FREE PHILOSOPHICAL SUPPORT. Made possible by a gold-glittery sign with thick black Sharpie lines, a cut-out, red paper heart (to stay consistent with my “brand”!) and a post on Instagram that named the where and when.
I didn’t realize it until I was fully in the moment, but the pictures tell the truth of what was happening: Look at me, living my childhood dream of sitting out somewhere on a public corner talking with people who pass by about what matters to them, getting to know a little bit about their lives. My younger self wouldn’t have pitched it as a philosophical exercise in the art of living, but even at 8 years old I was keenly aware of how much it means to connect, how much we need to connect.
The other dreamlike quality of this most recent episode of living like a modern day Socrates was not just what happened, or that it happened, but how it happened.
I swear, it was easy. So easy that reflecting on it later that night truly felt like waking up from a dream. I was there, others were there, the sun burned my face and made my freckles pop in a way that is very uncommon only a couple days into spring. Also uncommon is the fact that I remember everyone’s eyes as clearly as I recall each of their names. It started and ended like some cosmic exchange that flowed through me without me grasping for such details, the sort of details which typically elude even my most conscious efforts.
It didn’t feel like an event I put on or a thing I did. It felt like something was happening and I happened to be there for it. A friend who stayed for nearly the whole three hours said it was special to see me “in my element.” I guess that’s what made it so easy. I was just flowing.
Once we started, it didn’t stop. There was a steady stream of conversation, people approached with their questions and curiosities. Some stayed for a short while and others hung around for quite some time. Among a small group of high school sophomores, one person explained why they already thought philosophy was so cool. Another wondered if musicians could be philosophers, too, and continued to ask for book recommendations. I wrote down titles by Charles Mills and bell hooks as the others shifted back to what I imagine were more typical Saturday afternoon teenage musings.
Almost as soon as we began, I noticed how intimate a space it truly was. Someone would expose their vulnerabilities by responding with a deep sigh upon mention of being hurt or held in relationships. It felt intimate when a person generalized experiences of loneliness and powerlessness onto everyone else without being able to explicitly claim it as their own. There was even a moment when I resonated with someone about choosing to look closely at the worst, most violent acts we humans are capable of committing. Our capacity to destroy each other is always on the table, and currently on full display with Israel’s US-backed genocide of Palestinians. Questions of what it means to love and be loved surfaced several times with young folks, and the last people to walk up were two young guys who were nervous to come out to their parents. Several people were mental health professionals and one a former clergy member. A common theme among many was that organized religion doesn’t provide what people are seeking, and the recognition that we need more spaces to process what it means to be human beyond those of professional therapy.
When I reflect back on the exchanges, people’s eyes and my surprise at remembering their names, I feel humbled and energized. I’m moved by the willingness of people to approach a stranger with a sign, to sit and share, and how evident is that so many of us are longing for support as we grapple with the everyday parts of our experiences that are so utterly human.
And, once again, how easy it was to create this space, and the wisdom that is present when we make real the very things we need, like ways to better connect with the sort of people we want to know in community.
I’ve spent the past few months in heavy ideation mode iterating upon pages and pages full of schemes that outline how to create containers with strangers and friends that can help us figure out what it FEELS like to get more free. Some variations of the plan entail actual stages, legitimate light and sound technicians, and bringing forth a side of me that loves a microphone but cringes in anticipatory discomfort from severe vulnerability hangovers. Yes, I am a meta philosophical performance artist. But a PERFORMANCE ARTIST? Like that?! Could I be? This feels exciting, challenging, intriguing, but also uncomfortable, risky, and a bit terrifying.
More simplified versions take place during the quiet evening hours in coffee shops with general topics and shared discussion time. Other visions materialize through digital links to Zoom rooms that stack faces of people in their homes. What I also crave are the one-on-one conversations that feel powerful and profound in the moment. All of the above.
From public plazas to private phone calls, the will to connect is strong.
This year, as everything and myself continue to evolve, my intention is to pay attention to what, and how, I can respond.
These projects are in the works - consciously or not, overly scribbled ad nauseam or spontaneous. If any of this resonates with you, I hope you will join me, participate, share your interests, needs, and desires, and follow along.