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Ah, on what little things does happiness depend?
Every so often I am jarred awake in the middle of a starry night by the realization that there is more in heaven and earth than is dreamt of in my philosophy (if, indeed, I still have one). Time, I feel, is running out on me and there are far too many things still left…
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Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest, now is the time that face should form another
Lately, I think I have been too obsessed with reflections; with mirrors; with evidence that proves I am still here. To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven I suppose, but mirrors…? My loyal, if not avid, readers will no doubt have noticed my idée fixe of late…
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Oh God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world.
I suppose I am now at the age where I should think of settling down; where I should consider picking a belief system that will sustain me as I wade through my falling yellow leaves. As an octogenarian I’d like to think I’ve sampled most them -at a distance, at least. Still, unless they can…
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Virtues we write in water on a dissolving typeface
Sometimes I feel really old; there’s no other way to put it. I’m not just referring to my lack of fashionable clothes -I suppose they’re obvious- but apart from buying a new smart phone when there’s an appealing deal on offer, or having to replace my old MacBook Air even when there’s not, I suppose…
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What if the homunculus forgets?
Do you ever wonder who runs what? Who is actually in charge of things? If the workers in a large factory decided to lay down their tools and all production stopped, would the boss, or the foreman still be in charge -and in charge of what: a non-functioning business? Hierarchy only works until it doesn’t……
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If your heart is a volcano, how shall you expect flowers to bloom?
It seems like years ago now when I first read the thought experiment about the drowning child posed by the philosopher Peter Singer. I don’t remember the exact wording but the gist of it was: on seeing a child unable to escape from a shallow pond, you decide not to wade in to rescue it…
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I wear my rue with a difference
I have so many questions about things nowadays; maybe I always have, but perhaps the questions were held down, drowned beneath the sea that encircled my working life. In the days when I worked in a big city hospital, my life was hectic, so maybe my mind was hectic then as well. Retrospect is difficult…
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If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men’s cottages, princes’ palaces.
The older I get, the more I realize that knowing that is not the same as knowing how. When I attempt to describe knowledge in those terms the deficit is embarrassing. Surely one of the most important components of knowledge is not to be stored like a book on a shelf in another room. Years…
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You taught me language, and my profit on it is I know how to curse
I’ve been thinking about the theory of knowledge lately –epistemology. Well, perhaps more about epistemic harm, actually. Sometimes I wonder if it is more one of overthinking than anything else; even if it is a widely held belief, in retrospect the longer you consider it the less valid it might begin to seem; more exceptions…
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