book on philosophy on the loft. I think it was called "the story of philosophy". It probably belonged to one of my uncles and even after all these years I am unable to determine which. I started reading the book with great interest. In the first chapter, it discussed Plato and Socrates. Today many decades later, these are the only two words I remember from the book. Nothing else! I did not reach the end of the Plato-Socrates chapter. Even today I feel the effect of that abrupt end when I struggle to recollect if Plato preceded Socrates or vice versa. For a long time, I thought Plato was Socrates' student and at some point the belief turned on its head. Plato drank a bowl of poison and probably said something to his student Socrates is how I remember it now. Let me check...
Crap! I got the whole thing muddled. I mixed up Aristotle's and Socrates' death with Socrates' and Plato's. So Socrates had to drink the poison and he said something to his friend Crito. All this was known to the world by Plato's dialogue called the Crito. Plato did not go through poison to meet his death. Aristotle was Plato's student and was Alexander the Great's tutor. Incidentally, Socrates' last words are interesting. He told Crito "Crito, we owe a rooster to Asclepius. Please, don't forget to pay the debt". Wikipedia explain "Asclepius was the Greek god for curing illness, and it is likely Socrates' last words meant that death is the cure—and freedom, of the soul from the body."
Enough of this scenic diversion.
My loft came up with another gem and it was called "For the new intellectual" and it was written by the mother of all philosophers (or so I believe) Ayn Rand. A couple of pages into the book, I understood the meaning of the word boredom. The book seemed to weigh a tonne every time I picked it up. It was a book of essays and the first one's title was used as the title of the book. If I remember it right, this was a stand alone essay and the rest were portions from her other books like Atlas Shrugged. Though I found it terribly uninteresting, I learnt something from the titular essay - communism sucked and capitalism ruled. Those days communism was considered the arena of the bright and good (some people seem to think so still). The book repetitively drove in the point that there is nothing fair in lazy bums surviving on a hard working person's effort and money. It seemed quite a sensible thought and if you don't plan to be lazy there seemed very little point supporting communism.
I found Ayn Rand's writing repetitive and hence boring. As far as I could see she hated communism and recommended capitalism. The essay went on for 40 long pages and only talked about this. The second problem was the writing style; the essay did not flow along smoothly but stuttered through the 40 pages. I tried reading bits and pieces of the remaining chapter but soon decided to give up. Philosophy was not cup of tea or probably my mind was not created to understand physics or metaphysics.
Two books that turned the thinking were the books by Robert Pirsig - "Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance"and "Lila". I prefer to think of Pirsig as a brilliant author than a philosopher. His books are a pleasure to read and are so easy to understand. Unfortunately, I don't remember a thing from the two book other than noting down ones thoughts on cards from Lila. But these books made me think I loved philosophy and that I am an arm chair philosopher.
Life went on and there were no more proofs about my inclination to philosophy but I desperately wanted to be a philosopher. So I checked the meaning of the word philosophy - the study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence, especially when considered as an academic discipline. There was no way of my calling self a philosopher with a definition like that. Neither was I nor will I ever involve self in an academic study of the nature of all those whatevers. At best, I might break my head trying to understand why all of us do whatever it is that we are doing. Why do we study? Why do we work? Why do we marry and have children? Why do we go to temples? Why do we go through a lot of hardships to live better than our current living? We do all this to die and then we have no idea what happens. The concepts of after life are only good enough to give one a spook. Was pondering such questions good enough to be considered a philosopher? I started to believe so.
A few months after I joined work, the office library threw a surprise. I found Pirsig's second book, "Lila". The book made a better impression on me than the Zen book. Many years have passed since my reading this book and I only remember one thought from the book (It is funny that I remember very little from the two books that have had the greatest impact on my life). Pirsig says that he carries a set of cards wherever he goes. He uses them to record his thoughts. According to Pirsig, if we don't record them they would be lost forever. This thought made a great impression on me and more than a decade later, I started writing a blog. I did not write down every thought that came into my head. Instead I started building around thoughts and incidents. Though not profound enough to attract an audience, these pieces would at least provide a few moments of recollection, nostalgia and joy in my old age, which anyway is knocking at my door.
Post "Lila" nothing happened in my life philosophically. After a lot of thought, I came to the conclusion that all of us are philosophers. All of us live by a philosophy and for each us only this philosophy matters. For some the philosophy hinges on religion, for others on money. There are those whose philosophy leads them down crooked streets and others whose philosophy leads to painful and miserable salvation. Hence we are all philosophers as long as we don't open our mouth and expound our (or in many cases other's) philosophy.
