Socrates_Plato_picture

 

Philosophical life, self-reflection. Moving backward and forward, reflecting on past events and lessons, while also moving forward toward the future, making decisions on one’s life.Holding oneself in one’s own hands. Having been flung into a world, one reacts to life-circumstances in accordance with one’s boundaries, those boundaries that have so many names: education, personality, parents, environment, culture, personal capacity.

 

There are people who carry on like that to the end of their days and are satisfied with a bundle of experiences they call “life.” But others, like me, start at some point seeking for meaning – even if partial – to this accumulating bundle; they become pretentious enough to insist on having a say on whatever will happen from now on.

 

Meaning, perimeter, self-examination. Who is this person who acts in the midst of these circumstances? What are the presuppositions which dictate my way of being in this world? I stand inside the boundaries I have woven so far, I look, and my look recognizes the boundaries around me, and arouses in me knowledge of a further horizon. There is something else over there, there are different ways of being. Look, there are other human beings around you, with such different boundaries. This is the blessed side-effect that is called grace.

 

And now, what is to be done with all these new insights? I select. I choose. No longer a product of physical and psychological circumstances, but a person, a woman. A liberty to create a unique creation. A stubborn struggle to discard bits of perimeter which I find unworthy, and to grab whatever I choose instead. A walk in the thick, dark philosophical forest to find what it is that I want. I vacillate between pleasure and despair. A philosophical life.

 

 

 

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