The Day Metaphysics Decided to Personally Ruin My Peace

Or, How Aristotle Managed to Give Me an Existential Crisis Two Thousand Years After His Death

Sometimes, recently, I have felt a strange void within me. It is one of those feelings that is impossible to explain. There is everything to do, deadlines waiting, books staring at me with disappointment, assignments pretending to be important, and yet... you feel like doing absolutely nothing. You simply want to sit. To wait. To hope that one miraculous moment will arrive and somehow rearrange your entire life.

You wait for that one conversation, that one person, that one experience, or perhaps that one divine intervention that will suddenly make everything make sense.

I do not know what is happening.

But I know something is definitely wrong.

Or perhaps... nothing is wrong at all.

Maybe this is simply another chapter of becoming human.

Maybe it will pass.

Maybe it will change me before it leaves.

Now, since my life has already become sufficiently complicated, let us make it even more complicated by talking about Metaphysics.

I genuinely do not know who invented metaphysics and, more importantly, why.

Perhaps the poor fellow simply wanted to understand God.

Or perhaps he wanted to understand something even beyond God.

If that was his plan, congratulations.

Two thousand years later he has successfully managed to confuse generations of students—including me.

Metaphysics is supposed to be the study of foundations. It asks the questions that nobody asks during dinner because everyone wants to eat peacefully.

What is Being?

Why does anything exist?

Who am I?

Where did I come from?

Why is there something rather than nothing?

And, most importantly for philosophy students...

Why is this coming in the examination?

Foundational understanding is important. I genuinely believe that. If we know where we come from, perhaps it becomes easier to understand where we are going. A tree without roots falls with the first strong wind. Human beings are not very different.

Yet metaphysics has this extraordinary talent of making simple things sound terrifying.

According to it, everything that we see is merely an epiphenomenon.

Now imagine hearing that word for the first time.

"Epiphenomenon."

It sounds less like philosophy and more like a disease that your doctor regrets telling you about.

But all it means is this: what we see is only the surface. Beneath every visible event lies a deeper reality that cannot be directly observed.

So apparently, the world has been playing hide-and-seek with us since the beginning of time.

Wonderful.

Exactly what I needed.

According to metaphysics, reality is constantly whispering,

"You can see me... but you cannot really see me."

What a joke.

This means that whatever appears before our eyes is only the bridge. We must cross that bridge to discover the hidden foundation beneath it.

Easy to say.

Very difficult to write in a three-hour university examination.

Naturally, as in most philosophical disasters, the prime suspect is Aristotle.

I am convinced that whenever philosophy students are suffering somewhere in the world, Aristotle quietly smiles from heaven.

So today, respectfully, I blame Aristotle.

Please do not send me hate messages.

Sometimes students need someone to blame, and today it happens to be him.

Aristotle tells us that metaphysics seeks the First Cause, the ultimate explanation behind everything.

Notice something important here.

I intentionally use the word Being instead of immediately saying God.

Because the moment we use the word "God," we unintentionally limit what we are trying to understand.

Being is existence itself.

It is greater than any word we use for it.

The word "God" carries religious images, traditions, doctrines, expectations and definitions. But Being, as philosophers understand it, points toward existence itself before we begin placing labels upon it.

Sometimes I think Abraham understood this beautifully.

He did not begin with definitions.

He began with trust.

His faith was immense because he encountered a mystery that could never be completely reduced into language.

Perhaps that is why true faith always feels larger than theology.

The moment we think we have completely understood God, perhaps we have only understood our own imagination.

Now enters another episode of the greatest sibling rivalry in philosophy.

Plato versus Aristotle.

Honestly, if philosophy had television ratings, this debate would still be running after twenty-four centuries.

Plato believes reality is discovered through eternal Forms—perfect, invisible, changeless realities beyond this world.

Aristotle, on the other hand, travelled, observed, classified plants, animals, governments and people.

He trusted experience.

For him, knowledge begins with the senses.

One looks upward.

The other looks around.

And poor students look at both of them and wonder,

"Can both of you please agree on something? My exams are next week."

Personally, I believe life teaches us something important here.

Truth is rarely owned by one person.

Everyone carries one small piece of it.

That is why we should learn to listen.

Had Buddha refused to listen to suffering itself, perhaps enlightenment would never have happened.

Christianity itself inherited much of Plato's language and idealism, while later thinkers embraced Aristotle's realism.

History itself became richer because these two men refused to think alike.

Perhaps disagreement is not humanity's greatest weakness.

