Wherever a process of life communicates an eagerness to him who lives it, there the life becomes genuinely significant. Sometimes the eagerness is more knit up with the motor activities, sometimes with the perceptions, sometimes with the imagination, sometimes with reflective thought. But, wherever it is found, there is the zest, the tingle, the excitement of reality; and there is 'importance' in the only real and positive sense in which importance ever anywhere can be. Blindness
A significant life is happy (whether its subject fully appreciates that or not). And meaningful. Lots of happiness philosophers sharply distinguish those states, denigrating the former and correspondingly elevating meaning (or purpose). James did not. He wanted it all, and wonder and mystery too. I contend that James was a naturalist, but a "global" naturalist whose commitment to reality does not exclude the experience of wonder at things we don't understand. He was open perhaps to the point of excessive credulity, much more than I. He attended seances. He defended even the varieties of experience that most naturalists would label superstition and "woo"--but in the name of radical empiricism, not supernaturalism per se.
A tweeter notes the snide remark of James's old friend Holmes, who "joked that William James would turn down the lights in a room so that the miracles could happen." Funny, and I too "appreciate James' willingness to remain open to the ineffable and unseen." Life is "too short not to sprinkle a bit of wonder into things." But WJ also appreciated the wonder of the everyday and particular. "Not only that anything should be, but that this very thing should be, is mysterious." You don't have to turn down the lights to find the wonder, or the zest.
Steven Pinker is much less inclined than James to dim the lights. Humanists generally prefer the enlightenment potential of daylight and a less radical empiricism. They're like Mickey's Epicurean father in Hannah and Her Sisters.
Aren't you afraid of dying? Why be afraid? - You won't exist. - So? - That doesn't terrify you? - I'm alive. When I'm dead, I'm dead. Aren't you frightened? - I'll be unconscious. - But never to exist again? - How do you know? - It doesn't look promising. Who knows what'll be? I'll either be unconscious, or I won't. If not, I'll deal with it then. I won't worry now.They're not wrong, the Epicureans. But maybe they're not as empathetic as they could be, towards those whose deep unsettlement about oblivion is not so easily set aside. And maybe they're too quick to dismiss the quest for zest in favor of "an adult's appreciation of life, with all its worry..."
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