(Excerpts from: L. Arena, On Nonsense, Urbino, Quattroventi 1997; chapter 2)
 
 

1. Nonsense is the goal of my research, and I will have to fathom it through adequate tools. The starting question is: "What are the tools for philosophizing?". That such a question may be formulate in words shows the need for a particular medium, that is, language in its manifold aspects. Philosophy and language are strictly connected to one another. I am hinting at a logical articulation of language.

In part, this position is the same as the common view. I may invalidate the latter, but not completely, and that will allow me to show better what I mean with the word nonsense. First of all, it must be seen if logic and language are adequate tools for the understanding of nonsense. You have to answer such a question immediately: every word betrays nonsense, hiding its substantial nakedness. Philosophers have always tried to use an only word, through which they could express the complexity of the world: this word is supposed to constitute the final key to all the enigmas of the universe. The pivot of my arguments, instead, run as follows: there is no ultimate height of language, nor could it be shown. This was well known to Zen masters, who were remarkable characters upon whom I will return. They discouraged the seekers of the "last word", which is supposed to allow us to discover the secrets of the universe. As for the non-existence of such word, instead of returning to the famous "last principles", which I have already shown the inconsistence of in the previous chapter, I will follow another way of thought, since the problem may be read through other keys.

What is language? It is an expressive tool, through which we may communicate an intention or a will to someone. May nonsense be communicated or transmitted? In fact, it may not: every word can't help departing from it. Nonsense may be better perceived in the good laugh of a Zen master, in an autumn haiku, or in a pièce of Japanese music; that is, through an example of meaningless compositions, where the sequence of sounds is already the last aim and you need not to search for another. If you talk about nonsense you betray it, and misbehave its essence, hiding nakedness for the umpteenth time.

This is the problem or the substantial difficulty: you have to open to the inexpressible, admitting the impotence of language at the same time. The most I can say about it is that nonsense is naked; in my opinion, this is not a sentence or a proposition of language.

Logic may be approached from the same point of view: it is only the articulation of discourse, and it vanishes when the latter vanishes; then, to take it from every side in order to find a point where less water may enter into a drifting boat is useless. There is no man's land where you may rest, in order to take shelter from the dangers of existence. Logic and language make up one body, as Wittgenstein has shown throughout the Tractatus logico-philosophicus. Since logic is windy, it can hardly stand once that the mistrust in discourse has taken root.

Somebody may remark that all that was already known to the supporters of "irrationalism". They would be right, and we may see such topics in Nietzsche. In fact, he intuited that human knowledge was limited or, to say better, that the knower was confined to his own kind of knowledge, since he could not make a single step beyond it. Nietzsche knew well that, from a historical and human point of view, logic and language being conditioned tools, they could not tell us anything "true" or "actual" apart from the subject, the ultimate reference of all cognitive processes. A breach to irrationalism was opened. Nietzsche cultivated two attitudes, and did not mind to be protected against unavoidable contradictions. We may sum up them as follows: (1) Logic and language are limited tools, but (2) we do not have other ones available to know things. The two positions are not necessarily contrasting to one another; however, I only care that both may teach us something useful.

The former proposition asserts that "logic and language are limited tools"; the latter highlights: "however, there are no other tools." A systematic philosopher could strictly admonish us: since logic and language are the only available tools, and there are no other ones through which we may criticize them, the first proposition is untenable. This is the way of thinking of he who deals with the dead reality of thoughts and ignores the vitality of nonsense. In fact, Nietzsche only meant that we do not achieve anything through logic and language. In my opinion, nonsense, that is, a kind of uneradicated nakedness, is untouched by logic and language. I also admit the second proposition: since there are no other tools, we will have to use logic and language, indeed. I do not care if the principle of contradiction is thereby broken. I remark that logic and language are tools uncapable of perceiving the existence of a beyond-dimension. In my opinion, this dimension is nonsense. I share the same position with he who hates a certain food, but does not have other to eat. That other food may be or not, a man cannot get it and only imagines it.

