When you consider the likes of Aristotle, Socrates, and Plato in a modern-day context, where would you imagine their venue for philosophy? Challenging peers to a debate over Venti Mocha’s and a sea of iconic Apple-logo-ed laptops at Starbucks? As guests in an ivy-league symposium, entertaining the dialogue of scholars and academics, both biting at the chance to learn from the greatest and take the opportunity to challenge controversial topics? Or perhaps, sitting as wise gurus and sages upon the ancient steps of a shanty communal home in the tip-tops of the snowcapped Himalayans? But where would they have studied? Princeton? Harvard? Brown? Under whom would they attribute the development of their philosophy and psychology? Frued? Ghandi? Jesus? Darwin? Tom Cruise? Where would they have gleaned their observations on death and dying, on life and living, on love and lack? Reflecting on the current era of enlightenment in my own life, I would often nix university, the church, and even pop-culture as major attributors to and encouragers of my own introspection. Although these were (and still prove to be) absolutely integral to the development of who I’ve become due to the nature of my environment, I find no place more enlightening, educating, and self-assesment-enabling than the likes of an airport or a subway car.
And so, what I have learned via the (insert-city-here)-bound (insert-mode-of-transportation-here).
Who knows, maybe it will become an installment chronicling future global galavants; or maybe the installment will be compiled into a book one day.
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