Birth and  death  have a clarity  of inception and   finality  but  sometimes it’s

hard  to say when things  start.   My   journey to  the  present  day has had,  like

for all of us its unique meanderings  without  aspiring  to any outstanding

achievements,  save perhaps  for what  I hope are some inspired  thoughts  that will

stir others to  think.    When I started my thinking about  life,  I did not call  or

see myself as a philosopher. In its infancy,  my thinking was more the result  of

circumstance, trying to make sense of  the slings and arrows that  life  throe at me

but  as time moved on my thinking matured and evolved.  As to when  all   this

began, well   like  all  good  journeys it   begins with  the  preparation. Although 

I have to confess  to having Had  little or no hand in that  preparation as most

of it was, as I have already said more the result of circumstance than design on my

part.

                             And Klotho of the Moirea

                            spins the threads of our lives life,

                          To weave the manner of our existence

                         So like sleeping Gulliver we awakening

                            From our “ship wreck” birth.

The  Greek mythology of  the Moirea would  have us believe they, have ordained

the predilections, innate abilities and the set of circumstances within which we

“awake” to find ourselves with.    Whether we give credit   to  the Moirea or not

the truth of  the  fact  that we have had no say in any of the machinations of our

birth and  life is indubitable.   We can if you like view the initial circumstances of

our lives as if dealt a hand in a game of cards, It is chance as to where and to

whom we are born: the circumstances of wealth  or  poverty, the innate  abilities

whether genius or disablement are not within our purview.   Therein lies  the

preparation for my thoughtful  journey through  life.   The circumstances that  I

found myself in were such  that  I would  look  for answers to the questions that

life  posed.

Philosophy  is not a “team sport” nor written through consensus of a comity, it is

the  thoughts of an individual.  As such, these thoughts  will  be of a time, place

and  the unique perspective of an individual.  A philosopher, allotted  his time in

history, relates his thinking  specific to  that age. The social mores of  the society

with in which  he lives will  direct  the nature of  his thinking. Above all  the

philosopher is a human. All  that  he sees will  be through his own idiosyncratic

eye; all  his thinking will  be tainted- motivated  by the experiences of  his life.

So in relating the circumstances of my child  hood  it is not just as an idle curiosity

but  to  help give a perspective to my thinking to you my reader. 

Although  the preperation of my  journey may have started   before my birth, my

journey  of  thoughts  started a bit   later, never  the less I think  it  would  be

beneficial  to my readers to have some understanding of my childhood.  I feel 

it is important  for a person reading the  thoughts  of another to have some

understanding  of  the nature  of  that  person, in order to appreciate  the

motivations and perhaps the predigests of the writer.


                                  The Circumstances

 “And what would you like  to  be when you grow up?” an adult   banality  like

“chilly  for June?” or “the nights are fair drawing in?” only the former has the

distinction of  being an older  person’s attempt  to elicit conversation from a child.

I certainly remember being “hit” with  this adult  rhetoric and I have to confess

that  with age I find myself in “visa versa” as I too have used it.  Nevertheless,

not  lost  by the passing of  the years we tend  to remember our answer. I think I

aspired  to be the ubiquitous train driver when five and graduated  to a lumberjack at

six. However the convoluted journey of the past forty years sees lumberjack

transposed  to writing the introduction to a book on philosophy, an occupation unlikely

to be predicted at seven”

I was neither an academic nor a particularly willing  sportsman at school.

Suffering  from dyslexia, which in my earlier academic years went unnoticed, I

experienced  the accusation of  being both  lazy and  (some what euphemistically)

“he’s not an academic!” My schooldays were decidedly unhappy ones although at

the time, when I was with a group of other people going through the same regime,

I was unaware of  the degree of  trauma and  damage that was being perpetrated

on me. My boarding prep school was not a place of care and compassion but more

of  physical and mental abuse, although  I can now see that  the  effects  of  these

traumas set  the  foundations for a mind in search of answers. I left  school at

seventeen with  little  self-confidence having achieved very little academically.

 My Circumstances without being life threatening (I lacked for nothing physically)

was none the less bleak:- my  father died at  the young age of 55, the year before

I left school, shortly afterwards my mother was taken into a psychiatric hospital

unable to cope with  the loss. My two older brothers had  left  home some years

earlier. I became introspective through loneliness and despair whether real or

imagined, which set  the mind  to travel  down particular paths. I recognize now the

behaviour trait of manic depression; roller-coasting from high elation at some new

awareness to the depths of despair at my perceived failure. I longed for something:-

a gem of  knowledge or new awareness that would give me emotional stability, that

would   help me feel good about myself.  I sought approval and reassurance that even

in my state of  perceived failure I was acceptable – loveable. Looking for a thread of

hope, direction, happiness the usual myriad of desires that occupy the mind of  those

in the years of  teenage angst,  to  find purpose, to find a meaning to life, a meaning

to my life

Looking back at my childhood and  teenage years, I see now that  the circumstances

I was born into set  the stage was for a life time of searching.  Perhaps initially as

a “cure” for the symptoms of my teenage angst  but  later, as my life moved on the

reasons for my search developing into something specifically  philosophical.  But then

I don’t  believe that philosophers are born of ease and indolence but  of  just enough

hardship to prompt  the mind  to  think. 

So although many influences may have started in childhood  the beginning  of my

journey of  thought  began in my teenage years, the years of teenage angst.