My mother was a phenomenologist. Of course she never claimed to be such because she’d never heard of such a thing.
Few people have, unless they matriculated at a liberal arts college and sat through Introduction to Philosophy lectures, where they heard terms such as: Platonism, Stoicism, Aristotelianism, rationalism, empiricism, idealism, pragmatism, and finally—if they survived to the end—Martin Heidegger’s phenomenalism and Sartre’s existentialism (which, as someone noted, is more of a mood than a philosophy.)
I matriculated at a liberal arts college. I majored in philosophy. I’ve forgotten nearly all of it except this:
Nearly every philosopher eventually came to the same conclusion, usually 30 years and 30 million words later: If you want to be happy, make someone else happy. Which happens to be the creed of humanism as well.
During Christmas break of my sophomore year, I sat with my father at the kitchen table sharing my new learning. I informed him that there was no way for us to know that the table, chairs, kitchen walls, or even we ourselves existed.
All of it could be an illusion, I said.
My father, a railroad worker, was astonished at my new knowledge, for which he was paying. I continued to expound, to his great amazement.
Meanwhile, my mother was baking biscuits. She interrupted our seminar. “I don’t know whether these biscuits exist, but if they do, you’re welcome to eat them.”
We did. Happily.
That’s phenomenology.
Don’t ask why or wherefore. Just notice what’s in front of you, and make the best of it.
Simone Weil was a phenomenologist. She got out of the ivory tower and got her hands dirty. She died young. If you want to live well and right, she said, just pay attention.
Last week a friend sent me this poem by Mary Oliver.
Mysteries, yes.
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow heads.
Do you remember meeting me after I had visited the church a few times? My biggest question was basically, do you think you know everything? Your humble response allowed me to keep coming back. I too try to keep my distance from those who know all the answers.
I remember you but not your question. Nevertheless my answer would be the same today as then.
This right here
Wonderful Mary Oliver! She saw what was there but so deeply.
What a beautiful piece! Edmund Husserl, the so-called father of phenomenology, realized that natural objects, like your mother’s biscuits, need to be experienced before any theorizing about them could occur. Hence, the importance of being in the moment, of tasting the biscuits in gratitude and wonder.
In that spirit, it is also vital to realize we are “know-it-somes”, not “know-it-alls.” Husserl might applaud your mother as well as agree with one definition of meditation (and one might say, life itself): “Sit down, shut up and pay attention.”
I know one thing for sure: I am grateful every week that, whether we exist or are illusion, I get to experience this community. Randy and Friends, you are my Sunday biscuits. Thank you for that–and for the memory of wise loved ones and mutual inspiration.
Gee, thanks. I think I are one.
Seems to me
We are a social species
Living and working together
Enjoying company of others
What we do for ourselves
We do for all other selves
Love is the sinew
Connecting action and values.
To lean into a Yogi Berra quote: If you come to an “ism” in the road, take it. It might serve to move you down the road a bit until the next lesson learned. Hastening to the next, I seem to put more stock in questions asked these days over answers.
I like happiness, particularly unbounded joy, when even one’s eyes are laughing silently in a gleeful chuckle. I lean toward humanism. I can’t go all in because some humans make me shake my head and wonder. I am more of a fan of dogs and atoms, stardust and such.
When the Army and I parted ways all those years ago, I came up with three life goals: Find a good woman, find a good brim (hat), and find a purpose. Two out of three ain’t too shabby.
Here’s one of my favorite quotes from a famous philosopher and phenomenologists: “You can see a lot by just watching.” Yogi Berra
Lovely! I love your stories contrasting your working, down-to-earth parents with your higher education conceits. As I’ve said before, your mother always had the best lines. Thank you also for that great poem ending with: Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers. Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” and laugh in astonishment, and bow heads. Amen to that!
Smiling in this moment; thank you all… living, laughing, learning in this moment – what a simple pleasure to share your hearts and ideas!
When I was first out of college, I dabbled with atheism, for a short time. The trouble was, everything appeared too flat and finite, and I wanted more. I decided life was better with some mystery to it. Thanks for the affirmation.
Kudos to your mother for that gentle perfect squelch.
I always ask why. it’s important to know why you’re doing some thing or being asked to do something or why somebody believes in what they believe but I do believe that being kind to other people listening to other people hearing other people is where we need to be.