Nothing That Is Not There

Some brief reflections as we approach the new year. I am just returning from a trip to see my partner's family, wherein I spent much time with my little nephew, Kai. There was something entirely fantastic about seeing how, at one years old, he relates to the world. He is so intensely curious about things that seem so mundane. I saw him experience real joy in the triumph of working out how to turn around so as to climb some stairs in a playground. Once at night we went out for a bit of late grocery shopping and it was remarkable how he would seem so engrossed in all the details of an entirely unremarkable street. If philosophy begins in wonder then he's off to a good start.   

It caused me to introspect on who I am, or maybe where I am, as a philosopher. People close to me know that I have been on and off convincing myself that I ought stop doing novel research. I am periodically overcome by the conviction that, in some way, what I do or how I do it is making the field worse -- I am flippant, shallow, a distraction and a drain on resources. I enjoy research, but why should that count for much? I am just one person, and if I really am making it worse for others then it hardly seems an excuse to say that hey I had a good time. I seem to have lost the heart of inquiry which still beats so strongly in Kai.  How did I get here?

That is a blogpost unto itself, but suffice it to say that here is not where I want to be. My task for myself in 2023 is to recover something of Kai's spirit. I do not think I can get all the way there in just one year. But finding something, within or without, that lets me reconcile my social duties with my simple pleasures will be my primary objective. I post this to foreshadow part of my strategy - I will periodically report in on the journey on this blog, if only to keep myself honest and publicly accountable. I have a habit of embarking on programmes of self-improvement that go nowhere. I do not want this to fall victim to that tendency.

The post title comes from a poem by Wallace Stevens a friend once recommended to me. Most of the poem is spent describing the empty desolation of a winter landscape. But the final stanza reveals a perspective character: 

For the listener, who listens in the snow, 

And, nothing himself, beholds

Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

And I think that for 2023 my modest ambition, no wise certainly achievable, will be to attain that level insight. At the least I hope to stop fixating upon what is not there. Maybe even avert my gaze from it entirely. If I could just get that far it would be worth the entire journey so far.

As for yinz, readers, I wish for you more than I do for me. I hope what you behold in the year to come is marvellous and inspiring. I hope it fills with you the kind of awe my nephew feels upon seeing a traffic light reflected in a puddle at night. Peace and goodwill to all.