I am highlighting a kind of impotence that does not aim at meeting with imponderable realities, which are supposed to be hidden behind the magic wall of knowledge; it rather aims at the transparency of things, which may be finally perceived, once that logical and language ways of thinking have been cut off. It is not the impotence concerning mystery, but rather one calling for satisfaction where the everyday reality, which is nonsensical, is twisted and hidden by thought.
 
 

2. On such premises, it is not contradictory that logic and language may serve as references in my discourse as well. To get back to the above-mentioned metaphor, even though we do not like a certain kind of food we may eat it all the same.

Nevertheless, a systematic critic or a traditional theoretician will not be satisfied with my remarks: in their opinion, my position is untenable. If logic and language are inadequate tools, one cannot keep at using them. I may take notice of their insistence and try to focus the reason for our quarrel. Unlike from me, they nourish a substantial trust in reason, and thereby succeed in highlighting that my assertions cannot be proved. Even though it only seems to be a playing-with-words, I may say that if I admit that they are right, I only contribute to perpetuate a kind of servility towards the Goddess Truth.

My position may only be believed: it cannot be proved. Nietzsche asserts that man is an impotent cognitive being, because logic is not a usefol tool for knowledge. He has not proved his position, and only postulated it. The same discourse is good for me. You must believe that logic and language do not provide us with the right measure of things, and yet you must keep at using both, every time you like it.

The object of my discourse is nakedness: it is not injured, when we assert that man cannot know it deeply through the above-mentioned tools. To use a metaphor, such tools may prevail upon a snow bear, but here you must hunt a whale of the oceans. You have to intuit a philosophical content, rather than trying to know it from a rational point of view. It is an important clue of my discourse, and I will come back to it often. Nonsense is grasped when we suspend our usual points of reference, but also when we keep at using them, since there is nothing better.

We may say that nonsense is a sunset upon the lake, or a flight of wild ducks in the sky. If you want to grasp such events, you have to resort to intuition, that is, an opening to meaninglessness, instead to understanding. This proposition cannot be proved: you may only believe in its validity and intuit its legitimacy. Such kind of faith is the kind of "immediate knowledge", which Buddhists call "enlightenment", the sudden aperçu upon the reality of things, that is, nonsense.

Hume says that every certainty is based upon belief (see An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding; Works, London 1874-5, IV, p. 45 and sqq.; see also A Treatise of Human Nature, ibid., I, p. 394 and sqq.). The "rational" and "strongly based" convictions of a systematic philosopher are to be drawn back to such a source. Logical argument has a limit, beyond that there is only the axiom, that is, the end of rationality as such.
 
 

3. Logic and language would have a meaning if there was a "problem" to be caught. For example, if I want to find an unknown quantity, I may use mathematic language and, knowing its basics, arrive to a solution. In mathematics, in fact, there is a problem to be solved. It is the same as with the solver of puzzles: he is looking for the hidden word in a crossword, and uses his cognitions in order to discover it. In this case, too, a word cannot substitute another, and only one is capable of carrying out the task; then, the analogy with mathematics is well proved. In both cases, there is an unknown element that must be found, and the squares of a crossword that must be filled with a particular content, and it must be just that and not another.

In the case of a philosophical problem, is there an unknown element that must be found? To be sure, I may pretend that there is one, and use my resources to find it, but can that convince me that things are really so? The unknown quantity or element may not exist, and there is no problem. This point of view would put an end to a research at once. On these bases, logic and language would be disawoved.

I want to follow another way of thought. There is a solution to the problem, that is, there is an unknown quantity or element, and I cannot get rid of it easily; otherwise, my position would be very shallow. However, a reference to nonsense allows you to put the problem into a new light. You will find out may things. The solution to the problem is that...there is no solution! Let's a look at the issue.

In my opinion, the problem par excellence is the search for a meaning of life. All questions are questions about the meaning. As I have shown in chapter 1, everyone of us gives a meaning to his life. Only in this way may you find a meaning of life. There is no ultimate meaning, from which all of us depend. There is no solution that is good for everybody, for me and you as well.

