KRISTIN ANDREWS
“Philosophy isn’t a career. It’s a lifestyle.”
– David Curry
(not really)
(but kinda)
The young adult who decides to study philosophy is a curious creature. They have questions, and are seeking answers, and think that those answers can come from reflection and study. Questions like why are we here? how should I live my life? am I free to choose my path? Some of us find it so much fun that we stick around for more education, and then if we are lucky, manage to find work guiding other students who are asking these same questions. But we remain students, too, seeking answers together with our students. In the process, answers can begin to emerge. We might end up doing things not because they are natural or fit our personality, but because we think they are good things to do. We might end up stretching ourselves because we think it is good to develop certain habits, and to give up others. The philosophical study impacts the way we live our lives.
I got into philosophy because I wanted to know the meaning of life. I read books, articles, stayed up late having conversations, got mocked, and had an early paper on the topic rejected 20 times. Years later I developed a course on the meaning of life, discussing world philosophy and positive psychology with hundreds of students each term. On the first day I start the class by telling them that I’m not sure what the meaning of life is, or if the phrase “meaning of life” even makes sense. Our job in the class would be to examine both questions. `We read Ayer and Nagel, Mengzi and Xunzi, Schopenhauer and Śāntideva, Seneca and Cherry, Avicenna and Descartes, Strawson and Strohminger. Students can consider their own happiness, filling out the Satisfaction with Life Scales and reflecting on their scores and whether they might mean anything. We discuss ways in which people seek to improve life satisfaction, by helping others, by engaging in flow activities, by meditating, working together on teams, spending time in nature. And students are invited to choose one method and practice it for a month, when they can then retake the SWLS. I lead students through a lovingkindness meditation, and invite them to send love to someone with whom they have a difficult relationship. We read more philosophy, books about the meaning of life, happiness, and goodness. On the last day of class, we revisit our starting questions, and the students come up with answers that they defend. The usual kind of answer is that there is a meaning of life, and it is to have relationships with others, to take care of people, and to develop society to support these goals. But the last time I taught it, a vocal group of students insisted that the meaning of life is to make a lot of money.
I think those students were jerks. And that they would have gained a lot more if they’d have taken a course with David Curry.
It’s really important to have a good model. Humans, like other animals, are deeply cultural beings. We learn what to do by watching what others do. Communities fail without good models. The young don’t acquire the skills needed to flourish, they have to figure things out for themselves, with nothing to build on. They don’t have societies structured with strong norms that help keep the peace and allow for social, technological, or moral improvement. David is one of my important models.
David once told me that he doesn’t really enjoy having people over, but he throws more BBQs than I’ve even been to. Everyone knows, everyone is invited. As I recall, he explained that he sees value in developing community, and that perception of value motivates him to do things that are not entirely comfortable. I’m guessing he does enjoy it, but that it isn’t always easy. David produced two of my favorite MA students (in different ways). And David was one of my favorite students and teachers. We created things together—words and books and talks and papers and discussions and dinners. I think he’s acknowledged in more of my publications than anyone other than Brian. And I value all that very much. But the thing that really sticks with me is that conversation we had while preparing for one of those dreaded BBQs. We do things because we want to want to do the things that foster relationships, because a robust community is good, for us, for everyone, even if it is annoying to carry all those bags of groceries and clean up all those empty beer bottles. Even if it would be easier to listen to music or play board games with close friends.
I return to this conversation many times when I’m confronted with an opportunity for community building that is tiresome or troublesome. I wish I could say I always lived up to David’s model, but sometimes I just can’t. I don’t throw many parties. Maybe I’m deviating from the model just a little. Adding my own twist.
Those jerky students were wrong about the meaning of life. They just needed to be invited to a Curry BBQ.
I didn’t want to write a sappy essay about how great David Curry is. That’s too easy. There is a lot to say. And he deserves better. I wanted to write a brilliant or at least not terrible philosophy essay about how to live a good life, but I don’t think I can write a good enough essay on that topic yet. If I ever do, it will be dedicated to him. I remain a student, with the same questions I started with. Approaching some answers, maybe, and certainly enlightened along the way.