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‘Passion’ Category

  1. Emotional Contrast: Being Sad Makes You Happy

    April 21, 2014 by Daniel Friedland

    I really like being happy. In fact, it is my life goal to be truly happy. However, I tend to overlook the importance of sadness in achieving happiness. Most, if not all, people do not like being sad, but if we were never sad, we could never be happy either. Our emotions lie on a spectrum ranging from deep sorrow and grief to joy and bliss, but imagine if all negative emotions were removed? All that would be left is happiness, and that would be horrible. Now, I will attempt to explain why this is.

    I’ll start with a brief synapsis and interpretation of the final portion of Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. John lives in a world in which all people are genetically engineered and strictly contained to a predetermined path in society. Emotions are controlled by a substance referred to as “soma,” which induces a state of hallucinogenic bliss and disillusionment. It seems to be truly ubiquitous, as all people use it and are exposed to it as a substitute for negative emotions. John comes from a “savage reserve,” which contains people who were born naturally and live in a technologically more basic society from the outside world. He leaves the reserve and takes the world by storm. After observing how the “brave new world” around him operates, he is appalled at the apparent lack of humanity. Although he lusts after a woman, Lenina Crowne, he refuses to be with her so as not to contribute to the superficial nature of the world he observes. After attempting and essentially failing to find any scrap of genuine, natural human emotion, John hangs himself, symbolizing the death of true humanity in a superficial world. The ending quote from the novel remains one of the most powerful conclusions I have read:

    “Slowly, very slowly, like two unhurried compass needles, the feet turned towards the right; north, north-east, east, south-east, south, south-south-west; then paused, and, after a few seconds, turned as unhurriedly back towards the left. South-south-west, south, south-east, east. …”

     

    I interpret John’s death as a reminder that emotional contrast is essential to living a meaningful life. Most of the characters in Brave New World cope with negative emotions by merely using “soma” to forget their problems. Thus everyone lives in a perpetual state of artificial happiness. John is unable to cope with artificial happiness because he realizes that it is meaningless. If we are not sad ever, how can we be truly happy? People who experience only good things have no negative experiences with which to compare them. Therefore, their “happiness” becomes the normal, median emotion, which is synonymous to apathy, essentially. The more sorrow we feel, the greater capacity we have for feeling joy.

    Here lies the brutal reality of life: We must go through heartbreak, grief, and disappointment if we want to feel positive emotions to the same degree. It is up to us to find a healthy medium between our emotions. We certainly do not want to be sad enough to the point of depression or suicide, but we really shouldn’t discount our tough experiences in life as pointless. The point of negativity is to make way for positivity. Tell me what you think!

     


  2. Legal Ethics

    April 11, 2014 by Daniel Friedland

    I recently came across an interesting hypothetical scenario that allows us to fully explore the potential limits of morality. It goes like this:

    Three men and an orphaned child are stranded on a boat in the middle of the ocean with a declining food source and no means of catching fish or attaining any other food. Rescue and aid will not reach them for two months, and they are all aware of this fact. The three men each have a family of their own on the mainland, yet the child has no family or other quasi-familial social ties. When the four are down to only a few scraps of food, one man pulls the other men aside and asks the question no one wants to consider. He asks, “What should we do when the food runs out?” The other men grimace as they are forced to consider their options: 1) The men could kill and eat the child so as to promote their own survival OR 2) The men could choose not to kill and eat the child, essentially solidifying their eminent death.

    What should they do? There are numerous factors to consider. First, the men, like civilized society, believe that murder is wrong. Therefore, they feel to some extent that killing the child would goes against their moral codes. However, without killing the child they will all four die of starvation regardless. Logic, to some people, dictates that one death at the cost of three survivals is more practical than four deaths.

    Other factors lie in the nature of the child as he compares to the men. Because the child has no family or close social relationships, he will not necessarily be sorely missed in the context of the world. The men, on the other hand, have families who rely upon them to provide shelter, food, and general care. Their deaths could be considered more detrimental because of the dependents for whom they provide. (DISCLAIMER: I do not mean to perpetuate the male chauvinism in our society; I am merely giving a hypothetical scenario in which the men happen to be support their families financially in these isolated cases.) Another factor to consider is that the child is so young and naïve, yet to experience the wonders of the world. Should he be given the chance to live a full meaningful life, which the men arguably had the chance to do already?

