A 97-Year-Old Philosopher Faces His Own Death

Being 97

year

s old has been an interesting experience. I will say that. It is very difficult for people who have not reached a state of old age, whatever it may be. It is very difficult for them to understand their psychology. What is happening in the person? How do you feel? Oh, I feel good, thank you. Pretty good. That's good. No stun? No stun. I think I would wake up with all this excitement! It is a loss of capacity that you have had all your life. And there's a tendency to act like you still have it and then fail.

Or be ashamed. Or you have to accept that you finally can't do that anymore. That's rational. And it would be great if we all did the rational thing, but we don't. You can't just decide rationally. Well, that's how it has to be now, although then it was the other way around. You can tell yourself that, but that doesn't mean you can do it. These are lifelong habits. I can do many of the usual things in life. But now they are, most of them, made with effort and special care. And many times with the help of another person.

And that's one of the challenges I've had: accepting the need for help. I was born in Brooklyn in 1921. -Here's your coffee. -Thank you. I am 97

year

s old, which is a big surprise to me. At this age, I naturally think about

death

. I taught philosophy at the University of California, I guess for about 40 years. As a young

philosopher

I began to delve deeper into psychoanalysis. I have published books on self-deception and Chinese philosophy. And I was also working on the theory of ethics and law. Liability issues, particularly in relation to alcoholism and drug addiction. and I also wrote a book about

death

.

That was about 20 years ago. Breakfast! -Thank you! -You are welcome. It looks beautifull. In the book about death what I said was, in a nutshell, that there is no reason to be afraid or worried or anything about death because when you die, there is nothing. You are not going to suffer. You're not going to be unhappy. You're not going to... Well, you're just... you're not going to be. -The bacon is good. -Hey? -The bacon. -He is good. -I like this guy... -That's your favorite, right? -Yeah! -He is good. I mean, at a certain point, there's nothing.

So it is not rational to be afraid of death. Now I think that's not a good statement. Because... I think it's important to find out why people are afraid of death. Why am I worried? My argument was that there is no good reason for it. My sense of realism tells me well, for no reason or no reason, it is something that haunts me, the idea of ​​dying soon. I often walk around the house and ask myself, often out loud: What is the point of all this? There must be something I'm missing in this argument. I wish I knew.

So here I am, trying to figure out where I am. I still find that, in many ways, I am an enigma to myself. I find it very interesting to try to solve it. What is happening? And I have spent much of my life thinking about those issues. But it's difficult. I don't know. I usually just drop the topic. What's the point of all this? I think I ask the question with the feeling that there is no good answer. It's kind of an ironic question. I think the answer may be... The silent answer may be that it doesn't make sense.

It's a stupid question. If I had to say... if I had to say something... I would say that loneliness and absence are an absolute part of my life. And that has to do with my wife. We were very close. We were married for probably about 70 years. And that's another dimension of this whole situation that sometimes worries me. Because she is no longer here and she has been for several years. And I feel like a part of me is gone. We work together and travel together. We were happy together. I know how lucky I have been to have had a happy life.

But half of me is gone. Her absence has been a presence for me for several years now. An absence that was present for me. I don't know, call it empty. Something is missing. and of course I quickly realize that she is what is missing. That's a very lonely thing. I was with her even when she was dying. That was a difficult experience. At least we were able to hug each other at that moment. That's something I used to hear with Leslie, right here. And we hold hands. Death. It's a terrifying thought. It's something I don't want to happen.

As much as I think it is our life in this world. Although it is often quite a complicated matter, I would still like to stay there. I don't know the basic reason why I should want to do it, nor the basic reason why I should be afraid of it. What does it mean I'm going to leave? As I sit now on the terrace of my house. I look at the trees that move a little in the breeze. And I've seen them countless times. But somehow seeing the trees this time is a transcendent experience. I see how wonderful it is and I think I've had them here all the time.

But have I really appreciated them? And the fact is that I haven't done it. Until now. And in some ways, it makes the fact of death even harder to accept. It just makes me cry. I have written books on various other topics. And in each case I felt like I had solved the problem. But this has no solution. For me it is not just a theoretical question, as so many things can be. It's the only thing central to my existence that I've tried to come to terms with... and failed. So I continue to exist, that is the truth that exists.

And waiting. Waiting until I have to say goodbye.