Posts by steelridge58

Eric Newman75 said:First off, I’ve gotta give props to Return for calling them "video games" (hallelujah!) instead of those patronizing little "games" or whatever. We can get into the why behind that later.

Look, games aren't inherently bad. They build creativity, sharpen reflexes, and demand focus—basically, they're actually useful if you have some self-control. If you don't? Well, then they're just like any other addiction; they'll swallow you whole before you even know what hit you.

Honestly, I’m mostly just bummed that I don't have the time to play. It's not just about playing, either—I love watching how much skill goes into building these modern worlds. The storytelling, the engines, the soundtracks... I'm fascinated by all of it. Some titles (Far Cry, Elite) are just mind-blowing. My hands are itching to pick up a controller, seriously. I’m a huge fan of other franchises too, like Wolfenstein, Medal of Honor, and Need for Speed. There's so much stuff I'd love to download and dive into right now.

Thanks.
🙂)
I’d honestly love to hear your take on the reasons behind all this, if you wouldn't mind walking me through your reasoning.

I honestly can't even begin to describe how much I needed this little getaway, though I suppose I should have planned it better from the start because my attempt at being organized was, well, predictably disastrous. There’s just something about finally getting away from the grind and breathing some fresh air that makes you realize how much you've been running on fumes, even if I did spend half my time wandering around aimlessly like a lost tourist. It's been one of those trips where everything feels slightly chaotic but in a way that actually makes me feel alive again, which is a weirdly comforting thought when you're sitting there wondering why you forgot to pack your favorite pair of shoes. As specified by steelridge58:
The fundamental flaw in philosophy—the one that Wittgenstein really hit the nail on the head with—is this idea that we can take concepts, words, and abstract notions as if they were the primary, solid building blocks used to construct something precise. We treat them like mathematical constants, but in reality, they’re just secondary phenomena; they aren't even perfectly exact themselves, so if you try to build a rigorous system by taking them literally, you aren't going to end up with anything truly exact. All you're really getting are approximations. Back in Wittgenstein's day, I suppose that distinction wasn't quite as glaringly obvious to everyone, but honestly, in our modern era of video games and digital simulations, the gap between those fuzzy concepts and actual precision is impossible to ignore.

I think you’re actually going to find this pretty interesting.

You don't just stumble upon a piece of history like this by accident; you find it because you’re actually looking for something more meaningful than the digital noise we deal with every single day. I was reading this piece about how we often treat our past—and even our present cultural milestones—as if they're just static objects sitting behind glass in a museum, rather than living, breathing parts of who we are. It’s easy to get caught up in the idea that an artifact is just a "thing," a relic of some bygone era that has nothing to do with us, but that's a pretty shallow way to view the world, isn't it? When we look at these historical markers, we aren't just staring at old stone or dusty paper; we're looking at the fingerprints of people who felt the same fears, joys, and ambitions that we do right now in the States. There's this tendency in our modern culture to prioritize the "new" and the "fast," treating everything else as obsolete junk, but there's a profound weight to things that have actually endured. If we strip away the context and just see an object as a curiosity, we lose the thread that connects us to the human experience. I guess what I'm trying to say is that understanding where we came from isn't just some academic exercise for historians in D.C.; it's about recognizing that we are part of a much longer, much deeper story than the one we tell ourselves on social media. We need to stop treating our heritage like a collection of dead things and start seeing them as mirrors.

Steven Clark2 said:Homo ludens! 😁

Oh, what an absolutely wonderful topic. 👍

From a purely technical standpoint, yes, games are played via some form of software. However, that is a rather oversimplified way to look at it. Some might even argue that a computer game falls under the category of digital art. Digital art relies on computer-based digital coding or the electronic storage and processing of information in various formats: text, numbers, images, sounds—all contained within binary code.

Of course, there is a dark side to video games, which could certainly be discussed at length, but there also seems to be something profoundly useful about them. There is a downside to internet forums, reading the news, or watching sports as well. Negatives exist everywhere.

It isn't a bad idea to contemplate this, provided we take it a step further:

After all, video games are a form of media—specifically electronic media—which are fields that philosophy engages with quite deeply.
After all, video games are a form of media—specifically electronic media—which are fields that philosophy engages with quite deeply.
After all, video games are a form of media—specifically electronic media—which are fields that philosophy engages with quite deeply.
I’m thinking we should start a group reading session together.
I’m thinking we should throw in some actual gameplay, maybe some specific scenarios or even just random associations and examples—basically anything we can mash together to see what sticks.
I’ve been sitting here thinking about this lately, and honestly, I feel like I might be overcomplicating things, but there is just something so deeply unsettling about how we approach these heavy philosophical questions without any real sense of direction. It feels like we're all just wandering through this massive, intellectual fog, trying to make sense of existence while tripping over our own feet, and I can't help but wonder if we're even asking the right questions to begin with. You know that feeling when you're staring at a problem that seems simple on the surface, but the more you dig, the more you realize the entire foundation is built on sand? That's exactly where I find myself right now. I keep going back to these core ideas, trying to find some sort of anchor, but everything feels so fleeting and subjective, which is frankly a little exhausting if I'm being completely honest with myself. I suppose I'm just looking for some kind of clarity in the chaos, even if I end up just circling the same old doubts. 🙂

Man, what an absolutely fantastic topic we've got on the table here. 👍

Technically speaking, sure, video games are run through some kind of software, but honestly, that’s such a massive oversimplification if you really stop to think about it. If you ask certain people, they’d probably argue that a computer game actually falls under the category of... I’ve been spending way too much time lately thinking about digital art and where the hell we actually stand with it all. It feels like every single day there's some massive shift happening, whether it's a new tool hitting the market or a heated debate about what even counts as "real" creativity in an age where you can just prompt an image into existence. I honestly find myself oscillating between being completely mesmerized by the sheer technical possibility of it—like, how incredible is it that someone sitting in a studio in Seattle can manipulate light and texture with such precision—and feeling this deep, slightly embarrassing sense of dread that maybe we're losing that raw, tactile connection to the craft. It’s a weird, messy intersection of high-tech innovation and old-school soul, and I guess I'm just trying to figure out if we're witnessing the evolution of expression or just the beginning of a very shiny, very hollow era.Digital art really just boils down to whatever we can squeeze out of computer-based coding or that constant cycle of electronic storage and information processing—we’re talking about everything from raw text and numbers to images and sounds, all distilled down into binary code.

