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​Ten Ways Poetry is Superior to Philosophy and Theology
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I have a friend who thinks philosophy is superior to poetry. He asked if I could offer an alternative point of view. Here it is. I offer ten reasons why poetry is superior to philosophy.

1. It is better at emotional resonance.
2. It is better at intuition.
3. It is better at evoking a sense of ambiguity.
4. It is better at evoking (certain kinds of) aesthetic experience.
5. It is better at communicating complex ideas in condensed form.
6. It is better at unveiling truths of lived experience.
7. It is more musical.
8. ​It is better at leaving things open.
9. It is better at leaving things unsaid.​
10. ​It is more attuned to the poetry of the world.

Of course we need philosophy, too. And theology as well. But wouldn't it be nice if, sometimes, philosophers and theologians alike thought more poetically?

As you read this list, you may find the tenth item a little odd. By the poetry of the world, I mean both the poetry of the universe, the poignancy of the universe, and also the Poet of the universe. I have in mind the rhythmic and vibrational unfolding of the universe, with all things interconnected yet distinct; how we as human beings are an integral part of this process; how the unfolding itself is filled with beauty, sometimes tragic beauty; how we discover connections, not only through analysis as spectators, but also through emotionally feeling the presence of others through thought, perception, intuition, and interaction.

By the poetry of the universe, I also mean the poignancy of the universe: the fact that all facts are aesthetic values and that, deep down, they matter to something. And by Poet of the universe, I mean the mysterious something—the soul or mind of the universe—to which they matter. The soul unifies the entire cosmos and lures it toward creativity and connection.

In my opinion, poetry is better suited for conveying the poetry, the poignancy, and the Poet of the universe than philosophy and theology when they are overly prosaic. The form of poetry matches the content of the universe in ways not readily apparent in philosophical and theological prose. However, if the tenth item on the list is not to your liking, please take the other nine as ways in which poetry is also superior to philosophy and theology. Any one of them is sufficient for the overall intention of this page.

My intent is not to say that certain philosophical and theological works cannot be poetic. Nietzsche's "Thus Spake Zarathustra" is poetic when he denies the existence of God, and Whitehead's "Process and Reality," particularly Part V, is poetic when he affirms it. It is from Whitehead that I get the idea of God as the Poet of the universe. In these contexts, Nietzsche and Whitehead adopt a more literary approach. When philosophy and theology take on a literary form, they are poetic indeed.

Additionally, I'm not suggesting that there is no beauty in a well-presented argument or a clear definition. Wittgenstein's "Tractatus" possesses a certain kind of beauty—a beauty akin to observing a painting from a distance, admiring its coherence and vibrancy. Let's call it "spectator clarity." This kind of clarity has its limitations, as Wittgenstein himself acknowledges at the end when he says it invites us to leave the rest to silence. You sense that, for him, the silence had a palpable quality. Nonetheless, there is beauty in the systematic clarity presented prior to that. Good arguments and tidy definitions can be beautiful.

However, there is another kind of clarity that is closer to the affective or emotional aspect of lived experience. It is the clarity of Walt Whitman when he says:

"A child said, 'What is the Grass?' fetching it to me with full hands, How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he."

Through synecdoche, Whitman portrays the clarity of wonder, of not knowing, of perceiving things in their sheer uniqueness, or, as a Buddhist might say, in their "suchness." Poetry excels in conveying this existential clarity. It is the clarity of a feeling that is truthful in its vagueness, its freedom from boundaries—a truth that leaves things undefined and, in this sense, unsaid. Existential clarity doesn't necessarily have to revolve around God; it can pertain to a blade of grass, another person, sadness, a tragic circumstance, a sweep of events. It is a form of knowing that can only be attained by leaving things open, refusing to put things in verbal boxes. Poetry is better at this kind of knowing.

