Talons Philosophy

An Open Online Highschool Philosophy Course


The Real Ideology is the Friends We Make Along the Way: An Extremely Belated “Plato’s Cave” Post

In Plato’s cave, the shackled prisoner reaches enlightenment upon entering the real world. From there, he is portrayed as having achieved the ultimate level of knowledge. I don’t find myself entirely agreeing with Plato’s allegory, as I believe there is always more to discover on our journey to the goal of enlightenment. I see our knowledge as constantly evolving and growing. An occasion in which I can look back on and realize it was a form of “enlightenment”, only to later have the knowledge attained from such enlightenment evolve and change, is the very first book I had ever read on political theory; Marx for Beginners.

For those of you unaware, Marxism is a form of socioeconomic analysis focusing on class struggle. It originates from the works of Karl Marx and Fredierich Engels, and what you are most likely aware of, is that Marx and Engels wrote the “Communist Manifesto”. The Manifesto advocated for the creation of a socialist society that would transition into a communist one, and called for united proletarian revolution. Communism would entail very literal, absolute equality; all property being commonly owned, each individual working and being paid according to his own need. No social classes, no currency, no state. At the small, simple age of 13, I was entranced by the idea of a world where equality would be real; I had decided that I was to become a radical Communist, bring glorious proletariat revolution to the decidedly politically moderate Canada, and essentially become a miniature, 5 foot tall, female, Iranian-Canadian Che Guevara. I was decidedly obsessed, and I glorified the concept and some of its key figures: Lenin, Trotsky, Luxembourg, and Castro. On some level, I held the belief that criticisms of communism could only come from the privileged bourgeois, trying to induce a red scare. The fact that Communism was such a taboo only made it more alluring, and it didn’t end with that one book. Some samples of what I came to read include: the original Communist Manifesto, The Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State, select few of Chomsky’s work, and The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism. Of course, at 13 years old, I barely understood what I was reading.

Other factors spurred my intense passion for Communism further; my best friend’s grandparents were real life, Chilean Communists who had been persecuted by Pinochet, who were only happy to repeat their heroic tales of bravery in the face of Fascism. This was also only a year after the Occupy Wall Street Protests had died down. At the same time as my introduction to Marxism, I started to become a Feminist. With that, came the analysis of patriarchy, intersectionality, and oppression in works from authors such as Bell Hooks. The concept of privilege politics was introduced to me via feminist and anti-racist theory. Thus, my very first political beliefs were formed, and “radical” ones at that.

Upon reading the People’s History of the United States, I was appalled by the western world in which I had been brought up in. This too, felt like a form of enlightenment. I couldn’t fathom the horrors of history that had never been addressed, the injustice against indigenous peoples, the whitewashing of our history so as to make us appear to be the ever constant heroes. The anti-communist propaganda brought about in our culture through McCarthyism and the first and second Red Scare, historical events like the banning of the Communist party of Canada made me see that the society we lived in could be just as unjust as those we adored to criticize. I thought I really did have the world entirely figured out at that point; all we had to do was have an inter-sectional, feminist, anti-racist, LGBT inclusive, revolution to destroy Capitalism, Colonialism, and Imperialism!

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi truly depicts the young revolutionary

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi truly depicts the young revolutionary

In the 4 years (wow, it really doesn’t feel that long) since I discovered politics and the political spectrum, I’ve discovered again and again that it’s not as black and white as I once thought. That I was wrong about some things. The dictatorial figures I had felt were unfairly slandered by the West, Mao and Stalin, were discovered upon actually reading into historical accounts to be the murderous, in the case of Stalin, genocidal, cruel, and authoritarian figures they were said to be. After hearing the testimonies of those from Eastern Europe who suffered under Stalin, learning about the long, brutal spectre left by Communism on Eastern Europe, the testimonies of those from China who are still suffering from Mao’s legacy, I knew I could no longer place my ideology on a pedestal of glory. Fidel Castro himself may perhaps be the most morally-grey historical figure I have yet to read about. Turns out no ideology, no country, holds a monopoly on mass murder.

My view of privilege politics has evolved, I have come to view it as too simplistic and western-centric to adequately summarize the oppression of various marginalized groups worldwide, and too often misused. No ill will towards the passionate defendants of course. I can see where it’s coming from, it was my very first introduction to the concept of social justice, and I certainly agree with the basis that certain groups have an advantage over others on a systematic level. I still consider myself a Feminist, but my personal views on feminist issues such as pornography and prostitution have evolved time and time again. Most importantly, I have found that even those on a different side of the political spectrum or debate oftentimes want what they believe to be the best for the world, or if you discuss a concept long enough, you may find the two of you agreeing.

