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GLIMPSE OF LIGHT i ii GLIMPSE OF LIGHT New Meditations on First Philosophy STEPHEN MUMFORD Bloomsbury Academic An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc LONDON • OXFORD • NEW YORK • NEW DELHI • SYDNEY iii Bloomsbury Academic An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square 1385 Broadway London New York W C 1B 3 DP NY 10018 UK USA www.bloomsbury.com BLOOMSBURY and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published 2017 © Stephen Mumford, 2017 Stephen Mumford has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identifi ed as the Author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be accepted by Bloomsbury or the author. British Library Cataloguing-i n-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. I SBN : H B : 978-1-4742-7952-9 PB : 978-1-4742-7948-2 e PDF : 978-1-4742-7950-5 ePub: 978-1-4742-7949-9 Library of Congress Cataloging-i n-Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Cover design: Clare Turner Cover image © Stephen Mumford, 2016 Typeset by Refi neCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk iv Contents First Meditation 1 Second Meditation 23 Th ird Meditation 47 Fourth Meditation 73 Fift h Meditation 93 Sixth Meditation 111 Objections and Replies 133 v vi First Meditation Some 200 miles inside the Arctic Circle in the north of Norway sits the island city of Tromsø. On the larger neighbouring island of Kvaløya there is, aft er some distance and turns, a tiny settlement called Bakkan. It consists of four houses on the slope down to the fj ord. Th e road stops before the village with the journey completed on foot. I have a friend, Petter, who built one of the houses. From his kitchen window he has an uninterrupted view across the fj ord to the angular mountain- tops beyond. On the edge of the water, he also built himself a small wooden cabin in which he could sit and do his thinking. Th e interior is equipped in only a basic manner. It contains a raised bed, a stove and a writing desk that sits under the window. From that spot, you can look out across the herring- rich waters, cold and silent. Th e stove is essential in the harsh winters when temperatures rarely climb above freezing. 1 2 GLIMPSE OF LIGHT It was to this simple cabin that I retreated one winter to confront my most pressing doubts. Th ese were many and growing. For some years I had pursued my studies dutifully. Now I thought they might all be for nothing. I could no longer deny that I was mid- life. I needed time away, during which I could decide whether I should continue with philosophy, or give it up forever. To have a friend such as Petter, possessed of this distant refuge, isolated from all my professional obligations and societal ties, had provided the perfect opportunity for escape. So it was that I’d asked Petter to host me in Bakkan, permitting me undisturbed occupancy of his little cabin. Within, I could use my solitary confi nement to meditate upon the matters that had troubled me so. A fellow philosopher, he understood that. I wished for little attention. Solitude had become the most valuable commodity these past years, in which Bakkan promised to reward me with riches. I knew Bakkan. But never before had I visited in January when the sun remained absent all day long. Nevertheless, I was guaranteed a warm welcome from Petter and his family and hoped it would outweigh any chill wind or snow fl urry that came my way. As I carried my small case along the icy trail approaching their home, led by Petter, I saw the rest of them. Marie presented herself fi rst, reaching for my gloved hand and holding it with hers. ‘Takk for sist,’ came the traditional Norwegian greeting. I wish we had something like it in English. FIRST MEDITATION 3 It says that you remember a nice meeting previously, as in ‘thanks for last time’. Th e children also came out to see me. I had known them since they were infants. Solan was now nearly as tall as me and his sister Ragnhild was even taller, both with blond hair protruding from beneath their woollen hats. Snow and ice, darkness and stillness formed the backdrop to our hurried greetings, then we were quickly away up to the house, seeking its warmth. I had travelled long. Now I was in a place where at late- aft ernoon the only light I could see came from the moon, the stars, and a dim glow from the few houses across the water. Tea was served as we caught up on pleasantries. I liked these people from Bakkan. Th e neighbours, Inger and Odd, were well, I was told. Th e other two houses now had new occupants, an old man and a young lady, both alone. Maybe I would meet them. Ragnhild would soon be off to further her education and Solan was doing well too. She was interested in veterinary medicine. He wanted to make fi lms. I was not here for a holiday, though; nor to waste time. I had a sense that aft er fulfi lling my duty to chit- chat and catch up on any family news, I must set to work on my task. It was a task of the greatest magnitude. I was there to think about the biggest challenge in my career – to my academic being – and one that, I knew, threatened to render it all forlorn. Without resolving it here, I could not go on.