You that Mitchel’s prayer have heard
“Send war in our time, Oh Lord.”
Know that when all words are said,
And a man is fighting mad,
Something drops from eyes long blind,
He completes his partial mind,
For an instant stands at ease,
Laughs aloud, his heart at peace.
Even the wisest man grows tense
With some sort of violence
Before he can accomplish fate,
Know is work or choose his mate.
~W.B. Yeats, “Under Ben Bulben, III”
There is something indescribable about talking with a real Philosopher. Not someone who got a philosophy degree or doctorate at some university, claiming they are a master of thinking.
I’m talking about the root of the word. Greek “philo” meaning “love” – and “sophe” meaning “wisdom.” A lover of wisdom and knowledge is a fascinating man to sit around a table until all hours.
Discussing moments of life and death and the moments between. The prospect of death, the idea that, in the moments before, the peace and understanding that should bring.
And the Philosopher stands up and begins to recite, from memory, Yeats’ poem. You are watching a man who, above all else, seeks to exist with every part of his mind, body, and spirit.
He says, “Reality. The reality is what we see. Or is it? In the asking of ‘is there something else’ the understanding of the idea that there MIGHT be something else opens up a new world of possibilities.”
Stay tuned…
-Noah D.