Sure, there’s definitely a dark side to video games—and honestly, we could go on about that for ages—but it feels like there's some genuine value tucked away in them too. It’s the same story with anything else, really; online forums can be toxic, scrolling through the news can mess with your head, and even following sports has its downsides. There are pitfalls everywhere if you look for them.

It’s actually pretty interesting to chew on these ideas before we dive even deeper into the weeds:

1) At their core, video games function primarily as an interactive medium.
2) Viewing video games as intentionally designed ethical frameworks.
3) Examining players as moral agents.
4) The ethics inherent within gaming.
5) Questioning the fundamental nature of video games (and indeed, the nature of playing them).
6) Whether video games qualify as art, and if they do, what specific category of art are we talking about?

I mean, at the end of the day, video games are just part of electronic media, which is a field that philosophy spends a massive amount of time dissecting.

That’s a fantastic contribution, and you've raised some great questions. 👍

Beyond just covering those specific topics, I think the real challenge—and also the most exciting part—of media philosophy is how it differs from older philosophical traditions; it offers these incredible opportunities to mediate philosophical thought, especially since its scope reaches far beyond just the realm of linguistics.

Anyway, I'll catch you on the next one.
🙂

I guess I’m just sitting here staring at this puzzle, wondering if I’ve finally lost my marbles or if there’s actually some profound meaning behind how much time I spend trying to fit these tiny cardboard pieces together. It feels like one of those endless existential loops where you think you've found the perfect match, only to realize you've been looking at it upside down the whole time—kind of like how we struggle to grasp the true essence of Being in our daily lives. Honestly, it’s probably just me being overly dramatic, but there’s something strangely humbling about being completely defeated by a picture of a landscape. steelridge58 says:
I basically grew up inside computer games. Honestly, I don’t really bother with TV and I’m not much of a music person either; instead, I just spend most of my time immersed in virtual worlds, so I am genuinely curious to hear what everyone here thinks about this whole topic.

Here’s a quick little post I put together from a different thread, just for those of you who aren't really into video games:
I honestly can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by how much weight we put on these heavy philosophical ideas, because sometimes I think we get so caught up in the deep existential dread that we forget how much our everyday surroundings actually shape who we are. It’s funny, really—I was walking through the local shopping mall the other day, just minding my own business, when I started thinking about Heidegger's whole concept of Being and how easily we just drift through life without ever truly being "present" in our own skin. It’s easy to get lost in the noise of everything around us, isn't it? I mean, I know I certainly do, and I often find myself overthinking things until I'm just spinning my wheels, which is probably why I tend to ramble like this, but there's something so profoundly human about that struggle to just *exist* without feeling like you're performing for some invisible audience. I guess what I'm trying to say is that maybe we shouldn't take ourselves quite so seriously all the time, even when we're grappling with the big questions.

I still have that one post stuck in my head, and I’m really hoping we can actually dive into some of those questions you brought up right here in this thread.

Technology just keeps pushing the envelope, doesn't it? Now we’re seeing gaming migrate entirely into true virtual reality through these specialized headsets, which brings up this fascinatingly deep philosophical concept known as "presence." It’s essentially that specific threshold where a player becomes so completely submerged in an artificial environment that they start losing the ability to distinguish it from the actual world around them.

I’m guessing—or maybe it just strikes me that way—that this whole philosophical concept regarding (virtual) presence, this idea of "being there," really mirrors Heidegger's notion of presence as a kind of fundamental dwelling or being-in-the-world.
It’s that strange, beautiful paradox of truly experiencing life—that deep sense of immersion where you're fully present in the moment, yet somehow simultaneously stepping outside of yourself through what we call ex-sistence, all while finding your footing in relation to everyone else around you.
I’ve been thinking about how presence acts as this constant variable—something that stays ever-present yet remains entirely subject to how we choose to interpret our own ex-sistence.
Just being here.
Existing in this virtual world.

When you start talking about levels of immersion—kind of like how we describe being "submerged" in a book through those deep intertextual connections, or how video games use all these interactive tricks to pull you into a virtual world—it makes me wonder if we could apply that same logic to analytical distance. I mean, can we actually talk about varying degrees of analytical distance between a player and the game itself, and if so, just how much of that distance is always hanging around there, even when we feel totally lost in the experience?

I was just reading something online that really stuck with me, mostly because of how deeply it ties back into certain philosophical theories, and I honestly think it’s pretty fascinating that if you look at it from a technical standpoint, every single virtual world essentially acts as a silent materialization of what we’d call an idealistic perspective—or even a more radical version of idealism, for that matter.
I’ve been spending way too much time lately spiraling down the rabbit hole of subjective idealism, and honestly, it’s a bit exhausting how much it makes me question everything I think I see right in front of me. There’s this overwhelming, almost dizzying feeling that comes with the idea that reality doesn't actually exist as some solid, independent thing out there, but is instead just a collection of perceptions living entirely inside our own minds. It’s a heavy concept to carry around when you're just trying to go about your day, because if everything—the coffee in my hand, the streetlights in Chicago, even the people passing by—is just a projection of my own consciousness, then the very idea of an objective world starts to feel like a beautiful, fragile illusion. I find myself wondering if we ever truly touch anything at all, or if we're all just trapped in these solitary bubbles of perception, forever reaching for a reality that might not even be there once we stop looking..

