Skepticism is the practice by which a thinker interrogates obviousness, givenness and assumedness until everything he “knows” falls apart in his hands. What can be done with the broken pieces of former truth?

For one kind of thinker the pieces become an exhibit of the nonexistence of truth. He breaks pieces into smaller pieces to renew his faith in factlessness, a willful refusal to know any particular thing as true. For another kind of thinker the pieces are disillusionment. He glues them back together into a recollection of the past, and makes skepticism taboo, and this is his faith, a willful commitment to know particular things as true. (For both truth is conceived as constituted of particular true knowledge.)

There is a third option. Actively do the breaking, but pause regularly and allow the pieces to reconstitute themselves. Observe as a gentle scientist, walking around like a sculptor – within, without and upon – the fluidly rearticulating shapes, noting everything, omitting nothing. Especially note the feeling of ethical freedom and ethical rebinding, and the influence of others.