The only universal solution to the problem is that there is no solution, since the meaning of life is only the fruit of an individual research; it is always different, and is "mine" or "yours" according to circumstances. The seeker of a meaning is searching for a solution, and is trying to exorcise nakedness, that could reveal itself, if only we would listen to it. The exorcist of nakedness asserts that the absence of a solution is always a solution in negativo; however, I have to ignore his pretensions, since he does not understand an actual situation, lacking of the necessary intuition to do it. In fact, if the absence of a solution is suddenly perceived, then "enlightenment" takes place. It is another problematic square of the puzzle of nonsense.
 
 

4. That the solution of the problem consists of finding that there is no solution is perfectly compatibile with nonsense. But what does it mean? As I have already remarked, there is no universal solution, and the meaning of life is something that everybody tries to clarifiy for himself. Somebody thinks that one's own life consists of the destruction of oneself and others, and somebody trusts in the artistic or scientific creation. However it may be, somebody will follow a particular direction, thinking that he is searching for the (true) meaning of life.

But this issue takes us far away from nonsense: every attempt to fill nakedness hides its actual content, that is, emptiness. I will have to clarify the reason for which there is no solution of the problem of life. In fact, there is no problem to be solved.

Wittgenstein understands it, and expresses this position in a passage of the Tractatus logico-philosophicus:
 
 

"The solution to the problem of life is perceived when this problem vanishes." (6.51)
 
 

As long as you are searching for a problem, you are still entangled in the circle "enigma"/"solution"; but when the problem vanishes, the circle is closed and broken. At this point, you may conclude that nakedness is perfectly perceivable.

A philosopher has always tried to fathom the enigma; however, if there is no enigma, the situation appears into another light. You may feel a sort of lightness in discovering that, if there is no problem, our life may proceed towards a direction completely different. They who give a meaning to life become exorcists of nakedness, since they pursue a well-determined direction. It has been chosen by themselves, but it is not enough. It is only when nakedness is actually perceived that the world appears in a light completely different. And this is possible only when the perspective "enigma"/"solution" has been discarded once for all.

At this point, the exorcist of nakedness cannot blame any logical fault on me: you may understand that the absence of a solution does not mean there is a non-solution. Now I have got rid of a "rational" load: I know there is no solution since there is no problem to which one may connect it. Where there is no problem, there is no solution, indeed.

In psychotherapy, these great sphere of the true philosophy of our time, a patient liberates himself just when perceiving that his troubles are unfounded and untrue, and his problems are illusory and inconsistent. Now he may accept his neurotic inclinations, since he understands that all problems are inconsistent: to pursue an ideal of normality is no longer relevant.

It is a situation extraordinary alike to that of a Zen disciple. He tries to free him of his own desires, thinking that only in this way will he be able to attain the condition of spiritual perfection, that is, enlightenment or the Buddha state (bodhi). So, he asks his master what way he must follow in order to get rid of his desires. His master answers: "What need do you have to get free of them?". In this way, he makes him understood that the problem is inconsistent; until you believe in the perspective "enigma" ("problem")/"solution", you are still far away from enlightenment. As soon as you believe in this perspective, you are wrong, and think there is an "ego" to be safeguarded; in fact, the problem may exist only for a correspondent "ego". However, when the essence of this "ego" shows itself as naked, no problem can be connected to it any longer. At this point, the meaning of the existence shows itself as nonsense, while the core of the personality consist of nakedness.

From this point of view, I follow Alan Watts, who asserts that neurosis does not depend on a weakness of the ego, but rather on an "ego" extremely strong and present, that goes in search for the meaning of life, and that produces neurosis in his desperate attempt to find an answer to the "problem" harassing him.

As long as you believe in the consistence of the problem, you are searching for giving a meaning to the existence, or referring to social models (such as the successful person, who is self-confident and physically attractive), which the various exorcists of nakedness propose. The ego swells itself, and ends up adhering to artificial and untrue situations which do not belong to his nature. This is the situation of "too much ego", reported by Watts: it is the true source of neurosis. The patological state would result to be inexplicable, if it was related to the individual development, that is, to actual frustrations. The individual's desires are socially nourished by the exorcists of nakedness; then, he cannot believe that they correspond to his actual demands.

