Life Must Be Understood Backwards — But Lived Forwards

 

Life Must Be Understood Backwards — But Lived Forwards

This illustration is made in co-operation with OpenAI/ChatGPT from a photo taken by my father. I am five years old here, fishing in the Adirondacks Mountains, Up-State New York,

Opening

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”
— Søren Kierkegaard

I find myself returning to this sentence these days.

Not as an abstract philosophical idea—but as something lived.

I am writing a book of memories. My memories.
And I ask myself, quietly: Why?

I do not have a clear answer.
I simply feel the need to do it.

Perhaps it is because time has opened up.
Perhaps because, with age, the past comes closer.
Or perhaps because I sense that memory is fragile—and that what is not written may slowly disappear.

Some memories come gently. Others carry weight.
But they all seem to ask for attention.

Looking for Meaning

Kierkegaard’s words touch something in me.

If I want to understand my life, I must look backwards.
But I cannot live there.

Life insists on moving forward.

And that is the tension.

I read. I search. I try to find where Kierkegaard actually wrote this.
Not just the quote—but the source.

It turns out the sentence we often use is incomplete.

In his journals from 1843, he writes something more demanding:

It is true that life must be understood backwards.
But we forget that it must be lived forwards.
And the more one reflects on this, the clearer it becomes that life can never fully be understood—because we are never able to stand still long enough to truly look back.

This changes something.

Understanding is always incomplete.
Because life does not pause.

What Are We Looking For?

When we turn to the past—what do we actually seek?

Do we look for explanations?
For someone to blame?
For confirmation of what we already believe?

Or do we look for something else—
traces of care, moments of closeness, signs of meaning?

Our intention matters.

It shapes what we see.

Between Past and Future

The past cannot be relived.
The future cannot be known.

And yet, we often try to live in one of them.

Kierkegaard warns against this.
And here, I also think of Martin Heidegger—
and his idea of being present, here and now.

Life happens in the moment.

Not in memory. Not in anticipation.

A Simple Image

As I write, an image keeps returning to me.

I am sitting in a rowboat.

The boat moves forward.
But my gaze is turned backwards.

I see where I have been.
The landscape shifts as I move.

And slowly, something becomes clearer—not everything, but enough.

Enough to know where I am.

And perhaps enough to choose a direction.

A Quiet Ending

Maybe this is what Kierkegaard was pointing toward:

We never fully understand life.
But we can come closer.

Not by stopping.
But by moving—while remembering.

And so I continue writing.

One memory at a time.

References (APA)

Kierkegaard, S. (2000). Søren Kierkegaards Skrifter (Vol. 18). Copenhagen: GAD.

Kierkegaard, S. (1962). Journals and Papers (H. V. Hong & E. H. Hong, Eds. & Trans.). Indiana University Press.

Heidegger, M. (1962). Being and Time (J. Macquarrie & E. Robinson, Trans.). Blackwell.

This illustration is made by Open AI/ChatGPT in co-operation with me, from a photo taken by my wife. The lake is Vegår, in Southern Norway (Vegårshei/Agder). I am 70 years old here, still reflecting over life backwards, but living my life forwards.

The text is mine and OpenAI/ChatGPT has created the illustrations.

 

The Autism Spectrum That Breathes

Toward a multidimensional and phenomenological understanding of autism

Introduction

The concept of the autism spectrum is often presented as a linear continuum,
ranging from “mild” to “severe.” This representation suggests that individuals can be located along a single axis of variation.

However, both recent research and lived experience challenge this assumption.

The purpose of this reflection is twofold:
first, to outline how contemporary research reconceptualizes the spectrum as multidimensional;
and second, to explore how this shift opens for a deeper, phenomenological understanding of autism as a way of being in the world.

From linear scale to multidimensional model

Recent contributions in Scientific American argue that autism cannot be adequately represented as a single continuum. Instead, it should be understood as a constellation of multiple, relatively independent traits.

These include, but are not limited to:

• sensory sensitivity
• attentional focus
• preference for structure
• social communication
• emotional intensity

Such a model replaces the notion of a fixed position on a scale with that of a profile across multiple dimensions.

This reconceptualization is significant. It acknowledges that individuals sharing the same diagnostic category may nevertheless exhibit markedly different experiential and behavioral patterns.

At the same time, it is necessary to recognize the epistemological limits of such models.

Vincent van Gogh once wrote:

“I dream my painting, and then I paint my dream.”

There is something in this that resonates deeply.

Not just seeing the world —

but experiencing it as something that moves, vibrates, almost overflows.

Even the most refined multidimensional framework remains a representation—a map constructed from an external, observational standpoint. As such, it cannot fully capture the qualitative, first-person experience of living within the spectrum.