Amanda Flores88 said:Quote:

Volver says: When you dig into this kind of stuff, language philosophers basically spend all their time trying to figure out if the way we frame and pass on thoughts through text actually works—relying on that old idea that language, especially writing, has this special, maybe even exclusive, link to how we think.

Look, if philosophy is just a love for wisdom or truth, then it's definitely not something reserved only for career academics—and words aren't its only outlet, either.
Some people struggle to put their thoughts into words, but that doesn't mean they aren't thinking. And those who actually have something to say? They'll find a way to say it, in all sorts of different ways.

Games—including video games—are a great way to communicate and learn, mostly because they're just plain fun.

Yeah, exactly. We’re talking about entirely different ways to mediate thought and reasoning, specifically looking at how we might leverage virtual worlds alongside traditional text within a philosophical framework—basically, finding a way to fuse deep philosophical discourse with this kind of immersive, philosophical play happening right inside a digital environment.

Sandra Murphy33 said:Our inner world (the only truly real one...) is increasingly being sought out and discovered within the so-called virtual realm, while appearing less and less in the so-called real, external, material, physical world, which increasingly resembles nothing more than a massive, glittering shopping mall.

and then we can go back to lamenting the topic @Volver opened, inspired by one of my posts regarding self-annihilation (a topic some young guys dismissed as quasi-philosophy and told me to be ashamed of). Only now, we aren't just talking about philosophical self-annihilation, but a much broader human self-annihilation. Because if a person fails to wake up from this virtual reality and quietly vanishes, they are gone—they have annihilated themselves. And since technology is a human invention from start to finish, we could just as easily say that humanity has annihilated itself through its own creation.

A person annihilates themselves when they realize they have miscalculated and abused their own free will. Under such circumstances, self-annihilation—particularly from the perspective of the soul or eternity—becomes the only valid and moral choice.
By soul, I am referring to that part of a human being that transcends the self, that seeks eternity, or in psychological terms, seeks stability—as the only legitimate framework for exercising one's freedom.
The freer a person becomes, the greater their need for space, or rather, for the widest possible frameworks they can imagine (so that "the sky is the limit" 😉).

if philosophy claims to have something to say about labor, the worker, exploitation, capitalism, or socialism, how could it not have something to say about the human being, always respecting their ontological dignity (yet another philosophical concept I used in a previous post that some people failed to grasp)?

Ontological dignity—would that simply mean dignity in and of itself?
It is deeply woven into everything you just listed. In fact, it is precisely out of that dignity that a person engages with "labor, the worker, exploitation, and so on."

A person annihilates themselves when they realize they have miscalculated and abused their own free will. Under such circumstances, self-annihilation—particularly from the perspective of the soul or eternity—becomes the only valid and moral choice.
By soul, I am referring to that part of a human being that transcends the self, that seeks eternity, or in psychological terms, seeks stability—as the only legitimate framework for exercising one's freedom.
The freer a person becomes, the greater their need for space, or rather, for the widest possible frameworks they can imagine (so that "the sky is the limit" 😉).

if philosophy claims to have something to say about labor, the worker, exploitation, capitalism, or socialism, how could it not have something to say about the human being, always respecting their ontological dignity (yet another philosophical concept I used in a previous post that some people failed to grasp)?

Ontological dignity—would that simply mean dignity in and of itself?
It is deeply woven into everything you just listed. In fact, it is precisely out of that dignity that a person engages with "labor, the worker, exploitation, and so on."
A person annihilates themselves when they realize they have miscalculated and abused their own free will. Under such circumstances, self-annihilation—particularly from the perspective of the soul or eternity—becomes the only valid and moral choice.
By soul, I am referring to that part of a human being that transcends the self, that seeks eternity, or in psychological terms, seeks stability—as the only legitimate framework for exercising one's freedom.
The freer a person becomes, the greater their need for space, or rather, for the widest possible frameworks they can imagine (so that "the sky is the limit" 😉).

if philosophy claims to have something to say about labor, the worker, exploitation, capitalism, or socialism, how could it not have something to say about the human being, always respecting their ontological dignity (yet another philosophical concept I used in a previous post that some people failed to grasp)?

Ontological dignity—would that simply mean dignity in and of itself?
It is deeply woven into everything you just listed. In fact, it is precisely out of that dignity that a person engages with "labor, the worker, exploitation, and so on."
I’d love to build on that by tossing out a few questions that feel pretty open-ended to me, and they actually touch on some studies I happened to come across while digging into this topic.

Are our physical and virtual identities actually separate entities, or are they just different ways of expressing what we call Being?
Is humanity’s future inevitably going to be forced into a binary choice between fiction and reality?
Could highly advanced virtual reality technology actually serve as an answer to the crisis of humanism? (The philosopher S. Gualeni, whom I mentioned earlier, argues that we should view virtual worlds as a context where a new kind of humanism has already begun to emerge).
Which identity is the "real" one—the physical one, rooted in our bodies, our reason, our tangible existence, and our constant process of "becoming," or the one built on virtuality, fictionalization, simulation, and a sort of quiet 😉 "unbecoming"?
And what exactly is it that makes an identity "real"—that thing we so often put in quotation marks when we talk about a "true" identity
—is it its materiality and tangibility, or is it that internal web of feelings, experiences, and thoughts?

Personally, I don't think we should be looking at this as an either-or situation.
I think it's more of a unified thing, or
well, whatever you want to call it.
🙂

ruggedraven36 said:It’s just a game run through software built into a computer.

