As I was reading Robert M. Pirsig's second novel, Lila, I came across the idea of "Philosophology". Philosophology, or the study of philosophy. This idea saved my life.
One of my goals since graduating high school was to study philosophy, to get a coherent understanding of major ideas from major philosophers. I wanted to know enough to group philosophers, to concisely sum up their ideas, and to read their works in the original languages that they were written in.
I, like the people Pirsig described, thought that knowing about philosophy was essential before pursuing my own philosophy. What if people already wrote down what I wanted to write down? What if strong counterarguments already existed?
But Pirsig said the same thing that a professor from the Yonsei Philosophy Department had said to me a year ago: given our short lifespans, it would be impossible.
"You can imagine the ridiculousness of an art historian taking his students to museums, having them write a thesis on some historical or technical aspect of what they see there, and after a few years of this giving them degrees that say they are accomplished artists. They've never held a brush or a mallet and chisel in their hands. All they know is art history." I had refused to believe my professor, but somehow Phaedrus' rhetoric succeeded in clearing all doubts. I should start painting again.
One of my goals since graduating high school was to study philosophy, to get a coherent understanding of major ideas from major philosophers. I wanted to know enough to group philosophers, to concisely sum up their ideas, and to read their works in the original languages that they were written in.
I, like the people Pirsig described, thought that knowing about philosophy was essential before pursuing my own philosophy. What if people already wrote down what I wanted to write down? What if strong counterarguments already existed?
But Pirsig said the same thing that a professor from the Yonsei Philosophy Department had said to me a year ago: given our short lifespans, it would be impossible.
"You can imagine the ridiculousness of an art historian taking his students to museums, having them write a thesis on some historical or technical aspect of what they see there, and after a few years of this giving them degrees that say they are accomplished artists. They've never held a brush or a mallet and chisel in their hands. All they know is art history." I had refused to believe my professor, but somehow Phaedrus' rhetoric succeeded in clearing all doubts. I should start painting again.
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