Nicely said.
We don't ever arrive at some pinnacle of perfection. In fact, ideally the journey continues til our last breath. And the process doesn't demand a knowledge of Maslow or Rogers to be legitimate. Labels are good for establishing common understanding, but often they become exclusionary.
So when there is an assumption that because someone hasn't read Heidigger or Sartre they don't have a visceral knowledge of existentialism, it bothers me.
Just saw this and it made me laugh:
WOODY ALLEN: That's quite a lovely Jackson Pollock, isn't it?
GIRL IN MUSEUM: Yes it is.
WOODY ALLEN: What does it say to you?
GIRL IN MUSEUM: It restates the negativeness of the universe, the hideous lonely emptiness of existence, nothingness, the predicament of man forced to live in a barren, godless eternity, like a tiny flame flickering in an immense void, with nothing but waste, horror, and degradation, forming a useless bleak straightjacket in a black absurd cosmos.
WOODY ALLEN: What are you doing Saturday night?
GIRL IN MUSEUM: Committing suicide.
WOODY ALLEN: What about Friday night?
GIRL IN MUSEUM: [leaves silently]
"Play It Again, Sam", Paramount Pictures, 1972; |
