Chapter 5: Kant

Spectacular.

Bill smiled to himself. This had worked out perfectly. The sun was setting over the Pacific, which was as calm as a mill pond. The wine was excellent, his bread had turned out well, the cheese went perfectly. The weather was warm without being too hot or too cold, there wasn't a breeze stirring, and the recent cold snap and rains had reduced the number of bugs to a minimum.

He looked over at Cindy again, and the last slanting rays of the sun lit up her blond hair with unreal colors. Breathtaking. She felt his gaze on her, turned her head and smiled back at him.

"Thank you, sir, for coming up with such a wonderful way to make up. I have completely enjoyed our picnic."

"Even the hike?" he said.

"Even the hike. Though I'm not much on nature adventures, sitting out here on this point of land with this basket of food on this blanket with this young man is worth the effort. Well worth the effort. I suppose this is what the poet means when he talks about Heaven on Earth, isn't it?"

"Yes, I'd have to agree. Oh! Listen, did you hear it?" Bill said as the sun slipped down behind the rim of the world.

"Hear what? I didn't hear anything" she said, puzzled.

"The hiss of the water as it closes over the top of the sun, of course" he said, laughing.

"Bi-ill. No, I didn't, and that is the oldest joke in the world. I shouldn't have been caught by it." But nonetheless, she laughed herself. It really had been a pleasant afternoon, first the long drive across the coast range, during which Bill talked about small things, avoiding his usual philosophy, then the short hike out on the point, then the pleasantness of pine and sea air. The world really could be lovely.

The setting of the sun was a time limit that Bill had set for himself, and now it was time to act. He turned to Cindy, and said "Miss, I have a question to ask you. Do you mind?"

Still looking at him, she replied "Well, I don't suppose I can answer that until I've heard the question, can I. What is it."

"Would you marry me?"

The sound of the surf on the rocks 200 feet below them was the only sound. Cindy had stopped breathing. This was unexpected.

"Well, if you want time to think about it, that's OK. But can't you say something?"

She recovered, and took his hand. "Bill... I mean, yes, yes I will." And she kissed him. "But what made you decide to ask me that? You were so mad at me the other day I thought I might never see you again, then you give me flowers, scaring me half to death in the process, and then you take me out on this wonderful hike, and now you've asked me to marry you. I love you. But I've loved you for years. Why ask me now?" She was happy, and kissed him again.

He laughed, happy himself, almost giddy with relief. Not the kind of question you want to ask more than once. "Well, as to why, I've been thinking a lot over the past few months about you, and us, and where my life was going. I'm afraid the answer is fairly involved; are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Yes, Bill, tell me about it."

"Well, OK then. Why don't you come sit here next to me and get comfortable. That's better." She snuggled under his arm, and they leaned back against a coastal spruce that clung to this rocky outcropping. Bill started explaining.

"Cindy, I've come to the conclusion that love exists. I mean, people really can have selfless interest in the welfare of each other, that power and strength alone are dead ends. Nietzsche said that God is dead, and by that I think he meant that the concept of God no longer has an influence on the thinking of people and hasn't since the Enlightenment of the 1700's. Kant, an earlier philosopher, said that morality requires belief in the existence of God, freedom, and immortality, even though those things can't be proven intellectually, that there were some things that can't be known."

Cindy smiled a little.

"Other men of the age had other things to toss in to the discussion, but as I've worked on the problem of what is ultimately important I guess I kind of find myself bouncing between these two positions. Either nothing is important, a nihilistic viewpoint derived from Fred, or the things of ultimate importance are beyond our comprehension, a viewpoint derived from Kant. And, by the way, did you know that those two viewpoints have been in existence for thousands of years?"

"Bill, what has this got to do with why I just agreed to be your wife?"

Chuckling, he continued. "I said it would be convoluted, and I'm making it as simple as possible." Amazing how fast it gets dark after the sun drops below the horizon. Good thing he had a flashlight for the hike back to the car. Ah, but the view was still gorgeous, with a thin band of orange over the horizon and blue sky deepening as you looked higher up.