Except Fascists, screw Fascists.

So, how about that for enlightenment. Still, some things stay the same in ways: I hold steadfast that Communism has never been practiced correctly as real Communism is incompatible with the existence of a state, that the system does not necessarily require authoritarianism, and that when it comes to death toll, more so can be attributed to Capitalism than to Communism. That the Western World is still guilty of injustice upon injustice, genocide, exploitation of the “third world”, thriving off the legacy of colonialism, and that Western Imperialism has been responsible for poverty, destabilization, death, and dictatorships worldwide. Most importantly, that Capitalism as a system is unjust, violating the moral principles I hold steadfast that human life and liberty not just takes precedence over profit, but that the concepts of profit, wage labour, private ownership, and the free market is incompatible with the human right to life and liberty. Yet, I know that none of this makes it so that I can cast socialism as the unsung hero of the story.

Quite honestly, left-wing politics and socialism still form the foundation of my viewpoints. What I’m trying to communicate is that what we may initially believe to be enlightenment may evolve, may grow, and that we should never place our so called enlightenment on such a pedestal so as we become blinded to the idea that what we believe may be flawed, or even wrong. So, a note to our dearly departed Plato: There is always more to learn, there is always room for evolution. Even for great, dead, philosophers.

P.S. The comic book/movie adaption of said comic book, Persepolis, is a great non-fiction account of the Iranian Revolution. As well as a beautiful coming of age story!



Platos cave is real and it stole my entire grade ten year – or the story of that time I, Jordan Chambers, costumed almost an entire musical by myself.

So in my Grade ten year (last year) our musical theatre department did Beauty and the Beast for our big production. Somehow, I thought that it would be a good idea to sign up and take charge of the costuming department. What I didn’t know was that I was the only person who signed up for this task. I honestly can’t even blame anyone else like who in their right mind wants to make almsot 100 costumes for a fantasy musical? Previously in theatre I had done lighting which was very low-effort (for the most part) and even allowed me to take naps during performances and while I was not new to sewing, I was new to the art of costuming which is like sewing, but you dont have patterns to follow and no one tells you what the budget is, only that you cant spend a lot of money which is fine in theory but then im expected to make ball gowns and wardrobes and organize quickchanges and glue masks to peoples faces twice a day and I’m getting away from myself but long story short i had no idea what I signed up for but hell if I was gonna step down from the task.

So ironically enough, my Platos Cave was being the person creating shadows, and when I left the cave, instead of seeing the sun I got stuck in a small room with piles and piles of clothing. And when I say that Platos Cave stole my entire grade ten year I quite literally mean that from November to mid-May, almost the only thing on my mind was these costumes. I went to Disneyland and the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas in this timeframe and I would like, stand on the edge of this huge crack in the earth that can be seen from space and the other side is so far away it’s hazy and I would be thinking, “Man I wonder how I’m going to make an actual teapot that someone can still act and dance while wearing.” It was wild. (That’s like, the part in the allegory where the newly freed guy is just wandering around kind of blinded by the sunlight and wondering why he’s out there.)

But as the actual run of the musical got closer the process became easier (who am I kidding it was like the second show before things got settled) and I knew why I had left the cave of lighting to explore the wide world of costuming. But jsut yesterday actually, I reentered the cave to teach new students hwo to use the lighting board. And it was just bad. I don’t even want to go into it but I understood the emotions that our Platos Cave explorer must have felt when he reentered the cave and was baout to get brutally murdered by it’s inhabitants. Luckily, (and obviously) I didn’t get killed but the whole experience widened my eyes and reminded me not only that lighting is not for me, but that I still had this blog post to write.

So there we have it. My Platos Cave was the lighting booth, and the stressfull process of being freed from it was that time a young, grade ten me decided to costume an entire fantasy musical.



Katherine: the cave is gay

Plato’s cave: a beautiful and well-known metaphor about how we perceive life and truth

Also kind of terrifying. Seriously, was I the only one in class thinking “Why are these people chained?? They have been chained since they were born??? THEY CANT MOVE??!?? What the actual h*ck is going on in this cave? Who put them there??”

