The philosophy of Jorge Luis Borges - Alexis karpouzos
Luis Borges, the Argentine writer, is renowned for his complex and thought-provoking works that often delve into philosophical themes. While Borges himself was not a philosopher in the traditional sense, his writings frequently explore philosophical concepts, particularly those related to metaphysics, reality, and the nature of time and identity.Borges’ philosophy cannot be pinned down to a single set of beliefs or principles. Instead, it manifests as a playful interplay between fiction and philosophy within his diverse body of work. He delighted in blurring the lines between genres, treating literature as non-fiction and vice versa, and often included invented authors and works within his essays.His fascination with philosophy, especially metaphysics, sets him apart from his contemporaries. Borges appreciated and formulated rigorous philosophical arguments, but also had the unique ability to present abstract ideas imaginatively through metaphors and symbols. For instance, his stories often feature labyrinths, mirrors, and infinite libraries, which serve as symbols for more profound philosophical inquiries into reality, perception, and the infinite.
In his works, Borges frequently references and engages with the ideas of notable philosophers such as Berkeley, Hume, and Schopenhauer. He uses their concepts as a starting point to further explore and sometimes refute or extend their ideas. For example, in “The New Refutation of Time, ” Borges discusses Schopenhauer’s denial of the reality of our representations and takes it a step further by questioning the reality of time itself.Overall, Borges’ contribution to philosophical literature is significant, and his works continue to inspire and challenge readers and thinkers alike. His approach to philosophy is less about asserting a consistent system of thought and more about exploring the possibilities and paradoxes that arise when one engages deeply with philosophical questions.The philosophy embedded in Jorge Luis Borges’ “El Aleph” is multifaceted, reflecting his deep engagement with metaphysical questions and the nature of reality. The story, which is part of the collection also titled “El Aleph, ” revolves around a point in space called the Aleph, which contains all other points in the universe. This point allows the observer to see everything in the universe from every angle simultaneously, without distortion, overlapping, or confusion.The Aleph symbolizes the concept of infinity and the limitations of human perception and language. Borges uses this narrative device to explore the idea that the universe is ineffable and that experiences shape perception and rationality.
The story suggests that language, being sequential, cannot adequately describe the Aleph, which is synchronous and represents an “unimaginable universe” that is infinite.Borges also touches on the theme of memory and its fallibility. After witnessing the Aleph, the narrator realizes that human memory cannot retain the infinite, and forgetfulness is an inherent part of the human condition. This ties back to the philosophical exploration of time and its inexorable passage, which naturally leads to memories fading away.In a broader sense, “El Aleph” can be seen as a commentary on the human quest for knowledge and the desire to comprehend the incomprehensible. It challenges readers to consider the limitations of their own understanding and the potential vastness of the universe beyond what can be perceived or described.Borges’ work often blurs the boundaries between the literal and the metaphorical, encouraging readers to reflect on the philosophical implications of his stories. “El Aleph” is a prime example of this, offering a rich tapestry of ideas about infinity, reality, and the power and limits of human cognition.Jorge Luis Borges’ essay “A New Refutation of Time” is a profound exploration of the nature of time and its existence. In this work, Borges challenges the conventional understanding of time as a sequence of events that occur in a linear fashion. He argues that the negations of idealism, which suggest that reality is fundamentally mental or spiritual rather than material, can be extended to time itself.Borges posits that time may not be a real, objective entity but rather a subjective construction of the human mind.
He draws upon various philosophical and literary sources to support his argument, suggesting that time, as we perceive it, is an illusion. The essay delves into metaphysical questions about the continuity of time and personal identity, examining how our perception of time shapes our experience of existence.The philosophy presented in “A New Refutation of Time” is complex and layered, inviting readers to reconsider their understanding of time and its impact on their lives. Borges’ reflections on time have influenced many thinkers and continue to be a topic of discussion in philosophical circles.In Jorge Luis Borges’ essay “A New Refutation of Time, ” some of the key arguments include:The Illusion of Successive Moments: Borges suggests that our experience of time as a continuity of successive moments is a cognitive illusion, not an inherent feature of the universe.Time and Personal Identity: He explores the idea that time is the foundation of our experience of personal identity, drawing from philosophical and literary sources to support his views.