I come back to the gnoseological and epistemological meaning of the absence of the problem. This issue has been felt more particularly in Chinese culture, thanks to the influence of Ch'an Buddhism. Master Chao-chou (Japanese: Joshu) gave answers that were typically nonsensical to disciples' problems and questions. They wanted to know how the coming of the patriarch Bodhidharma from India, or from the West, had to be interpreted; in other words, how the diffusion and the essence of Buddhism in China had to be interpreted. Getting an answer, they believed that they would finally attained the meaning of life. But Chao-chou bewildered them, putting them before nonsense. He answered this way to such questions: "The cow is escaped from the stable"; "The moss grows on foreteeth"; "The cedar tree grows before the garden", and so on. Answers were apparently unconnected to the question (which was: "What is the meaning of the coming of Bodhidharma from the West?"). However, every answer went well, provided that it put a disciple in contact with nakedness: he had to understand that there was no solution, since there was no problem. Other Zen masters answered nonsensically, and sometimes even irreverently, to the questions about the Buddha's essence. Tung-shan defined such essence as "three pounds of hemp", while Yün-men named it "a stick to remove shit". You could reply with gestures, laughs, or silence. The intent was always the same: masters had to communicate nakedness and transmit nonsense to their disciples.

In this way, masters reproduced the Buddha's style, that should be adopted by everybody wanting to discourage speculation and the exorcism of nakedness.

The tendency to put questions is related to the "problem", nourishing the illusion that an answer may be found, and that a way to be followed may be indicated once for all. In my opinion, we should investigate the tendency to put questions and its artificiosity.

When you put any question you are already far from the main purpose. An answer is a research of meaning, that is, of an element not involved with the question. Lin-chi, one of the greatest characters in Zen, received a very strange teaching from his master.
 
 

"Is there anybody who wants to put a question? In such a case, let he put it at once! However, as soon as he opens his mouth, he is already far from it. Why is it so? Do you not know? The Venerable Shakyamuni Buddha said: "The Dharma (that is, the doctrine) is different from words, since it is not subjected to causality, nor depends it on conditions."
 
 

Nonsense is like the Buddha's doctrine, since any question can only invalidate it. There is no question that may truly be a "question"; in fact, you put a question about what you cannot know, the substantial nakedness of our being, since every kind of knowledge hides it. With such premises, no answer will never be able to be truly "answer", and it hits off the mark. According to Novalis, every answer is already involved with the question, and, in fact, there is an answer to every question. In fact, the question is formulated by ourselves: that is why we may find the answer. But is this enough to convince ourselves that we have truly answered the question? The answer is as illusory as the question. Only when the logic of "questions and answers" is given up, can we find the right answer.

This is Chao-chou's suggestion in the following koan:
 
 

"A monk aksed: "What is the purpose of putting a question?"

Chao-chou said: "You are wrong."

The monk asked: "What is the purpose of not putting questions?"

Chao-chou said: "You may see it in my previous sentence."
 
 

If we put a question, we are wrong; if we do not put it, we are wrong. At this point, the only way out consists in not falling into the circle "question/answer", that is, in suppressing the awareness related to "questions" and "answers". When we are not aware that we are putting a question, we are questioning about nonsense; when we are not aware that we are answering, we are opening to nonsense. This position is paradoxical, since we may adhere to it, and we are not aware of doing it. This kind of paradox is typical of a nonsensical position. A kind of unconscious awareness is suggested to us.

You may understand the essence of nonsense, analyzing this koan which concerns Chao-chou once again.
 
 

"A monk of master Chao-chou's asked an old woman the way to T'ai-shang.

The old woman answered: "Go straight on." After the monk had taken three or five steps, she said: "This monk also goes off like that." Afterwards, another monk told Chao-chou about this, and Chao-chou said: "Wait a bit; I'll go and investigate this old lady for you." The next day off he went, and asked the same question and got the same reply. On returning, Chao-chou said to the congregation of monks: "I've investigated the old lady of T'ai-shang for you" (Mumonkan, edited by R. H. Blyth, Zen and Zen Classics, Tokyo 1978, 7^th printing, p. 219).
 