    Synthesizing all of the moral arguments for both options, the basic question comes down to a choice between personal morality and survival. The idea of “survival of the fittest” comes into play, as well. Regardless of the aesthetic sophistication marked by present-day society, men are still animals and are strongly influenced by the will to survive no matter the cost.

    Bringing this scenario around to apply to legal ethics, I will conclude the scenario:

    The men choose to kill and eat the child, thus allowing them to survive until they are rescued after the duration of two months. Upon rescue, the remains of the child are found on the ship, and the men are charged with murder.

    How should courts rule in this case?

    Often, there is a clear connection between legality and morality, but what happens when the line is blurred?

    Must courts adhere to the law that murder is inherently illegal or should they recognize or place value upon the prospect of survival that was involved?

    Should the men be found guilty or innocent?

    Legal ethics tries to answer tough questions like these. Tell me what you think! How would you answer these questions? Remember, there are no wrong answers in philosophy!

    That’s all for now! Stay fly, and goodbye!

    -Dan


  3. Hero Worship

    April 7, 2014 by Daniel Friedland

    While researching for my persuasive essay this past weekend, I came across this term several times – “hero worship.” I am attempting to persuade education reformers and teachers alike to implement philosophy into the public school (as in pre-higher education) curriculum for my paper; however, while I chose not to address it directly in my paper, I would like to address it here because it really is a fascinating, yet controversial idea.

    Simply put, “hero worship” is the idea that studying certain people (philosophers, in this case) causes one to idolize them and their thoughts and become restricted from development on those ideas. For example, believers of hero worship would say that if I study Plato in-depth, I am likely to take what he writes as wise and true so that I will not attempt to disagree with him and will therefore be stunting my own philosophical prowess by worshipping the works of Plato. In general, I disagree, though there are some valid concerns here, as well.

    As for the valid ideas within hero worship, it makes logical sense that if a person becomes too obsessed with one certain idea of way of thinking, it tends to constrict their perspective. This can be seen in politics. Generally (as a stereotype), Democrats watch MSNBC, while Republicans watch FOX. The obvious bias towards either end of the political spectrum concurs with the general audience of the network, which is arguably detrimental to all audience members involved. A liberal who is continuously exposed to his or her own ideas over and over again will become more solidified in those beliefs and be less likely to consider any conservative ideas. The converse is true for conservatives.

    The danger certainly exists that a person who studies only one philosopher or way of thinking will be less likely to be consider other perspectives; however, I would argue that this is extremely rare. Most who study philosophy study both a breadth and depth of philosophers so as to broaden their perspective and not get too caught up in a certain idea. While the concern of hero worship makes logic sense, the phenomenon addresses a very rare danger, and therefore is limited in its applicability and by extension, its validity.

    In my opinion, the idea of hero worship is extremely negative and could have negative effects on society if accepted at face-value. Studying philosophers or any specific academic concentration is extremely important. We generally learn the broad history of the field so that we can build upon past and present ideas to promote progress beyond what has been done. In order for progress to occur, we must first recognize previous ways of thinking so that we understand why a field of study exists as it currently does. Without that basis, we would merely rehash old ideas and digress back into the past. Is this really what we want? Probably not.

    It seems to me that this idea of hero worship, though valid in a limited scope, is overall a hollow argument that would promote laziness and regression in today’s society.

    Tell me what you think!

    That’s all for now. Stay fly, and goodbye!

    -Dan


  4. Spirituality: Theism vs. Atheism

    March 28, 2014 by Daniel Friedland

    Every philosophical argument has to operate on some subjective assertion, so here goes mine: people have an insatiable desire to know. By “knowing,” I do not mean the mere accumulation of arbitrary knowledge. I mean knowing what fulfillment entails, what meaning is, and who is really in control of your life. These are questions with which, on some level, everyone grapples. The frustrating observation I make in regards to these types of “life” questions is that they are unanswerable. Sure, we can give subjective answers to them by assigning values to various aspects of our lives, but how do we really know that our values hold weight or “are correct?” In my opinion, we really can’t know. We can only hope and have faith that our values in life reflect the type of universal or personal meaning for which we strive.

