I have had two weeks off, and the world has seemed to join me in taking a break. Empty streets and shuttered shops, fathers playing with their children in the woods, houses glowing lightly against the falling darkness. Freedom from the usual round of obligations, from the rhythms of the
Someone I love is suffering, wrote a friend. What can philosophy tell me about my responsibilities to help them?
This morning, I had what I like to dignify by calling a minor epiphany (you could also just call it "a thought", but where's the fun in that?). The epiphany arrived in a cafe. I sipped my double espresso and stared at my notebook. βI am
Alles ist gut wie es ist, said the stillness. Everything is good as it is.
I experience myself as living in a racist society.
Every moment of my life, I am carried by magic.
Should the man save the stranger or his wife?
The actual world had asked something of him. But he lived in the true world and had failed to answer the call.
Death was my companion on this walk.
βDo you want the rest of the seal,β he asked? βOr can I finish it?β
Were it possible for us to see further than our knowledge reaches and yet a little way beyond the outworks of our divining, perhaps we would endure our sadnesses with greater confidence than our joys.
Is this world not enough?