Metanoism

Recently I've been curious about what drives an individual to become so-called " self-aware",  and about the relationship between this self‑awareness and the inclination toward existential concepts. Hegel was once described as a man “who saw in the course of world events a universal spirit striving toward self‑realization.” Even if we are all part of some universal human condition, what is it, on the individual level, that creates the conditions for such realization to occur? What are its requirements, its limitations, its influencing factors? More interestingly, why do some people—seemingly independent of specific life events, personal histories, or even "personality"—appear to lack a capacity for self‑awareness altogether? And what do we actually mean when we say that someone is or is not self‑aware? Is an inclination toward the existential a permanent mode of being, or merely a heightened frequency of exploring questions about meaning, identity, and purpose...

Western post-modern society has seen the continuation of an age-old infatuation with the concept of personal growth. While this enamorment is nothing new, there has been an exponential rise in ideologies that encourage the performance of change and self-improvement. These ideologies represent growth of the individual as something aesthetic and generally positive, which exist in direct conflict with those historical depictions of difficult trials that one must commit to in pursuit of eudaemonic satisfaction.  Despite this accelerating infatuation with performative experience, or possibly as some ironic juxtaposition, this same society has resurrected the popularity of historical philosophers Fyodor Dostoevsky and Friedrich Nietzsche (not to mention the post-modern stoics). Yet it is difficult to believe that these individuals would have supported the societal commodification of their ideologies. To them, meaning and growth were not passive artifacts to be discovered in the approval ...

Where does anything begin? Regardless of its specific form or context, our human experience seems to center around a notional perception of continuity. Each day we awaken to a belief that we existed yesterday, and each and every moment before the present. It’s easy for this to seem like a needless distinction. Obviously, we can make any number of delineations on events or features: when we are conceived, or our heart first beats, or we are born, or our first memory. Any one of these may constitute one's opinion on the beginning of a human life, but each and every one requires a prior existence that makes the decision that this distinction designates the "beginning" seem rather insouciant. The meaning of a beginning for humanity is equally perplexing if not equally peripheral. Our love of continuity prefers to accept the prevailing theory of evolution, but this only serves to raise the "species problem." Nature does not construct boundaries with bright lines; spe...

Life, in particular the value of life, cannot be pinned down or defined—at least not with any sense of permanence. Everything we do and everything we experience will change us in some way, however subtle. Despite the futility of searching for objective truths or defining universal semantics through which such truths might be articulated, writing remains an opportunity to create change. Over time, I will attempt to convince myself that this change is the whole point of life—if not our purpose, then our prerogative. And it is incredibly easy to write, to influence, and to effect change in both ourselves and others. However, this does not mean that it is easy or even possible to control that change. Awareness of the futility in controlling the effects of our actions, despite their intent, is a key aspect of existentialist philosophy—something that has become a bit of an obsession in my own life. We may possess free will, but we must accept ambiguity and absurdity in order to make decisi...