why is it that reading philosophy only increases my proficiency and precision in language rather than introducing novel ideas necessarily? I find that I have reached a point where the ideas in philosophical texts don't feel novel. It's more so their writing that I find benefit in studying. I'm starting to think that the only thing I can do is write about actual things in my life and place them in philosophical frameworks, which I've already been doing. This means that in all the history of the past, it was both very complicated and not very complicated at the same time. are there philosophical ideas that are particularly groundbreaking? you can give me a list from authors and I'll tell you if one of them are novel to me. 1. Existentialism (Jean-Paul Sartre, Albert Camus): The idea that individuals are responsible for creating their own meaning and values in a seemingly indifferent or absurd universe. 2. Utilitarianism (John Stuart Mill, Jeremy Bentham): The ethical theory that the best action is the one that maximizes utility, often defined as happiness or well-being, for the greatest number of people. 3. Categorical Imperative (Immanuel Kant): The concept that moral principles are absolute and must be followed unconditionally, regardless of the consequences. 4. Nihilism (Friedrich Nietzsche): The belief that traditional values and beliefs are baseless, and life lacks inherent meaning or purpose. 5. The Veil of Ignorance (John Rawls): A thought experiment proposing that societal structures and rules should be designed as if decision-makers were unaware of their own social status or advantages, ensuring fairness and justice. 6. The Social Contract (Thomas Hobbes, Jean-Jacques Rousseau): The idea that individuals voluntarily give up certain freedoms and rights to a governing authority in exchange for security and order within society. 7. Phenomenology (Edmund Husserl): The study of consciousness and subjective experience, emphasizing the importance of how things appear or are experienced by individuals. 8. Dialectical Materialism (Karl Marx): The theory that historical change is driven by conflicts between social classes and the material conditions of society. Yeah, why is it that I'm already well familiar with all of these? Have we reached the point where ideas are now merely blended together and re-established in our modern day to fit the very realities we face? I don't think or know if there are any ideas that are particularly groundbreaking, save for scientific contributions and evolutions. When did we reach this point? When did I reach this point? That all the ideas now feel like childish mockeries. I'm not saying they're meaningless or to be dismissed. But I have reached the point where these ideas feel like constructions just because I already am well familiar with them. Is it because of being exposed to so many meaningful media growing up? I have been exposed to many ideas it seems in my life that these ideas are like a child's drawing of the real first-hand experiences which visually, sensually, and experientially communicated to me their realities. I'm not saying that these ideas are meaningful, but that their realities are already well-exposed, -ingrained, and -communicated into my very nature throughout my life.
I only realized this now, but I notice that there is what I call an establishment phase, where when a person is shaken or his sense of privacy compromised, then he will enter into a reestablishing phase, like a displaced refugee re-settling again. This takes time, but often it involves hanging around a focal area, place, or location long enough until the establishment has been committed and completed. As for what "hanging around" means, I refer to activities which are conducive mainly to relaxation, a feeling of doing nothing, and just a sense of stillness and mindless occupation within the location. Each time the person is disrupted in this phase, they might be forced to return to productive focus; however, this return is marked by stress, a sense of fluidity due to their lack of sleep, and increased vigilance. Sooner or later, they will attempt again to enter into the establishment phase, and if it is successful, they will have renewed sleep quality, stable emotionality, and consistent productivity levels marked by ever-increasing motivation, commitment, and precision (focus). In short, when privacy and a sense of safety and stability are compromised, they need to be re-established without disruption during an extended period of 'hanging around.' This can be compared to the mobbing patterns of birds, wherein bird groups, whether they are conspecific or mixed, are more likely to cooperate in mobbing if they have spent enough time settling in an area, as opposed to "...migratory individuals, who just arrived in an area and therefore not familiar..." (Goodale et al. 2017).
But there is a part of me that desires to let the past weigh me down just for a moment. I think there is something that makes me feel validated and real about letting the past and the pondering of the limitations of my life weigh me down, even if just for a while for the sake of addressing things and the past. It makes happiness and living in the moment more meaningful.
