D. R. Khashaba

Everywhere and at all times ever since humans were endowed with the gift of reflection there have been enlightened men and women who pondered the mysteries of life and existence and developed thoughts and views imaging their insight into those mysteries. In cultures which had attained a high grade of sophistication some such profound reflections were preserved in script or in oral traditions handed down from generation to generation. But that preserved body of wisdom cannot but be a tiny portion of unrecorded wisdom dispersed all over the vast expanse of place and time.
I am convinced that all wisdom, all insight, as well as all poetic and artistic creation is an emanation of our inner reality when, freed from the obscuring fogs and entanglements in which our humdrum life shrouds us, we probe deep into ourselves and commune with our inner reality. Or, if it is too presumptuous to say “I am convinced” let me say: I can imagine no possible explanation other than that. And I insist that our inner reality is all we know of reality. Everything outside us is shadow of shadows.
The earliest Ionian thinkers who laid the foundations of Western philosophy, literate and inheritors of of a rich culture, were yet individual independent philosophers. Had Xenophanes and Heraclitus grown up in an illiterate and unsophisticated society they would have still thought their profound thoughts and given expression to them. Probably their wisdom would not have been preserved and later generations would have known nothing of them. Those later generations would have had to re-think the essence of the same or similar thoughts in different garb.
D. R. Khashaba
September 17, 2016


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