Modern Day Socrates

I really don't think there is a modern day Socrates. He wasn't just a unique man but he was living in a unique situation, a world very different from our own. In the day of Socrates you could be noticed by walking down the street. People knew eachother. Not by an image on a screen, but either by their voice and face or in some cases by a book or letter. There weren't any celebrities like we know today. The streets of Rome were full of both ordinary people and political figures, intermingling in the same space, and Socrates could walk outside his door and find both his audience and his subject of ridicule on the same street. It was a time when someone walking around outside and asking thought provoking but entertaining questions could not only be noticed, but could make his way to the forefront of the consciousness of his nation and be remembered vividly for thousands of years.

Today the busy streets of Rome seem desolate and empty. The people walked about and saw maybe a hundred people around them, but these were the only people they saw. There were no television screens in their pockets. No newspapers. No instant communication with people perhaps thousands of miles away. No ads on the subway and no voices on the radio. All that they experienced were the people who were truly corporeal and visible in front of them. And if you're looking at a hundred boring people then it's easy to spot one interesting one. Today, however, we are looking at thousands of people constantly vying for our attention. I really can't stress enough just how many ideas are constantly pouring in to our heads as we walk outside. There's no escaping it. Our nation, and really every part of the world with electricity, has become a sea of human faces and words and ideas and letters flying across the air and landing on our walls and in our ears and eyes in the hope that perhaps one shred of it all will register in some part of our brain and we might remember it. And the motivation for nearly all of this is money. That's not an oversimplification or an overstatement. Advertising, radio shows, newspapers, all of it is ultimately based on the concept of capitalism.

But a modern day Socrates would not be a capitalist. He, or (of course) she, would be honestly interested in people listening to her questions and thoughts and would really just like to be heard. She wouldn't want to make money off of her opinions or her face, her identity, her name or her brand. She'd just want people, like those bemused romans, to perk up their ears at her voice and tone and words and to listen and maybe consider one or two of the things she said. Today, this sort of person will not be heard.

Nonetheless, authors of books are still heard. And I can't say there is no honesty or decency left in the world. But it's just not the same and isn't quite a worthy comparison. Today Socrates is just a name in a sea of names. A drop of water in an ocean, almost literally. But at the time, Socrates was the man. He was genuinely saying something that nobody else was saying and that nobody else had ever said. His ideas were truly, literally, inescapably new and compelling. I think that for some people he was the only voice in their world that  developed what they thought and made them say "Yes! I've always felt that and never known how to say it. Tell me more!" But today, everything ever you could possibly think is being said quite publicly by somebody somewhere. You won't just find what you want or need to hear by seeking it out; you've probably already heard it and just ignored it because of the constant drone of other thoughts barraging your head!

Socrates was not just an interesting and unique man but was also a product of his environment. Our environment is just so inescapably and irreversibly changed that there is no modern day Socrates, that there can't be, and that there may never be one again.

The Unexamined Life

The question of how true this statement is is a question that haunts all men and women who think and question. We all like to think that those who don't question their existence and live whatever life is projected upon them lead an unfulfilling and pointless life. But there will always be that nagging thought that, if I had never watched the news, never been aware of the world and questioned the rights of those in power, never bothered to think there was more beyond my tiny world, would I really be worse off? Is it possible that to live in complete ignorance truly is bliss? Many people who question only find themselves in an ever-increasing existential dilemma to the point that they conclude that life is meaningless anyway. They unravel everything they thought was true and realize that nothing matters because there is no one to say what matters. It's easy to say that to take questioning to this extreme is unnecessary, but is it possible that if you keep questioning, this is the only real answer? That there is no answer to the ultimate question?

What I like to think, and I guess ultimately do believe, is that it is not unhappiness but stagnancy that is the enemy. Pain, even the most torturous spiritual pain, is a part of life and of development. It's a necessary part of growth. So perhaps the scale we ought to measure our actions on is not unhappiness vs happiness but stagnancy vs growth. A society without questioners would sit in the stone age, like animals, farming and hunting for sustenance, having sex, giving birth, never looking to the stars or imagining gods. We have progressed because we choose to question, not only because we can.

We are the tool the universe uses to examine itself. But would it really be worse if the universe had never examined itself at all?

Eulogy

 Colin's death could not have come at a more unfortunate time. He went through much of the anguish of his life without ever experiencing the happiness he wanted. He contributed very little of what he had to offer to the world. He had big ideas and dreams that for various reasons he never really fulfilled.

He really won't be remembered by the world. Surrounded by people who worked hard to impress the world and compete even in high school, Colin struggled to survive. Although he learned quickly, was knowledgeable, and was extremely intelligent, Colin had problems with doing his school work. He never joined any clubs at Whitney Young and never felt connected there. The intense and perhaps elitist environment of the school made him feel alienated. He was not popular, had a low GPA, and never did anything noteworthy academically. His name was never read over the intercom.

Those who will probably remember him are his friends. He was known for a cynical but honest sense of humor. Although he was often abrasive, he was never mean. He truly tried to put out a positive aura and energy. Whenever he and someone else started to hate eachother, he had a hard time holding up his end of the bargain. Although he saw the bad in people, he saw the good as well. He always had something funny or witty or stupid to say.

Although the pendulum of his life had only started swinging, he did reach some kind of resolution by the start of senior year, compared to how he was as a freshman. His life went to hell that year, as he began to truly suffer from depression. At that time he wanted to become “cool” by high school standards and desperately wanted to fit in. He passed off friendships with people he didn't think were cool enough in favor of getting in with whoever looked like they were popular. Over the years, however, this changed. He realized that the popular kids were really just boring. He found friends who, despite annoying him, really liked him for who he was and maybe even cared about him. He realized that the way society views a person is so skewed that it's not even worth thinking about. And his depression only made his perceptions more extreme. By late Junior year he finally realized that the thoughts of others had none of the merit or weight he attributed to them, and that he was really free to talk to or be with whoever he wanted. He realized he was free to be who he wanted to be.

So even though he didn't fulfill much of his potential, and even though his life was troubled, perhaps it was not wasted. He did find some peace and happiness within himself, and was becoming more and more comfortable with what he believed and with who he was. Sucks that he's dead though.

My philosophy

For my whole life I've thought deeply about philosophy. I have experienced a great deal of mental and spiritual pain throughout my life mainly due to my severe clinical depression, problems with school, and social alienation. This pain has nearly driven me to suicide. In trying to find meaning I think about philosophy almost constantly; I could probably write a lot about this question but I never thought anyone would read it so I never did. An essential part of my philosophy:

A “person,” a “human,” or a “soul,” (whatever it is to be called) is composed of many different parts. These parts often fight with eachother. For example, a part of me is arrogant and believes that I know everything. Other parts of me are afraid of that arrogance, other parts are ashamed. As a consciousness this means that I am often unwilling to admit ignorance, incorrectness, or especially any immaturity. This part of me believes I am mature beyond my years so much as to outrank adults I know. The other parts of me are overpowering this part, but it is honestly painful for me to admit that this part of me exists. It is also painful to admit that this part of me is probably wrong.

These different parts come together to form the gestalt that is the human consciousness. My mother would say that this is a conflict between the ego and the oversoul, or Self. She believes in a combination of East-Asian and Jungian philosophy. I think that a person is composed of even more parts than that, that perhaps those are just categories of the various components of the soul. A wise soul seeks to align these parts and find balance between them.

I am relatively sure of this all because I truly feel it within my own mind.