A Philosophical Sentence
I was a mere undergrad when I entered the philosophy department library, deep in thought, certain of my existence, interrupting the philosophy professors' meeting, not having been aware of the philosophy department meeting sign outside the door because it was pushed aside, finding myself well inside, intent on returning René Descartes's Meditations On First Philosophy to its perfect slot, when I looked up, horrified, but I didn't show it, not even when the department head, who was speaking, stopped, and with the other philosophy professors, some standing, some sitting, watched my slow motion show, without words for the first time in his most distinguished career, until rebuking me with a distinct
AH-AHEM!
as I, having replaced the Meditations, now more certain of my existence than even René, retraced my steps and exited the library,
AH-AHEM!
exploding in my skull, mortified as though I'd broken in on an orgy of geniuses, but, still, I did not show it, I did not, for I was a student of philosophy, and equanimity was my ideal, and all these years later, I know that I failed this test, because, though I did not show it, I was filled with anguish, and I chastised myself for my behavior for a long, long time afterward, and I know now that I should have shown it, perhaps with a quick smile, apology, and exit, as soon as I realized the context, but I also wonder why the orgy leader, in all his wisdom and grandeur, didn't just say to me,
Laddie, unless you want to drop your pants and bend over, I suggest you drop that little book in the box outside, and have a good rest of your day.