Strange things bring me comfort.
I’ve been told that finding comfort in death and the miniscule nature of my existence is a bit strange. Maybe. But, when I’m not sure where I stand, I’m brought back to reality. I’m brought back to my form of joy and stability through philosophy. Discussing authenticity makes me smile; existentialism is a way that I can understand the world and my place in it. I think about Kierkegaard’s comments on the infinite and finite and how we live in flux between them; reaching for the possibilities of the future while remaining grounded in making them reality in the present, on a fairly consistent basis.
Coming to terms with my own personal brand of philosophy helped me get out of my depression. Until recently, I remembered philosophical thoughts as the shining beacon that got me out of it. That’s not exactly what happened. I didn’t think much about philosophy at my worst; my brain couldn’t digest it. When you feel only darkness, words just don’t matter. I crawled away from my depression, pushing my way out, with blood, sweat, and tears. The ideas were what I was reaching for, but they didn’t do the work. I worked hard every day and got to a point where words could mean something again.
All of this is to say that when I am at my worst, I don’t care about philosophy. Ideas don’t get you out of pain. Ideas can be a goal, something you reach for. The idea of empathy or living your life authentically is all well and good, and it’s something you can work for, but it won’t work for you. These ideas won’t do the work of getting out of the state you’re in. They won’t do what you have to do.
I don’t know what I’m trying to say exactly. I just know that a few days ago, when I felt like I was falling, I didn’t have some lofty purpose or ideals I was clinging to. I was clinging to one thought: survive survive survive. It does me no good to pretend that I can still care about the meaning I have personally assigned to life. In the end, of course, I do care about it because it’s why I live the way that I do. But, when you’re trying not to drown, you don’t spend time examining the water. You do your damndest to stay afloat or get out.
Part of why being so small in our cosmos makes me feel better is because I can find my authentic way of living in this world without worrying if what I do matters. It matters to me, and to those around me, but aside from creating my own meaning, I owe the universe nothing. But, all this which brings me comfort and joy doesn’t make a difference if I feel small because I feel like a bad person, or I feel tired and bad at everything. Philosophy is so important, and it means so much to me. I truly think that I live a better life because of my examinations of my life through the lens of different forms of philosophy. I think through it, and I approach truth. But, I also think that an idea can mean a lot while still being irrelevant in some moments. Real pain in the moment isn’t cured through abstraction, even if that abstraction is directly linked to reality. Ideas don’t fix your world falling apart. Ideas can’t cure that, but I can.