How can I communicate this without thinking it too much?
Well here we go:
Extroverted Thinking and introverted Feeling are….different.
Te is objective, rational, sharp, efficient, logical, systematic, direct, cold.
Fi is subjective, mercurial, powerful, intoxicating, pervasive, singular, awesome.
I was going to say “polar opposites” but that’s too reasonable. Their difference is more like: listening to music is different from following a set of instructions.
Building a wall out of bricks is different from stoking a fire.
Smiling happily is different from explaining something.
Background and explanation
Swimming lessons: the instructor throws a bunch of weighted toys into the pool and the kids all dive to pick them up.
That’s how Te feels – holding my breath while squinting hard at the blurry objects on the floor, straining to grab them before I rush back up for air.
And I got damn good at it. Diving for treasures, I can hold my breath for a long, long time.
But Native Te-users would look askance: what’s the rush? You seem…stressed. Why so…”all or nothing”?
It’s like a poet working as a technical writer because poetry won’t pay the bills. Hold your breath, get in, get out. Just get the job done.
Your opinions are worthless
I studied philosophy, history, politics, ethics, theology, and did I mention philosophy?
Philosophy is epistemology, moral philosophy, cognitive science, philosophy of science, political philosophy, philosophy of religion, …..
****, try again:
How do you know what you know? What does ‘know’ even mean? What does ‘mean’ mean? What?
You’re just a material composite of chemical reactions or physical interactions, or biological processes, or a figment of Descartes’ imagination.
How does your mind understand the words you just read? Can anyone understand anything? Let’s look at a thousand cases of very localised brain-damage to understand how the undamaged brain works.
There are no moral phenomena, only moral interpretation of phenomena…but that depends on how you define “moral”.
Look, let’s just agree that philosophy is the process of testing the logic and internal coherence of all the sh!t people say. Put your brain through a sieve, and you’ll know at least that your brain is 100% sievable.
Why would you want to sieve your brain? Because maybe all you have is a sieve…and a brain…and a whole lot of time on your hands.
(And you love the idea of being intellectually superior to others and the university used to be an awesome place to live and work).
All that matters is reasons. Reasons. No thought, claim or idea is off limits, so long as its supported. Nothing is unacceptable bar the insupportable.
Support = reasons….reasons other people can follow.
Reasons other people can follow = Te
That’s not perfect, it’ll never be perfect, because philosophy is just a game for intellectuals who enjoy arguing for their competing imperfect attempts to square the circle.
Philosophy doesn’t take into account fundamental differences in temperament because that would totally **** with the game.
What if you prefer theory A over theory B, not because A is more logical or well-supported than B, but because it suits your temperament better?
As William James put it:
“The history of philosophy is, to a great extent, that of a certain clash of human temperaments…Of whatever temperament a philosopher is, he tries, when philosophizing, to sink the fact of his temperament…
Yet his temperament really gives him a stronger bias than any of his more strictly objective premises…He trusts his temperament. Wanting a universe that suits it, he believes in any representation of the universe that suits it…
Yet in the forum he can make no claim, on bare ground of his temperament, to superior discernment or authority. There arises thus a certain insincerity in our philosophic discussions; the potentest of all our premises is never mentioned.”
Object to it if you like, but philosophers don’t really agree on anything anyway.
Arriving at consensus is not the most important thing in philosophy. The most important thing in philosophy – as with any hobby – is having the time and resources to pursue it.
Subjective feeling is the ultimate insupportable claim
This education in philosophy compounded upbringing and added the academic standard of “unsupported truth-claims are worse than useless” to the privately ingrained ethos “your feelings don’t matter”.
Fi doesn’t follow Te rules. They are as if mutually exclusive domains, hence the weird analogies I’ve used.
And I’ve spent the best part of twenty years excluding Fi as much as possible from my decision-making, imagining, and disposition.
I’ve bricked up this living, dynamic, changeable, flowing object and tried to contain it in a cold, hard, unchanging environment.
Water, treasure, and dreams of spiders
I had an iconic dream many years ago in which I was diving for treasure (gold coins) in a shallow pool.
But I dug too deep and out of the depths arose a menacing black spider.
That spider has been a recurring theme in dreams ever since.
But I finally understand it: the search for treasure beneath the water (unconscious) is the lure of Te, my inferior function, and the promise of its mysterious wisdom and knowledge (the treasure).
The spider is the awful feeling that comes with suppressing or disrupting Fi, my dominant function.
The resolution doesn’t come with escaping the spider, killing it, or making it go away. The resolution comes with embracing Fi, the contemptible “baseless opinion” or “insupportable feeling”. It comes with giving up the illusory treasure beneath the water, the false promise of objective reasoning that proved pointless and wearying and endlessly bleak.
For an INFP, Fi is freedom. We aren’t meant to be rational analysts, dispassionate observers or efficient, responsible organisers.
We’re meant to be wanderers, poets, hippies, shamans, all the disgustingly unconstrained and freely-feeling tropes I’ve recoiled from in scorn because they have no power or standing in a Te world.
But that’s the whole point: this isn’t a Te world. This is my world, and it’s a world of Feeling.
Te belongs, but it belongs at the bottom, at the end, an afterthought a finishing touch, an ability but not an obligation. A capacity, but only a small one.
I quit holding my breath, I’m through.