Vocation

Philosophy: how did that word fall to us, postgraduates? Under what circumstances could we have the temerity to call ourselves philosophers?

Philosophy was only ever a name for desire, that’s all. A calling. A vocation – can we call it that? A question.

The question of philosophy, postgraduates. The question as philosophy. The question that asks us – in our stupidity; in our lack. In everything that disqualifies us to be philosophers.

An empty command, that’s what we’re heeding, postgraduates. A vocation that is simply a revocation of everything else.

What are we waiting for, postgraduates? What do we think Is going to happen? But the waiting’s the thing.

That word, philosophy, postgraduates. What it means to us. That word … that seems to summon us. To call us to it. That word … which we’ve whispered to ourselves in all our hours of desperation. That word … naming the only thing for which we’d live and die.

Of course, we do nothing other than stand open-mouthed, in the clearing of philosophy, postgraduates. We do nothing but gawk as we wait. As look up into the sky, as though waiting for alien abduction.

But don’t we hold its space open it more strongly than anyone, philosophy. Even if our philosophy has no content at all. Even if it’s just questioning. Even if it is for nothing.

Just delusion, postgraduates. Just misprisions. Just befuddlement. And bewitchment. Just delusion. Just persiflage. Just error. Just mistakes, and mistakes upon mistakes. But philosophy nonetheless. The philosophical question, after all.

We hold the philosophical line – but what line, postgraduates? We keep the philosophical faith – but what faith? We stay at our philosophical posts – but what posts? What are we doing? What are we for? Are we awaiting orders? Waiting to be relieved?

There should be warnings about us, postgraduates. Rewards for our capture. Wanted posters. There should be bounty hunters tracking us down even now. Bloodhounds on our trail. They should be following our footprints.

We should be stopped, shouldn’t we? There should be prevention orders. keep away orders! Restraining orders! Non molestation orders! Legal warnings of all kinds. To prevent our criminal trespass on the bounds of philosophy! Our civil trespass! There should be security measures! Surveillance measures!

There’s something wrong with us, just as there’s something right with us, postgraduates. There’s something stupid about us, just as there’s a desire to be something other than stupid.

We’re of the idiot earth, the stupid clay, just as we’re of the spirit that hovers above the earth, postgraduates. We’re atheist, desperately so, just as we’re the most fervent believers. We’re philistines – terrible philistines – but don’t we love like no one else the great European culture that is out of our reach.

Philosophers entirely in lieu of philosophy, postgraduates. Entirely lacking anything that would make us philosophical. Philosophy minus philosophy – but still philosophers. The philosophical hollowing. The philosophical abyss. In which nothing remains but the cry of philosophy. Than the question of philosophy.