The Philosopher’s Pit

We live in a matterless society, where nothing matters, and everything does. Nothing makes sense, yet everything does. Planet Earth is synced in this constant cycle of rotatory motion. So, do the atoms around the nucleus, and so does blood around your heart. There’s one single point. And around that one single point, many lines drawn, and many patterns layered, laid in the foundational core of everything, a single point, a micro-dot, or as the Sufis said, ik nukta.

There are so many points that could be added here, affirming the cause, or negating the point. But the point is, that there’s no point. Then why all thy heft, all this struggle. Some of y’all might say, there’s one, and I’d say, NONE. I’d say one, if you say none. I’m bound to prove you wrong, some call it the Philosopher’s Pit, with reference to the muddy-stained-drenched in sweat, with dirt it’s drained: the Philosopher’s Pit.

Only me, or this keyboard, or the screen, or the processor knows: that I tried… I tried finding the exact reference to this rather unusual term, and almost a pointless claim. I read it somewhere, the whole argument, by a philosopher, where they argued and weighed two different paradigms, and elucidated similarities between either.

The claim, or the argument, however… was… hope I do justice to their glory though, but that won’t matter either. But what matters, at least as of now, is that I put better words to this thought, which revolves with no resolute; to argue or debate with a philosopher is like fighting the pig in it’s muddy pit. You might run out of moves, and hands, and people, and opposing forces, but that won’t be a problem for the pig, aka, the philosopher. Wanna know why? ‘Cause the pig enjoys its muddy-stained… drenched in sweat, with dirt it’s drained… pit.

Pigs love to fight; be it a ground, or a pit, in a pit, they enjoy it. It won’t care about winning or losing, the only thing the pig loves to do is to enjoy the show, and give a competitive game, a tough one to the opponent. By the time you get comfortable, in the pit, you’re all muddy, and stained, and filled with dirt. And your cause now seems like a lost one. Of course, because of the reason that most of the people play: only with two possibilities in their mind, i.e., either I win, or you lose. However, the same should not imply to the philosopher, ideally.

The philosopher loves to argue, loves to debate, just for the sake of it, pardon my French, but, for the heck of it! They argue, regardless of any concern, to not get anything out of it, just to keep exploring, as I mentioned earlier, for the heck of it, and certainly, not against you. An endless debate, like life, seems pointless. No point losing, no point winning. An Urdu poet, Qamar Jalalabadi wrote, and I quote:

Kar lunga jama daulat o zar, us ke baad kia

Le lunga shaandaar sa ghar, us ke baad kia

The thoughts keep multiplying, as you explore furthermore. The case of ifs and buts won’t overflow, cause there’s so many of them. Moreover, the whys, if, asked with a critical-just approach, the debate might not ever end. But, if the answers are well-evaluated, well-thought, and well-countered, then there might be a chance of some closure. Then arises another, the whole shoulda’ coulda’ woulda’ paradigm, where the possibilities are marked with skepticism, and thus should be termed probability.

We’ve often heard of the phrase; life runs in circles. I say, life runs in a loop, just like the hamster, in a circular-wheel-like-cycle. Chasing after some piece of food, cheese, maybe, or for any person’s case, the construct of a well-organized, and a happy life. Chasing after the richest glory, just to win, with no resentment, stopping anyone, who comes in the way. But, for the hamster, as well as the people, as well as the philosopher, as well as the pig, life is a constant loop, where one keeps chasing after matter that don’t matter. In my opinion, both the philosopher, and the pig are aware of the circumstances, and conditions, and whatever they have been blessed or cursed with, so they don’t care anymore. So, they try to enjoy the play, while it still lasts.

Rumi said, the art of knowing is to know what to ignore. But don’t you stuff your head contemplating. debate me all you want, but there’s no point, or there’s some. And either probability worries me. And this article, just like everything else, is…. pointless.

Mafroozay ke gird dayirah

Dhoka, daleel, phir difaa

-  Inqalab

Shamma se Shamma Jalay!