And in a very different field, Albert Einstein reflected:

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious.

It is the source of all true art and all science.”

Here, too, we find a recognition:

That perception is not always simple.

That understanding does not begin with certainty,

but with a kind of openness to complexity.

From description to meaning: A philosophical approach

To move beyond description toward understanding, it is useful to engage philosophical perspectives that address the nature of human experience, interpretation, and existence.

Friedrich Nietzsche: Perspectivism and the plurality of truth

Nietzsche’s critique of objective truth provides an important starting point.
He argues that what is commonly regarded as truth is in fact the result of dominant interpretative frameworks.

Applied to autism, this suggests that scientific models represent one perspective among many, rather than a definitive account.

The multidimensional model does not eliminate interpretation; it reorganizes it.
Lived experience, in turn, constitutes another perspective—one that cannot be reduced to external observation.

Martin Heidegger: Being-in-the-world

Heidegger’s concept of being-in-the-world shifts attention from categorization to existence.

Human beings are not detached objects to be analyzed from the outside; they are always already situated within a world of meaning, perception, and engagement.

From this standpoint, autism may be understood not merely as a collection of traits, but as a mode of disclosure—a particular way in which the world becomes present through sensory, cognitive, and affective structures.

This perspective does not posit a separate reality, but rather a different mode of access to the same world.

Søren Kierkegaard: The primacy of the individual

Kierkegaard emphasizes the irreducibility of the individual.

Truth, in his framework, is not only objective but also subjective, grounded in lived existence. The “single individual” cannot be subsumed under general categories without loss of meaning.

In relation to autism, this implies that no diagnostic or theoretical model—however sophisticated—can fully account for the lived reality of a person.

Each individual represents not an instance of a category, but a unique configuration of existence.

Discussion

The integration of scientific and philosophical perspectives highlights a central tension:

• Science seeks generalizable knowledge through abstraction and modeling
• Lived experience resists full abstraction, remaining context-bound and qualitative

Rather than viewing these approaches as mutually exclusive, it may be more productive to consider them as complementary.

Scientific models provide necessary structure and communicability.
Philosophical and experiential perspectives provide depth and meaning.

Together, they allow for a more comprehensive understanding of autism as both:

• a pattern of variation
• and a way of being in the world

Conclusion

The autism spectrum is not adequately described as a linear continuum.

It is more accurately understood as a multidimensional field of variation,
within which individuals move and experience the world in distinct ways.

At the same time, such models must be supplemented by perspectives that take seriously the lived, first-person dimension of experience.

Autism is not only something that can be measured.
It is something that is lived.

References 

• Scientific American. (2026). The autism spectrum isn’t a sliding scale—39 traits show the complexity. Retrieved from https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/the-autism-spectrum-isnt-a-sliding-scale-39-traits-show-the-complexity/
• Einstein, A. (1931). The world as I see it. Covici-Friede.
• Friedrich Nietzsche. (1974). The gay science (W. Kaufmann, Trans.). Vintage Books. (Original work published 1882)
• Martin Heidegger. (1962). Being and time (J. Macquarrie & E. Robinson, Trans.). Harper & Row. (Original work published 1927)
• Søren Kierkegaard. (1985). Fear and trembling / Repetition (H. V. Hong & E. H. Hong, Trans.). Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1843)
• Kierkegaard Søren. (1987). Either/Or (H. V. Hong & E. H. Hong, Trans.). Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1843)
• Van Gogh, V. (2009). The letters of Vincent van Gogh (L. Jansen, H. Luijten, & N. Bakker, Eds.). Thames & Hudson.

The spectrum is not merely a structure to be mapped,

but a way in which the world is disclosed through the individual.

 

The Kids Are All Right?

– Youth, Truth, and How We See Ourselves

We say it often.
Perhaps too often.

“The youth of today…”

The sentence is usually followed by a concern.
Less resilient. More anxious. Too much screen time. Too little grit.

But what if this picture isn’t true?
Or perhaps more precisely: What if it is only part of the truth?

I recently read an article in Scientific American titled “The Kids Are All Right.” It presents research pointing in a different direction than the prevailing narrative:

Today’s young people are – on average –
less violent,
less prone to risky behavior,
more tolerant,
and in many ways better at regulating themselves than previous generations.

It is a quiet, almost provocative message.

Because it does not only challenge what we think about youth.
It challenges how we form truth.

Foucault: Who Owns the Story of Youth?

Here, Michel Foucault enters the conversation.

He was not primarily concerned with what is true,
but with how something becomes true in a society.

Who has the power to define reality?
Which narratives are allowed to dominate?

When we repeatedly hear that young people are struggling more than before,
it is not necessarily because it is false—
but because certain perspectives are given more space than others.

Problems attract attention.
Concern sells.
Deviations become visible.