    Being spiritual to me means being in touch with oneself intellectually, physically, and emotionally. In other words, spirituality entails that we get to know who we are on the deepest of levels. This often includes exploring questions without answers, such as those regarding universal meaning. The way I see it, people generally attempt to be spiritual upon the basis of theism or atheism. I would like to discuss both forms of spirituality separately, eventually linking them together to show the underlying root of their discrepancies.

    I will start by defining theism as the belief in God or Gods as a supreme power that is believed to have created the world and humanity, as well as a being that indirectly or directly intervenes in our lives. Most of the world’s religions are based on either monotheism (belief in one God) or polytheism (belief in more than one God). It is often asserted by theologists that religion is a man-made construct created to explain the unknown. Religions provide potential explanations for the meaning, purpose, and creation that serve to guide people’s spirituality. The concreteness of God is comforting or even essential for many people because it provides a basis for all of life. For some, it provides the purpose of serving God(s), and for most, it provides a basis for morality. In my last post, I discussed my own belief that our commitments are to OURSELVES, but I also recognize that generating concrete or abstract constructs to which to commit makes people more productive and more likely devoted. In discussing religion, we commit on some level to the idea that something greater than us exists. This can be neither proven nor disproven, at least for now.

    Atheism take the opposite approach in exploring spirituality. It is defined as the rejection of the existence of any deity. Many atheists assert that the individual is the root of reality, which I agree with to an extent. However, the question still remains, “How did we get here?” Science tells us that nothing can be spontaneously created out of nothing, so who or what caused our existence? I am not sure whether atheists do not care about this question or whether they have decided it is not relevant. The truth probably lies closer to the latter.

    The main difference between theism and theism is this: Theists prefer to believe that the existence of a deity cannot be disproven, while atheists prefer to believe that the existence of a deity cannot be proven. The question comes down to whether or not you believe that beliefs or assertions can or should be proven versus disproven. Currently, I believe that nothing can be truly proven; however, theories can be disproven on the basis of logic. Therefore, I tend to favor the side of the theist more so than that of the atheist because I don’t think it is possible or practical to live based on unproven speculations than to live with no basis of anything (if nothing can be proved). I seem to have strayed a bit from the original topic, but what are your thoughts on the validity or value of athiesm vs. theism? Do you believe that assertions can be proven, disproven, both, or neither? Tell me what you think!

    That’s all for now! Stay fly and goodbye!

    -Dan

     

     


  5. Commitments: Do we truly commit to ourselves or to others?

    March 20, 2014 by Daniel Friedland

    I would like to consider the nature of a commitment and the role of society and relationships in our commitments. I will start by defining a commitment (in this instance) as something we feel obligated to do. This definition is potentially flawed and certainly subjective, but it works as a general starting point for the nature of commitments I would like to discuss.

    The question posed here was inspired by a statement made by a friend about his commitment to studying viola. We were discussing balancing school work, free time, and other commitments. He said something along these lines:

    “I love viola, and the way I see it, if I can’t keep that commitment to myself, how and why should I be keeping a commitment to anyone else?”

    This struck me for a lot of reasons.

    First, he makes the assumption that doing things like school work and the so-called “obligatory” aspects of college life as a commitment not to himself, but to something or someone else. But what is that “something else”? Is it a commitment to his career? To his parents? To his professors? To the university? The answer seems truly illusive and abstract.

    My first thought is to denounce this type of assertion as a means of placing responsibility on something or someone else. We do our school work so that we can learn FOR OURSELVES or to get good grades FOR OURSELVES. Any deviation from this fundamental belief (of mine) is delusional, in my opinion.

    But I also realize that it makes sense to try to base some of our commitments on other people or other concepts such as our future success. It allows us to separate from the idea that all of our actions ultimately are a result of our own desires. (I could also extend this belief to my view on religion, but I’ll save that for another post.) While I think we all realize on some level that we are ultimately committing to ourselves in everything we do, we use abstract constructs of our desires (i.e. future success, pleasing another person, pleasing “the system”) to our advantage so that we do not feel solely responsible for the commitments we make to ourselves.