 

The most relevant aspect of the koan is that both Chao-chou and the monks got the same answer; however, the master seems to be gifted with a particular awareness, since he admits investigating the old lady for the monks, who could not do it. This awareness simply consists of drawing on nonsense spontaneously. While the monks had formulated several hypotheses, and believed that the old lady hid a mystery, Chao-chou could see the simple situation, where a wrinkled lady only said some things and there was nothing more. Nonsense consists of our being aware that things are just as they are, and nothing more. The expression "things are just as they are" means that they are naked and there is no meaning to be caught. The monks are still entangled in the perspective of "problem", and despair that a solution may be found. For his part, Chao-chou can see things how they are, i. e., that they are transparent being nonsensical. If the circle "enigma"/"solution" is broken, we may see things how they are, and may suspend our "interpretative" work. Our frantic hermeneutical activity stops. Metaphysics reveals its limits, and its transparency shows itself in all its extent.

The interruption of the perspective "question"/"answer" allows us to draw on the reality of things, on the element "just as it is" related to their existence. However, we should not fall into the mistake to consider this kind of knowledge the same as common sense. Nonsense is something quite different. Common sense is always a sense, and is a victim to the exorcism of nakedness, practised by the priests of logic. In order to understand nakedness you may turn to Zen again, to a parable which clarifies the difference between the Weltanschauung of a Zen disciple and a common man's.

When you know nothing about Zen, mountains are only mountains, trees are only trees, and men are only men. When you know anything about Zen, mountains are no longer mountains, trees are no longer trees, and men are no longer men. When you fully understand Zen, mountains are mountains again, trees are trees again, and men are men again (see A. Watts, The Spirit of Zen). In the first phase, nakedness is not perceivable, since a disciple is dedicated to the study of a doctrine, which should grant him true knowledge. Nevertheless, while he proceeds in the study of Zen, he notices that things are not how he could see them: in fact, he fully distorted them, when involved in the perspective "question"/"answer" or "enigma"/"solution". However, he cannot stop at this stadium: he must continue to see things as they are, i. e., not as illusions, but as concrete elements. The words "nakedness" and nonsense hint at this perspective. Only at this point will the disciple understand that there is nothing to know, and he may notice that he knew the nature of things from the outset. There is nothing to be studied, or to be known. There is no gap to be filled. At this point, mountains will be mountains again, trees will be trees again, and men will be men again. It is a kind of awareness that we have always had; however, the exorcists of nakedness have tried to subtract it to us.

[...]

6. After that nonsense has been suddenly perceived and the limits of reason have been set aside for a while, a new problem appears. After a moment, the implacable rationality returns to show itself, producing an irrepressible doubt, or a suspending thought. The resources of reason gain ground again, after a provisionary defeat when nonsense and substantial nakedness have been perceived. Reason tries to classify nonsense, and does it through exorcism in a sly way. In fact, instead of being inventoried as it should be, nonsense is piled up in a store where to recover it will be difficult.

The use of a particular metaphor, that I will call the dream of the two Tibetan monks, will be particularly instructive. Its content, completely autobiographical, run as follows.

I have a dream of two monks: a master and a disciple. The master resorts to an advanced method of teaching of Tibetan Buddhism, which consists in the use of silence. In this tradition, it is only highlighted that transmission occurs by means of silence. I can distinctly see the two characters of the dream, sitting opposite to one another. Suddenly, while I can perceive their faces, which seem to be satisifed and quiet, I am struck by a doubt, and two alternatives come to my mind, as follows. 1) The master is communicating something to the disciple, for example through telepathy, and the latter receives it thanks to his ability. 2) The master is communicating to the disciple, through his silence, that there is nothing to be caught, and the latter is smiling, while he acknowledges that the essence of teaching is only this. In the former case, there is a meaning to be caught, and the disciple can understand it, since it is communicated to him through telepathy; in the latter, the meaning consists of no-meaning, and silence only serves for showing it; in fact, silence is the only mean to transmit teaching. This dream describes the particular situation of human beings. They have always done all they could in a research for a meaning, believing that there was something obscure to be caught. In the history of thought, there were moments when the awareness of the absence of meaning was felt, when it was perceived that the research was vain and desperate, and that it took nowhere. However, the men who maturated this awareness were hindered and fiercely ostracized; after all, they put social cohesion in danger. Their existence was not easy: A few let themselves be flattered and changed their minds, devoting themselves to the research of meaning again. Others, who had a more independent spirit, cultivated heavy doubts. The main doubt was as follows: is nonsense the meaning of the world, or is there, behind it, anything other to be found? These seekers got by between the two possible solutions to the dream of the monks: on the one hand, they thought that the meaning was nonsense, and that silence was the most adequate tool to communicate it; on the other hand, they thought that the master communicated something, that is, the meaning of the world, which may only be caught after developing adequate tools. In the final analysis, is the master communicating anything, or is he communicating that there is nothing to be communicated?

