Breakdown Philosophy

I was having a bad day. A friend of mine had just stated that my poetry had no voice, and my brother expressed concern that I was now unemployed. And I wondered about it all, whether I was ever meant for anything great, like sometimes, I had felt that I was. And I considered what meaning there was to me, to this “I am”, if there was anything to salvage of this existence. Then, as I walked through the philosophy section of a bookstore, past Descartes’ Meditations on First Philosophy — where he breaks down everything and tries to start thinking about everything from scratch — I was struck by a thought, and then another, and when I was writing those two down in the little notebook I always carry, a third:

1. I don’t know who I am.
2. I don’t know what I want.
3. I don’t know what I know.

One at a time: I don’t know who I am…. If asked the question, “Who are you?” and the answer is your name, it is like asking, “What is a chair?” and answering, “a chair”. What am I? A human being. What does that mean? I don’t think anyone can answer that in a volume less than the size of some of the fatter books in existence. And usually, that is a roundabout way of saying, “I don’t know.” Even listing your geneology, “I am the son of so and so plus so and so,” doesn’t answer the question of who you are. For you, my friend, are something that never has been before, and never will be again. It is good to know the history of how you came to be, but that does not answer who you’re supposed to be, however many similarities you have with those from before. I understood this: I don’t know who I am. And maybe you don’t know who you are, either.

I don’t know what I want…. This was actually the first one I thought of. Perhaps it was because it probably is the easiest one to realize. There were so many things I wanted, mostly things I wanted to do, but those great abstract things, too, like comfort, happiness, and security — but why did I want these things? This life — it had been joining in something already on its way, and ahead of me where I entered were the several choices I could have, so I went after them. But what if I had joined at some other space and time? Wouldn’t I have wanted different things just as much as what I wanted now? So it might be that these desires of mine were simply things I landed in. And what I really wanted — I had never really thought about it, merely seeking after what I believed was important. I do not know what I really want. My desires are accidental, as are the reasons why I want them. Why do you want what you want?

I don’t know what I know…. This was the one I thought of when I was writing down the other two. It is very similar to Socrates’ statement on knowledge. Stated in a different way, I am wrong about everything. I have made do with the knowledge, per se, as it was casually referred to, but it could probably be said that the stunning fact of human discovery is that all our theories will turn out to be mistaken in some way. Be it of heaven or earth, we will never get it right. On a more personal level, we are told many things as we grow up, but learn ourselves the harsh realities that refute the morals to the fairy tales. And then what experience teaches us, these lessons need not always apply to our world, either, and usually not to anyone else. What I know, I do not know. They are all guesses, either made by me or someone else. What do you know?

So what do these mean for me? Why I call it “Breakdown Philosophy”: it is a breakdown that comes from a breakdown: realization that comes from heartbreak, life broken down to fundamentals that may not be clear unless you’re in that vulnerable state when nothing at all makes sense. If you’re not in heartbreak right now, save this for when next it will happen, for being the human beings that we are, and the world being the world, it will happen. It is an experiential philosophy; you’ll see when you get there. The world looks different when stripped of the casual illusion we for the most part take as truth. It is not an end, but a beginning — a sort of freedom. At least, it is something to hold onto when your world is falling to pieces. And if it is nothing else, that might just be enough.