What works, what quietly holds everyday life together—
often remains unnoticed.

Perhaps youth have not become weaker.
Perhaps our gaze has become more problem-oriented.

Gadamer: Understanding Begins in Our Prejudices

But we cannot escape ourselves.

Hans-Georg Gadamer reminds us that we always understand the world through our pre-understandings—our “prejudices” in a neutral sense.

We do not meet young people as blank slates.
We meet them with experiences, with memories of our own youth,
and perhaps with a quiet longing for a time we believe was simpler.

When we say “things were better before,”
it is not just an observation.

It is an interpretation.

And Gadamer would say:
Understanding happens when our horizon meets that of the other—
not to win, but to expand.

Perhaps we need to meet young people anew,
not as a problem to be explained,
but as an experience to be understood.

Kierkegaard: The Individual – Beyond the Statistics

And then comes Søren Kierkegaard, quietly—but with weight.

Because in the midst of all research, all graphs and general trends,
there is always a person.

The individual.

Kierkegaard reminds us that truth is not only something we measure,
but something we live.

Yes, statistics may show that “things are getting better.”
But for the one who stands in anxiety, loneliness, or inner struggle,
this is no comfort.

Here lies a responsibility—
not to choose between optimism and pessimism,
but to hold both at once:

To see the bigger picture,
and still not lose sight of the one.

Between Concern and Trust

So where does this leave us?

Perhaps somewhere between two poles:

• A public narrative shaped by concern
• A body of research showing significant progress

Both are true.
But neither is the whole truth.

What emerges is a more demanding picture:
A generation that, in many ways, is doing well—
and at the same time carries new kinds of burdens.

And perhaps this is where our responsibility lies—
not in judging, but in understanding
not in idealizing, but in meeting

A Quiet Shift

Perhaps we need a small shift in perspective.

From:
“What is wrong with young people today?”

To:
“What are they actually managing—
and what might we learn from them?”

Closing

In meeting the younger generation, we are not only encountering something new.
We are encountering a mirror.

A mirror reflecting our own assumptions about human beings,
about development,
about what it means to live a good life.

And perhaps it is like this:

Not that young people are necessarily “better” than before.
But that they—like us—
live their lives in the tension between vulnerability and strength.

Referances

Scientific American. (2026). The kids are all right

Michel Foucault. (1972). The Archaeology of Knowledge.

Hans-Georg Gadamer. (1960). Truth and Method.

Søren Kierkegaard. (1846). Concluding Unscientific Postscript.

Practical philosophy, where life is actually lived

This text and the illustration are created in a conversation between myself and OpenAI/ChatGPT

Empathy and Compassion: Two Faces of Human Response

 Empathy and Compassion: Two Faces of Human Response

Brief Summary:

Empathy and compassion are closely related concepts, but they represent different dimensions of our relational and ethical existence. Empathy involves feeling with and understanding another person’s emotions, while compassion entails an active desire to alleviate suffering. In practical philosophy, this distinction becomes crucial for how we think about responsibility, ethics, and human interaction.

Photo from NAPHA-Nasjonal kompetansesenter for psykisk helsearbeid

Introduction

In our time, the concepts of empathy and compassion are often used interchangeably, as if they were synonymous. However, in both philosophy and psychology, it is important to distinguish between them. Empathy refers to the ability to understand and feel another person’s emotions, while compassion involves an active willingness to help and relieve suffering. This distinction has implications for ethics, education, and social life. In this text, I will explore the difference between empathy and compassion, drawing on both phenomenological and psychological perspectives, and discuss how they can be understood within practical philosophy.

The Nature of Empathy

Empathy can be described as an affective resonance with another person. When we see someone crying, we may feel sadness ourselves. Empathy can take different forms:

• Affective empathy: an immediate emotional response.
• Cognitive empathy: the ability to take another person’s perspective and understand their situation.

From a phenomenological perspective, empathy involves a form of participation in the other person’s lifeworld. Edmund Husserl and later Maurice Merleau-Ponty emphasized how empathy is a fundamental way of experiencing the other as a subject. It is not merely an intellectual exercise, but a bodily and emotional openness.

At the same time, psychological research has shown that empathy can have a shadow side. When empathy turns into emotional contagion, we may lose the distinction between our own and the other’s emotions. This can lead to exhaustion or “empathic distress.”

The Distinctiveness of Compassion

Compassion goes a step further. It is not only about feeling with someone, but about acting for them. Compassion involves:

• A recognition of another person’s suffering.
• An emotional response characterized by warmth and care.
• An active desire to alleviate or help.