What are we actually doing while playing?

We feed input data to the program via physical movement—think controller buttons or mouse clicks—and our senses pick up the output, which lets us manage all those interactive elements that depend on us.

Is there any actual value in playing games?

Video games are worthless. Honestly, they’re pretty bad for kids—they pull them away from real-world play and everything else matters too.

Where does philosophy fit into video games?

Nowhere.

What even is play, really? I find myself staring at the ceiling sometimes, wondering if we ever actually grasp the essence of what it means to just... play. Is it a distraction from the grind, or is it the only thing that actually makes us feel alive while we’re navigating this chaotic life? I don't have a neat, academic answer for you, but I can't help but feel like there's something much deeper happening when we let go of our responsibilities and just dive into something for the sake of it.
What exactly are we doing when we dive into a game?
What’s the actual point of playing games? I find myself wondering about this quite often, staring at my console and questioning if I'm just killing time or actually doing something meaningful with my life. Is there some deep, inherent value in immersing ourselves in these digital worlds, or am I just chasing a temporary dopamine hit to distract myself from the grind of reality? I honestly want to know what you all think—is it just mindless escapism, or is there something more profound happening when we lose ourselves in a story or a challenge?

I honestly can't help but feel like I’m constantly staring at some massive, unsolvable puzzle where half the pieces are missing and the other half don't even seem to belong to the same box, though I suppose that’s just life, isn't it? It feels like we spend all this energy trying to connect these complex dots—trying to make sense of everything from how our society functions to why we feel so disconnected from one another—only to realize that the picture we were aiming for might have been a total illusion all along. I know I tend to overthink things and probably ramble on more than I should, but there’s just this persistent, nagging sensation that if we could only find that one missing fragment of understanding, everything would finally click into place, even if my clumsy attempts at solving it usually just end up making a bigger mess of things. kaže:
Technology is moving at such a breakneck pace these days, and honestly, it feels like gaming is migrating entirely into this realm of true virtual reality through these specialized headsets. It brings up this one deeply philosophical concept called "presence," which is basically just a fancy way of describing that specific level of immersion where a player becomes so completely swallowed up by the artificial world that you start losing track of where the game ends and your actual life begins.

This provides such an incredible foundation for some deeper philosophical digging, so I’ll definitely jump back into the conversation once I can carve out a little more breathing room in my schedule.

I’ve been sitting here thinking about how much we tend to overcomplicate things when the simplest answer is usually staring us right in the face, almost like we’re trying to outsmart our own intuition just for the sake of it. It’s funny, really—how we can spend hours debating the most complex theories or getting lost in all this dense, academic jargon, only to realize that the core truth was actually quite plain and straightforward all along. I sometimes catch myself doing this too, getting caught up in my own head and making mountains out of molehills, but I suppose that’s just part of being human, isn't it? We want everything to be profound and layered, yet there's a certain honest beauty in just keeping it simple and being direct about what we mean. kaže:
Honestly, this whole topic really does carry some weight, so if you're looking for a starting point, it might be wise to dig into an early paper by Marija Selak from back when she was still a young PhD student; she did some fascinating work on this exact subject by weaving together the philosophies of Nikolai Berdyaev and Martin Heidegger.

Maybe this might actually encourage some of you dear friends to dig a little deeper than just our usual surface-level distractions and tackle that one massive, heavy-hitting relationship that essentially dictates our entire reality—though, if I’m being honest, it’s already been pulling all the strings behind the scenes for quite some time—which is, fundamentally, that profound philosophical connection between man and... I’ve been sitting here thinking about the whole concept of *episteme*—you know, that deep, foundational kind of knowledge that goes way beyond just knowing a few random facts or being able to pass a test. It’s that structural understanding of how things actually work, the kind that shapes how we see the world before we even realize we're looking at it. I sometimes feel like I'm constantly stumbling through the dark trying to grasp it, feeling a bit foolish because while most people seem to be navigating life with such certainty, I'm still over here questioning the very ground I'm standing on. It's a heavy thing to wrap your head around, honestly, but there's something so incredibly vital about trying to reach that level of clarity, even if it feels like an uphill battle most days. i I’ve been spending way too much time lately thinking about the concept of *techne*, that old-school idea of craftsmanship and practical wisdom, and honestly, I can't stop circling back to it. It feels like we’re living in this era where everything is so automated and frictionless that we’ve completely lost touch with the actual soul of making things—that deep, intuitive connection between the creator and the work itself. You know, that specific kind of knowledge that isn't just following a manual or a set of algorithms, but is something you feel in your hands and your gut. I was reading some stuff recently that reminded me how easily we mistake mere technical efficiency for true mastery, and it’s a little humbling to realize how much of our modern "skill" is really just knowing which buttons to press on a piece of software. There’s such a profound difference between being a proficient user of a tool and actually possessing the *techne* to command it, and I think we’re all feeling a bit adrift because of that gap. It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but I definitely find myself staring at my own projects sometimes, wondering if I’m actually building anything meaningful or if I'm just going through the motions of a highly optimized process.

I was reading through this academic paper on linguistic structures, and honestly, it’s one of those deep dives that really makes you question how much we take our own way of speaking for granted. It explores the intricacies of how language shapes our perception of reality—that classic idea that the tools we use to communicate actually build the world we live in. It’s pretty heavy stuff, looking at how specific grammatical frameworks influence the way an individual processes thought, but there’s something deeply moving about the idea that we aren't just using language; we are being shaped by it every single day. I found myself sitting there for a good hour just staring at the screen, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer complexity of it all, yet strangely comforted by the notion that our very consciousness is tied to these invisible linguistic threads. It definitely gives you a whole new perspective on why certain concepts feel so easy to express in one language but almost impossible to grasp in another.