Time as a Mental Construction: Borges argues that time may not be a real, objective entity but rather a subjective construction of the human mind.Berkeley’s Idealism and Leibniz’s Principle of Indiscernibles: He uses these philosophical principles to support his argument that time, as we perceive it, is an illusion.Parmenides’ Proposition: Borges refers to Parmenides’ idea that “what is” never was nor will be because it simply exists, which challenges the traditional concept of time.Time and Movement: He discusses the relationship between time and movement, questioning the conventional belief that time is a measure of change.Eternity: Borges offers a definition of eternity in the form of a rhetorical question, further complicating the concept of time.These arguments are part of Borges’ broader philosophical inquiry into the nature of reality and existence, as he seeks to demonstrate that time, as we understand and experience it, may be nothing more than an elaborate mental construct.
The Robo-Ghost
The best thing about the internet dating sites is what they’ve done for her confidence. She used to think she was attractive, now she knows she is hot. Now she dresses hot, more revealing, while tight-roping on taller heels. She acts differently too, now, but that is the worst thing about the internet dating sites… what they have done to her confidence.
She only swipes on the best, and they always swipe back. Always. She is hot. Super hot. She must be. She is a princess. Doesn’t a princess deserve the best?
But dating is different these days. Men don’t buy dinner anymore. Movies are a thing of the past. Dating is drinks now, always drinks. After two she’s tipsy, having not eaten. Tipsy enough to be silly… and friendly. But guys like silly… and friendly. She is proof. They like her. They always like her. After her third drink she wants to dance. They accommodate her. Why not? Dancing is cheap enough.
There are more drinks at the club, and the pounding-rhythmic music she craves, and sensual, hypnotic gyrations. She finds herself all in, every time. After all he is tall, nicely dressed, and he smells fantastic. They all smell fantastic. Don’t they? Those most desirable guys on the dating apps? She could smell them all night, and she usually does.
There are mirrors at the club. She looks hot in the mirrors. So does he. She knows this because she sees other women looking. They’ll even pass him a napkin when her head is turned, forgetting the mirrors. This is ok though. She doesn’t mind it. She wants them to want him. Why not? She is super-hot. His eyes are only for her, and she knows it. She likes it. He knows where this night is heading. Where she is leading it. Besides. Would she even want him if no other women did? No, of course not. In fact, their interest fuels her. It excites her, so that she dances closer, backing herself against him, arching her back, watching herself in the mirror, moving to the music, fueling his excitement. And he is excited. She can feel his excitement. And she is hot. She can feel this, too. And knowing she is fuels her.
And the sex is always fantastic. Always… what she can remember of it. And there is always sex. And always at his place. Always. But somehow on the Uber ride home, she never feels hot. She never looks hot. Not ever. What she looks in the morning light, and what she feels, is washed out and ran through. But no worries. The feeling never lasts.
He won’t call her again.
That is dating today, for those like her, stuck in the robotic grind.
But next weekend she’ll swipe on another. As always, it will be another match. She is hot. So she puts the dress back on, the really tiny one. And the shoes, the really big ones. And she tells herself how hot she looks as she goes to meet this new guy for drinks.
In the Beginning
The deity board
conferred...
and in a second,
most honorable,
Unity concurred:
...give the world
in due judgement,
behind its closed
parameters,
on the scales
of Natural Law,
from zero to many
--one star--
stellar
up close
in probation
to herald the day
and illuminate the ways,
in deflection of dark,
as by reflected lights
--one star--
as especially ours,
to orbit around
and count down,
to pull in the shadows
and color night panels
--one star--
as lynch pin hovering
and it wasn't reward
or something borne
nor penance owed...
when the session closed
as public service does,
it was just, and it was,
just as it was...
one, among others
05.08.2024
One Star Review challenge @AJAY9979
Not quite 9
In 1989
I awoke in Ladispoli,
an inception of consciousness rose from the bed with me…
disarming my sleep,
against dust with form and rhythmic quality
I tiptoed to the opened balcony…
Bums in the sewers sang in their
sea salted skin.
