Confessions of an amateur and misguided philosopher

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry to anyone so sad as to read this pathetic document. Okay, I’m laughing a bit as I write this because I can’t be so miserable with a straight face. But it seems the only attitude to bring to what I’m trying to do, which is to make an account of my pitiful efforts to understand my own condition.

The answer to philosophy, pretty straightforward, is to stop thinking. I’m pretty sure that’s right. If you follow logic to its conclusion, the conclusion is to discard logic, and to achieve a kind of zen or animal state where you just act spontaneously on your impulses, and live life with awakeness and compassion. I shouldn’t even bother describing it, because it’s a culture cliche by now, but I mean the flow state, or the state an expert is in when the perform at their best and the rest of the world falls away, or I guess what people mean by “enlightenment.

The problem for myself is that while I can touch on this kind of existence briefly, I haven’t as yet been able to sustain it. I keep thinking. So since thoughts will come, I try to think my way through them with the hope that maybe if I think hard enough, the thinking itself can become a kind of meditative activity, a mastery in its own right, and the hateful mind will be defeated by itself.

Well, that last bit just killed my train of thought, which I guess makes sense. So I’m going to give up here, publish this on my blog, and then maybe tomorrow I’ll scratch out this paragraph and try again.

Confessions of an amateur and misguided philosopher

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