     

    I don’t want to be a hypocrite here, though. As much as I acknowledge the nature of my commitments, I am no different from anyone else. I still pretend to commit to other people or organizations subconsciously because it makes it easier to cope with the fact that my decisions have potentially graver consequences for me than I would care to realize.

    Upon further thought, I realize that separating ourselves from our commitments has another really important consequence – accountability. I will use an example here to explain. I want to do well in school so that my GPA is good enough to get into medical school. I want to do well in medical school so that I can hopefully have a fulfilling career in medicine and play a role in helping people to achieve the highest potential physical state to achieve their own dreams. Because I base this commitment upon a future goal of mine (an extension of myself), I am more likely to be motivated to achieve it. If I were to take this sequence even further, I would realize that I really just want to do well in school because it will make me happy. My desire to be happy and feel fulfilled makes me more likely work for the state of my future. But the problem is that the future does not really exist until it happens. I make a commitment to something other than myself, in this case, my future, so as to instill more accountability. All I am really doing is trying to make myself happy, but what kind of motivator is that? The concept of happiness is so abstract and vague that it won’t motivate me nearly as much as some “thing” I can strive towards.

    I guess all I am trying to say here is that it is OKAY to base your commitments on things other than yourself so long as you realize deep down that anything you really commit to is a commitment to yourself.

    Realize what you do. Be selfish. Work for YOU. And most importantly (not really), DON’T BE A PART OF THE SYSTEM.

    The Lonely Island – Threw It On The Ground

    That’s all for now! Stay fly and goodbye!

    -Dan

     


  6. Freedom of Choice: When should it begin?

    March 7, 2014 by Daniel Friedland

    This week, I began thinking a lot about whether we should be guided or even compelled into making choices by anyone other than ourselves. This idea stemmed from a musing regarding a phenomenon in the music world that I have encountered time and time again.

    As some background, I play the violin and have been doing so actively for about 11 years, and while I work fairly hard, I consider myself decent at best. I try to practice 2-3 hours per day, but I continually struggle with the reality that I will never “make it” as a soloist or concert violinist. I am some of you have seen or encountered so-called child prodigies who cultivate their musical abilities at an almost unbelievably early age. These kids are the ones that come to dominate the mainstream classical music scene during adulthood, and, admittedly, I am left with bitter feelings of resentment and inadequacy a lot of the time.

    Each time I am preparing a new piece of music, I go to YouTube to listen to recordings to help guide me in the right direction. Undoubtedly, no matter how “difficult” the piece is considered, there always seems to be a 6-8 year old child among the results who plays the piece with a level of technique and musicality I don’t even come close to reaching. And while I recognize that it is not especially effective to compare myself to others, I can’t help but feel a tinge of frustration about my comparatively low level of playing. Sometimes, I wish I was one of them.

    Take a look at this video, and you’ll see what I mean…

    Wieniawski’s Variations on an Original Theme – Soo-Been Lee (11 years old)

     

    However, I started to think about these young children and how they got their start. These prodigies must start their instrumental studies at around age three, but at this point, they probably do not show a specific interest in learning an instrument. Rather, it tends to be the parents who decide when a child begins their studies. The children are guided in practice by teachers and parents until they have the self-discipline to do it on their own.

    My question is this: Is it ethical to “force” a child to devote a large portion of their life to something (i.e. playing an instrument) they may not want to do?

    I have heard a variety of perspectives on this, but I can really see both sides of the argument, and I hesitate to name one answer as fully correct. I often hear stories of children being forced to play an instrument at an early age, and they sometimes grow to resent both their parents and the instrument itself. On the other hand, some children grow to love their instrument and develop their skill into a successful career and lifetime passion.

    But how can you know who will go in which direction? Is it more ethical to wait until a child requests to start an instrument (like I did at age 8), yet have them face the setbacks that come with starting later than the prodigies? Or is it more ethical to start a child on an instrument early so that they have the potential to really make something of themselves as a musician later in life? Now, bear in mind, I am not saying that there are not successful violinists (I use violin as an example because I am most familiar with it) who start late, but look at when some of “the greats” began their studies:

    Sarah Chang – Age 4

    Hilary Hahn – Age 3

    Itzhak Perlman – Age 3

    Jascha Heifetz – Age 2

    I think it is an interesting moral dilemma for parents to make such a choice for their children. We all like to think that we should be free to make our own choices, but maybe it is necessary for others to make choices for us when we are unable to make them for ourselves. Or maybe it is wrong to coerce people into certain choices because you are “taking advantage” of their innocence or naïvety. What is the answer? I don’t know.

