Zen and the Art of Folly

Before I blog any further, let’s get one thing straight:

I have no idea what I’m doing. And I believe that is the only reason worth doing it. In this post, I’m going to explain what that means, how this Ill-Advised Blog is going to work, and why you, insert name here, should read and take part in it.

Imagine a basket of fruit. You have a picture of this basket from the front, and from the side. By looking at these two pictures, comparing them, finding the connections between them, seeing how each item looks when viewed from another angle, you can picture in your head what it looks like from the angle halfway between these two pictures. You might be able to make an educated guess about what it would look like from above. Even though you have no way to tell what it looks like from behind, you might be able to fill in the blanks and hold a nearly true picture of the whole basket as a sort of sculpture in your head.

Now imagine that the fruit basket is actually infinitely large, and all the pictures you have were taken from inside the basket, and someone’s thumb was covering part of the lens in every one of them. This is what Philosophy looks like.

I’ve made several attempts, in drafting this post, to create a concise, clear, and inclusive definition of Philosophy, as a whole, and as spelled with a capital P. The best I have managed so far is “Philosophy: the study and contemplation of the Thingness of the Universe.” I believe this may be a little too narrow a definition, but it’s the best I can do.

Now. It is not my intention, on this blog, to create or promote any grand, all-inclusive theory about the nature of Reality. I am quite certain the Thingness of the universe will go on being what it is whatever I think of it, whatever you think of it, and whether or not we agree. This is a blog about Sonder and Self-Sonder.

If you read my last post, you’ll remember the definition of Sonder, the phrase coined by the blog “Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows,” which is, in brief, the realization that every person you interact with has their own unique, important, and complex life story. I concluded that the acceptance of Sonder as a reality included confronting the fact that my (your) own story is unique, important, and more complex than it seemed on the surface.

I am trying to understand some implications of this, like “If I accept that Sonder is true, and every life is its own unique, amazing story, different from my own in ways completely foreign to me; how can I understand anyone else’s story except as a reflection of my own? Is it possible to really connect with anyone else at all? What, when you get down to it, is connection?”

Or, alternately, “If I accept that Sonder is true, and every interaction I have with another human being—and by extension, the ways those interactions influence me—is the result of years of amazing and unique backstory completely unknown to me; then how can I understand my story except as an extension of every other story it has collided with? Is it possible to really separate my story, my identity, from anyone else’s at all? What, when you get down to it, is identity?”

And of course, therefore, by extension, “If I accept that Sonder is true, then I am both inextricably connected to everyone else on earth, and utterly incapable of truly connecting with anyone other than myself. Both of these conclusions are equally logical and valid, yet also clearly at odds with each other. How is this possible? What, when you get right down to it, is Sonder?”

One can’t go far in philosophy without running across questions that are big, connected, and contradictory like these. How do you go about addressing such questions? How do you answer all the questions you don’t have? Philosophers across time have had many different ideas about the best ways.

One such method is referred to in Zen Buddhism as a Koan. A Koan is a type of riddle, an idea or story or phrase that appears absurd and illogical, but through careful contemplation, some believe, you can get a glimpse of the basket in a way that straightforward language cannot express. For example: “If you have ice cream, I will give it to you. If you have no ice cream, I will take it away from you.”

Logically speaking, the two sentences appear ridiculous and nonsensical. But if you consider them carefully, you will realize they are, in fact, accurate, and maybe even profound. I’ll explain how later.

I do not know what the right way to answer these questions is. But I’m going to search for an answer to them anyway. I did warn you this blog was ill-advised, a fool’s errand. Still, perhaps folly isn’t as bad as people tend to think. William Shakespeare, a man whose works demonstrated an understanding of humanity arguably as profound as any other in recorded history, once wrote, “A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows he is a fool.” I believe this sentiment is in keeping with the Koan philosophy: the “wise” man dismisses the riddle as folly, but the “fool,” who ponders it, finds unspeakable wisdom.

And so, emboldened in my folly by two ancient wise men, I have decided to take this blog forwards following the words of a more recent wise man. Charles Fort, in his 1931 publication “Lo!” wrote: “We shall pick up an existence by its frogs. Wise men have tried other ways. They have tried to understand our state of being, by grasping at its stars, or its arts, or its economics. But, if there is an underlying oneness of all things, it does not matter where we begin, whether with stars, or laws of supply and demand, or frogs, or Napoleon Bonaparte. One measures a circle, beginning anywhere.”

No more deliberating on where to begin, then. What follows is this Ill-Advised Blog’s mission statement:

In order to fully come to terms with the idea that every life is a story, I have no choice but to recognize that my life is a story, too. My life is a story full of characters more real and three-dimensional than any I’ve ever read. My life is a story that I am writing all the time. And it’s a story in whose outcome—and in whose plotline, too—I have an extremely vested interest. And therefore, if I’m going to write this story as well as I can, I’d better make absolutely certain I understand the main character, the way he thinks, and how he relates to the other characters, as intimately as I possibly can. This is the Goal: Not to understand reality, but to examine the way that Insert Name Here thinks about various aspects of reality, and to consider how those opinions connect to each other and become Insert Name Here. I’ll do me. You do you. It’s my intention for the Ill-Advised Blog posts to be written in an open-ended fashion, so that each post becomes, not a 1,000 word insight into me, Sam, but rather, a description of an idea or concept for you to reflect upon; a koan, if you will. Hopefully, doing so will grant you a vital, maybe even non-verbal, insight into Insert Name Here.

Comments are encouraged. Guest posts are welcome.

I look forward to meeting me, and I hope you do, too.

PS: If you thought I was going to explain the ice cream riddle, then you've misunderstood how this works. But I wish you the best of luck in figuring it out!