You cannot deny that other seekers, being persuaded by the exorcists of nakedness, had moments when they despaired about meaning, and found the solution unsatisfied in the conviction that nonsense was the ultimate reality. In my opinion, the dream of the two monks may represent humanity in general.

On the one hand, there are they who nourish knowledge, and search for a meaning; on the other hand, there are those who do not search any longer and attain nakedness. This distinction is idyllic and schematic, since the differences between the two groups are inclined to vanish, in that the followers of the former become the followers of the latter, and vice versa: they change their roles in the comedy of life ad libitum. However, you may admit an opposition of the supporters of knowledge to the followers of ignorance, i. e., those who invalidate all researchs, since they consider them to be bound to meaning. Vedic wisdom, as Cioran reminds us, would not favour either.
 
 

"Those who give up themselves to ignorance are in deep darkness; those who are pleased with knowledge are in even deeper darkness" (E. M. Cioran, Le mauvais démiurge, Paris, Gallimard 1969).
 
 

You could admit that knowledge is veiled by deeper darkness, but ignorance also suffers from its part of darkness. And then? Is the master communicating anything, or is his silence, as the announcement of nakedness, the ultimate essence of communication?

Instead of answering, now I limit myself to take note of duality, of the laceration that takes root in human beings; thus, the perspective of the two alternatives, shown in the dream of the two monks, is brought about. This laceration is strongly lived by some noble spirits, who elaborated it in all its consequences; among them, there is the above-mentioned Cioran. The Rumanian philosopher's entire work seems to be characterized by the alternative between meaning and nonsense. He says that human beings must choose between two alternatives: they may abandon things to themselves, or give them a meaning, doing violence to their substantial nakedness.

Cioran acknowledges the greatness of a thought that turns to nakedness, but he also perceives the difficulty of maintaining it, that is, of remaining in it. The Rumanian philosopher, too, is involved in the oniric topic of the monks: on the one hand, he perceives that silence does not communicate anything, and he opens to nonsense; on the other hand, however, he recognizes the difficulty of maintaining this position and building our existence upon it. If you believe in nakedness, every action becomes empty, and you allows things to be as they are. If you believe in meaning, you pretend to affect reality, and actions are directed to an aim or purpose. According to Cioran, both alternatives are attractive: human beings cannot decide which is the best.
 
 

"Sometimes you think that to realize yourself is better; sometimes you think the contrary. In both cases, you're perfectly right." (ibid.).
 
 

Such alternative is also highlighted by M. Kundera in the relevant book The Unbearable Lightness of Being through words such as "heaviness" and "lightness". The former is an oppressing burden; it is the insight that there is a meaning in the world, which pushes us to ponder upon our actions and to carry out a project. The latter is characterized by a peculiar situation where "you let things go". In my opinion, lightness is the same as the opening to nakedness.

According to Kundera, the choice between heaviness and lightness is very problematic; unlike from Parmenides, you cannot choose the latter, since lightness is positive while heaviness is negative. Both in Kundera and Cioran, the alternatives described in the dream of the two monks are clearly outlined. We are always at the same point: does silence communicate anything (that is, a meaning), or does it communicate nonsense through its silence, or that there is no meaning to be caught?