​- Jay McDaniel

​Why Care?
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​There was some graffiti at my college that said, "Philosophy is the real thing, Poetry is fluff." I don't know who wrote it, and I suspect the person's intentions were to irritate literature majors and encourage people to take more philosophy classes. But the graffiti expressed a sentiment that may be secretly shared by many philosophy majors and perhaps by others with a STEM mindset. It suggests that, when it comes to knowledge about the world and human life, the "real thing" is presented in clear and distinct, prosaic terms. There's no place in the world for vagueness, ambiguity, irony, and metaphor. Poems may be interesting, but they do not provide knowledge. They are considered fluff.
For my part, I believe that the most important things in life are vague: love, trust, wonder, relationships. And forms of speech, written and spoken, that allow for vagueness are better at providing us with knowledge about the world and human life than forms of speech that assume the contrary. In order to counterbalance the idea that poetry is fluff, I thought it would be good to write an essay stating that philosophy is fluff and poetry is the real thing. However, I don't truly believe this; I think poetry and philosophy are valuable in different contexts. The same can be said for STEM disciplines. Nevertheless, it does seem to me that poetry should be valued as highly as philosophy, and certainly as highly as science, technology, engineering, and math. We live in an overly rigid world, where people divide everything into camps of "good" and "bad," "right" and "wrong." There's a lack of gentleness, playfulness, open-mindedness, and open-heartedness. Admittedly, not all poets exhibit these qualities. But an appreciation of poetry can help foster the kind of openness we need today. I think the world would be a much better place if we'd give up obsessions with literal clarity.

​- Jay McDaniel

Communicating
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Some years ago, I began to read more poetry than philosophy. I was looking for truth. 

Not the truth of propositions or axioms or algorithms, but the truth of lived experience, and of important ideas that come in metaphors not abstractions. Poetry seemed to me then, and seems to me now, much closer to these kinds of truth.

Not all poetry, of course, but some poetry. There is, I guess, bad poetry. I will leave that to the critics. But there's a whole lot of good poetry, too, and it comes in many forms: sonnets, haikus, free verse, epics, ballads, odes, elegies, ghazals, villanelles, prose poems, and concrete poems. Admittedly I can't understand all of the poems I read, but there's something known in the lack of understanding. TS Eliot is famous for saying "Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood."

That makes sense to me. It makes sense that things don't have to make sense in order to make sense. Each time I use the phrase "make sense" in the previous sentence it has a slightly different meaning. The phrase is ambiguous. It makes sense only if you have a mind to sense the different meanings.


​- Jay McDaniel

Growing Up

I have colleagues who tolerate poetry but believe that philosophy is superior to poetry. They don't say it out loud, but I can sense it. In their view, philosophy is superior because it presents ideas more clearly, draws conclusions based on evidence rather than intuition, avoids leaving things unsaid, and steers clear of what, for them, is the most heinous of sins: ambiguity. They imagine truth as a clearly lit room with everything in place.

The funny thing is, the very aspects they dislike about poetry are the ones I appreciate. I find wisdom in vagueness, intuition, leaving things unsaid, and ambiguities. Recall the song Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell: "I've looked at clouds from both sides now, from up and down, and still somehow it's life's illusions I recall, I really don't know life at all."

The idea is that many things in life - clouds, for example - can be interpreted in multiple and sometimes conflicting ways, and that no interpretation is final or definitive because there's always another way to interpret it. Yes, sometimes there are clearly lit rooms, but sometimes it's best to welcome the clouds: the clouds above us and those within us and around us. Relationships don't have to be clear to be important. Their cloud-like nature makes them beautiful. If we are too clear about them, we lose them.

Whenever I try to advocate for the "both sides" perspective, some of my philosophically-minded colleagues bristle with disdain. They want one side or the other.  
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I have a friend, a poet himself, who believes that philosophy is an early and somewhat immature stage of thinking, exercised by people preoccupied with being "right" about things. It's the kind of thing people do when they are teenagers. Poetry, he says, is for a more mature mind, for someone who has grown up and grown out of the need to always be right. It is for the pliant mind, the flexible mind, the open mind.

If this is true, I sure wish some of my religious friends would grow up, including some theologians I know. Including some process theologians, and I am among them. I don't say this out loud to them. They - we - would bristle. My poet friend thinks we have not yet grown up.

In order to grow up you don't need to leave philosophy behind. You just need to set it side by side with poetry, seeing the wisdom of each. The wisdom of knowing and the wisdom of not knowing, the wisdom of saying and the wisdom of not saying, the wisdom of definitions and the wisdom beyond definitions, the wisdom of literal clarity and the wisdom of existential clarity, the wisdom of philosophy and the wisdom of poetry.

Imagine that the course of the universe is something like a Poet. She tolerates our need for literal clarity but yearns that we also walk in the unknown, accept ambiguity, leave some things unsaid, and think like Walt Whitman, recognizing the undefinable suchness of blades of grass. She lures us to think poetically.