Needless to say, this cave messed me up for a little while.

But the point of this post is not to talk about my mental scarring (we’d be here for years if that was the case) but to make a connection between me, my life, and this sadistic cave.

When looking at the people in the cave, it’s easy to wonder: why don’t the people chained in the cave try to leave? Why don’t they struggle, break free of the chains and explore? The thing is, we need a prologue. Plato’s Cave: The Early Years. If the people in the cave had been there their whole lives, they have no reason to un-chain themselves. They see nothing wrong with it. They don’t see the chains as anything more than a part of life. At the risk of sounding horribly, horribly cliche, these chains symbolize the shackles or society and how we must break through in order to move forward.

I think I threw up in my mouth a little by saying that.

you have no clue how many wierd photos i found while searching for this. image courtesy of huffington post

But anyway, onto a fun lil metaphor to connect this whole post, my title, and add in some fun images for the visual learners out there.

When Mr. Jackson, asked up to find a time when we were “in the cave”, the only real thing I could think was “BEING GAY” That might just be my brain, but I decided to run with it.

I was in the cave (or the closet) until grade 8. It took me realizing I was not striahgt for me to start seeing “the sun” about lgbtq issues. I’d heard gay being thrown around as an insult. I’d seen my grandparents turn their lips at pride flags and heard my priest warn about the dangers of same sex marriage. That had all passed over my head until I started stepping into the light and actually hearing everything they were saying. While I now know so, so much more about issues and subjects surrounding lgbtq, I’ve realized that certain people I know are still locked in the chains of the cave, and always will be. I’ve likened the man in plato’s cave being unable tos ee well in teh dark and getting mocked for it to me, not finding gay sterotypes funny and getting mocked for it. Maybe I’m just being self centered and trying to make it about me. Who knows??

To finish it off, I have another lil fun metaphor to tie both of these together. Imagine you are in a car. As a child, you sit in the backseat, oblivious to the cars around you. You watch them go by, watch you parents stop at lights and signs, but ultimatly don’t concern yourself with the actions on the road around you. But then you grow up. You start learning how to drive, learning the rules, learning the limits. Now, as you sit in the front seat, you see everyone breaking the rules, speeding, cutting people off. You never noticed it as a child, but now you can’t go back to not noticing. You’re aware. You’ve learned.

This is kinda like being lgbtq. Once you have see what homophobia or transphobia can do, once you’ve learned what’s hurtful and why, you can’t go back to not noticing. Same with Plato’s cave: when you see the sun, theres no going back to the dark.



I know That I’m Wrong

In Plato’s cave, all the people trapped down there have a very different understanding of reality than the people outside the cave. They see shadows cast on a relatively flat surface standing vertically in front of them, and occasionally hear noises from behind them that they end up associating with the shapes. This world they live in, to us, is dark, monochromatic, and, well, wrong. But to them it’s all they’ve ever known, so why should they question it? Sure, it seems clear that the reality they are living isn’t quite right, but these people are quite happy to continue to sit in the dark, and to dismiss any ulterior idea about reality as a far out fantasy.

The cave people might seem rather stubborn and irrational in the act of dismissing something that those who have seen outside of the cave know to be true, but they would actually be acting quite rationally. If someone told you something that contradicts all of your firsthand knowledge, and if that person has no definitive way to prove what they told you is the truth, other than “because I said so” and the like, would you just disregard everything you know and believe them? No, of course not. That’d be absolutely ridiculous. Unbelievably irrational. Yet, upon hearing of this story, I tend to feel like the cave people are idiots for not understanding the world for the way the outsiders know to be true, even though the cave dwellers would be put in the same situation as my example.

Furthermore, if any one of the cave dwellers were to question their reality, and maybe even think up their own theory for what the world might be, they would still be incorrect about the state of reality; likely even more so than the others. To predict what the world might look like beyond the cave, or to even think that there is anything beyond the cave, would be like predicting what alien species we’re going to be irradiated by in the future. First of all, we’ve never met an alien species, and we may never know with any reassurance if there are any intelligent life forms in this universe, and if there were aliens that we could eventually come in contact with, how would we ever know if they would irradiate us at all? The whole prediction is absolute nonsense, and could never be actually true.

Thinking about the cave in this way can be a little unnerving, actually. Taking everything at face value is dangerous because the knowledge you would be given wouldn’t necessarily be all true. On the other hand, not believing what you are told would make it so nothing you knew was true, because the knowledge you could have been given had the chance of being false, and you wouldn’t want to believe something that is false. Either way you would be wrong about reality.