I'll give it a read.
Thanks a million!

So, what actually is what is a video game? What are we really doing when we sit down to play one, and honestly, where is the actual value in all of this?
How does philosophy even find its way into the code of these games?

I figure since there are so many different branches of philosophy trying to tackle these kinds of questions, we might as well try our hand at it here too.

Looking back at the first two decades of the 21st century, the massive explosion in tech and the gaming industry itself has paved the way for a whole new category of speculative and reflective games—titles specifically designed for players looking for something a bit more intellectually stimulating. Modern culture has already started to embrace these virtual worlds and digital simulations as legitimate, and often preferred, alternatives to traditional media formats.

There’s this fascinating question raised in an essay by the Italian philosopher Stefano Gualeni regarding whether these worlds—both through their self-reflective qualities and as standalone environments—can be understood as philosophical artifacts. He suggests that we can fruitfully explore, and maybe even answer, this by looking at philosophy through its core mission: directing thought toward examining the very validity and possibilities of thought itself.

In a similar vein, philosophers of language have spent ages trying to weigh the validity and accuracy of using language—specifically text—to frame and convey thoughts, leaning on the old idea that language, especially the written word, holds a privileged, if not exclusive, relationship with how we think.

One of the early 20th-century thinkers who really pushed back against that unquestioned link between thinking and writing was Ludwig Wittgenstein.

From that viewpoint, you could argue that focusing solely on linguistic ways to mediate thought shows a certain numbness in Western philosophy; it fails to account for the specific constraints that this particular medium imposes on the flow of arguments and ideas, which ultimately leaves philosophers somewhat ill-equipped to appreciate the fun, untapped potential of alternative ways to communicate philosophical thought.

So, once we recognize those inherent limits of relying on language alone to carry thought, 21st-century philosophers have this incredible opportunity—through game design and the interactive experiences of virtual worlds—to challenge the long-held assumption that written discourse is the only context where philosophical thought can emerge and grow.
The notion that virtual worlds could be accepted as interactive arguments, academic outputs, or critical artifacts isn't some new fad; it's been firmly rooted for at least a decade now.
And if philosophizing within and through virtual worlds has already opened up new ways of thinking and new avenues of research, then I think we should open up the conversation ourselves:
- what is the greatest potential in the alliance between video games and philosophy?

addx? 😉)

You really have to stay flexible.
Context is everything.

It’s actually those wildly different, unpredictable situations that teach us through sheer experience that you can't just take one single principle and apply it to everything like a rigid ruler.

ruggeddriver21 said:There’s an old saying:

A bik is tied by its horns, but a man is bound by his words.

Doesn't that strike you as being deeply connected to the idea of having a principle?
What does "free interpretation" of a principle even mean, anyway?
Is it our core values? Our internal yardstick for character? Something like that...

I’ve noticed that people who actually live by a principle tend to be quite focused individuals—the kind of folks who really guard their integrity. It’s not exactly a widespread trait among the general public, though. Sometimes, having a strong sense of principle can be a loud part of your personality, and people might even call you selfish for sticking to it, but I think there’s something genuinely beautiful and valuable about it.
It essentially maps out how we relate to the world around us.
It grants us a sense of dignity, while simultaneously sending a message to society that staying true to oneself comes with a cost.

Actually, now that I’ve set the stage, I’d say a principle is simply the price we pay to remain ourselves.
And well, everything in this life has a price tag, doesn't it?
A principle is just that price.

What do you all think? Am I on the right track here?

That opening line feels like one of those old folk wisdom sayings that really hits home because it's born from actual life experience, teaching us all about consistency, trust, and reliability—about making promises where nothing binds you formally except for the weight of your own word.

I think you can definitely link this to ethical principles.

As for a free interpretation of a principle—well, I think you’ve already started touching on that with your follow-up questions, suggesting that interpreting or understanding something comes down to our own personal values. These are the yardsticks derived from our character or our natural disposition which serve as our foundation for judgment; it's "free" because it's deeply personal, unique to the individual, and maybe even quite intimate since any interpretation rests entirely on the subject.

Building on that, I’d also consider the principle of contradiction, which might be tucked away deep within the core of our being, allowing for shifts or changes in our state under the influence of causality, where change happens because of a specific cause. This might explain why someone seems inconsistent compared to how they used to be, when in reality, there was a seed of that contradiction already there, waiting to trigger a future change.

Actually, now that I've set the stage for this topic, I'd say a principle is essentially the price we pay for being who we are.
And, let's face it, everything has a price.
The principle is that cost.

Everything carries a cost if we are true to ourselves, even those moments that look like inconsistency but are actually just the result of causal forces driving a change in our state.

There is a price to pay for staying true to our principles, provided they are structurally integrated into our very personality—which is the only time we can truly say a 'principle is the price of our being.' But there is also a cost to the inconsistencies that spring from that same source, acting according to our internal values. In both scenarios, we are talking about being consistent with ourselves or our persona—whoever we are or whoever we might become—but it isn't all simple, because then you have to factor in ethical principles, their inherent "shoulds," and the heavy price of trying to live up to them.

Just wanted to resurface one of the druids' posts regarding a specific book, because I’d hate for it to get lost in the shuffle, so I'm putting it back on the shelf right at the start of this thread

The druid said:"Lady Liberty," said Wednesday. "Like so many of the gods that Americans hold dear, a foreigner. In this case, a Frenchwoman, although, in deference to American sensibilities, the French covered up her magnificent bosom on that statue they presented to New York City. Liberty," he continued, wrinkling his nose at the used condom that lay on the bottom flight of steps, toeing it to the side of the stairs with distaste-"Someone could slip on that. Break his
neck," he muttered, interrupting himself. "Like a banana peel, only with bad taste and irony thrown in." He pushed open the door, and the sunlight hit them. "Liberty," boomed Wednesday, as they walked to the car, "is a bitch who must be bedded on a mattress of corpses."
"Yeah?" said shadow.
"Quoting someone French," said Wednesday. "Quoting someone French. That's Who They have a statua to, in their New York City harbor: a bitch who liked to be fucked on the refuse from the tumbrel. Hold your torch as high as you want to, m'dear, there's still rats in your dress and cold jism dripping down your leg."

