Do we think better seated?

Nietzsche couldn’t find words harsh enough in reaction to the quote attributed to Gustave Flaubert, “we can only think and write when seated.” For the German philosopher, the seated position “spoils the intestines” and underlies all our preconceived ideas. The idea being that from the vantage point of a tiny desk, our world shrinks, and so do our thoughts.

Thought in movement

Against stagnant and rancid thinking, the philosopher praises the lighter thoughts that  come to us when standing, “mid-air, whilst moving freely.” One can only think from a certain height, without tension in the body. This pleasure of the spirit which arises is therefore also a joy of the body standing up straight. In Ecce Homo (published posthumously in 1908), he further insists that our “muscles too celebrate,” and we know that Nietzsche wrote several of his works at Sils Maria, in a mountainous region in the south-east of Switzerland, where he liked to go take long walks and meditate near the lake, along the torrential rivers, all the while scribbling in his notebooks.

‘Walking animates and enlivens my spirit’

—Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Might the spirit be more free and counterproductive when we’re standing? In his Confessions, Rousseau initially seems to be in agreement with Nietzsche. “Walking animates and enlivens my spirit,” he writes. Sitting motionless stifles the emergence of ideas: “I can hardly think when in a state of inactivity; my body must be exercised to make my judgment active.” Conversely, he says, ideas come to him at a distance “from everything that can make me recollect the dependence of my situation, conspire to free my soul, and give boldness to my thoughts.” He speaks as if, when seated, the intellect itself became as motionless as the body. If the position stops us from thinking well, it’s also because it calls to mind a form of alienation which is as insidious as it is routinely.

The seat of ideas

But unlike Nietzsche, Rousseau has reservations about thinking on the move: The Frenchman argues that whilst walking, we struggle to pass on our ideas to others. Occupied as we are by the joy of being in movement, we don’t think to stop and write down the thoughts that come to us. He writes: “Besides, did I carry pens, paper and ink with me? Had I recollected all these, not a thought would have occurred worth preserving. I do not foresee when I shall have ideas; they come when they please, and not when I call for them; either they avoid me altogether, or rushing in crowds, overwhelm me with their force and number.” The spontaneity and vigour of ideas which arise in the course of a trip can prove incompatible with the rigour required by a text on paper.   

‘My giant goes with me wherever I go’

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

To sit down, on the other hand, can be a way of accepting another reality: that we cannot escape ourselves. Wherever we go, we’re always stuck in our own being. Standing and moving forward won’t change the nature or relevance of our personal ideas. It’s this somewhat pessimistic view that Ralph Waldo Emerson defends in his essay on Self-Reliance: “Traveling is a fool’s paradise,” he writes. “I seek the Vatican, and the palaces. I affect to be intoxicated with sights and suggestions, but I am not intoxicated. My giant goes with me wherever I go.” In other words, there’s no point travelling the world if you can’t be alone with yourself, on a chair

To sit quietly and be anchored in one spot: is that not the best way to think? Virginia Woolf, who famously argued in 1929 that women too need a room of one’s own (in her 1929 essay of the same name), testifies to this need for a private space in which to sit and think in peace, far from the hubbub of the world (and one’s family). Thus the very walls of the rooms in which women write become “permeated by their creative force.”

Arranging one’s room or office can be a way of giving a personal colour to the place in which we think. Because, as Woolf further explains: “They are calm or thunderous; open on to the sea, or, on the contrary, give on to a prison yard; are hung with washing; or alive with opals and silks; are hard as horsehair or soft as feathers.” All these spaces in which we create can reflect the ideas that emerge there. Comfortably seated at a desk you’ve carefully curated: could this not be the best way to come up with your own ideas? Of course, if you don’t like the idea, you’re free to rise up!

This is an updated version of a text previously published in Philosophie magazine.

Picture © Vizetelly / Pixabay