The funny thing about humans is that we brag to each other—and whoever else is listening—that we’ve got it all figured out, while time after time, we discard “valid research” for that which is more recent. So what happens when we know everything? Is it possible?

While we may be progressing, are we really learning that much or are just inventing new words? And why is it that all of my philosophizing only translates into questions and not a sound conclusion? That’s besides the point—assuming I ever arrive at one.

A scientist and philosopher are stranded on a floating mass of garbage in the Arctic Sea. The scientist may survive a bit longer due to his ability to dissect nutrients from the waste in which he now inhabits but—pending his competitor’s conclusive research that God and Heaven exist as many hope they do—the philosopher has salvation in the bag. He asks questions considering all possibilities, explores many factors of life that are interdependent, and at the end of the day wholeheartedly says “Eh, well I don’t know.” And he is more than content with this answer. Life on the floating mass of garbage becomes much simpler for the philosopher, not just because the scientist blew himself up in attempts to discover the meaning of science, but because he knows that there are a multitude of answers.

He realizes that thinking is what humans are best at and destined to do. Yet outside pressures such as all that is associated with an ever increasing population force us to sharply reduce our span of cognition and keep things one sided. Life becomes dictated by definition.

The floating mass of garbage is an exemplary place for someone like the philosopher who needs no external stimuli, no culture, no mirror of his/herself that is influenced by the way too many around themselves. When completely isolated, one possesses infinite mental and physical capabilities.