For the longest time, I thought I was the lone fuck-up in a world of over-achieving do-gooders. I thought everyone’s life was an unbroken string of success and that the charted trajectory of their experience was the steady, upward climb of progressively improved living.
Throughout the storied and colorful history of philosophy, it has made many attempts at defining the good life. With these attempts some common themes began to emerge and a set of general models grew out of the disparate threads of definition that philosophers attached to their specific ideas of what the good life should look like.
When I talk to people about philosophy the conversation is inevitably steered towards the practical value of it. Why does it matter if we engage in deep philosophical inquiry into our lives?
It is a common cry that life is short. There is never enough time to do the things we want to do or to get the things we want to get.
Of all the philosophies so soundly misunderstood and misappropriated, Existentialism deserves to be near the top of the list. During its heyday after World War II it made its rounds –
It is often said that time heals all wounds, but that is a sentimental lie told by people who have no other advice to give when faced with the wounds of living.