Perhaps it is one of its greatest gifts.

When we relate all of this to faith, another uncomfortable realization appears.

Faith is frighteningly deep.

Much deeper than we usually admit.

Sometimes I genuinely ask myself whether I even fit the definition of faith.

Not because I doubt God.

But because I doubt the strength of my own trust.

Faith is not merely agreeing with certain ideas.

Faith is allowing yourself to walk even when certainty refuses to accompany you.

And honestly...

Most of us—including me—are still learning how to walk.

Then, just when you think philosophy cannot become more confusing, Immanuel Kant arrives.

And after him comes Martin Heidegger.

At this point you realise philosophy is not a subject.

It is a relay race.

One philosopher hands over confusion to the next philosopher.

Heidegger says that Being is the activity of existence itself. It is present everywhere, yet we never have direct access to it. We encounter beings—people, trees, rivers, stars—but Being itself always remains mysterious.

So now the assignment has become even harder.

Not only do we have to understand existence...

We have to understand something that cannot be directly understood.

Thank you, Professor Heidegger.

Very kind of you.

Then comes Logic.

And this is where Aristotle returns like that one professor who retires but still comes back to invigilate examinations.

Logic is the instrument that helps us move from appearances toward understanding.

Every teacher has probably said at least once,

"Why are you writing so illogically?"

Now I finally know whom to blame for that sentence too.

Aristotle.

Logic teaches analogies, substance and accidents, causes and conclusions.

It disciplines the mind.

But I must confess something.

I really do not want to break my head explaining all of logic here.

So, dear reader...

Please break yours instead.

Go and ask yourself one question:

What is that mysterious existence that allows you to say "I am"?

I promise you...

Within five minutes either enlightenment will come...

or you will fall asleep.

Personally, I have mastered the second option.

Imagine trying to remain awake through an entire metaphysics lecture while discussing Being, substance, accidents, analogies and existence.

If I survive that class, I honestly deserve at least one standing ovation.

A little appreciation keeps philosophers alive.

At least until the next lecture begins.

One thing, however, I cannot deny is this: whether metaphysics makes sense to me or not, it has already begun to change me.

That is perhaps the biggest irony of philosophy. You may walk into the classroom understanding absolutely nothing, come out understanding even less, complain about it throughout the day, curse Aristotle before going to bed, and yet... somewhere, silently, your way of looking at life begins to change.

No philosopher announces this transformation. No certificate arrives at your doorstep saying, "Congratulations! You have now become slightly wiser." It happens quietly. It happens in ordinary moments.

You begin to respect life a little more.

You begin to listen more than you speak.

You stop rushing to judge people.

You become comfortable saying, "I don't know."

And believe me, saying "I don't know" peacefully is one of the greatest philosophical achievements.

Because modern society has turned certainty into a competition.

Everybody knows everything.

Everybody has an opinion.

Everybody is an expert.

And then there is me...

Still trying to understand what Aristotle meant two thousand years ago.

The deeper I study philosophy, the more I realise that ready-made answers rarely satisfy anyone. They may comfort us for a while, but they never become our own. Conviction cannot be borrowed. Faith cannot be photocopied. Wisdom cannot be downloaded from the internet like a PDF before an examination.

Every human being has to struggle for his own understanding.

That struggle cannot be outsourced.

Sometimes I wonder, "What if I had known all these things when I was younger?"

Maybe I would have corrected some mistakes.

Maybe I would have understood certain people better.

Maybe I would have spoken less and listened more.

Maybe I would have appreciated my parents sooner.

Maybe I would have wasted less time trying to become someone else.

But then another thought immediately follows.

Perhaps I would not have understood these things at all.

Because wisdom does not arrive when information arrives.

Wisdom arrives when experience is finally ready to receive that information.

Life has its own timetable.

It teaches lessons only when the student is capable of surviving them.

That is both frustrating and beautiful.

I also carry this strange belief—call it philosophical, call it spiritual, or simply call it my madness—that there is a larger soul working silently within this universe.

Some philosophers speak about the World Soul. Others speak about universal consciousness. Others simply call it interconnectedness.

Whatever name we give it, I have always felt that we are not isolated islands floating alone.

We are connected.

Somehow.

Our joys travel.

Our pain travels.

Kindness travels.

Even silence travels.

Sometimes one smile from a stranger changes your entire day.

Sometimes one harsh sentence stays with you for years.

If that is not proof that we are connected, then I honestly do not know what is.