"OK, then, go on. I'm still interested."

"Sorry, I lost my train of thought for a second. It's gorgeous, isn't it? OK, let's see. Yes, well, thousands of years ago a writer identified as King Solomon discussed the meaninglessness of everything in Ecclesiastes, a book in the Bible. As I read it, he's saying nothing matters and everything is useless. Fairly depressing. Nietzsche's work is different in that it refutes the existence of God (which would be a surprising thing for a book in the Bible to do, I guess), but the nihilism, the existentialism is the same. It just doesn't matter, nothing really matters in any ultimate sense. Yet there have always been those, clear back to the Sumerian texts, who say that ultimate reality is a matter for the Gods and is beyond our comprehension. Kant says it in more modern metaphors, but he says essentially the same thing. And it isn't straightforward to choose between the two camps. Later philosophers, of this century, like Sartre, Camus, Barth, and Kierkegaard, fall into one or the other camp, nihilistic or supernatural. Kierkegaard analyzed faith, love and man's relationship to his creator. He came the closest of anyone to straddling this fence, but I'd have to say that Camus and Sartre showed pretty clearly that his work lead to a nihilistic outlook."

"Bill, you're wandering into history professor mode."

"Oh, sorry. Yes, I suppose I was. Fascinating subject, though, really. Anyway, the outcome is that you either choose to believe that there is good and evil, or you don't. Most of the world has chosen to believe that there simply isn't, a product of Camus and Sartre being more influential than Barth and others, I guess. I've struggled with this for a long time, and you've made the struggle more difficult."

"I have?" she said, somewhat perplexed. They'd discussed many things, but she couldn't recall having debated him on the ultimate nature of reality. Yuch.

"No, not that way." He smiled. "Look, I'm in love with you, OK? Now, I realized that about a year ago, and I've been wrestling with it. What does it mean? Is it just a biological impulse? No. If so, why don't I love all women? Women who are even more attractive than you I don't find myself loving like I do you."

She sat up. "What did you just say?"

He turned a little red. "Uh, nothing, really. Just trying to make the point that my love for you doesn't fit into a nihilistic world view. You matter to me, and nothing should matter if everything is meaningless."

She settled back in. "Hm, I thought I heard you say there are lots of other women you are more attracted to. Guess I must have been mistaken, huh."

"Of course. But getting back to why I asked you to marry me. So, as I was saying, I love you very much, and therefore I must believe in love. Not only do I believe in it, I believe that it is the most important, the most important idea or thing or whatever there is. I can't prove it yet, and I've come to the conclusion that I might not be able to prove it, but I believe it. And since I believe it, I want to be with you always, to look after your interests, to share life with you, my life and your life. Normally, that means marriage, a commitment of one person to another exclusive of all others in the most intimate sense. That is what I want for us."

She sat up again, and looked at him with some wonder. "Bill, in all the time that I've known you I don't think I've ever heard you say that you believe something or the other. You always say you think, or you feel, but never you believe. Are you sure about this?"

He looked at her steadily. "Very sure. I want what is best for you, regardless of whether it is best for me or not, simply because I love you. It isn't just an emotion; it is a fact of my life."

She snuggled up against him again, and they were quiet for awhile. Finally, as stars began twinkling overhead, she said "Bill, I think we'd better head back."

"True, I suppose. This has been a wonderful afternoon. Thanks for saying yes."

It took them a little longer to get moving.

Later, as they were walking up the trail by flashlight in the semi darkness under the trees, Cindy asked "So, Bill, if you believe in love, and by saying that imply that you take as true something you are ignorant of, what have you to say about innocence now?"

Surprised, he asked "What's this? Are you actually starting an abstract, meaningless discussion on purpose?"

"Well, if I'm to be your wife and lifelong mate I suppose I'd better get used to it, right?" She giggled. "Now answer the question."

