The Rebirth of the Undead Philosopher -- An Analysis On a Comment
Updated: Jan 30
(The Undead Metaphor's Directory: https://www.philosocom.com/post/a-new-type-of-undead-and-my-background-story)
"To be a philosopher is to have already died and become immortal. Now you are the walking dead. A zombie. Everyone thinks you are alive, though a little strange. But the truth is that long ago you died and became immortal." -- J.S., 2017
These were the words of a certain reader I once discussed with, many years ago. To this day, I ponder upon that comment. Over and over again. It was then that I gave myself the title: "The Undead Philosopher." A being that is neither below nor above human. A being apart from humanity, even when in the company of others.
The Transformation into the Undead Philosopher
Because when the world enjoys, I remain anhedonic. I remain so because I no longer see the point in much emoting. To me, philosophizing is greater than any fleeting pleasure. Greater, to the point that I lost some of my humanity. I became a shell of the man I once was. Any other interest has been minimized in comparison, and it does not necessarily give me pleasure—it gives me reason. And reason, I share with you.
I have merely masked much emotion throughout these years. In practice, philosophy made me dead inside. Because "for anyone who has never experienced it, feeling dead inside can be hard to imagine. And those who have struggled with it might not always have the right words to explain the confusion, sadness, and numbness that comes with this feeling."
It is time for some analysis. An analysis that can be deemed my ritual to becoming the Undead Philosopher, once more. Use this piece to understand how reality is seen from the lens of a seasoned philosopher. An earlier work of mine on the subject will be added below. So, enjoy.
The Metaphor of the Immortal Philosopher
Obviously, philosophers are mortal beings. The words of that anonymous shaman from Nepal are metaphorical. Beyond being recorded in history like anyone else, there is no difference between the words of a philosopher and the words of someone else whose records last for hundreds of years.
And even then, this is not immortality. Far from it, literally.
Constantly philosophizing can make you see the world differently. The feeling of alienation can be compared to that of a hypothetical immortal through the eras of civilization. Regardless of the generations that have grown and passed, their insights are already clear to the immortal, as clear as the bright sky.
To the philosopher, much of what society holds as novel, as revolutionary, may feel redundant. Because history, when truly studied, repeats itself in various forms. This is the weight of awareness. This is the burden of wisdom.
I often find myself accepting insights very quickly. I may use terms like "of course" and "obviously," and yet, none will necessarily get it. This is not bragging. It is an example of alienation. An alienation caused by being away from the human element. By thinking in a more robotic and automatic way...
To those who tell me that I am human, I need no reminder. I am merely away from the human essence in the name of my craft.
What does that mean? It means that philosophy may often fail to touch the human element, and thus, the philosopher may remain within their own solitude. Within the walls of their own intellect. Thus, there is quite the sacrifice of humanity when philosophizing regularly. Whether that is a good or a bad thing remains a matter of choice.
(By "humanity," I refer to the common human experience. One that isn't overshadowed by one's own philosophical alienation. I also refer to the human race and to the very components that make us "human," at least stereotypically, and are imperative for said common experience.)
Some may claim that there are points within us that connect to an infinite dimension of light. A dimension that can never be accessible through mere rationality and senses. Instead, it is gained through spiritual practices such as meditation. That claim, therefore, offers the notion that philosophizing is pointless when done on rationality alone. When it lacks emotion, intuition, and so on. Because it lacks the humanity granted by a hypothetical divinity, in whose image we are made.
A rational person might regard such a counterpoint as pure nonsense that remains baseless and illogical. That is also my inclination, but as a rational man, I strive to understand such notions, not discard them. What if they contain some truth? What if they are onto something, even if only metaphorically? So, don't be surprised if I return to it in the future. Moving on.
The Death Within Philosophizing
There is some death in philosophizing, as mentioned before. A death that is not as literal as a natural death or a killing. It is the death of certain aspects of one's humanity especially those aspects tied to the instinctual and emotional dimensions of life.
A philosopher is someone who is both elevated and cursed by their knowledge. The joy of ice cream, the beauty of a flower, these are not lost, but their significance is diminished in the face of grander questions. A philosopher's eyes, trained to scrutinize existence itself, may become too weary to focus on life's small pleasures.
What is joy, but a chemical reaction? What is beauty, but a matter of perspective? These thoughts haunt the philosopher, and in doing so, steal away some of their innocence.
The Sacrifice of Humanity in the Name of Reason
To expand on the metaphor of the undead philosopher, one must acknowledge the implications of stepping beyond the commonly accepted emotional and experiential framework of society. The philosopher, in their intellectual rigor, divorces themselves from many of the instinctual joys that define the human experience. It is not merely a rejection of pleasure but an elevation of rational thought over primal inclination. This detachment, much like the fictional undead, creates a schism between the philosopher and the world they analyze.
The more one delves into philosophical analysis, the less one is able to partake in the distractions of contemporary life. This can manifest in an inability to engage in frivolous conversations, an impatience for small talk, and a disinterest in activities that do not further one’s intellectual pursuits. Yet, this sacrifice, voluntary or not, is what grants the philosopher their wisdom.
The Undead Philosopher’s Burden
The burden of the undead philosopher is twofold: isolation and perpetual contemplation. Unlike those who move through life embracing distractions, the philosopher stands apart, always questioning, always searching.
And with this eternal search comes a price: the difficulty in forming deep, lasting connections with others who do not share this worldview. Even among peers, there is often a sense of being different, of thinking too deeply when others are content with shallower waters.
This is why the undead philosopher walks alone. This is why the undead philosopher exists in a world that often fails to understand them...
But perhaps, just perhaps, that is the price of insight. And perhaps, just perhaps, that is a price worth paying.
Conclusion
To philosophize is to take a step beyond conventional existence, to question that which others accept without thought. Yet, with this power of inquiry comes a loss of innocence, of commonality, of simple joys. The undead philosopher is neither fully human nor fully beyond humanity, trapped in an eternal cycle of analysis and reflection.
Whether this is a curse or a gift remains a matter of perception, but one thing is certain: once you have embraced this path, there is no turning back.
And so, the undead philosopher continues to walk, neither fully here nor entirely gone, bound to the pursuit of truth for all eternity.
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