I'd just like to stay in the study or in the classroom rather than go out to the city hall or offices where real people do real work--all so serious, all so formal. I sometimes feel that all that I have been doing was to play--inside the mind and with those of students and readers, where there are no consequences nor applications. The greatest fear I've had was confronting the question if all this had been the desire to remain a student, safe inside the friendly (well, for the most part) confines of a school and guarded from dirty reality, just taking the other end of the classroom but still remaining in it. I do not know how to write SPAs or get CTCs though I know a little about the history of metaphysics and some Plato; I stress over going to meetings with men and women who I know have their own agenda because I am wont to believe them because I sympathize and try to understand them, thinking that if I were in their position, like Kant, I would be honest because I ought to be honest. I know that a man shouldn't talk about his money but this silence about it only goes to show that people do think about it and most of the time at that--but I don't; well, at least for now, but someday I'll have to.
I fear that sooner or later I'll be a fish out of water. And only two things can happen to such: they either die, or they evolve--lose their gills, breathe the air of the earth, and learn how to walk on and navigate its terrain. But the water is so cool, so fresh, so deep.
I do not call myself one, though I want to be one or at least I am in the profession of teaching it (which again is presumptuous)--but: Why do philosophers or poets or writers find it difficult to walk on dry land unlike most? Why does the thinker usually stumble in the terrestrial world? Merleau-Ponty once said, though in a different context, that the philosopher limps. He needs crutches mainly because he rarely exercises his legs, usually devoting his strengths for the acrobatics of the mind. He needs guides and the strong shoulders of his friends, those who might help him, those who, if he be kind, he has also helped when they limped. He needs help ultimately because the greatest fear he has is that he will no longer have the time to go back to the waters, or totally forget that he once lived in the dark depths not even the mighty sun was able to pierce.