How can we cope with this alternative? If we analyze it deeply, we may note that it is well-founded only from a logical and linguistic point of view; in fact, it may be considered to be a distinction between the communication of silence and silence as communication of something (of meaning or sense, and so on). This distinction is only good in the fields of logic and language. But nonsense is to be immediately caught, when all distinctions are suspended. Then, the problem will have to be formulated in another words. There is something that is communicated, from a master to his disciple: it is nakedness, and nothing else. There is no content in nakedness, so these questions are absurd: Does silence communicates something? Is silence what you are looking for?

Furthermore, you may notice that both silence and nakedness proceed with the same step. They are not the same thing, but both may catch nonsense and highlight it. If you assert that silence and nakedness are the same thing, you are wrong; however, both take man up to the abyss where he should lose himself, ending up discovering that he is nothing, a structural emptiness.

This situation reminds us of a tantric rite, that is quoted by Cioran:
 
 

"In the course of initiation, you are presented a mirror that reflects your image. Contemplating this image, you may understand that you're only this image, that is, that you're nothing" (E. M. Cioran, Ecartelement, Paris, Gallimard 1979).
 
 

Silence may be compared to the perfect transparence of a mirror: it determines the place of nothing, that is, the nakedness of our being, that shows itself every time that reason suspends its relentless hammering.

At last, you may give an answer: the master communicates something, that is, nakedness, which is announced by silence. And the disciple has some good reasons for smiling: Through his silence, he can see nakedness and is tranquil; in fact, he is neither assailed by the above-mentioned doubts, nor does it nourish the distinction between silence as a mean of communication and the communication of silence.
 
 

7. In this chapter, the investigation of nonsense has pushed me through some different paths, which I must describe in conclusion, in order to highlight a few milestones of my philosophical method.

First of all, the problem has been represented by the function of logic and language, in order to see if nakedness may be fathomed through them. The answer is bewildering: in spite of that they are unadequate tools, there are no other ones we can use. In other words, we may do not like the music played in such-and-such hall, but may do not like the music played somewhere else, in all the other halls of the world. Since I am aware of the "irrational" implications of these remarks, I turn myself to intuition, in order to confirm that nakedness is to be experienced; afterwards, you may prove it or indicate it to others. In spite of this conclusion, the problem of the meaning of life, from which all other philosophical problems derive, is still strongly felt. I cope with it as follows: the solution to the problem is that there is no solution (it is a proposition perfectly compatible with nonsense). At this point, you must deduce that there is no solution, since there is no problem; then, the circle "enigma"/"solution" or "question"/"answer" is broken. Nakedness is attained.

As Cioran highlights:
 
 

"When you come to find that every problem is only a false problem, you are near to the danger of being safe, indeed" (E. M. Cioran, Le mauvais démiurge).
 
 

As I have said, at this point there is the risk of believing that what you have seen (that is, nakedness) is not the goal, that is, the final answer. In other words, those who have freed themselves from the perspective "question"/"answer" remain sometimes involved in it; in fact, they continue to live in sociey, and society has always nourished the exorcism of nakedness, marginalizing the followers of nonsense.

These problems are to be tackled with in their peculiar dimension, that is, silence. Silence must not be considered the same as nakedness, but it can push us in the field of nakedness, if only we listen to it, and if we do not mistake a tool for an aim. In fact, silence is more efficient than metaphysical empty talk. Wittgenstein, too, reminds us of that in the Tractatus; you may read the final propositions of this work, and not the last one (n.7), which is inopportunely quoted, in general. For example, you may read the proposition 6.521, where the Austrian philosopher asserts that the solution to the problem of life can be seen when such a problem vanishes. You may also notice the passage where he asserts that even those who understood the meaning of life could not say what it consisted of. In my opinion, they could not say it, since this meaning is nonsense, or the nakedness of being, that cannot be explained, or named; otherwise, it vanishes as such. Then, the silence of these characters is not the expression of an impotence, but rather the only way of expressing nonsense, which has been clearly perceived. This shows the instrumental function of silence; but you cannot say that silence and nonsense is the same thing.

However, silence must also be overcome, if you think that it is the same as nakedness. Thus, my discourse confirms the value of silence as a tool, and its task of showing the perfect transparency of nakedness.
 
 

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