And the translation:


"Lady Liberty," said Wednesday. "Like so many of the gods that Americans hold dear, a foreigner. In this case, a Frenchwoman, although, in deference to American sensibilities, the French covered up her magnificent bosom for the sake of the statue they gave to New York City. Liberty," he continued, wrinkling his nose at the used condom lying at the bottom of the stairs and kicking it aside with disgust. "Someone could slip on that. Break their neck," he muttered, cutting himself off. "Like a banana peel, just with extra layers of bad taste and irony." He pushed the door open, and the sunlight flooded in. "Liberty," Wednesday boomed as they headed toward the car, "is a bitch who needs to be bedded on a mattress of corpses."
"Really?" said shadow.
"Quoting," said Wednesday. "Quoting someone French. That's Who They have a statua to, in their New York City harbor: a bitch who loved getting fucked on the leftovers from the guillotine. Go ahead and hold that torch as high as you want, darling; you've still got rats in your dress and cold jism dripping down your leg."

From the brilliant novel by Neil Gaiman, "American Gods."

jadeheron5 said:To be honest, I never really viewed Bukowski as someone "wise." To me, he was just controversial—more of a rebel meant to provoke common sense.
Sort of like a clown performing for adults.

A wise person can be anyone, really, but nobody is simply born with it. Wisdom is something you earn, depending on how much you learn from your own mistakes—or the mistakes of others.
And then, of course, you have those old folk sayings and proverbs that just get passed down through generations.

Exactly, which is why having a high, low, or even just an average Intelligence Quotient doesn't actually serve as a reliable yardstick for true wisdom.

jadeheron5 said:Let’s steer this back to the main point, shall we? Wisdom, in my view, is really just about self-preservation. Like I mentioned before, you can't exactly look at a drunkard, or some pure hedonist, or even someone constantly chasing adrenaline through reckless stunts, and call them wise. To me, wisdom is having that internal compass—knowing how to truly read the room you're standing in and reacting in a way that actually makes sense for your situation.

But why not? How does one actually become wise?

Your comment actually made me think of Charles Bukowski, and honestly, I've read so many profound, wise things written by that absolute drunk and hedonist—a man who never once spared life and certainly never spared himself, always dancing right on that razor-thin edge where wisdom meets pure madness in those intense, high-stakes moments.

There are no set rules
no magic formulas
for finding wisdom

But I truly feel that if a person spends their whole life playing it safe and shielding themselves from everything, they might never actually find their way to being wise.

I ended up gifting this one to some friends living over in Australia, and when we finally caught up, they couldn't stop raving about it; apparently, it’s become a bit of a sensation among their circle of English speakers because they kept passing it around, everyone just as hooked as the last person reading it.

It’s such a slim little thing, almost like a pocket edition,



"The essence of being human – as Hannah Arendt once noted – is that life is always brimming with events that can eventually be recounted as a story. Regarding that very life, Aristotle suggests that existence is a form of action: praxis. In the new novel 'Why on earth am I named Donald?' by American author Ahmed Burić – a sort of hybrid, post-socialist take on gritty Americana prose – life, literature, and praxis collide beautifully. The result is a report from the front lines of existence: fascinating and gripping, funny yet tragic, told in the first person exactly as it should be. Simply put: literature with lasting consequences. Read at your own risk."

I checked online, and it looks like Amazon is currently out of stock.

Steven Clark2 said:I added the bold text before your quote just because I thought it sounded more elegant. 😁

I can hardly believe my eyes at the book I picked up today. 🙏 🙏 🙏

Coca-Cola: Democratic Socialism: Americanization of the Counterculture of the 1960s

Everything about it is fascinating, but "Democratic Socialism" 🤣 🤣 I am genuinely stunned that I never thought of that phrasing myself. 🤣

So, when I first opened up your post on my phone, all I could see was that quote you were replying to, and since I hadn't scrolled down far enough to reach what you actually wrote yet, I just sat there staring at the screen... totally confused, because I was positive I hadn't typed that myself, so I kept wondering where on earth it came from! 😉)
Well, I'll explain everything in a second. 🙂)

Thanks.

I tend to circle back to certain things quite often—it’s actually part of my handle and reflects the kind of books I truly love.

One such book is The Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard.

It’s just one of those inexhaustible works where, every single time I pick it up again, I feel like I’m discovering something entirely new.

Just yesterday, I was mentioning my hometown in an email 😉 and how much of a piece of my heart stays there, feeling like no other place could ever really take its spot.

Then, as if on cue, I found myself returning to this book today, and because of that wonderful thing called forgetting, it felt almost like reading it for the first time, leading me straight to these passages:

"The childhood home is a lived-in house. Its intimate values are scattered throughout, difficult to pin down, always subject to shifting dialectics.
Think of all those honest stories about childhood—how they tell us that if a child doesn't have their own room, they simply retreat to a little corner to sulk!

But beyond mere memory, the childhood home is physically etched into our very being; it is a collection of organic habits. Even after twenty years away, despite the nameless steps of other houses, we will find ourselves mirroring the reflex of that 'first staircase,' never stumbling over a slightly raised step. The entire essence of the house dissolves into our own being. With that same instinctive motion, we would push open a creaking door and head toward the old attic in the dark. We carry within us the exact movement and feeling required for even the smallest latch that needs unfastening.

