Imagine a planet on the far side of the galaxy, one with which we never interact. Would it be barren like our moon, or could it contain life? I believe it would contain life, and I don’t wish to argue about that. A planet with life would be far more beautiful. But would you hope for only microbial life, nothing more complex? Not even intelligent alien life? I hope you’ll join me in imagining diverse, complex life. Should we stop there? Should we not hope for intelligent life, rich in language, science, and human-like values? I’m not asking you to imagine an entirely new paradise, but shouldn’t we hope for a planet with a mix of the inspiring and the horrifying?

I imagine such a place being rich in curiosity, inhabited by beings with the intellect to ask difficult questions. Without the ability to wonder “why,” an intelligent species would only swim in the shallows of knowledge. Now, let’s turn our eyes back to Earth. It is a bright spot in the cosmos, driven by humans with the curiosity to address hard questions. Philosophical inquiries make the planet better. But the problem with philosophy is that it never truly accepts an answer. Studying ethics may not make us more ethical, and philosophy can sometimes feel like a tool to conceal our vices. Is science better than philosophy? Undoubtedly, science has improved our lives and increased longevity, but does that make our planet special? Philosophy gives us the perspective to ask the broadest questions. Most people think philosophy fails because it never converges on a final truth, but that’s a narrow perspective. Its ability to remain open-ended makes philosophy distinct.

Imagine a circle of light: philosophy is always chasing the penumbra, the shadow at the edge of certainty. Its life ends without an answer because, even if it found that “X” caused the Big Bang, it would continue asking, “What caused X?”

Philosophy’s strength lies in its endless pursuit of deeper questions. Perhaps, in this ever-widening search, we find the essence of what it means to wonder.