    Let me know what you think!

    That’s all for now. Stay fly, and goodbye!

    -Dan


  7. Questioning

    February 28, 2014 by Daniel Friedland

    As the clock strikes 3:00 AM here in the Atherton study lounge, my mind wanders freely and probably somewhat irrationally. I have decided to take a brief hiatus from discussing and synthesizing the arguments of prominent philosophers in order to articulate some of my own musings. I think that this is an essential part of philosophy, more so than any other. Of course, it is important to study the ideas of others in order to gain some perspective, but ultimately each person must figure out what he or she believes and actively think and question all aspects of the world. So now, I shall let my somewhat sleep-deprived mind roam free to really think about whatever it decides to construct.

    So something that I have recently been tossing around in my mind is the idea of questioning, specifically what questioning is and whether or not it is important. Whether you are asking a question about a homework problem and questioning the purpose of life, you are always seeking to learn something new or achieve some decisive state of wisdom. We question all of our actions, the actions of others, and sometimes we even question why we are questioning those actions. I would like to try to argue both sides of the issue and really get to the root of whether or not questioning is valuable at all.

    First for the pro-questioning standpoint. Questioning is the reason for studying philosophy. Actively questioning the status quo of society or really any construct of perception opens the mind up to new ways of thinking. For example, I think of biology, which tells us that cells are the basic components of living things. That makes sense through our perception as humans, but what if we consider the possibility that we are the “cells” of some other greater entity that we are unaware of. Biological cells seem to function to maintain viability for themselves while also serving the greater purpose of composing the human being. Who is to say that we humans are not self-fulfilling creatures that serve some greater purpose that we know nothing about? That cannot now, nor ever be proven to be false by any scientific means. We are limited by our perception of reality, and nothing can circumvent that sad truth. The value in asking questions like these and thinking about things that seem unconventional is simply that it helps the mind to exercise and make new connections that make for a more open-minded, thoughtful person.

    My own counterargument to that preceding paragraph is simply that questioning serves no real, concrete, quantifiable purpose. Sure, expanding our minds sounds attractive to us, but that is not necessarily a valuable happening anyway. While questioning leads to new questions and expanded ideas, there is no actual destination that questioning can possibly reach. Because we are limited by are perception, questioning can be frustrating, as it leads nowhere in the end. As we continue to explore the possibilities of reality that our minds come up with, we are unable to actually reach any sort of answer, and we are almost always left with more questions than we started with. Therefore, should we even try to question anything because our efforts are fruitless nevertheless? That is certainly possible, in my opinion. In terms of the question of humans acting as “cells” of a greater being, I could counter-argue that this type of thinking has no purpose because we can never actually validate that assertion. Maybe we should just focus on what we know and experience around us and work within the confines of society and our own level of perception. Maybe that is more useful than questioning anything at all.

    Well, there you have it – my arguments for and against questioning reality. Decide for yourself which argument resonates more with you. Or better yet, don’t. Think of your own arguments, and try to develop your own internal philosophical conflicts. It can be fun!

     

    That’s all for now. Stay fly, and goodbye!

    -Dan


  8. Individualism: How do we achieve it?

    February 21, 2014 by Daniel Friedland

    Throughout your life, you have probably been told to “Just be yourself!” Individualism is something which our society praises (for the most part), and it something that a lot of people work towards. Individualism in the context that most people think about it relates to finding yourself and expressing who you are as an individual separate from all others in some distinctive way. And while we strive for this sense of individualism, we seldom think about how to achieve individualism or how to qualify it at all.