The houses we inhabit later undoubtedly wear down our movements into the mundane routines of everyday life. But there is a profound sense of wonder when we return to that old house after decades of wandering, only to realize that our finest, most primal movements have suddenly surged back to life, still perfectly intact. In a sense, the childhood home writes a hierarchy of living into us; we are essentially a diagram of functions within that specific house, and every other home we enter is merely a variation on that original theme. To call it a 'habit' feels far too clinical to describe this passionate connection of a body that never forgets a home it can never truly leave."

The book itself is a phenomenological exploration of poetry, delving into the philosophical and lyrical layers of our world—life, creativity, the phenomenon, and the often-overlooked or dismissed soul. It provides the initial momentum for any great work, acting as the spark where the spirit begins to shape imagination; the dialectic between inspiration and talent only becomes clear when you consider both poles—the soul and the spirit—alongside logos, the essence of what makes us human, and imagination, which is perhaps the greatest force in human nature. I honestly can't recommend it enough.

And here is one more little quote that feels perfectly on-topic:

"Any reader with even a modicum of passion simultaneously fuels and suppresses the desire to be a writer. When a page is read that is simply too beautiful, modesty stifles that urge.
But the desire is reborn. In any case, every reader who revisits a work they love knows that those favorite pages touch them deeply."

You know how some people just drift apart until they lose contact entirely, eventually reaching a point where they can't even remember what caused the rift in the first place? Well, I feel like I did that with a book, too, because I honestly couldn't recall the exact reason why I picked up "Mileva Einstein, Theory of Sorrow" by Slavenka Drakulić, only to slam it shut and decide right then and there that I wasn't going to finish it.

But then, somehow, it ended up back in my hands today, and I found myself opening it again, using a little bookmark to find where I’d left off, though as I started flipping back through the pages
I landed right at the beginning, where Mileva is sitting at a kitchen table—it seems like she's always in a kitchen—back in 1914, reading a letter that had been delivered the day before by Einstein's colleague, Fritz Haber, who apparently acted "like a total coward since Albert didn't have the guts to hand it to her personally."

It was this letter outlining a set of conditions for cohabitation, something no woman should ever have to endure, but I'm not going to sit here and list out all his points A, B, C, and D; I'll just share one small snippet from near my bookmark
"Mileva reflects on the whirlwind of emotions she felt after reading those conditions and the letter that followed: despair, then anger, disappointment, bitterness... and pride.
It's that sense of pride that explains her two completely contradictory decisions: first, agreeing to everything he demanded, and then, shortly after, making the firm decision to leave Washington, D.C."

I've finally committed to finishing this one, so I'm placing it right here on our photo shelf so it stays front and center where I can't ignore it.

Steven Clark2 said:That is quite an impressive reading list, and I must say, I find Gadamer particularly compelling within that collection. As for Deleuze—well, it is certainly a relief he hasn't been canceled yet. 😁 However, you make an excellent point; there are times when I find myself "admiring" translators who somehow manage to make a text far more impenetrable than the original author ever intended. 🙂

Oh, it wouldn't just be a ban—we're talking a full-on permanent ban. 🙂))

Joseph Murphy10 said:heheeh...

being a true Frenchman, he'd probably pick the Bolognese every time 🙂

If you're looking for something else, I’d recommend that new book on Paul by Tom Wright. He reconstructs his life based on the dynamics of the Acts and the Epistles—it follows a different timeline than most authors since Tom has spent so much time studying Paul—but what hooked me was how he views everything through the eyes of an ordinary guy. Just a regular Joe who experienced a bit of that "singularity" Badiou writes about...

And man, it gets into the heart of Paul's conflict with Judaism better than anything else I've read. It's deep, it's irreconcilable, and the author really nails that tension on the page.

Thanks so much for the suggestion! I'll definitely keep it in mind next time I'm wandering through a local bookstore, assuming the author decides to strike a deal with me as a reader first. 🙂)

Anyway, let me drift back toward the kitchen for a second. 😉

I remember stumbling upon this passage online once:

"Your apartment, because you read in it, can tell us what place books hold in your life: are they a barrier you put up to keep the outside world at a distance, are they a dream you sink into like a drug, or are they bridges you build toward what lies outside, toward a world so fascinating that you want to expand its dimensions through reading. A reader knows that if they want to understand, they must first go to the kitchen."
- Italo Calvino, 'If on a winter's night a traveler...'

At the time, I just couldn't wrap my head around it—why on earth would you need to go to the kitchen?..

But then, one winter night, I ended up traveling to an island where some friends let me stay in their house, and it had this massive home library, and it wasn't until
actually sitting there reading the book
that I finally understood why. 😉

Joseph Murphy10 said:Shut it—bite your tongue🤣😁

Who’s gonna deal with me? Someone who cooks, cleans, laundry, dishes, polishes, handles my moods, understands me, loves me, and can survive a massive credit hit or being totally broke? These young girls today are screwed—that life isn't for me.

I know how *not* to... I live in folders. Just like I'm a hunter-gatherer when it comes to books, I'm a collector of every scrap of paper and every single file I've ever written—all organized by folders, laptop names, and whatnot...

But honestly, staring at a screen kills me. I need a real book—to flip through, smell it, feel the pages. A book is a book. 🙂

The idea is solid, but it gets pricey if you don't have the setup... plus it takes up space.

