The goal of philo-sophia

Philo-sophia, as I see it, has one central aim: to get in touch with reality more deeply, more fully, more intensely. The philosopher wants to connect to the real—not just in abstract thought, but in his way of life—and to help others do so.

This is the Platonic yearning. It assumes that normally we are not completely in touch with reality, because we are enclosed within our narrow ‘perimeter’—within the limited realm of our expectations and assumptions, emotional patterns, one-sided attitudes, self-centered ideas and fantasies.

But this yearning also assumes that we are capable of going beyond our perimeter. To be sure, some aspects of reality may be forever beyond human reach. Nevertheless, even the reality that is accessible to us is much greater and richer than we usually assume.

There are many methods that can help us towards this goal: exercises that raise our awareness of our perimeter, philosophical analyses to understand the perimeter’s structure and hidden assumptions, contemplative techniques that go beyond our usual patterns of understanding. But methods are not enough. What is needed is a personal journey, which means commitment, time and effort. In this journey we cultivate a new form of awareness, a new state of mind: a state of mind of openness to beyond ourselves, to the greater horizons of reality, and to its many aspects or ‘voices.’

Of course, we cannot abolish our perimeter. As human beings we have definite psychological and cultural structures. But while we live our normal life, we can also maintain an openness to beyond these structures. This state of mind is Sophia—wisdom. It is the state of mind that is open to the many fountains of understanding, of plenitude, of life.

Example

Going beyond our perimeter can take place on many levels, degrees, and intensities. The following example is one of many kinds.

Sandra always avoids conflicts and arguments. She feels comfortable only in ‘pleasant’ relationships, even when they are dull and empty. This is why she never complains to her neighbors about loud noise, and why she ‘forgets’ that her sister owes her money. She often organizes parties and game-nights and trips for her friends, and makes sure that all the participants are busy and happy.

One night, Sandra invites several friends to a Bingo evening. While everybody is still chatting, two friends, Jerry and Bill, sit in the corner and argue about global warming. The two men raise their voices in excitement, and Sandra is worried about this ‘unpleasant friction.’ She decides to start the game. She tries to break up their discussion and pull them to the table.

Linda, a philosophical practitioner, watches her. “You certainly have a very specific conception of human relationships,” Linda whispers to her. “For you, good relationships means harmony. Disagreement and differences disrupt the harmony. And harmony is a most important thing. In fact, relationships are like a game—they don’t have to be deep or significant, as long as they are fun, protected, regulated by rules, pleasant.”

Sandra is struck by these words. She looks at Bill and Jerry as they argue, interrupting each other and raising their voices. And suddenly she notes that Bill places his hand on Jerry’s arm, saying: “No, my friend, you don’t understand…”

The gesture takes only a few seconds, but it touches Sandra deeply. For a moment she can see the bond that exists between the two arguing men. She can see very clearly how their friendship is different from her idea of relationships, and how it ‘speaks’ a different language. And for a moment she can understand this other language too, she can feel it, she can share it.

At that moment something strange happens. On the one hand, she is still tense and worried. She still feels the urge to disrupt their argument and pull them to the game. But at the same time, something inside her accepts Bill and Jerry’s argument. She feels that she is Sandra, but at the same time she is also more than Sandra.