In previous reflections I suggested that philosophical practice—or what I called ‘Grand Philosophical Practice’—can be seen as an attempt to explore the philosophical life—a way of living that is permeated by a philosophical attitude to life, and that is nourished by philosophical understandings and dialogue.

           

But what is a philosophical life? What does it mean to live philosophically, given that our day contains so many mundane activities such as shopping in the supermarket, driving to work, talking with the boss, chatting with our spouse, or cleaning the house?

        

The answer, of course, is not something to be determined in advance by the verdict of a definition. It is something that should gradually unfold itself through a process of exploration, through an ongoing personal journey that would keep defining and re-defining itself.

        

Nevertheless, whatever such a journey might reveal, it seems to me that if it is to be a philosophical journey—a journey aimed at expanding and deepening our understanding of human reality—then at least one thing is necessary: that throughout the day we maintain inside ourselves an inner space of openness. By this I mean that as a philosophical practitioner I cultivate an element of quiet attentiveness, so that I ‘listen’ to the ‘voices’ of human reality, I attend to the hidden meanings in my world, and I open myself to insights that may arise to my consciousness from the depth of my being. Such an attitude is probably not all there is to the philosophical life, but it seems to me a necessary and important part of it.

        

Thus, as a philosophical practitioner I do not completely lose myself to my everyday activities. I am not totally immersed in my errands, in my worries and anxieties, in my hobbies and entertainment, in the race for success and achievement—because my everyday moments have an additional dimension to them: that of attentiveness to a larger scope of reality. To be sure, as a human being I work and make phone calls and pay my bills and watch movies, but at the same time I am more than these activities. I am broader than my little busy self, because I also maintain an inner space that is not identified with the commotion, that is attentive and observant, that opens up to broader horizons of meaning. In this sense I take part in a greater self and a greater reality, greater than my immediate concerns and worries.

           

This implies that it is potentially possible to be a philosopher at every moment of the day, even in the midst of the worse daily tumult. But note that I am not suggesting that we should constantly busy ourselves in academic philosophizing—in abstract thinking and rational analysis. To be sure, the capacity to disengage ourselves from the flow of life every once in a while, examine it rationally and analyze it, may be another important ingredient in the philosophical life—but we don’t want to do that all day long. Because completely disengaging ourselves from our everyday concerns is likely to result in alienation from life, and in losing touch with human reality.

        

In any case, I am talking here about something else: about an inner attitude of attending to life, not of inspecting it from the outside as an uninvolved observer. It is an attitude of being attuned to life while taking part in it, an openness, a sensitivity that invites hidden aspects of reality to manifest themselves in my awareness and expand me.

        

Such an attitude, however, is not easy to achieve. It requires that I learn to assume an attentive inner attitude and open myself to reality. Because normally, when we work or wash dishes or converse with the boss, we tend to be totally immersed in the situation, to be lost in our concerns and thoughts, and thus we are swept away by our familiar patterns of feeling and behaving and thinking. At such moments, deep new philosophical understandings are unlikely.

        

In contrast, when I maintain an inner space of attentiveness, I may be involved in the world—and yet be more than my involvement. I do not lose myself to whatever I am doing, because I also maintain an attentive sensitivity to that which is beyond the scope of my current worries. I am open to domains of reality that are not governed by my immediate concerns. My attitude is then philosophical in the sense that it is constantly open to deeper and broader understandings.

        

One might wander what it means to be ‘open’ and demand clearer explanations, but the details are not important here. The bottom line is that if philosophical practice is to be a way of life, then it requires that we maintain and develop some kind of philosophical inner attitude. Unlike academic philosophy, in which we can employ our abstract reasoning while leaving intact the rest of our personality, philosophical practice demands my entire being. Philosophical practice means that I allow philo-sophia to touch every aspect of my life—my rational thought but also my emotions, worries and aspirations, interpersonal relations, or in short, my entire way of being.

        

This means that philosophical practice poses a tremendous challenge for the practitioner. Doing philo-sophia is not a matter of spending a few hours in article-writing or counseling a client, but of personal transformation. It means working to expand my way of being throughout my daily existence. It is not a question of what I do, but of how I am, which is to say, of my basic attitude to life. Anyone who has ever tried making such a fundamental change knows how easy it is to slide back to our old, familiar, constricted ways of being.

        

It follows that the philosophical life requires considerable commitment and devotion. I would even say that it is a constant uphill battle against our tendency to lose ourselves to our ordinary patterns and worries. To counter this tendency, we might set aside quiet intervals of time throughout the day in order to recollect ourselves and return to the inner attentiveness that is required for genuine openness. But leading a philosophical life is more than those intervals; it is a full-time job.

        

Here, philosophical companions may be very helpful in supporting, empowering and inspiring one another. They can also serve as the ‘other’ who signifies the world beyond my own narrow boundaries. After all, openness to beyond myself includes openness to another person, to somebody else’s life and philosophical quest.