New Ways of Seeing and Being

taking a philosophy course - because why NOT

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.

Marcel Proust
Remembrance of Things Past, 5/2

On the way to the first night of the philosophy course I recently signed up for, I walked the 15-20 minutes from my office at Tottenham Court Road to the class at Marylebone with no headphones in. It was a beautiful autumnal day and the sun had not yet set, the sky a kaleidoscope of deep pink, burnt orange, and a bruise hue of purple. The transitional evenings, before the chill and darkness of winter have arrived but it feels clear that summer has left the building, are few and far between. All the more reason to properly take them in. They often invite a quiet reflection, more soothing rather than spiralling.

By walking a route to class I do not usually take, subconsciously or otherwise, I had already disrupted a habit, or two, by forgoing distraction by not listening to music or a podcast. In times of overwhelm or overstimulation (what seems to be an epidemic of our times), I lean heavily on the no-distraction walk, which I was encouraged to embrace through doing The Artist’s Way and also in therapy (which of those came first for me? I’ll leave that for you to ponder). I’d had a particularly busy day, and felt like I needed the feeling of spaciousness that a no-headphone walk can help provide. I found myself quickly charmed by how beautiful the walk was. It reminded me of when I first arrived in London, almost 10 years ago now. Then, I would have often saught out walks like this, eagerly soaking in the streets that felt so new and inspiring, full of both rich history and intoxicating possibility. How long had it been since I’d gone out of my way to find that?

This year, I have had one of the most magical summers of my life. As it came to a close I felt somewhere deep in my spirit that I needed something new to challenge me. That without doing so, when I returned to my familiar routine and structure and the days shorter I would become bored and maybe, slip into melancholy. A few people have asked me ‘why philosophy?’, wondering if it’s something I’ve always been interested in. The answer to these questions are abstract and ephemeral, rather than concrete and absolute. I knew that I wanted to do something new, something different. I’d considered other options, like learning a new skill or language, or things more familiar to me like dance or doing more improv. The craving though, was for novel experience. New ways of being. I wanted to know: how will it feel, how might I change, what could I uncover, if I ventured further afield from that which I know, or am familiar with. I started with the search for a philosophy class because I didn’t know how easy it would be to find - did something accessible outside the realm of traditional academia exist? When I found that it did, and the jigsaw puzzle of scheduling worked out, I didn’t think on it for too long. I said yes and signed up.

As a curious person who reads broadly, there are philosophical ideas and thinkers who have “come across my desk”, so to speak. I was curious, sure, but in a fleeting, ephemeral way. I am, in no uncertain terms, a beginner. An eager one, excited to disrupt the guardrails and frameworks of my mind. Curious, too, as someone who asks a lot of questions - whether taking this class might help me ask different (or better) ones.

To say I was presently surprised by the class would be a massive understatement. It was near impossible to know what to expect - who would be there - all part of the allure. I do know already that it was a wonderful decision, ‘a great use of free will’, to use the internet parlance du jour. I find it energising and enchanting to be in a room of people, a totally varied and expansive collective, who all felt curious enough to show up and commit to this course. The passion, curiosity, and ideas that have been shared in that room have been deeply inspiring to me. The communal aspect of this, doing it together in person, cannot be underestimated. It has been a blessing to be in company with such kind, interesting people who I may not have ever encountered in other circumstances, let alone hearing them talk openly about the deeply human questions about being alive!! It feels in some ways like a return to something I suspect was intended for us to do, but is hard, or not easy for us to maintain, in a late-capitalist society.

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Pierre Hadot (1922 – 2010), speaking of the Ancient Greeks, “Philosophy was a way of life, both in its exercise and effort to achieve wisdom and in its goal, wisdom itself. For real wisdom does not merely cause us to know: it makes us ‘be’ in a different way …Such is the lesson of ancient philosophy: an invitation to each human being to transform one’s way of being and living …”

This quote was shared on the handout at our first session. I was particularly struck by the final sentence, how it put into words what I had felt but couldn’t necessarily express. One of the things about transformations, which I definitely consider myself to be in currently, is that they are unpredictable. When you are in their midst, you can’t quite see where they might lead you. Surrendering to that, learning to be okay existing in that liminal space, is part of this process. A good lesson to learn for the creative and curious mind, as you will encounter it again and again in a lifetime, if you are lucky.

The dark and cold nights of winter may be approaching, which usually fill me with dread, but thanks to my new side quest, I understand I have an opportunity - to try to see, and be in them differently.