"Oh, all right. Let's see, innocence. Well, believing in love doesn't imply that I've given up all of my faculties of reason, you know. I am not as convinced the ignorance which leads to innocence is, in and of itself, a good thing. It seems to me to be too broad, too easy. If everyone tries to be innocent, knowledge itself could cease. Then what?"

"Then, we'd have a lot more fun" she said, casting him an arch over the shoulder glance.

"No, we couldn't. Nice warm sheets and central heat give you plenty of support for fun. Complete ignorance gives you mud huts and a nasty, brutish existence which leaves very, very little time for fun. Still, I'll give you this much; though total ignorance is an evil, there is something noble about innocence as a complete package, and I certainly agree that I want a certain amount of it in our children, fairly large amounts when they are young tapering off as they grow."

"But not to zero!" she said.

"Well, we've got a long time to work on that" he dodged. "On ignorance, I've thought of a path forward in how to learn more about it. I'm going to take up the study of theology."

"What? Why would you do that? I guess it is related to philosophy, but doesn't it assume the presence or existence of God? I thought you were agnostic."

"Well, I am, as of now. But Kant's thoughts actually shook my agnosticism quite a bit, and I suddenly feel ignorant about things every schoolboy a hundred years ago was quite familiar with. There is still a lot of work going on in theology, did you know that? Intelligent people devote their lives to it."

"Well, I don't know about that, but I guess I do know a lot of people I'd consider pretty intelligent who go to church and pray sometimes."

"Precisely. And Kant showed, again, that in order for their to be ultimate meaning, love, morality, a right and wrong, there must be a God. I'm not completely sure I agree with him, but I can no longer simply sit on my agnosticism and be intellectually honest. Besides, it may help me get to know the territory that I should admit to being ignorant of better."

"Huh? I'm sorry I brought this up. But I don't get you, Bill."

"Oh, well, scientists become infuriated with Theology because it puts some understanding beyond their grasp. Those people with both feet firmly on the ground become frustrated with the thought that there is anything other than the terra firma on which they stand. Theologians admit freely that they have no chance of ever fully comprehending what they study, but they work out what can be known and what can't be instead. One foot in theology, learning that there are things which I can't know, one foot in science, learning about those things which I can know."

"I see."

"And it's all your fault."

"It is?"

"In several ways. In general terms, because I've become, through you, convinced that love is not an imaginary thing, but something real that goes beyond comprehension. In specific terms, because during our 'discussion' of innocence earlier, you pointed out that the desire for power was the root of our problems, and that there was a collection between love and innocence. I've thought about those two things quite a bit, and while I'm still not certain of the latter, and may never be, I've become convinced that you are right about the former, from empirical evidence. Though his devotees deny it, the Nazis of Germany love Nietzsche's ideas about no ultimate meaning and used it quite effectively to mobilize a nation. If no God, why can't we fill the vacuum? Having no ultimate power to bow to puts us in the position of being able to climb to the top unopposed. People, all of us I suppose, will constantly be tempted by power if that is how we view reality. Now, I don't want to make up a false god simply to cap mankind's seeming insatiable desire for power, but I'm much more open to the possibility that there is one now, and interested in studying that possibility."

"Oh" she said, in a small voice.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"Um, well, I'm going to need more practice at this, I guess. My mind wandered while you were talking, and it suddenly occurred to me; marriage normally means children, doesn't it."

"Well, it doesn't have to, but it usually does, yes."

"Do you want kids?" The path was flattening out, and Cindy could see the Honda ahead of them in the parking lot. It was completely dark in the forest now, and their flashlight was the only visible portion of the path left.

"Yes, of course. I want to see your face replicated."

"Bi-ill, that isn't a particularly romantic way of putting it, you know."

"Sorry. You are marrying an engineer."

"And you're not. You were so sweet back there on the peninsula. Try to work on bringing that out more, OK?"

He smiled in the dark. "OK, Cindy, I promise. How many children do you want?"

The trip home was filled with discussions about their future, their upcoming life together. They were so intent on it that they didn't even notice they'd left their picnic basket on the peninsula until after they go to Corvallis.

Young people can be so single minded.