I guess it's normal... Once I read a many fiction books, at one point, even if I had expected never to stop reading, I did end up stopping. There is this loss that occurs by knowing. It's not about the fear of change, but it's more so the very idea of knowing being a catalyst for the loss of what has been just a guy reading fiction books and is now knowledge. Knowledge is what remains after all that binge-reading of fantasy fiction books, and it stems from a loss. It's sad that I can no longer read the books I read previously the same way. I can't even re-read them without detecting quickly that something has changed. I don't 'know' things the same way. Even new fantasy fiction books give me the same feeling that I cannot even read them anymore. That is why I stopped. That is what I mean. Upon knowing, I lost something. But it is a loss, even if it is also a transformation. I am not looking at it as a negative-feeling thing. I am not sad or angry in the sense that I cannot bounce back from it. It's just reality, and I know that I'm going to be okay as per usual. I always find a way to make sense of things, and I always bounce back. It's just that I wanted to point out something that happens. Upon knowing, I lost something. I still remember when I saw many stories like they were the most awesome thing in the world, but it's weird that I no longer see them the same way. I can read them with my new perspective, but it just won't be the same. That is why I don't interest myself in the stories I used to read in the past. In fact, I do not read fiction stories anymore. I read non-fiction academic texts. At one point, I thought I was reading the world, but it was only one small tiny thing. In the end, I moved on from it like with everything else. I always do, and that can be scary that I can just do that. But it's just reality. I will keep going until it all ends. And that sounds motivational. The very idea that I will keep going and that I cannot stop myself from moving forward optimistically, but it can also feel kind of daunting, strange, and alienating. How many worlds will I traverse through only to find out it was all constructed or that the allure that I had for them is now lost upon knowing? At one point, I saw my small preschool environment as this giant world. At one point, I saw my small elementary environment as this giant world. At one point, I saw my high school environment as this giant world. It never ends, and all of those feelings of largeness and bigness are now revealed to be nothing in comparison to how much I am now. Those people I met who used to be gods are now just a bunch of random people. Imagine at one point, having this feeling of smallness like a kid in a giant ship in a vast ocean and then just all of that fading like it meant nothing. What happened? Where has it gone? It's a good thing that it left, but damn, why is it that I cared about all of those things in the first place? I find myself weirded out by the very fact that I cared about all of those things in the first place. I feel nostalgic through my memories, but I would never do those things today again. I just don't care. I might reflect upon it or go something like go to the place where those memories occurred. But I would never do them as I am now. It is my past self that did them, and it is the circumstances and nature of my past and my past self that made those memories happen. My current self would never have taken the same hundreds of choices my past self had made if I was presented with them today. My memories are merely a lens of my past self throughout time, but my current self do not care for them much if not for these nostalgic memories. Old Roblox would look like dog shit if it was not for these nostalgic memories of mine. That goes for all those stories I read in the past. I am proud and happy to have read them, but now that I am the person I am today, I would never do them again. I think it's because now that I've already experienced them, I no longer care for them. The allure they held as things unknown to me in the past is no longer relevant today. I've read so many stories that just amounted to my imagination playing tricks on me at this point. My ignorance created a platform for that allure and that desire to read them curiously. It makes me feel weird, and I don't know... I just feel like... I can just do whatever the hell I want. I am free, and I am not so pressured so as to need the past to validate me necessarily. The past serves as a basis for my actions because of how they are ingrained to me to this day with all the knowledge and experiences. But I feel very free. I am so free, and I can do whatever I want. The past is just a weird place, and it's weird to look back. But when not looking back and living in and enjoying the moment, it's very easy and relaxing. But yeah, every now and then, looking back helps to address stuff that may have been building up for a while.
The thing is... I already know what to do. Your suggestions are funny, because the discussion was not a cry for help. It was just a statement on what things are. There is no escape from this reality, and the suggestions just feel like mockery because of how distant they are in terms of stemming from an accurate or precise characterization of my discussion. Like I said, I already know what to do, and I'm going to be okay, as it has always been. I'm okay now, and I am hopeful. I am optimistic, excited, and all the good things. The discussion was not from a dark place of depression and suicidal thoughts, so please stop giving me solutions or suggestions because that mischaracterizes the point of the discussion in the first place.
The more I understand, the more I lost something in the process. It's almost as if the very ignorance that plagued me was an essential clause. It's not necessarily that everything sucks. It's not that simple. It's like I cannot even play video games anymore or lie down on the bed the same way. There's this irreversible irreconcilable change that occurred. What has happened to me? What have I done? Through knowledge and experience I feel I have lost something in the process. When outside the flow, I am able to think, and I realize well that I have eradicated something by becoming. By becoming (internalizing) new experiences, new expansions of knowledge, new selves, and other novelties, I have lost something in the process. I don't know... I am scared of Wikipedia. I am scared of those encyclopedias. I am scared of reading them. I fear that upon reading them, I will have lost them. I want them to remain unknown to me. There is something lost upon knowing. I've always liked the idea that I am not what I am, that I don't know anything. There's this excitement I think. Reading all those fantasy fiction novels... After a while, I just stopped. I don't know why. But I know that knowing broke me. Knowing by reading many novels broke me, and at one point, I realized I lost something by knowing. Upon knowing, I lost something. Reading all those stories, playing those games, having those experiences, having those conversations, meeting and befriending those people, and experiencing all kinds of events, places, feelings, sensations, and ideas. At one point... upon knowing, I lost something. It is not that the world is too vast that it is overwhelming, but that it makes too much sense. I don't know everything of course, but everything makes too much sense. Upon knowing, I lost something, and I know well that even if I have studied much, I still have much to study. However, I also know the very constant nature of my knowing, which results in my loss of something. I can see myself reading all the books in my room, and I fear it, because it would make too much sense. I fear knowing. Recently, I started learning German, and I'm reading even more academic works as well. But while I may have experienced excitement and novelty through knowing, I also lost something. It never ceases. I can already see that learning German, Dutch, Chinese, and all kinds of academic fields will only exacerbate this feeling of loss, even if they might expose me to all kinds of excitement and novelty. I am afraid of hope, because it fundamentally changes who I am. It stops me from pondering these realities and transitions me to the same cycle of happiness, joy, excitement, novelty, adventure, and curiosity again. But that's not a bad thing. It's just that I want to ponder these realities. But yeah, inevitably, I will become okay. The next day, I'll be okay. The day after that, I'll be okay. It never ceases. I will always find a way to appreciate things and enjoy life. It's just that even now, the very nature of my knowing in that I lose something in the process is still the case. I am not so in tension that I am dysfunctional. I am actually high-functional, but I am also in a transitional change. So as a result, I will lean toward much self-reflection and engagement with many new things such as studying academic textbooks, learning new languages, and experiencing new things, among others. But I do have this fear of hope, and it's not a fear that is constant anyway. Just a feeling that arises every now and then, but it's not severe or mild even. It's more so a fear that stems from knowing well that hope is always followed by intense questioning after disappointment, failure, and struggle. So there is this desire to keep away from hope and focus on intense inquiry and reflection, especially with regard to everything I've ever experienced, thought, felt, and sensed.
