Tuesday, December 28, 2010

re.built

A long while ago, some friends of mine were studying philosophy. They were given a problem about building a boat, which went something like this:

You have a little, wooden boat, which you decide to take apart, piece by piece. Each time you remove a piece, you put it right beside the original boat, in the very same way that it was originally placed. You continue until the very last piece is in position. The pieces of wood now appear to have formed a boat exactly the same as the original vessel. But you wonder - is it the original boat? Or is it a new one? And if it is a new one, at what point did it become the new boat?

Recently, I have been spending a great deal of time with some folk, who are beautiful and whose views on Big Important Matters happen to differ very greatly from mine.

I have been staying uncharacteristically quiet, not voicing my opinion, and that has been fine for the small stuff. But when points of difference have arisen over bigger issues I have found myself feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

And I have wondered: at what point does staying quiet about stuff.that.matters indicate agreement? At what point does not speaking up equate to not being true, relinquishing values? And at what point does that lead to becoming a different (and lesser) person?

I'm not sure.