Why did I put down that last sentence! I have contradicted myself. Since I am expounding philosophy here, have I just admitted that I am a phony and not a philosopher. If I had not decided to avoid expletives in these write-ups, I would have used one here. This is good place to use one of those combination expletive, which goes on forever.
I lived with this consolation prize for long. A few days back I was driving the car and a two wheeler cut into my path. I could see his guardian angel look at me with pleading eyes and a placard in hands that read "Save my ass please". I slammed the brakes and cursed him and his futile forefathers. My feet then moved to the accelerator and I chased the bike to get him and do ... "Do what?" I asked myself. I gave up screaming juicy abuses through gritted teeth. It is then that I realized that we are made up of many people. The person driving the car hurling abuses at every one who crosses his path was and is very different from the person outside the car. The son of his parents did not seem the same to his son. He was different in each situation. When a difficulty rams him on his face he turns to God. When the difficulty passes he turns agnostic. He is not stuck with one life; he is not stuck with one philosophy. Every situation changes him and his attitude and with this his philosophy changes. Thank god for that else I will be stuck being that ass behind the steering wheel of my car for life.
Two books that turned the thinking were the books by Robert Pirsig - "Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance"and "Lila". I prefer to think of Pirsig as a brilliant author than a philosopher. His books are a pleasure to read and are so easy to understand. Unfortunately, I don't remember a thing from the two book other than noting down ones thoughts on cards from Lila. But these books made me think I loved philosophy and that I am an arm chair philosopher.
Life went on and there were no more proofs about my inclination to philosophy but I desperately wanted to be a philosopher. So I checked the meaning of the word philosophy - the study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence, especially when considered as an academic discipline. There was no way of my calling self a philosopher with a definition like that. Neither was I nor will I ever involve self in an academic study of the nature of all those whatevers. At best, I might break my head trying to understand why all of us do whatever it is that we are doing. Why do we study? Why do we work? Why do we marry and have children? Why do we go to temples? Why do we go through a lot of hardships to live better than our current living? We do all this to die and then we have no idea what happens. The concepts of after life are only good enough to give one a spook. Was pondering such questions good enough to be considered a philosopher? I started to believe so.
A few months after I joined work, the office library threw a surprise. I found Pirsig's second book, "Lila". The book made a better impression on me than the Zen book. Many years have passed since my reading this book and I only remember one thought from the book (It is funny that I remember very little from the two books that have had the greatest impact on my life). Pirsig says that he carries a set of cards wherever he goes. He uses them to record his thoughts. According to Pirsig, if we don't record them they would be lost forever. This thought made a great impression on me and more than a decade later, I started writing a blog. I did not write down every thought that came into my head. Instead I started building around thoughts and incidents. Though not profound enough to attract an audience, these pieces would at least provide a few moments of recollection, nostalgia and joy in my old age, which anyway is knocking at my door.
Post "Lila" nothing happened in my life philosophically. After a lot of thought, I came to the conclusion that all of us are philosophers. All of us live by a philosophy and for each us only this philosophy matters. For some the philosophy hinges on religion, for others on money. There are those whose philosophy leads them down crooked streets and others whose philosophy leads to painful and miserable salvation. Hence we are all philosophers as long as we don't open our mouth and expound our (or in many cases other's) philosophy.
Why did I put down that last sentence! I have contradicted myself. Since I am expounding philosophy here, have I just admitted that I am a phony and not a philosopher. If I had not decided to avoid expletives in these write-ups, I would have used one here. This is good place to use one of those combination expletive, which goes on forever.
I lived with this consolation prize for long. A few days back I was driving the car and a two wheeler cut into my path. I could see his guardian angel look at me with pleading eyes and a placard in hands that read "Save my ass please". I slammed the brakes and cursed him and his futile forefathers. My feet then moved to the accelerator and I chased the bike to get him and do ... "Do what?" I asked myself. I gave up screaming juicy abuses through gritted teeth. It is then that I realized that we are made up of many people. The person driving the car hurling abuses at every one who crosses his path was and is very different from the person outside the car. The son of his parents did not seem the same to his son. He was different in each situation. When a difficulty rams him on his face he turns to God. When the difficulty passes he turns agnostic. He is not stuck with one life; he is not stuck with one philosophy. Every situation changes him and his attitude and with this his philosophy changes. Thank god for that else I will be stuck being that ass behind the steering wheel of my car for life.