Where empathy can be passive, compassion is active. It has an ethical dimension: compassion mobilizes us to act. In Buddhist philosophy, compassion is a fundamental virtue, linked to the insight into universal suffering and the wish to reduce it. In the Western tradition, we find similar ideas in Aristotle, who connected compassion to eleos—a feeling that can motivate moral action.

Philosophical Perspectives

The difference between empathy and compassion can be illuminated through three philosophical lenses:

• Phenomenology: Empathy is a way of experiencing the other, while compassion is a response that arises from this experience.
• Ethics: Empathy provides insight into another’s situation, but compassion provides the motivation to act. The ethical force lies in compassion.
• Practical philosophy: In education and social life, empathy is necessary for understanding, but compassion is necessary for solidarity and justice.

Magnus Blystad and Simen Grøgaard have shown how the concept of empathy can be understood both phenomenologically and positivistically. In a phenomenological tradition, empathy is a fundamental experience of the other as a subject. In a positivist tradition, empathy is analyzed as a psychological mechanism. Compassion, by contrast, appears as a normative category: it points toward what we ought to do.

Practical Implications

In practical philosophy, the distinction between empathy and compassion becomes particularly important in three contexts:

• Education: Teachers need empathy to understand students’ situations, but compassion to support and act.
• Healthcare: Empathy can provide insight into a patient’s pain, but compassion motivates care and treatment.
• Social life: Empathy can foster understanding across cultures, but compassion builds solidarity and justice.

Critical Reflections

It is nevertheless necessary to problematize compassion. Can compassion become paternalistic—a form of “kindness” that deprives the other of autonomy? The philosopher Martha Nussbaum has pointed out that compassion must be balanced with respect for the dignity of the other. Empathy alone may be insufficient, but compassion without reflection can become overbearing.

Conclusion

Empathy and compassion are two faces of human response. Empathy gives us insight into another’s feelings, while compassion gives us the drive to act. In practical philosophy, it is crucial to see how these concepts complement each other. Empathy without compassion may become passive, while compassion without empathy may become blind. Together, they form an ethical whole that can strengthen both the individual and society.

References for further reading

Empathy, Compassion & Psychology

Batson, C. D. (2011). Altruism in humans. Oxford University Press.
→ A foundational work distinguishing empathy from compassionate action.

Bloom, P. (2016). Against empathy: The case for rational compassion. Ecco.
→ Important critique: empathy can mislead, compassion is more ethically reliable.

Goetz, J. L., Keltner, D., & Simon-Thomas, E. (2010). Compassion: An evolutionary analysis and empirical review. Psychological Bulletin, 136(3), 351–374.
→ Clear scientific distinction between empathy and compassion.

Singer, T., & Klimecki, O. M. (2014). Empathy and compassion. Current Biology, 24(18), R875–R878.
→ Neuroscience perspective: empathy can lead to distress, compassion to resilience.

Phenomenology (your philosophical backbone)

Edmund Husserl (1989). Ideas pertaining to a pure phenomenology and to a phenomenological philosophy (Second Book). Kluwer.
→ Empathy as access to the other’s subjectivity.

Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1962). Phenomenology of perception. Routledge.
→ The body as the basis for understanding others.

Zahavi, D. (2014). Self and other: Exploring subjectivity, empathy, and shame. Oxford University Press.
→ Excellent modern interpretation of empathy in phenomenology.

Ethics and Compassion

Martha Nussbaum (2001). Upheavals of thought: The intelligence of emotions. Cambridge University Press.
→ Compassion as an ethical emotion that must respect dignity.

Aristotle (2009). Rhetoric (Book II, on eleos). Oxford University Press.
→ Classical roots of compassion as moral motivation.

Dalai Lama. (1995). The power of compassion. HarperCollins.
→ A more experiential and ethical view aligned with your tone.

Autism, Empathy & Misunderstanding

Baron-Cohen, S. (2011). Zero degrees of empathy. Penguin.
→ Influential—but debated—view on empathy in autism.

Milton, D. (2012). On the ontological status of autism: The ‘double empathy problem’. Disability & Society, 27(6), 883–887.
→ Very important: empathy difficulties are mutual, not one-sided.

Hobson, R. P. (2002). The cradle of thought. Oxford University Press.
→ Development of emotional understanding in autism.

Practical Philosophy / Applied Context

Noddings, N. (2013). Caring: A relational approach to ethics and moral education. University of California Press.
→ Care as practice—very close to your perspective.

Vetlesen, A. J. (1994). Perception, empathy, and judgment: An inquiry into the preconditions of moral performance. Penn State Press.
→ Strong link between empathy and moral action.

Optional (Nordic / Norwegian context)

Blystad, M. H., & Grøgaard, S. C. (2024). Empatiens mange ansikter. Tidsskrift for Norsk Psykologforening.

I have written this text in Norwegian and Open AI/ChatGPT has translated my text to English.