Dear Fellow Travelers,
A quick note: I hope this finds you well! If you missed any of the previous volumes, check out The Philosophy of Desire (Vol. 1), The Self, Shadow, and Sage (Vol. 2), The Wisdom of Wonder (Vol. 3), and The Art of Rationality (Vol. 4).
Lastly, if you have any questions, thoughts, or suggestions throughout this series, please don't hesitate to share them in the comments.
Be wise and be well.
👁️ Know Thyself
The “Know Thyself” series explores philosophy, theology, and psychology for insights on the art (and science) of self-awareness. Expect to learn perennial ideas and psychological concepts on human nature, along with philosophical lessons on the art of living.
Making Sense of Emotions
Emotions are frequently misunderstood, often dismissed as irrational or something to suppress. However, they are fundamental to human experience.
In this essay, we examine three key concepts: (1) How Emotions Are Made, (2) Why Emotions Matter, and (3) Emotions and Self-Awareness. Ultimately, you can expect to learn how understanding our emotions can help us move closer to answering the question, “What does it mean to know oneself?”
1. How Emotions Are Made
We like to think of emotions as natural, involuntary responses—as if fear, anger, or joy simply rise from within like tides. But what if emotions are not universal reflexes? What if they’re interpretations, built moment by moment by our brains?
In How Emotions Are Made, neuroscientist Lisa Feldman Barrett dismantles the idea that emotions are hardwired. “Your brain does not react to the world,” she writes. “It predicts your experience of the world.” According to Barrett’s theory of constructed emotion, your brain draws on your past—your memories, concepts, and culture—to make sense of bodily sensations in context.
That tightness in your chest before a speech? It could be fear. Or excitement. Or shame. Your brain decides.
This means emotions are not fixed responses. They are interpretations. And those interpretations can shift depending on your environment, beliefs, and emotional vocabulary. As Barrett notes, “People who make more fine-grained distinctions among unpleasant feelings go on to cope more successfully with stress.” The more precisely we can name our emotions—disappointment versus regret, irritation versus resentment—the better we can understand and manage them. Philosophy supports this constructive view.
As Søren Kierkegaard observed,
Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forward.
We interpret our lives, and our emotions are part of that interpretation. In the Christian contemplative tradition, especially among the Desert Fathers, emotions were not dismissed but examined as clues to spiritual alignment or distortion.
This idea—that emotions are shaped by interpretation—can be empowering. We are not passive victims of feeling. We participate in its formation. We are the storytellers of our emotional lives.
So, what are these emotional constructions for? If emotions aren’t raw impulses, what purpose do they serve?
2. Why Emotions Matter
Emotions may be constructed, but that does not make them any less significant. On the contrary, they are vital signals. Emotions tell us what matters. They alert us when something is out of balance, when a value is at stake, or when a relationship needs tending.
The American philosopher (and previous podcast guest) Krista Thomason argues in Dancing with the Devil that even our most difficult emotions—shame, guilt, and anger—are morally meaningful. “We don’t want to eliminate guilt or shame or anger,” Thomason writes. “We want to understand them, because they reveal our values.” Anger can point to injustice. Guilt shows we care about integrity. Shame might arise from a longing to belong.
Imagine a moment when you snapped at someone you love. Later, you feel the churn of guilt. That discomfort is not just emotional residue—it’s a signal that your behavior fell short of your own ideals. The feeling may hurt, but it contains a gift: the opportunity to reflect, apologize, and grow.
This idea has deep roots in theology. St. Augustine, in Confessions, writes with emotional candor that he doesn’t hide his grief or longing—he interrogates it. “My heart is restless until it rests in Thee,” he writes, suggesting that emotional restlessness is not an error but a guide—a longing for truth and communion.
Emotions, in this light, help us to navigate our way. Even sadness, often treated as a problem to fix, has wisdom to offer.