The more I understand, the more I lost something in the process. It's almost as if the very ignorance that plagued me was an essential clause. It's not necessarily that everything sucks. It's not that simple. It's like I cannot even play video games anymore or lie down on the bed the same way. There's this irreversible irreconcilable change that occurred. What has happened to me? What have I done? Through knowledge and experience I feel I have lost something in the process. When outside the flow, I am able to think, and I realize well that I have eradicated something by becoming. By becoming (internalizing) new experiences, new expansions of knowledge, new selves, and other novelties, I have lost something in the process.
I feel that I will die... The next day, I'll wake up, and it'll be my body—wait a minute, I'm still alive! What the hell! I thought I was dead! I was just sleeping! It looks like my very identity has shifted from the past day into the present day (a novelty which now is entertained by this new self of mine and which can no longer be married into the previous reality signified by the past self)! It is here that I am now a self which maintains coherence through days and even through sleeping, which causes the chasm between the past day and the present day! I am now here, but the past day could be considered now a gone reality, a reality that no longer exists except within my constructed interpretations of it through memory! I am not dead! But in this process of sleeping (moving from one day to the next), I have now irreconcilably detached from who I was (the past day self)!
then what was it all for? Can I ask that question? I guess... that's the point. There's no need to answer. I will explain it, describe it, and answer it excitedly and comprehensively again and again in many succeeding periods of my life, as I have done before. It never ends, and I always change (that answer). I think all of these things are meaningless in that I will create meaning again and be happy again. I am never too remote from happiness or joy or a sensation that all things have been so since the beginning, that I may relax within this beauty-cycle. I do not what comes after this, but I am excitedly going anyway. But in this state of reflection, who am I? I am all of these things, yet I am none of these that I had been. It is all going to collapse, fall, and rise up again. It never ends; it never ceases. I remain a person, and even language is mocked because it cannot describe this sensation that all things are, have been, and will continue to be—the very change of life itself becomes mocked because it is very much the norm. I sit down, and what next? I become happy, find meaning, and create life in the moment, this period of my life. That's it. That's all it is. I do it again and again, and each time is a new thing. I am not overwhelmed and tired that I will not rise again. I am ever-remaining, and ever-within-this-cycle, where happiness rises and falls and sadness falls and rise. I hate, and I am loved. I love, and I and hated. All of these things bear no meaning in the end, only as much as I give them at this moment. At this moment, I knew I fucked up. (Not because I did anything wrong, but because I did everything right and made lots of mistakes, which is not inhuman [bad] at all.)
All of the aforementioned suggestions reflect a mischaracterization of what I said. Like I said, the very fact that you're trying to solve what I was saying stems from a mischaracterization. Like I said, I said all of the aforementioned things, not because I am trying to solve my personal life necessarily. Solutions to my personal life happen independently from the discussion. It is like saying "You want to eat food" to a person who already takes care of his biological needs and is clearly discussing something that does not relate to mere mindfulness or food. The above discussion within my passage is not a simple "Okay, I suck, tell me to eat food." I do eat food, but eating food and mindfulness will not solve the discussion. The discussion is not a cry for help. Your suggestions is like telling Kant to "sleep it off" or "just eat." I already sleep and eat, engage in mindfulness, literary exploration, written reflection, artistic and creative exploration through music and art, and many other forms of expression and engagement. The discussion does not concern the mere filling of a biological need through basic food. The more you try to give suggestions on what to do next, the more I see you're missing the point. However, pointing or matching my discussion and its elements to pre-existing ideas in philosophy, theories, thinkers, and terms such as 'post-structuralist' and 'phenomenological' is helpful.