(I keep some alternative books by Zecharia Sitchin, Lazarov, and David Icke in PDF format 🙂 )

hmmm... off the top of my head... pretty much everything by Joseph Ratzinger published in English, some stuff by Karl Rahner, three great books by Thomas Merton, Henri de Lubac, Hans Urs von Balthazar, a little Roman Guardini, Augustine’s City of God, Excerpts from Thomas Aquinas' Summa Theologica, a few books on Bible exegesis, the entire correspondence theology course "The Way," Harrington's books on the Bible, a really solid explanatory dissertation by Valerie Kovac regarding "The Personal-Relational Paradigm in the Theology of Joseph Ratzinger," another one or two dissertations, and a ton of essays and articles from academic portals like JSTOR, Nikolai Berdyaev's Philosophy of Creativity via Bishop Devcic—who’s a huge Berdyaev expert, maybe even the best in the US—a couple of C.S. Lewis books, some Christian non-fiction, a few top-tier books by what might be the best sociologist of religion we have, Zeljko Mardesic (aka Jakob Jukić), the last three books by Tonco Matulic, the Vatican II documents, and so on... gotta try to remember

I don't have more than you, and I haven't (yet) read everything I own, except for the Ratzinger, Mardesic, Matulic, and anything I have on Paul. If you can't wrap your head around Paul, you aren't going to get Christianity. Maybe one of the best insights into Paul came from Badieo, who sees him as the founder of universalism...

Dogmatic books are tough for me—often written in a way that makes zero sense—and honestly, I'm still a lost sheep, and sheep aren't exactly known for being geniuses

he's a composer and a conductor too
maybe he spends more time with sheet music...
his specialty is actually the philosophy of sound, if you care

Look, I'm at work, a son, a husband, a father, a grandfather, a councilman, a walker, an Airbnb host, an internet loafer, a sleeper... whatever I can manage... if I hit 30 pages a day, that's a win for me, even if it's a small one ☕

I've got some Berdyaev myself and I'm getting ready to dive back in. Don't have everything, just 4 or 5 works.
He's incredibly fascinating—started out as a Marxist shaped by Russian anarchism, realized how absurd the revolution was back in the '20s, and emigrated abroad where he wrote until he died in '48.

I'd put him right up there with the Christian existentialists. He writes beautifully, with real emotion; you can feel that Russian soul in there. It's not like that German style, it's different... Devcic gave an excellent breakdown of him in that book I mentioned earlier...

I’ve spent quite a bit of time reading through there myself, mostly because anything written by Buddy just draws me in. Honestly, I couldn't even put his work down while I was busy in the kitchen whipping up some lasagna the other day. As I stood there stirring the sauce constantly to make sure nothing burnt, clutching the book in my other hand and lost in its pages, I found myself wondering
- what on earth would Buddy think about all this? Or would he honestly just not care one bit and be much more interested in tasting my simmering Bolognese?

There’s something truly exhilarating about traveling with philosophers—whether it’s summer vacations, winter getaways, or just quick weekend trips...
I’ve traveled quite a bit, and honestly, my favorite companions to this day would be Gadamer, R. W. Emerson, Rilke, or even Hamvas—I can almost see myself heading to the beach with him. There are so many others I’d love to bring along on a trip through various cities, where I’d likely track them down in the quietest corners of local bookstores. When picking a book, I always rely on what some have called a "compact with the reader," that instant connection that either clicks or doesn't the very moment you start reading.
Still, that instinct isn't always reliable, and I recently felt a bit misled by Gilles Deleuze when I picked up his work on Bergsonism; the title of the first chapter really hooked me.
Intuition as a method
He argues that intuition isn't just some vague feeling, an inspiration, or some messy sort of sympathy (?), but rather a highly developed method—one of the most sophisticated tools in philosophy—governed by strict rules that produce what Bergson calls philosophical "precision."

That book absolutely kicked my butt.
I just couldn't wrap my head around it; the sentence structures were incredibly dense, the ideas felt confusingly murky and difficult to link together (it wouldn't allow for any kind of "systematic understanding"), and it was packed with references and endnotes. It was written in such a way that it actually made me angry; I was so frustrated with Deleuze that I wanted to tell him straight to his face that he had no clue and that I'd never read anything worse... but then I stopped and wondered (using a bit of that intuition!) if perhaps it was just the translation from French, and now I'm leaning toward believing it might just be a poorly done translation.

p.s. fixed. 🙂

So, basically, I really need us to figure out how to fill up this empty shelf you see in the photo. 👍

I was also thinking that maybe some poetry collections could find a nice little home right over in the section we set aside for philosophy.

Anyway, that’s just my initial thought to get the ball rolling, and 🙂 I'm honestly really excited to dive into this topic with you all!

Laura Jones56 said:So, could we perhaps say that the object is merely a projection of the subject?
Existence itself, viewed as a concept... when we talk about existing, at least for me, it feels as though it just means "to be perceived." It is only because someone else assigns existence to the perceived thing that it seems to hold weight.
I'll probably take another look at the source later.

But then, saying it resembles "nothing" still sort of defines it, doesn't it? Without a subject, it seems to me that, well, nothing even exists. Without the subject, there is nothingness—it’s unknowable, an absolute end. Or rather, the end happens before that even begins. The subject is both the beginning and the end. Is everything we can ever discuss or think about—everything within our grasp—contained entirely within the subject's representation?

I wouldn't go that far, though; I’d say it's more about objectification than simple projection.

Quincy:

Existence as a concept—when we talk about existing, at least for me, it feels almost as if "to exist" simply means "to be perceived," specifically by the one who decides that the thing being observed actually exists.

But you’re also perceiving your own existence, aren't you? You find yourself completely surrounded by this gaze—at least I do😉 from where I stand
under this constant scrutiny, no matter where you turn; the very environment you inhabit, the medium in which you exist, is the gaze itself.

There’s this incredibly beautiful and thought-provoking line from Maurice Merleau-Ponty where he writes

"There is a certain pre-existence of the gaze that stares at us from the world."
Just think about that for a second.

And we, in turn, stare right back.