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John doe's avatar

Apologies ahead of time for the drawn-out comment,

Have you ever been somewhere really special and beautiful? I remember once I visited the grand canyon and when I got there I remember experiencing something utterly beyond words as I stared into the distance overlooking the incredible vastness of it all. So I took a photograph to remember the experience by. Later when I got back home I showed my friends the photo, and of course they remarked that it was beautiful. Each friend would notice a different element of the picture and speak to it. But what I noticed is that none of them really understood the significance of the photo.

It's like a tree or a leaf, if I show you a picture, you'll recognize a tree or a leaf because you've been taught to recognize the so-called category of 'tree' or 'leaf'. But when I encounter a unique tree or a unique leaf, and I have an intimate personal experience with it (with that particular leaf, or with that particular tree) and take a photo to remember the experience by, that photo is something that no one will really understand properly except me. Because when I show that photo to others they'll categorize it as a tree or a leaf, but they'll never experience it the same way as I did when I was there in that particular moment in which the photo was taken. 

I feel like one of the most misunderstood things about literature and philosophy is that we try to assimilate categories of knowledge in the same way that people recognize the categories of trees or leaves. But the most important thing, which we often forget when reading the works of others, is that their inspired writings are like a photograph of an intimate experience. If I were to simply objectify my photo of the grand canyon into categorical objects like 'tree' or 'leaf' or 'canyon', then I would lose out on that incredibly unique & meaningful personal experience I had when I was actually there staring into an unspeakable vastness which transcends words. 

It's like sometimes I think I can comment on the precepts that one expresses in regards to their orientation to life, but then I realize that the very journey of discovery is hidden underneath the surface of their appearance. Like you share with us the photograph of the grand canyon, and we notice this 'tree' and that 'leaf' and remark that it is beautiful or ugly or whatever. But the thing that we don't see is the experience that you personally and intimately had with each individual precept in the photo. And I've noticed in your writings an intuitive recognition of this when you reference your intimate experience with death, or when you mention the uncertainty one experiences when confronted with the trolley problem. It's for this reason that I've mentioned before that perhaps the greatest philosophy book is the one we encounter when we put down the literal philosophy book and instead go to help our partner (or whomever else). 

When I read the things you write, the truly great experience I have is not the so-called 'objective knowledge' your precepts impart to me (which, like all 'objective knowledge', can be endlessly debated). But rather, I have the pleasure of witnessing someone else encounter the unspeakable vastness and mystery of the grand canyon. And this brings me a sense of warmth and solidarity, far beyond the beauty or ugliness of any individual precept or tree or leaf I see in your photos. 

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