While the Tyrrhenian nightfall aired, gasping from dream
I slumped my eyes over crumbs and a council of pigeons beneath…
The timing and tone teased unrest from my heart.
As I watched the galaxy part with its lights.
Enough for walls of the buildings to weep.
While the sky opened its eye and stared right back into me
I went BOOM!
and swallowed it whole with the stink and perfume making gods in the point of the light in me.
I grow a visceral fever right here
in between line breaks and stanzas
where time shows and
reveals in a space
my Borrowed
and Drifting
stages of Wandering
Homeless Eyes
She punctured me from out of glass
Without intent as she strode passed
We broke the barriers of class...
The mask society permits...
To gaze into her windswept eyes...
So hungry and unsupervised...
How many of us still survive
Bouncing upon this rustic plane?...
With judgements quashing liquid hearts...
And pointed views like traffic cones...
It's easier to close the door
Where yowls mutate and turn to roars...
I see her digging through the trash...
This angel from another sphere...
The broadcast she keys in is vast...
Her shirt in shreds, as she draws near...
Ebony skin so dark and deep...
I'll see her when I go to sleep..
She floats over the concrete slabs...
Where shooting stars go flying past...
Bold advertising overhead
Will paint a world unequal to
The broken sequins from the chain
That someone dispelled in the rain...
To gaze into her windswept eyes...
So hungry and unsupervised...
How many of us still survive
Bouncing upon this rustic plane?....
They're closing books on human rights...
Decks are stacked, the lines extend...
Now more than ever, I'll need a friend
To gaze into my homeless eyes...
If you have something left to give...
If you're susceptible, and raw...
If you resist the claw machine
You'll find me dancing by the stream...
Maybe tonight when moonbeams spill
Our sights will lock and without words
We'll shed our chains, the flood within
Will draw us spinning out our skins...
Bunny Villaire
5/6/24
Edit #4
10 minute walk
In the park there's Gypsy technicians
engineering freedom around the oak trees that lead to nowhere.
And I would have hung around
saddled in the stars titling in the shadow of foreheads passing by.
I would've dragged the constellations nearer to the earth.
A midnight blue scattered around my waist.
Turning gold in the pink flesh of the crooked arms of the moon.
In February.
But,
I'm capturing blood in my head instead.
Dashing mentally into what seems an eternal corner.
Rolling in cross legged nothings of restless meditations and spent cigarettes choked between my fingers.
I am hungry.
And I don't dance very much anymore.
I sigh about it and start to believe it.
Sing it like a song.
Biding my time
battling the urge to break bread under a bridge...
Losing my sense of traffic upon the rivers dimpled wave smaller than a hush- booming-
make room for my eyes caught in the privacy of trash bags whistling against the wind.
Infinite Jest
My sister is educated
She’s a college professor
A bona fide feminist
She teaches people
Who don’t know
What toilet to use
How to shit all over
Other people’s lives
It’s been a while
Since we’ve talked
She tells me
That I’m a real writer
Which makes me sad
That I’m such an asshole
About her passion
And that she
Cannot see
That she’s one too
David Burdett
5/4/2024
When is the Art
Sometimes, I hang up
my hang ups,
hang them
like Abstracts
tacked to the gallery,
where every eye, in hush
lullaby, ooo's and aaah's
ogling the trailing
indigestion of a comet
caught between lashes,
a once shooting star
hung, in a moment
of Indecision--
overheated,
or underdone
--either way,
fully, tendered.
2024 APR 28