The Liberal Arts during the Meta-Crisis

On groundlessness and existential homelessness

I. A Dream

In a dream, you see that you’re somewhere you’ve never been before, the landscape you survey appearing unrecognizable to you. Only in the next breath, it strikes you as if, no, this landscape is all too familiar. Either way, it’s clear to you that you don’t feel at home here (wherever “here” is), and you have the intuition, one that comes and goes, that you don’t know what home is or where it is or, really, how it is.

Looking down, you’re shocked, though only slightly, as you notice that there is no ground beneath your feet. How long have you been floating here, floating and wandering? In this instant, you seize on the thought that you can’t seem to get your bearings nor do you know what “getting your bearings” even means.

“Am I losing it?” you hear yourself, or someone else, saying. The question echoes for a few beats, then fades away.

Is all of this horrifying? Terrifying? No, not quite. Something less or other.

When you wake up, the strangeness isn’t brought to an end, for you can see no difference between the dream state and the waking state. No firm ground underfoot. No home to speak of. No sense of direction.