A Philosopher of the Present

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy is back in my reading rotation. Along with it, I’m rereading Hidden in Plain View: Narrative and Creative Potentials in ‘War and Peace,’ by Gary Saul Morson. My pace with both books might best be described as leisurely, and that’s okay with me, because I am more than ready to apply my leisurely pace to aspects of my existence that tend to be rushed. Now, Dennis and my kids would quickly assert that my pace has been leisurely my entire life and they seldom see me rushing, no matter what the circumstances, but I know better.

“Tolstoy was instead a philosopher of the present, of the open present, with all its unrealized opportunities and wasteful carelessness; all its round simplicities and unnoticed ‘chance’ details that do not necessarily fit any narrative pattern,” Morson writes. You may have seen that statement before, specifically in the first post published here. Yes, I suppose it’s a bit ironic that I am going back to the past to find a quote about the present to let it lead me to a declaration about the future, but, I’ve grown to appreciate eccentricity, especially in my own nature.

I like the notion of being a philosopher of the present, perhaps most of all, because I find it harder and harder to stand by much of what I’ve declared in the past. It truly does take growing older to develop wisdom.