Rest in Peace, Basement Philosopher

Basements make for good analogies, and we all know that I like analogies.

A basement is naturally a dark place. You can do things with artificial lighting to fight the darkness, but a basement is still an inherently dark place. It is a place where things go to hide. Or to die.

There is a basement in all of us, a place where we store and horde and hide. More often than not, the physical basement becomes a manifestation of the metaphysical basement. All the things that our psyches cannot release find their way downstairs, below ground. The space beneath our houses becomes a dwelling place for many of the things that have no business in our lives, let alone our homes.

I know this isn’t always the case; I’ve seen plenty of finished basements that rival any other floor in a particular home. Go with me, though; I’m running after a metaphor here.

And this is where I am headed: basements, inside or outside of us, are by default dark places. It is easy to hide away in them. It is easy to horde. It is easy to allow clutter to take over. If in Feng Shui clutter under a bed is bad, imagine the influence that a whole basement full of trapped energy can have. It can’t be good, of course.

I used to fancy myself a basement philosopher. I thought that sounded catchy. I thought it was “cute,” if you will. I recognize now that the label is symptomatic of the maelstrom of things which are better released than hidden away. A basement philosopher, after all, is hidden away in darkness. That is no place for to live and learn…and thrive.

So, I bid that basement under the house by the lake farewell. I bid that house itself farewell. Better, I think, to philosophize in the light. No use hiding. There is far more to be gained by living out in the open.