Need help to understand Kierkegaard's "An Ecstatic Discourse"

Question

I'm new to philosophy and I've only read Plato and some essays by Schopenhauer so far, so please be patient with me.

I'm reading the first part of "Either/Or" - Diapsalmata - and have found the first part of it very poetical and melancholic.

Now I entered it's second part and stumbled upon this:

Marry, and you will regret it. Do not marry, and you will also regret it. Marry or do not marry, you will regret it either way.115 Whether you marry or you do not marry, you will regret [I 23] it either way. Laugh at the stupidities of the world, and you will regret it; weep over them, and you will also regret it. Laugh at the stupidities of the world or weep over them, you will regret it either way. Whether you laugh at the stupidities of the world or you weep over them, you will regret it either way. Trust a girl, and you will regret it. Do not trust her, and you will also regret it. Trust a girl or do not trust her, you will regret it either way. Whether you trust a girl or do not trust her, you will regret it either way. Hang yourself, and you will regret it. Do not hang yourself, and you will also regret it. Hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret it either way. Whether you hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret it either way. This, gentlemen, is the quintessence of all the wisdom of life. It is not merely in isolated moments that I, as Spinoza says, view everything aeterno modo [in the mode of eternity],but I am continually aeterno modo. Many believe they, too, are this when after doing one thing or another they unite or mediate these opposites. But this is a misunderstanding, for the true eternity does not lie behind either/or but before it. Their eternity will therefore also be a painful temporal sequence, since they will have a double regret on which to live. My wisdom is easy to grasp, for I have only one maxim, and even that is not a point of departure for me. One must differentiate between the subsequent dialectic in either/or and the eternal one suggested here. So when I say that my maxim is not a point of departure for me, this does not have the opposite of being a point of departure but is merely the negative expression of my maxim, that by which it comprehends itself in contrast to being a point of departure or not being a point of departure. My maxim is not a point of departure for me, because if I made it a point of departure, I would regret it, and if I did not make it a point of departure, I would also regret it. If one or another of my esteemed listeners thinks there is anything to what I have said, he merely demonstrates that he has no head for philosophy. If he thinks there is any movement in what has been said, this demonstrates the same thing. But for those listeners who are able to follow me, although I do not move, I shall now elucidate the eternal truth by which this philosophy is self-contained and does not concede anything higher. That is, if I made my maxim a point of departure, then I would be unable to stop, for if I did not stop, [I 24] I would regret it, and if I did stop, I would also regret it, etc. But if I never start, then I can always stop, for my eternal starting is my eternal stopping. Experience shows that it is not at all difficult for philosophy to begin. Far from it. It begins, in fact, with nothing and therefore can always begin. But it is always difficult for philosophy and philosophers to stop. This difficulty, too, I have avoided, for if anyone thinks that I, in stopping now, actually stop, he demonstrates that he does not have speculative comprehension. The point is that I do not stop now, but I stopped when I began. My philosophy, therefore, has the advantageous characteristic of being brief and of being irrefutable, for if anyone disputes me, I daresay I have the right to declare him mad. The philosopher, then, is continually aeterno modo and does not have, as did the blessed Sintenis, only specific hours that are lived for eternity.

I have no problem at all with the part which is not in bold typeface, but from there on, I'm struggling to get his point.
It may be even inappropriate to say it here in this QA, but after reading and re-reading and then again I am still like "what the heck is this guy talking about?".

Plus, I would like to know what does this have to do with Hegel's philosophy, because in my book's footnotes it seems all of these ideas appear to have something to do to Hegel's philosophy, which one has told me before is contested by Kierkegaard, but here he doesn't seem like doing it.

Answer 1

I was looking up this passage for the same reason and couldn't find a sufficient answer - that's how I ended up here. But I think I've deciphered it, or at least part of it, so I will try to explain it here, even though nobody will ever read it. I guess talking to myself helps me pretend I understand it better.

See? I'm picking up on the humor already.

Anyway, if you couldn't tell, this whole thing is a big joke. It's the point when Kierkegaard pulls out all the stops. The previous diapsalmata were buildup, and this is the punchline.

In the traditional logic at the time, you would start somewhere - at a point of departure, an axiom - and derive new statements from there. For example, "it will rain on Monday" (point of departure) + "it is Monday" (point of departure) -> "it is raining" (conclusion). And then you'd keep going from there, making new conclusions from previous statements.

