Due to the 8 millionth winter snowstorm this season, I got bored and decided to puruse my husband's book collection. He owns a vast number of books, most of them dealing with philosophy and classical literature. Just for fun, I thought I'd take a stab at reading a book by a philosopher I never heard of. I picked out the book The Sickness Unto Death by Soren Kierkegaard.
Talk about some deep mumbo jumbo. It took me 40 minutes to read the first paragraph. The question is posed: What is a spirit? According to Mr. K, it's a self. But then, what's a self. The self is....well...who really could understand after this. I am on page 4 and I think this book is a tad over my head. I think I'll go back to the other book I was reading before; What the Dogs Taught Me by Merril Markoe.