    When it comes to finding one’s individualism, two schools of thoughts come to mind. One, which is supported by both Plato and Emerson, states that individualism is a solitary concept in which the individual must be removed from society in order to find oneself. Emerson, specifically in “Self-Reliance”, advocates for solitary individualism because he qualifies individualism as a term synonymous to self-certainty. He believes that society hinders self-certainty because it conforms a persons beliefs by its very nature. In other words, he is saying, “How can someone be sure of themselves when other people oversimplify and impose customs and values on each blossoming individual?” This is certainly a valid question, but it pertains specifically to the conception of individualism as self-assuredness. Other conceptions lead to other questions.

    The second school of thought asserts that individualism must base itself upon societal entities. John Dewey argues this point in “The Lost Individual,” claiming that things like religion, politics, and other institutions are essential in terms of individualism because they provide the basis for all the values and other ideas we could have. Dewey appears to qualify individualism as association. Based upon this assertion, it makes sense that individuals should not be solitary. If individuals are not exposed to the ideas that societal institutions provide, then they have no basis for any ideas. In an argument with Emerson, Dewey might assert that self-assuredness risks narrow-mindedness. Without exposure to diverse ideas, individuals rely only on what they perceive personally, severely limiting their potential understanding of the world from other perspectives.

    Although these two means of attaining true individualism seem to counter each other, both means make sense following each person’s definition of what individualism is:

    Emerson’s Individualism = Self-assuredness

    Dewey’s Individualism = Association

    Which is the correct definition? That is hard to say because I believe the answer depends on the person and their circumstances. As a college student who is immersed in society in a variety of ways, I find it difficult to fathom solitary individualism because I cannot imagine who I would be without the influence of others. For that reason, Dewey’s idea of association resonates more with me. I believe that it is important to be exposed to ideas because in order to be the fullest and most genuine individual possible, one must realize other perceptions. The saddest and most frustrating thing for me is that I only have one narrow perspective on the world, which limits my understanding of it. But if I can get a glimpse into other perspectives, I feel that I can grow as an individual and assimilate those ideas with my own to the degree I see fit.

    Remember, this is all my opinion, which is ever-changing so feel free to disagree. Which quality of individualism resonates with you?


  9. Wisdom Without Perception

    February 6, 2014 by Daniel Friedland

    All philosophers seek wisdom in some capacity, even if they do not believe it can be achieved. Wisdom in its broadest sense is the quality of being knowledgeable or using good judgement in regard to all things, and although absolute wisdom probably doesn’t exist, knowledge is certainly attainable. (We could discuss what qualifies knowledge, but I’ll save that for another time). For thousands of years, people have been searching for this quintessential form of wisdom and considering what it really means to be wise.

    Most historians and philosophers credit Plato as one of the most essential philosophers of all time, so it is no wonder that most people recognize the name. Plato dedicated most of his life to the exploration of wisdom, and he came to the realization that wisdom can only be achieved through the loss of perception. Perception is anything that we can percieve through our bodily senses, so it follows that Plato placed a heavy emphasis on the “soul” as a form separate from the body.

    Plato 2

     

    In fact, Plato articulated his conception of wisdom in a number of his writings, including Euthyphro and The Apology. Wisdom (from Plato’s eyes) can be best seen like this:

     

    Plato

     

    All of the things we see and act upon are a mere product of our senses, which, according to Plato, is the lowest form of wisdom. This is because we cannot judge what we see or hear to be true at all because images, smells, and tastes are not something we can know to be true to ourselves. We have conveniently made them concrete in our minds so that we accept them as true, but in reality any “knowledge” acquired from such perceptions is not concrete at all.

    Taking a step up in the “ladder of knowledge” lies mathematical objects, or more simply, rationality. Plato asserts that if we think rationally about the things we experience and quantify them, we are getting closer to the true form of wisdom. Rather than merely taking our sensory perceptions for what they are, we can be more wise if we rationally think about the things we perceive.

    Both forms of knowledge or wisdom previously discussed are not true wisdom, at least in terms of Plato’s conception of wisdom. True wisdom can come only from intellect, in which we think, rationalize, and operate in terms of our mind only. In other words, we must completely ignore what we experience through our senses and focus only one what we know to be true irregardless of perception. To me (and to most others), this state of wisdom seems unattainable. Our sensory experiences shape who we are, what we do, and how we think. We cannot merely ignore our senses unless we have none.