'A' says "my maxim is not a point of departure for me". Note the "for me"! This part is crucial. He is not saying that "this maxim is not a point of departure", he is saying rather "this maxim is not MY point of departure", as in, "I am choosing not to go anywhere with this, even though I could."

And he gives a reason for doing this - it is so that he wouldn't have to decide whether or not his statement is a point of departure. What he's saying is, "I am intentionally avoiding making a committed decision on whether my maxim should be a point of departure, because I would regret it either way." It reads something like "I am lazy", or "fuck it", because, as we know, 'A' is stranded in the land of infinite possibility (aeterno modo) and does not like making committed decisions. He is being self-depricating. Because, as we know, by avoiding the decision, he is going to live with two regrets instead of one.

I'll talk about stopping and starting. Hegel says that it is very difficult to know where to start philosophy from, because how can you start with a true statement when you have nothing prior to work on? 'A' says that, in practice, it is very easy. "Behold! Here is my first maxim" - see? Easy! But it is very difficult to know where to stop, because 'A' is stranded in the infinite, and if he started writing, he would have to keep going and going and going and going and going and he would never be able to commit to a stopping point. And even if he did in writing, it would still continue in his head. Therefore, he intends to stop with his first maxim and not go anywhere with it.

There are two jokes here. The first is that, when we think of philosophy, we usually think of some big, abstract, infinite truth floating above our heads for us to discover. Yet here, 'A' is talking about philosophy in the most literal and concrete sense, as some degen with a wasted life sitting in an armchair trying to figure out when he should stop writing. The second joke is that 'A' explicitly says, "I am not going anywhere with this", and indeed he never says anything that really makes sense, yet it is apparent that, in just one paragraph, we have come a long way in our understanding of what philosophy is and what philosophers do.

There's a lot more detail you can analyze, but I'm going to take 'A''s advice and stop here, because otherwise the probability of someone reading this will move into the negative.

Answer 2

I admit I searched the internet for an answer after I’d read two or three times this passage and understood nothing, yet the answers I found did not satisfy me.

Then I took it as my mission to decipher the passage and I think I succeeded. Important note: at the time I’m writing I haven’t read more than two essays after the one in question.

Now…

“Behold! I am weary of my wisdom, like the bee that has gathered too much honey; I need hands outstretched to take it from me.”

:)))

What we are here presented to is a most exquisite piece of art: we stand before a Klein bottle of philosophy. The principle described by Kierkegaard could be indeed a valid axiom “not choosing anything”, however, by choosing it as a principle, we make a choice – it goes against the maxim. So to speak, nothing exterior can enter in the plane constructed by the axiom. Can something exist inside the plane of the axiom? I believe it could(or maybe it couldn’t, but this is not important) provided it was already inside the plane of the axiom before it “came into being”.

Note: I am aware that Kierkegaard tells us that the principle shouldn’t be taken as an axiom – because what we face is a Mobius(topology >(( ) band with no starting point or ending point. An axiom represent an origo of the absolute system that we cannot surpass backwards. So it couldn’t practically become an axiom. I, however, use the term axiom in the paragraph above because I, for one, don’t find a better term – we face a strange shape… the plane is not in Cartesian coordinates… Oh, here words become my enemy…

The joke: Kierkegaard defines this inaccessible, incomprehensible construct and places it on a shelf for us, for him, to admire it. This is not useful, for, if it were to be useful, it would loose its beauty. This passage has a purely aesthetic purpose, as I see it: to admire this positively beautiful paradox that cannot be accessed.

And Kierkegaard warns us of this in the previous Diapsalmata:

“Tautology nevertheless is and remains the supreme principle[…] and might well fill out a whole life. It has its playful, witty, entertaining form in the infinite judgements.[…] This kind of tautology is especially useful for rostrums and pulpits, where one is expected to say something significant.”

Kierkegaard gets on the pulpit and takes the mysterious object – this tautology - out of the pocket to mesmerise the auditorium and say something significant. A witty, playful jest.

For what I can say, this is a book of paradoxes and brilliant demonstrations that are as meaningful as the <<quarrel between two lovers(it is important for them, though)>>(see the second essay). It is meaningless yet not hollow, glorious.