Philosophie

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Philosophie

1 Juin 2010

Paris, spring has arrived but not the bees.

Do you remember our teacher, when we were brats, telling us that philosopher became philosophers, because of the lions.

Lions, what has that got to do with Philosophy?

Our teacher explained that the antelopes were so busy munching grass that they had little time doing anything else. It takes more than 12 ours of browsing to fill and antelope stomach, on top of that they have to watch out for the killers/

While the lion can now and then crop an antelope and spend the rest of his time thinking about the

glory of a world that has provided him with so much fresh meat.

Then our teacher extended the concept, asking whether the poor farmer, hooked with his wife to the plough had anything time to think except curse the fatality of life.

While the rich baron in his castle, collected taxes, food and maidens as his whim took him, and had plenty of time to think about how unfair life had been to him that had made him baron instead of king, and what could he do about it?

The point being, had we been able to grasp it, that unless you can be the parasite of some form of life, you have little time to think about the meaning of your life.

The much revered Greek philosophers were not know for their poverty. They had little respect for poverty.

When working, as “I had a farm called Africa” (thank you Karen) I wondered what chance our farmers had to come to anything useful had they had the time to think and if the malaria and liver sicknesses had left them any time to do it.

Like the antelope they were constantly watching for the hungry lion (not a metaphor) and the less hungry but so so much more greedy soldier who was coveting his maize and lusting for his daughter.

Are Idleness and philosophy inseparable?

Had we not have the sea and oceans and the long night watches at the top of the main mast, would there have been any philosophy?

Had Sweden not been covered by ice and snow 6 months a year and had Nature not been so clever as to plant plant pine trees, would Swedes have spend long days felling trees and long nights near the log fire, letting there mind roam through the pains of such a life, where even a bottle of moon shade did not help a man through the day?

To be a philosopher you need a God send Moose (could become a pun if I know how to twist it, do you?) tripping in front of you so that you will not be working double bent over a hoe, cursing life and barons for your miseries.

So a philosopher is a parasite.

Something like a cold virus, something unpleasant, but something that in some surprising way increase your strength and knowledge

Had it not been for viruses we would not have incorporated mitochondria into our cellular built-up

What kind of itch do philosopher built in into our life that will make us the unpleasant Master of the Universe?