A: Also, I have a philosophical question for you. Do you think we spend too much time thinking about life instead of living it?
B: Thinking about life is one of the only things we can do that transcends our own lives. It speaks to something more timeless, and I can’t think of a better way to spend a life, in fact.
It’s kind of the eternal conversation. It’s internal, it’s you grappling with your own mind, I would even say it’s the only way to work out what being human actually is.
But by that metric we might as well have been born brains only.
What’s the point of having able bodies if we spend all our time inside our heads? Or what’s the point of having such a gigantic diverse interesting special world, and special people in it, if all our time is spent thinking about things we haven’t necessarily lived?
B: I’d say it supports the mind. Without being a body in the world, with those special people, we wouldn’t have anything to feed the mind with.
It’s the physical experience that gives rise to thinking about life. Unless you’re Descartes.
A: Right, exactly! Hence my question.. We spend all this time thinking without actually having the physical experiences to give basis to those thoughts.
We think about the physical experiences of others, be them fictional or historical characters.
Rather than going out there and having them ourselves.
B: How do we make sense of our own experiences in the world unless we’ve given thought to the experiences of others before us? We’d be actors going onto the stage cold, it’d be as if we lived in a vacuum where no one had lived before us. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate ignorant life, animal-like?
A: No, I mean… of course we should give thought to others’ experiences, but I think we often leave it at that.
But also life is not a play that needs to be put on properly… it doesn’t require rehearsal, the whole point of life is that no matter how much you read or prepare, it’s never going to go as planned.
I’ve been thinking about this because on Friday my friends and I were playing never have I ever, and I realized that I know a lot and I study a lot, but that very often I don’t live my life to the fullest.
And not even in the way of doing crazy things, but of just experiencing things for myself rather than taking others’ word for it.
B: Now you sound like Kundera, and I hadn’t even realised where I got that earlier phrase from: “Because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come… We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself?”
And one part of me has always loved that phrase, wanted so desperately to agree with it in order to feel that lightness, to just live without the burden of all those who have lived before and all who will live afterwards. But—and I don’t know how to properly describe this—I feel like that’s abdicating some human responsibility.
A: Human responsibility to what?
B: I get asked that a lot (including by you!): do you actually live? You don’t drink, you don’t go out, everything is so structured and ordered, what new experiences are you having, how do you know what kind of life you want to lead without trying? And the truth is I’ve never really wondered, because the decision not to do those things has been so firm. There’s a million things you could do and you’ll never do all of them. Commitments are our way of limiting the choices open to us, what we can do with our time over the course of a lifetime. I don’t feel at all as though I’ve missed out, and that time I’ve spent reading and looking internally has (I hope) given me a way of making greater sense of all the experiences I have had and will have.
A: No yeah I know what you mean, but I think my question is not necessarily that we need to live our lives by those metrics of drinking and going out, but more of… meeting new people, taking big risks, doing things for the hell of it and not as part of a plan, etc. And sometimes I wonder if I’m being ungrateful of the fact that I have a healthy and privileged life and that instead of taking advantage of it to live everything I possibly can that its being wasted.
B: Of the billion directions your life could take, of the limitless spontaneous ways you could live your life, how should you know which directions to even take if you haven’t, through thought and reading, come up with some internal framework and blueprint for the fundamentals of how you want to live?
I think that’s where all this thought and reading comes in. I refuse to think it’s wasted time. It’s what gives meaning and sense to external life that would otherwise be wholly existential.
A: I just don’t think the internal framework and blueprint should come from other people’s experiences, from what some old white dude wrote in a book a thousand years ago. Nor should it come from assumptions about life that I make in my brain without actually having gone through them in reality. I think the whole point of youth is that you’re given a chance to go out there and create an internal framework through trial and error, one that works for you because you are unique, and not one that you’ve lifted from someone whose life circumstances were entirely different. And I think reading and thought should come in at the point where they aid you reflect on what you have experienced, but not manuals for how you should experience things. Reading in particular can help you get an idea of how others have dealt with similar problems, and thus you can feel less alone in your overly human struggles, but they should not be taken as guides on how to act.
B: “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.”
So, to end: was this conversation a waste of time, should you have been outside living life instead? 😊
A: I am! Hahaha I’m driving to the club 😛
B: Ah, then there’s our answer. False dichotomy!