The analogy of Plato’s cave asks the one who hears of it to think of the commoner as the one in the cave, and the enlightened philosopher as the one living a free life in the outside world, but sometimes I fear that we are all in the cave, and none of us are any closer to being right than the next chained up cave dweller, and that the philosopher may actually be the cave dweller that disregards truth in place of fantasy. This is the cause of many existential crises, but somehow I find myself contempt with the only two things I know for certain in this world: I exist, and I will always be wrong about something. That may not be the most reassuring thing in the world, but at least it’s something. It’s good enough for me, anyways.



Omnicidal Ideation (or why I’m weird)

It’s April, 2013. I’m finishing up the last few months of middle school, but I’ve been missing quite a bit lately. I’m late almost every day. It’s nothing too major though; all my grades are still near the top of my class.

One morning, I wake up and I’m too tired to get out of bed. My father charges into my room. He yells, he postures aggressively, and threatens me when I try to stand up. And most tellingly, he mistakes my defiance for fear.

It’s interesting, growing up without being allowed to have emotions. You do weird things. You come up with jokes– genuinely funny jokes– but you spend half a minute sucking all the humour out of them and making them all nice and logical before you say them. You talk to people and realize deep down how they feel– what they’re trying to say and what they’re thinking– but you don’t let yourself make sense of it because doing so wouldn’t be rational enough. “Come on man, you and me should totally go to IB together” is nothing more than a statement. The guy saying it doesn’t think of you as his friend; that would be a hell of a logical leap. The girl who keeps talking to you doesn’t like you, why would she? There’s no evidence. Get ahold of yourself; you’re acting too emotional and illogical, like a bratty kid.

It’s interesting having parents with low emotional intelligence; you keep trying to express your personhood, and each time it’s rebuked, dismissed or mocked, you lose just a little bit more of yourself until there’s nothing left.

It’s also interesting blasting the whole thing apart. Fun times. First I tried talking, but that didn’t work. Then I realized just how oblivious they were and how utterly doomed I was when I started hissing and cussing whenever I saw them, only for them to blankly stare back and ask, “What do you mean by, fuck off?” I calmed down and embraced empty happiness in just a few months, after I’d forgotten that I used to have my own thoughts and feelings. Then, not even a full year ago, I regenerated enough to start causing trouble again. I started fighting to be human again. I didn’t lose this time.

It was very weird for me to find out that despite what I had been told and how I’d been treated all my life, I wasn’t crazy for wanting to feel alive. I have to thank my brother in part for helping me with the realization. He lectured me on how irrational normal people are, and how stupid I was to care about being connected. He blamed my depression on the weather in our lovely temperate rainforest biome. He called me “evil” for crying about being alone, and “intolerant” for saying it’s natural to want connection. Combined with the five psychiatrists who kicked me out of their mental wards while repeatedly telling me I’m not psychotic, it was just enough for me to consider that maybe– just maybe– I wasn’t actually the problem.

Then I took some months to maneuver through the minefield of excuses and rationalizations that my mother was too skilled at weaving, and gradually get her to start seeing things my way.

So the story of my life thus far is as follows: I was born in Plato’s cave, and shackled there for some fourteen years. I was a social animal and an emotional creature, unable to socialize and punished for having feelings. Then I got sick of the cave, and desperately tried to climb out. The folks in there with me didn’t like that, so they held me back and beat me to a pulp. Fortunately, a lifetime spent staring at shadows on the cave walls left them ill-equipped to hold me for long, so I managed to recover somewhat and make it out (dragging them this time, so they can’t pull me back again). And then I tried to pour a healthy serving of kerosene down the cave, just to be safe.

Oh, and one more thing: I’m pissed. So I figure I’ll try to do it again. Rise to the very level of the world we’re trapped in, and blow it apart. Kill existence.

I’ve done it before, just on a smaller scale. <3



Katie Crompton – The Value of Acceptance

Earlier this year, I had to deal with something that would change my life quite significantly. (I am purposefully going to be very vague for confidentiality purposes because I don’t want there to be any sort of a negative feelings towards the other party. But if I have talked to you about my life recently, you probably know what this is all about.) The short story is that I had been a part of something for six years and was excited for my seventh, when some news broke that made me question all of my plans for the coming year. I was forced to rethink entirely how my whole year would look. This was an incredibly emotional decision for me but I realized it was best for me to remove myself from the establishment for many reasons. Not because I felt betrayed and angry (which I did for a little bit) but because it was the logical thing for me to do. Now, when we were asked to relate something in our lives’ to Plato’s Cave, this was the first thing that came to mind. On the surface, it may not seem like there is any logical connection but once you dig deeper it has more meaning.

