An ordinary example of a living being
Readwise reminded me of this today:
Virginia Woolf was especially fond of quoting this thought from his last essay: it was as close as Montaigne ever came to a final or best answer to the question of how to live. "Life should be an aim unto itself, a purpose unto itself."
Either this is not an answer at all, or it is the only possible answer. It has the same quality as the answer given by the Zen master who, when asked, “What is enlightenment?” whacked the questioner on the head with a stick Enlightenment is something learned on your own body: it takes the form of things happening to you.
This is why the Stoics, Epicureans, and Skeptics taught tricks rather than precepts. All philosophers can offer is that blow on the head: a useful technique, a thought experiment, or an experience—in Montaigne’s case, the experience of reading the Essays. The subject he teaches is simply himself, an ordinary example of a living being. (Sarah Bakewell, How to Live)
When I write down what I think it is not to impress, or to persuade, or to exhort, or to boast, or to preen. It is just to offer "an ordinary example of a living being". Someone who somewhere once thought a thing was true, did his best to live by it, recorded the results as clearly and honestly as he was able. An account that might be helpful to someone — entertaining, instructive, thought-provoking, or simply provide an example of what not to do, something that might work for others but not for them.
It's not much — but then again, how can one discover the possibilities of living without observing and pondering the efforts of others to live it?
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