Discovering through doing

 After telling him of my commitment to contribute a post a day to this blog, my friend Doro's thoughts were:  philosophy makes nothing happen; doing is the reward of doing. So he encouraged me to carry on with my discipline, as he himself pursues his own--experiment in photography, motivated only by the sheer joy of discovering through doing, not to propound any framework of ideas.

I wanted to say philosophy is not quite as feckless as he suggests--but in one way he's not completely off the mark. I love philosophy with its mission of inquiry and its frameworks of thought. Finding out what one really thinks and testing that again and again for internal coherence and correspondence to experience is not just fun mental work but an effective way to orient myself in and get traction on  this jumbled world. When, for instance, the news is either repetitively shocking or persistently ominous, a philosophical justification of hope can be a godsend muscularly resisting despair. When things seem pointless and banal, an a priori conviction of significance to be found is rousing. I need both.

But the project of this blog, the exploration of encounters based on the conviction of the presence of God-in-love in encounters, is fully fulfilled if I actually do sense that presence. My prayer declares God-in-love is 'present wherever I, or any, open to your energy, potentiality, power.' These can be inferred from encounters but presence is to be felt, perhaps the way characters in Wim Wenders movies sometimes sense the presence of angels standing beside, behind them. Philosophy as an investigation should be consummated in philosophy as wonder. It's said that Thomas Aquinas after a mystical experience felt that what he had learned from the experience far outweighed what he had argued intellectually; " all that I have written seems like straw to me."

To document encounters and deliberately inquire where God-in-love might at work be in each sometimes seems to me a mental calesthenic, like running on a treadmill versus running headlong into the embrace of my love. I feel justified continuing the workout but it is not effortless or thoughtless. I'm not a mystic and don't expect to be transported; I would like however to hear the 'still small voice' betokening the presence. Even a breeze, even a gentle redolence would be welcome.

In the meantime I have this script, these stage directions, all very improvisational, for encounters of hospitality, friendship and exploration, and I expect that if I play the part well, I'll sense the playwright behind, within, my words and deeds. To my amazement and delight, each post in this series has in fact taught me something new. I'm I'll come back to some of these encounters and discover more each time I do. Reflection won't end, nor should risk.