Let me start by saying this: I hate philosophy. Or, at least, I thought I did.
Whenever the term came to mind, I thought of nothing but stodgy old men with suits and glasses whittling the day away with fruitless thought experiments.
I found it hard to take people seriously when they argued that philosophy was a crucial field, one that answered (or at least addressed) many of life's critical questions.
To me, the word was code for obtuse jabbering that only served to inflate the ego of the speaker and make them seem oh-so-smart to the common folk around them.
A good friend of mine is one of those people that consider themselves a lover of philosophy. I've poked fun at him many times for this, and he would respond with an insistence that it was a worthwhile study.
Since I found myself with an abundance of free time this summer and absolutely nothing to occupy my mind, I decided to put his claim to the test. I would let him walk me through a portion of some philosophical work, in the hopes that I would gain some great insight into the human condition.
Or at least understand what on earth the author was trying to say.
I was incredibly wary when my friend selected something written by Aristotle as our point of focus. In my minimal experience with philosophy, I've found his writing to be obnoxiously verbose and impenetrable.
The fact that we would be reading something from centuries ago only heightened my trepidation.
I became slightly more optimistic when I discovered that the piece we would be reading dealt with aesthetics, a branch of philosophy that deals with matters of art and culture. At least we didn't have a discussion of what knowledge is, or some other esoteric subject.
As we began reading, I was pleasantly surprised. The prose was certainly ungainly and awkward, but the ideas Aristotle was trying to convey were actually mildly interesting.
We tackled only part of the essay, but Aristotle basically argued that the basis for art (particularly “good” art) is found in the imitation of what humans experience in the real world. Different forms of art gain their value when the audience finds some relatable emotion or experience embodied; they are able to connect with the work because it has some direct bearing on their life.
I was quite struck by this idea. While I had certainly had experiences that mirrored Aristotle's argument (such as characters in books that resonated with me), I had never thought beyond that to examine what made those books “great.”
What's more, Aristotle's argument provided me with a fresh angle to tackle my songwriting woes with. I've struggled to come up with lyrics for music I've written, aimlessly hoping that the right words would just spring forth from the notes.
As obvious as the idea might be, I'm now positioned to look for musical inspiration in the world around me, in the hopes that something will strike a chord with me. In short, my passion for music has been reinvigorated.
There's no telling how many similar experiences I've missed out on because I shunned philosophy for so long. I'm now starting to believe that there might actually be value in the musings of these old geezers: value that can have a tangible, positive impact on my life.
Reach the columnist at tjgreene@asu.edu
