On the need to be exposed and the beginning of philosophy (series: notes to myself)

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To be exposed. 

To perceive something in such a way as to be affected, painfully, by what is imposing itself on one’s own perception, because of its barely bearable presence or absence. 

The boundless blue of space and time, beyond the dark trees, in a lately lightful evening. 

The unlimited blackness of nothingness, harmless, beyond your exiled existence. 

The endless green intricacies of malleable meanings, latching onto each other, beyond themselves. 

The bottomless whiteness of hollow horrors we inflict upon ourselves, beyond understanding. 

Being exposed to all this and more precedes wonder (thaumazein). And protecting oneself from this exposure prevents wonder. 

There is a reason why we prefer to linger in the darkness. 
We do not wish to be blinded by the light outside, skin burning under the sun. 

Still, a life unexposed cannot be a life lived philosophically. 

So, philosophy begins in maieutic pain.

It all begins with exposure. To complete presence. To total absence.

Philosophy is good pain. But pain nonetheless.


Photo by Kia Nobre






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