    Interestingly, Plato goes into death as a release from the burden of bodily perception. He asserts that death can be one of two things. If death involves the loss of life from the body and the death of the soul along with it, then there can be no perception, as “all eternity would then seem to be no more than a single night” (The Apology 40e). In this form of death, we would have no perception because our death would be absolute and our senses would be excised.

    In the second possible form of death, the soul moves to another location upon the death of the body; however, this is just as causal of wisdom because this death perpetuates the soul’s ability to question reality and get closer and closer to true wisdom.

    Because death, in any sense of the word, results in the loss of perception, Plato believes that it will lead to wisdom. Only when we are separate from the illusions of the world can we reach wisdom. In this way, wisdom equals truth. If everything around us is a lie or a distraction from reality, than the only truth must lie within us in an abstract entity that we can only find ourselves.

    This is certainly a lot to synthesize and take in, but I have one question. If death is the only way to achieve wisdom and everyone lives to achieve wisdom, why does everyone cling to life so fervently?

    That’s all for now!

    Stay fly and goodbye!

    -Dan


  10. A New Philosophy on Philosophy

    January 31, 2014 by Daniel Friedland

    With the advent of a new semester here at Penn State, the glaring reality of the so-called “real world” becomes evermore pressing. But what is the “real world?” Is my perception of what is real the same as yours? Does the world even exist? Is there a such thing as reality? Am I real? Do I have a purpose?

    These questions lie in the dark depths of the back of most peoples’ minds, yet very few attempt to answer them. But why? Why don’t people care about their purpose or about the “big questions” of the universe? Probably because it is easier to just accept reality for what it is.

    When people think of philosophy or the prospect of studying philosophy, their sentiments probably resemble something like this:

    Philosophy-Student-Memes-Coffee

    Of course, this is only a generalization, but there still seems to be this widespread societal idea that philosophy is some abstract, worthless, and laughable subject. And while I would disagree, I can certainly understand the reasons someone would make that argument against philosophy.

    The vast majority of people, myself included, live their lives through their own perspectives, for their own purposes, and by their own set of values. This seems all well and good for most, but this method of life is unequivocally dogmatic. By this, I mean that a person sets a standard of beliefs for himself/herself and believes that this particular way of living is undeniably “right” or “good.” Dogmatists do not take into account other perspectives or pieces of evidence because they are content in their ways.

    Do not get me wrong, though! Dogmatism tends to have a negative connotation to it, but the underlying idea is extremely attractive to us. Life would be surreal if we could be certain of ourselves and take our personal truths as law. I, for one, will be the first to admit that I would love to be set in my ways with no curiosity or regard for any other perspective because I believe that true and absolute ignorance is bliss. However, dogmatism, despite its allure, is not relevant.

    All people, no matter how dogmatic, realize to some degree that they cannot truly be certain that their truths are valid or that their self-defined purpose is intrinsically good or valuable. Deep down, everyone is plagued by the same questions, some of which appear at the start of this blog post. Living by certain values and basing one’s individuality upon certain societal entities (i.e. religion, politics, business) that one believes are meaningful is still a mere guess at what the “universal truth” is. Humans naturally question in an attempt to find meaning in their lives, and philosophy provides an active outlet for unconventional thinking.

    In the opinion of an amateur enthusiast who has taken a staggering one introductory philosophy course (me), philosophy first and foremost is the attempt to broaden perspective. It can be frustrating because there are no true answers in philosophy, which is probably a reason people tend to stray from it. However, looking at a question or situation from all conceivable perspectives allows a philosopher to heighten his/her intellectual imagination and find new ways of thinking about all aspects of life and the universe. In a world where we attempt to make the unknown into something concrete, philosophy seeks to turn that so-called concrete into a mystery.

    Throughout this semester, I will be examining philosophy through a variety of means, including the arguments of prominent and not-so-prominent philosophers, as well as my own musings and interpretations. Feel free to disagree with anything I say here because after all, nothing I say is necessarily true. Plus, I am always looking to broaden my perspective!

    Here is the link to an excerpt I found really interesting! Give it a read if you are not convinced of the value of studying or thinking about philosophy: Russell: The Value of Philosophy

    That’s all for now, so until next week…

    Stay fly, and goodbye!

    -Dan

     

     


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