Recently I came across a Japanese quotation. I cannot even remember where I read it, but it stayed with me. Some words have a strange habit of refusing to leave us. They quietly become permanent residents of our minds.

It made me think about abstraction.

People often dismiss abstract thinking as something unreal, impractical, or detached from life.

I disagree.

Abstract does not mean unreal.

It simply means our human brain is not yet capable of grasping it completely.

That is a huge difference.

Think about it.

Gravity existed long before Newton.

Atoms existed long before chemistry.

Microorganisms existed long before microscopes.

Reality never waited for our understanding.

Our understanding merely caught up—slowly.

Perhaps metaphysical realities are similar.

Not imaginary.

Just difficult.

Our minds are finite trying to embrace something infinite.

No wonder they become tired.

Sometimes I think human beings become arrogant simply because they mistake their perception for reality.

Whatever we cannot see, we often assume does not exist.

What a dangerous conclusion!

History has repeatedly shown us how wrong that assumption can be.

Love cannot be measured.

Meaning cannot be weighed.

Hope cannot be placed under a microscope.

Yet nobody can deny their existence.

So perhaps reality is much larger than our senses allow us to experience.

We merely occupy one small window of an infinitely larger house.

Another thought keeps returning to me.

I genuinely believe that the day a person understands the distinction between the body and the soul—not merely intellectually but existentially—something changes forever.

That person becomes calmer.

Not because suffering disappears.

But because suffering no longer becomes the only truth.

There is something deeper.

Something that survives even disappointment.

Something that remains untouched even when circumstances collapse.

Maybe philosophers call it consciousness.

Maybe saints call it the soul.

Maybe psychologists call it self-awareness.

Maybe poets simply call it peace.

Whatever it is...

It is worth searching for.

Sometimes people ask me, "Why do you write all these things?"

Honestly...

I have absolutely no idea.

Sometimes I finish writing and read it myself thinking,

"Rohan... what exactly were you trying to say?"

But perhaps that is the point.

Not every piece of writing exists to provide answers.

Some writing simply exists to make us ask better questions.

Maybe I write because I do not want philosophy to remain trapped inside classrooms.

Maybe I write because I want people to realise that thinking about life is not a sign of madness.

Some people look at philosophy students as though we spend the entire day staring at walls asking whether the wall exists.

To be fair...

Sometimes we do.

But that is not the whole story.

Philosophy is simply the courage to refuse superficial living.

It is the willingness to ask,

"Why?"

one more time than everyone else.

There is another thought that has been disturbing me recently.

Why is help always offered when success is almost guaranteed?

Why do we encourage people only after they have already proved themselves?

Why not support them when they are still fragile?

When they are still uncertain?

When they are still afraid?

Imagine how many artists, scientists, teachers, musicians, philosophers, priests, parents and dreamers the world has silently lost because encouragement arrived too late.

Sometimes a little faith from another person becomes the difference between giving up and beginning again.

That is something our education systems, our institutions, and even our families often forget.

A little appreciation can save a human being.

As for me...

I am currently waiting to watch a few movies.

When?

I honestly have no idea.

Life, examinations, philosophy and metaphysics have formed a secret alliance against my happiness.

But I still have hope.

Maybe one evening there will finally be enough time.

Enough silence.

Enough peace.

Until then, I suppose Aristotle has already booked most of my weekends.

And finally, before I disappear once again into another philosophical battlefield, let me leave you with this.

Do not rush through life.

Read slowly.

Love completely.

Laugh loudly.

Cry without shame.

Listen before you judge.

Question before you conclude.

Do not fear suffering, because none of us can escape it.

The only choice we have is whether suffering will make us bitter or make us wiser.

Life has never promised certainty.

It has only promised experience.

Perhaps that is enough.

Perhaps meaning is not something waiting for us at the end of the road.

Perhaps meaning quietly grows within us while we are walking.

So if today you feel lost, confused, empty, or as if life has suddenly become one giant metaphysics lecture...

Welcome.

You are probably growing.

And if you are still wondering whether all this philosophy is worth it, then let me leave you with one final question.

Are we studying philosophy to understand Being...

Or are we allowing Being to slowly transform us?

Maybe Aristotle knew.

Maybe Heidegger knew.

Maybe none of them knew.

Or perhaps...

the real philosophy begins the day we stop searching for perfect answers and start living honest questions.

Until next time...

Take care of yourselves.

And please...

If you ever meet Aristotle in heaven before I do...

Tell him we need to have a very long conversation.

Student of Philosophy - Rohan Brahmane