Edvard Munch Portrait
Grim winter has taken hold of the Twin Cities. After temperatures dipped to an unearthly -30F, we got a brief, freaky warm spell followed by freezing rain, then back to the deep freeze, then snow to hide the treacherous coating of ice. It's during such cold and gloomy times, when I'm feeling down or overwhelmed by the world, that I reach for the comforting words of Friedrich Nietzsche. Specifically, I read the inspiring opening paragraphs of his essay, *On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense:
In some remote corner of the universe, poured out and glittering in innumerable solar systems, there once was a star on which clever animals invented knowledge. That was the highest and most mendacious minute of "world history"—yet only a minute. After nature had drawn a few breaths the star grew cold, and the clever animals had to die.
One might invent such a fable and still not have illustrated sufficiently how wretched, how shadowy and flighty, how aimless and arbitrary, the human intellect appears in nature. There have been eternities when it did not exist; and when it is done for again, nothing will have happened. For this intellect has no further mission that would lead beyond human life. It is human, rather, and only its owner and producer gives it such importance, as if the world pivoted around it. But if we could communicate with the mosquito, then we would learn that he floats through the air with the same self-importance, feeling within itself the flying center of the world. There is nothing in nature so despicable or insignificant that it cannot immediately be blown up like a bag by a slight breath of this power of knowledge; and just as every porter wants an admirer, the proudest human being, the philosopher, thinks that he sees the eyes of the universe telescopically focused from all sides on his actions and thoughts.
Ah, goes down like a warm cup of tea.
Okay, so, maybe Nietzschean nihilism is an acquired taste.
Yet the passage is a good antidote to intellectual hubris which on me tends to accumulate like barnacles on a ship. It offers appropriate perspective whenever I might be tempted to believe I'm in possession of The Truth. The Truth is that reality is far vaster than any ideas I have about it, far vaster then any ideas anybody has about it. Keeping this in mind grounds me, helps keep my relations with others on an equitable plane, helps me be compassionate even though I'm not an overly compassionate guy by nature.
Of course Nietzche intended to jolt folks with his bleak humor, tweak something people suspect in their bones but don't want to think about. Many might be horrified by the suggestion of ultimate pointlessness, but I do think there's some optimism to be salvaged: The great thing about being small compared to the rest of reality is that there's always something to discover, always an opportunity to improve one's understanding. If I actually possessed The Truth, no further growth would be possible.
And the truth contained in the passage, I think, invites us to be creative about how we go about finding value and meaning in life. There are some interesting possibilities to ponder. One approach I'll likely touch on in future posts: *Finite and Infinite Games.
Meanwhile I'll wrap another blanket around my shoulders, furrow my brow, and sip more hot tea.
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