Tag: philosophy

Wakes teach us that success fades before memory does, and that, even in life, the degrees of satisfaction one can attain vary greatly. At a wake, in the presence of the lifeless body, the marks left by the deceased on the minds of those who knew him are revealed to still be alive. And one realizes, as there are different wakes, that there is the cultivation and enjoyment of different goods. Death merely lays bare what was gratifying, whether lasting or perishable, whether selfish or shared, whether the marks left were good or bad. The deceased, as Mallarmé’s verse says, becomes what he is; and it is through this final form that one can assess the success and validity of the simultaneous convergence of all that was collected throughout life.

One of the most beautiful aspects of the Eastern master-disciple system, through which knowledge is transmitted individually along a lineage dating back to time immemorial, is that the master endures and lives on in the disciple, without losing his own identity or overshadowing the disciple’s personality. As we read the stories, we are impressed by the achievements of all the masters, and it seems that the idea of comparing them to determine which was greater never crosses our minds. There is no rivalry; rather, there is a tradition that lives in all of them and continues to manifest itself in new forms, in response to specific circumstances, through individual acts.

Teaching is certainly a very rewarding activity, sometimes even more so than learning itself. However, it is easy to make it frustrating: all it takes is for the teacher to set expectations—or rather, to try to force the learning process. It takes time to understand this, and only then can one develop the appropriate response, which boils down to an attitude that is always open, always well-intentioned, but that waits for a positive signal before acting. Patiently, one waits for interest to manifest, and, knowing that both this and the outcome of teaching are beyond one’s control, one can finally enjoy the experience of helping.

Through the phenomenal appearance of Kant’s books, one learns that it is only possible to form an opinion about Kant’s phenomenal appearance, since Kant himself cannot be known. Likewise, Kant’s philosophy can have nothing more than its phenomenal appearance apprehended, just like a dog, a refrigerator, or an equation. Now, the following happens: from the moment one accepts this precept, everything is justified, except for study and, ultimately, life. It is incredible that there could have been armies of Kantians who lived as ordinary men—that is, who accepted this phantasmagoria and allowed themselves a natural death. In truth, there seems to be only one explanation for this, one that is somewhat discrediting to Kant’s philosophy.