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brontherun 's review for:
Philosophy for Life: And Other Dangerous Situations
by Jules Evans
I noted so many passages in this book with my post-it colored tabs it looked like a neon rainbow was exploding out of the pages. A creatively constructed seminar in the modern application of the ancient (Western-tradition) philosophers, Evans take us from PTSD, to technology overload, and from stoicism to Dionysus. I thoroughly enjoyed my reading. While it felt a little like a survey class in philosophy, it also felt like you were taking it with one of the most engaging professors around.
From the opposite perspective of the academic, at times Evans is touting philosophy as a way of improving your life, almost as self-help for over-thinkers. “We can lead people to the well of philosophy, but we can’t force them to think,” he quips. But he does tackle some conflicts about the challenges that a thinking life is not necessarily a happier life. And perhaps happiness is not the ultimate virtue we should be chasing, after all. I’m not totally sold on the pursuit of happiness as the path for everyone. After all, “Dionysus is great for the party, but he’s never there to pick up the bill.” The roller coaster from a focus on physically-pleasing experiences (food, sex, indulgences) that isn’t balanced with self-control and self-reflection does not end well for most humans who pursue it.
And, of course, the decision to create communities and societies brings with it natural curtailment of certain individual experiences in the name of the greater good. Or eschewing those communities limits your ability to create experiences, and in the modern world this practice of self-removal from community is most often taken up by those individuals who have catastrophized beyond any scope of rational thought.
Perhaps the authors experience on the Camino de Santiago best sums up for me how our interactions with others, and building relationships, is key to determining a workable philosophy for life. He says, “To go on pilgrimage is to make yourself vulnerable, to put yourself at the mercy of others. You learn to accept the gift of others’ help, and to accept your own dependency.” In that acceptance, there is a certain amount of peace to be found. A surrendering to our own humanness. I found a similar experience with my own Camino pilgrimage, and once you find it, I think it becomes a key tool in your philosopher’s tool box. We are not alone, and in our miserableness or our happiness, the key is that both are better when they are shared. It is why, if we are lucky, we grieve in groups, and have a loved one or good friend to call when we get good news or bad.
From the opposite perspective of the academic, at times Evans is touting philosophy as a way of improving your life, almost as self-help for over-thinkers. “We can lead people to the well of philosophy, but we can’t force them to think,” he quips. But he does tackle some conflicts about the challenges that a thinking life is not necessarily a happier life. And perhaps happiness is not the ultimate virtue we should be chasing, after all. I’m not totally sold on the pursuit of happiness as the path for everyone. After all, “Dionysus is great for the party, but he’s never there to pick up the bill.” The roller coaster from a focus on physically-pleasing experiences (food, sex, indulgences) that isn’t balanced with self-control and self-reflection does not end well for most humans who pursue it.
And, of course, the decision to create communities and societies brings with it natural curtailment of certain individual experiences in the name of the greater good. Or eschewing those communities limits your ability to create experiences, and in the modern world this practice of self-removal from community is most often taken up by those individuals who have catastrophized beyond any scope of rational thought.
Perhaps the authors experience on the Camino de Santiago best sums up for me how our interactions with others, and building relationships, is key to determining a workable philosophy for life. He says, “To go on pilgrimage is to make yourself vulnerable, to put yourself at the mercy of others. You learn to accept the gift of others’ help, and to accept your own dependency.” In that acceptance, there is a certain amount of peace to be found. A surrendering to our own humanness. I found a similar experience with my own Camino pilgrimage, and once you find it, I think it becomes a key tool in your philosopher’s tool box. We are not alone, and in our miserableness or our happiness, the key is that both are better when they are shared. It is why, if we are lucky, we grieve in groups, and have a loved one or good friend to call when we get good news or bad.