On Friends

It’s not easy finding people to talk philosophy with. It’s not easy finding places, environments, etc., in which one is comfortable enough to feel at home, relax, and think. I’m afraid that over the years you’ll encounter more and more people who aren’t comfortable with philosophy, are not serious about it — even in graduate school. You’ll just have to try to locate a few you relate well with, and they’ll be your long-term associates. It’s possible to find a few, and a few is all you need.

I came across this letter from a professor and friend of mind in a notebook I kept from college. He wrote to me when I was in Florence, Italy, a trip I took alone after spending a month studying German in Berlin with students from all over. I remember complaining to him that, of the few students I encountered in Berlin who were interested in philosophy, none of them were serious about it, or about anything at all, really, and I had said that I was excited to be alone in Italy.

That was twelve years ago, and he is still one of only a few friends with whom I will go out of my way to share a thought on philosophical issues, though it has been too long since I’ve spoken with him.

I am not social by nature. If it were not for my job, in fact, I wonder how many people would know my name. Nearly always in social situations I would rather be at home, turn time to four in the morning, before the birds, and read, write, and think; that, or alone with my wife and daughter, or perhaps one of my few close friends.

I could not be a hermit, though. I’ve tried. Too much time alone can render one a bit too odd, a bit too strange, and so, too, can it engender an unhealthy self-conception as an outcast. But my friend was absolutely correct in the above letter — in spite of the fact of death and the brevity of life, few and far between are those who want to swim in the deep end.