Though a continual interest to philosophers, the inward search is only one aspect of the philosophical life—in addition to introspection, the philosophically reflective self must express itself in the world. Only then can it be properly tested and make itself available to the validation of philosophical clarity or wisdom. Expression in the world tests the reflective self's credibility as a true entity. Creating itself out of itself and taking part in the world of its own making, it authenticates its moral worth as a self with practical meaning beyond the purely ‘inward’.
Sometimes, I sense the clatter of the world—cluttered by the sounds of others, the irritation of noise, of difference, and of unthinkingness. At other times, I sense the world in silence—within myself, aware of my own frailty, my own fears and my own headlong chase towards death. And in both these ways I sense the terror, the excitement, and the potential and the joy of anticipation. In this contact I have with the world, I sense the recurring moment of becoming, and the despair of the certain future passing of all that it is to be. And when my awareness is heightened like this, I sense the need to act—freely to respond to meaning, choice and change.
I do not believe there is anything objectively good or bad which exists but, as much as I know anything, I know there is subjective good and bad. Realising this makes me think I would like to discover a state of mind which, in good faith, believes in no objective bad, does not reside in the shadow of the fear of depleting life or impending death, and acts upon these beliefs. In this way, I sense the need to be convinced by what at times seems the overpowering amoral simplicity of it all.
In seeking simplicity, I turn ‘outwards’ from myself—I look to others—first to those closest to me and then beyond, to those who may become closer or to whom I wish to be closer. Some of these others welcome me and I pursue them because I sense the clarity and wisdom which is available from loving contact with them. And beyond these I see strangers, and my contact with them enhances something which ‘estranges’ me from those things within me which prevent or inhibit simplicity.
Although none of these others are part of me, neither are they truly ‘beyond’ me. Anything which is truly beyond can never be known—anything contrary to this is logically impossible. Anything which is beyond me but which I can imagine, or which at some present or future time I can come to know, is necessarily ‘beyond within’.
We know that it is possible to ‘contact’ others when, for example, we feel mutually ‘close’ to them, intimate with them, or in love with them. When we experience these feelings, we are truly realising that which is both beyond another yet within them, and beyond and yet within us.
We can experience high levels of closeness with others by ‘opening up to the possibility’ of them, by making ourselves available to them so that they experience us as beyond and also within them. We can bring this about by clear and unbroken focus on their being in the process of ‘Exchanging the Word’.
The ‘Word’ is the content of philosophy which can inspire clarity and wisdom and which can be channelled by focussed attention of one on another. The Word can be a glance, a touch, a smile, a penetration of the eyes; it can also be the content of the sensation of intimacy.
The ‘Exchange’ occurs when one person, with a sense of purpose unknown to the other, inaugurates unbroken focus on the world of the other from which arises clarity. This clarity enwisens the other as ‘receiver’ and this new wisdom in the other informs the ‘giver’ who is, in some way, also 'enwisend'. Enwisened clarity, based on the other but available to both, can produce even more clarity or wisdom for either involved in unknown quantities. It works like this. I set aside the trappings of my self (I ‘estrange’ myself from my ‘normal’ constrained self). I start a conversation with another who is a stranger. I focus entirely on that other. I have some knowledge of the things which form the background to our conversation. I genuinely want to hear what the other says, and I help the other form and develop this with as much clarity as possible. I focus increasingly on the special, sometimes seemingly insignificant or often obscured qualities of that person. What the other says becomes increasingly clear. The other’s wisdom is revealed in some small or greater way. I am affected by this, perhaps myself feeling wiser or clearer. I pass this sense of clarity or wisdom back to the other, and the other understands some sense of this revealed wisdom or clarity. The experience is felt increasingly as a unifying, important, and memorable one.
Exchanging the Word opens up a clarity beyond the individual and may bring about some degree of wisdom in the individual or another. This process opens up a new world the subjectivity of which is somehow shared with another. My experience of Exchanging the Word is an experience of a world where confusion can be eradicated, inner turmoil quietened, terror extinguished, and despair lifted.
Exchanging the Word with strangers relies upon an inner sense of urgency to act freely and with meaning—to be both ‘estranged’ and purposeful. Anyone who takes this on needs to recognises the inherent risk to the individual of change and the demanding necessity of being in the present. In life we cannot detain the moment, nor can we usefully anticipate the next to come—‘time is useless at preserving hopes; it just flits along, busy about its own affairs … like a feather borne skyward’ (Heracles, 507-10). In Exchanging the Word, we are acting in the best specious present of our existence, and affording ourselves the best contact with reality ‘beyond within’.
Exchanging the Word focuses on a stranger, but it is more than that, for each involved are strangers to each other, and as such bring nothing of their ‘personality burden’ to the exchange. It is this very freedom which releases reality. In the same way that a loving relationship can release a sense of reality, so the freedom of ‘estrangement’ in this way can allow the individual to be free from ‘self’. We bring with us history, inheritance, influence, and these are fundamental to our personality, but they inhibit access to reality, for they hold us back, making us feel responsible, indebted, overshadowed.
It may seem strange that estrangement in this way is as productive as love but this is not surprising. If we fall in love we set aside many aspects of our self—falling in love dis-inhibits us and makes us free. In this way we can feel in touch with reality. Being in love may not be so productive. We may continue a loving relationship, and be in love, but we may not be freed from the inhibitors to reality because much of our ‘personality’ is still there. Friendship is unlikely to release us. Estrangement, however, is the perfect recipe for this dis-inhibiting freedom and Exchanging the Word cashes in on this natural tendency.