I believe that when I was a part of this thing, I was like the people who stare at the shadow figures on the wall. I had been a part of it for so long that it consumed my life. I dedicated so much time and effort into it that I couldn’t pursue many opportunities outside of this organization. It was sort of like I was trapped. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy with what I was doing and I loved taking part, but I didn’t have the ability to see much else, just like the people in the cave.

This is a little bit out of order from the story but after I heard this news and I was in the process of making my decision, I was a lot like the people in the cave if they heard about a different reality. I was confused and afraid of what might come next. I didn’t know what to do or how to even feel. At times, I couldn’t even admit the fact that my life was about to change no matter what I did. I feel like this is how the people in the cave would have felt. Even if they decided not to try and leave the cave, they have already been told that there is a reality different than what they know. This would stick with them forever and they would always wonder what the real truth is.

Once I had made my decision, I feel like I was the prisoner who was set free. At first I was confused and afraid just like before, but I slowly came to accept my fate and embrace it. I am now very happy and I am excited for all of the opportunities that are coming my way. It was quite the adjustment, but I know the choice I made was the right one. I feel free, just like the person seeing real life for the first time.

My journey has given me many things. I have come to accept what happened and I have learned that sometimes things that seem really hard at first will eventually help you in the future. Plato’s Cave is something that everyone can relate to in their lives in some way. Maybe not this very minute, but someday. I feel like this experience taught me a very important lesson that is perfectly represented in this quote:

“Don’t try to understand everything, because sometimes it is not meant to be understood, but accepted” ~ Unknown

This is extremely important in life because it is impossible to understand everything. The person who got to leave the cave definitely wouldn’t have understood why they had to go through what they went through, or why they were the one that was let out, but they would have to accept it. If they couldn’t accept their new reality, they would surely go crazy. In conclusion, I have learned from Plato’s Cave and my own experiences that life throws curve balls at you for a reason, it’s up to you what you are going to do with it.



Play-Doh and other philosophical things-Benedict Mendes

The concept of Plato’s cave just absolutely messes with my head. When I first looked at it, I thought “Wow those guys are dumb don’t they even know that those are just shadows??”, but really, in the same situation none of us would have thought differently to them. The concept that everything we’re seeing is not really in it’s true form and there is more there than meets the eye is kind of terrifying, because we believe all that we observe to be true, after all, “seeing is believing” -An Old Proverb from somewhere probably. Really, how are we to know that what is before us is real or not? We could be in some kind of simulation, just a creation of some higher singular/plural Thing made for amusement. I mean, personally I don’t blame them though because humans are petty and hilarious, but I digress. But in terms of my interaction with the concept of Plato’s cave, the concept of discovering a world you never knew, there’s one time in my life that comes along.


Picture me, at eight years old. My hair was blond, and I was smol and innocent and pure, and also had not yet moved to Canada. Now it’s a little weak to compare the natural ignorance of a small child to the huge concept that is Plato’s cave, but bear with me here. I was a well traveled child, I’d been to Europe and USA and all over South America, but for all those travels I had never actually seen snow. Okay, now imagine telling me, an eight year old living in South America who had never seen snow, that I was MOVING TO CANADA. I was HYPED. I immediately started vividly imagining how I would live. I would get along with the wild life and ride a moose and/or a polar bear to and from school everyday. My family and I would live in a cozy little igloo, our meals consisting purely of maple syrup and poutine. I would ski, or ice skate, everywhere as OBVIOUSLY there would be snow all year round. This was what I thought was actually going to happen, and for some reason no one really contested this misguided knowledge so I just continued happily believing whatever. Now, it was kind of an opposite thing to Plato’s cave, where instead of being amazed and confounded by what I found, it was more of a huge disappointment. When I landed in Toronto, the snow part of my fantasies was instantly fulfilled as it was the middle of March and extremely cold. Oh also I didn’t think it would be freezing for some reason. Now, the disappointment started when I did not see a SINGLE MOOSE OR POLAR BEAR for the entirety of the time when I was in Ontario. It was very anticlimactic really, I went out into the snow and just thought to myself “Wow it’s cold here this sucks” and continued to be disappointed from then on. But, poutine and maple syrup were certainly real things so I was excited to, for the first time ever, try these foreign foods for the very first time. To make a potentially long story short, I don’t like poutine and prefer Aunt Jemima to any kind of maple syrup, so needless to say I was yet again disappointed with this grand new world I was being introduced to. Of course, since then I have come to terms with my early on misjudgement and disappointment with Canada, and have come to realize it’s pretty great all around. But for eight year old me, it was like being led from the glorious outside into Plato’s Cave.


