The intricate study of philosophy, within its narrowest connotations, may often seem to convey a discouraging sense of exclusivity. Apart from usually complex topics, such as aesthetics or metaphysics, the sheer difficulty of texts can cold-shoulder students, and few would flourish a pocketable Plato or diverge into oratory on idealism; only ardent advocates would acclaim, "Behold humanity, basking in sapience, evolutionally distinguished by its ability to reason!" Yet, while such a discipline may appear bookish, it can in fact become a practical tool in our lives through individualization. In all of us, there perhaps exists a need for this personal philosophy, one that we, toward better understanding ourselves, should fulfill.
Clearly, the most prominent difference between an academic and a personal philosophy is that the latter is less technically directed, as very few of us are likely to describe their life and goals in terms of nihilism, conceptualism and so forth. However, that is not to say that our opinions and beliefs do not dictate the organization of our lives, and even if none of us may become suddenly inundated with the urge to wax about ethicality, we retain our personal views about right and wrong. Such judgments, because they are intrinsic to us, are worthy of notice; further, stagnancy is insidious, as we must allow our views room for growth.
The perhaps most crucial period of this development is occurring at present, throughout our college careers, for during these four years we are frequently challenged in an absolute myriad of ways. Especially at a larger university like Penn State, the amount of variation in offered courses and between people is augmented, thereby shaping our still malleable perceptions to a greater degree. Whether by means of a course in religion or science, by interacting with those high and never dry, or by close encounters with the nerd kind, what we believe, suspended in this latency before adulthood, remains in an impressionable state. It becomes important now more than ever, then, to recognize our own philosophies and understand them.
Although this suggestion may be viewed as inconsequential and futile, or as inherently unable to render external discovery, such impressions are erroneous. Merely knowing one's own philosophy is not nearly as beneficial as also learning from it, for by the latter do we truly come to comprehend ourselves. We must, namely, question our sentiments as well as recognize them, just as the explorer, audacious at heart, will always assimilate terrain more effectively than the cartographer who has sedentarily created the map. For example, one may discern that he or she prefers to discount fate and fortune in lieu of hard work and perseverance, but it is upon introspection that they establish themselves as surprisingly independent, favoring outcomes they can control rather than those that are ambiguous. That golden query -- "Why," (and also, "Why not?") -- is thus not a doubt-derived weakness, it is the desire to know, to learn, to love more and to persevere among the human race withal.
Our resulting knowledge is ameliorative, assuring that we, upon graduation, depart as insightful as well as learned individuals. Moreover, knowing oneself well serves as a wanted comfort when living amidst a tottering world seems so unfamiliar. Who are we, and why do we believe what we do? I urge you, during the more felicitous moments of life, to ask these tiny, albeit yielding, questions and to discover yourself more fully. The world, after all, is indeed no easy place with regard to its current circumstances: Would that, in the end, we will enter it unafraid, knowing ourselves, knowing our philosophies, and ultimately, knowing what we should expect from our lives ahead of us.