Since then I have of course discovered much more about this half-decent place called Canada, and I really love it here. My life here is more than it ever could have been back home, so really even though I was led into Plato’s Cave, I’ve made my own way out and learned to appreciate and be in awe of all that I have before me. And of course, as for my friends back in South America I do not hesitate to tell them of the glory of Canada.



Which way out of the cave? “What cave?” – Derek W.

Over the past few days in our classroom, there have been things going on that I feel don’t happen very often at our school. We’ve just gotten into Philosophy and the basics of it and the tip of the iceberg has already astonished me. I feel as though I have never thought before.

However, through the many things that we got a taste of, a select few really had me thinking late at night. I found myself thinking more and more about the ideas that I had never thought about before. Things that, if true, would tear and ruin the foundations of human knowledge and all we’ve ever known.

The most vivid thing I remember of my first few days in Philosophy was the word TRUTH. The capital T. I remember watching a video of Dr. West talking about Plato’s “Examined Life”. He touched on truth while presenting his reasoning and opinions and I started really liking the idea of a “Truth”.

Does she know the weight of those words?

Later in the last week, we began talking about the nature and foundations of human progress. First of all, we talked about scientific theories and the fact that they cannot be “proved” absolutely, but can be definitely disproved. The nature of our science is based on trial and error, and observations. We began to see that process itself cannot occur without previous work. Our class then started tracing the line of knowledge: blocks of information built on each other. Eventually we found that, however logical our theories and conclusions, they are all based upon the assumptions of truth. How can we base our knowledge on things that we cannot prove? How do I know that I am sitting in a chair typing on a laptop? There is always the possibility that what is happening to me right this instance is false. The possibility that my senses are faulty and that what I perceive this instant is artificial. To begin our quest for knowledge, we took must have assumed a constructed truth to work upon. We’ve become masters and experts of a contrived truth.

We may have built a grand palace on assumed foundations, but does this mean that what we have built is not a truth? Is there a better truth to be searching for? Yes: possible, but not plausible. The capital T truth that Dr. West talks about is something that could be at the end of any of the infinite lines of knowledge we could have assumed at our very conception. The beginnings of human knowledge must have made assumptions to ensure its survival. There was no other choice, our progress may be in vain but for us it is our truth.

Is our palace of knowledge simply just assumption?

As though in answer to the thoughts swirling around in my head, our class covered and discussed Plato’s Allegory of The Cave. If you aren’t familiar with this electrifying tale, take a look here. Within this story, the prisoners chained to face the wall have done what human knowledge has done. The prisoners have taken the shadows that dance upon the wall as reality and have assumed such. Within their assumed reality they cannot even imagine the working of the relative truth of the outside world. They in fact have become quite adept at discerning shadows and projections on the wall. So much so that, when a prisoner was freed and enlightened to the relative truth outside, the captive prisoners denounced him and his reality as ludicrous to them masters of discerning shadows. Plato’s cave, for me, really brought out and made tangible my scattered thoughts. For me, it brought acted as a keystone and solidified my previous nebulous ideas.

It was the scale of what philosophy impacted that really had me captivated. Sitting in philosophy trying to imagine what truth would be but ending up with more and more layers to be peeled back was like trying to imagine infinity. The moment you think what you’ve thought of might be close to it, you realize that it is literally infinitely larger than that. I can only wonder how many strains of subjective truth there are. Starting at square one, wherever that may have been, we must have assumed something and started in one direction. Was our primordial direction the one that leads to capital T truth? Maybe. Maybe not. I admit that we don’t know if what we see and think are just shadows on a wall or not. Is it still worth trying to work with shadows? Or should we abandon them and search for light? If so, how do we know our light is just a different way of looking at shadows? Should we even try?

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