​- Jay McDaniel

Can Chat GPT Think Poetically?
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I explained to a friend that I was developing this page, and he suggested that I check with ChatGPT. I wondered if ChatGPT can think poetically. I know it can write poetry, but I'm wondering if it can think in metaphors, irony, metonymy, and synecdoche. I knew that some people might not be familiar with the meanings of these terms, so I asked ChatGPT to define them:
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Metaphor is a figure of speech that draws a comparison between two seemingly unrelated things, highlighting their shared qualities or characteristics. It allows us to convey abstract concepts or emotions in a more vivid and imaginative manner. For example, saying "Her laughter is music to my ears" uses the metaphor of comparing laughter to the pleasant sounds of music.

Synecdoche is a figure of speech where a part of something is used to represent the whole or vice versa. It creates a rhetorical effect by using a specific element to symbolize the entire entity. An example would be saying "All hands on deck" to mean that everyone is needed to help, with "hands" representing the entire crew.

Irony is a literary device that involves using words or situations to convey a meaning that is the opposite of what is expected or intended. It often involves a sharp contrast between what is said and what is actually meant. For instance, saying "What a beautiful day!" during a heavy downpour of rain, where the situation contradicts the speaker's statement, is an example of verbal irony.
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Metonymy is a figure of speech that substitutes the name of an object or concept with a word or phrase closely associated with it. It allows for a more concise or evocative expression. An example of metonymy would be saying "The pen is mightier than the sword," where "pen" stands for written words or literature, and "sword" symbolizes violence or warfare.

​I then asked ChatGPT to write a short poem using all four. Here's the poem:
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​In a metaphorical tapestry, our tale unfurls,
Synecdoche, irony, metonymy, the poet twirls.
A dance of words, imbued with hidden grace,
Each figure of speech, finding its rightful place.

Metaphor's embrace, a vivid stroke of art,
With imagery bold, it ignites the heart.
Like whispered secrets, between soul and sky,
It links the seen and unseen, where dreams lie.

Synecdoche whispers, a fragment's refrain,
A part for the whole, a poetic domain.
A drop of rain, speaking of the storm's might,
A fleeting glimpse, revealing truths in sight.

Irony chuckles, its laughter veiled and sly,
A twist of fate, where truth and jest comply.
A tearful smile, a comedy veiled in tears,
Life's bitter irony, through the passing years.

Metonymy beckons, with its subtle sway,
Words that stand, for what they convey.
​A crown that signifies a royal reign,
Or a pen that weaves worlds, with its writer's gain.

In this poetic tapestry, they intertwine,
Metaphor, synecdoche, irony, and metonymy align.
A symphony of figures, a poet's delight,
They paint the canvas of language, day and night.

​I don't think this poem would pass the test of the literary critic. It's too overt and clunky. Too obedient to my request. I then asked ChatGPT if poetry is superior to philosophy. There it was more at home, offering a prosaic response, but filled with wisdom. 
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​The question of the superiority of poetry over philosophy, or vice versa, is a subjective matter and often depends on personal preferences and perspectives. While both poetry and philosophy are distinct disciplines, they can also intersect and complement each other in various ways. However, here are a few arguments that some individuals might present in favor of the superiority of poetry:

Emotional resonance: Poetry has a unique ability to evoke emotions and create deep emotional connections with readers. It can touch the human soul in a way that philosophy, which often deals with abstract concepts and logical reasoning, may struggle to achieve. Through its use of metaphor, imagery, and rhythm, poetry taps into the realm of emotions and can convey complex experiences that go beyond the limitations of philosophical discourse.

Intuition and ambiguity: Poetry often embraces ambiguity and allows for multiple interpretations. It recognizes that life and human experiences cannot always be neatly categorized or explained by rational thinking alone. In contrast, philosophy tends to seek clarity and logical coherence in its arguments. The openness and fluidity of poetry can provide a space for personal reflection, subjective interpretations, and intuitive understanding, which may be seen as a valuable aspect of its superiority.

Aesthetic experience: Poetry is highly regarded for its aesthetic qualities, such as its use of language, rhythm, and sound. The artistry of poetry can elevate the reading experience and create a sensory engagement with the text. Philosophy, on the other hand, primarily focuses on the conceptual exploration of ideas and arguments, often employing a more systematic and analytical approach. The aesthetic appeal of poetry can be seen as a unique quality that distinguishes it from the more rational and logical nature of philosophy.

Communicating complex ideas: While philosophy often relies on logical arguments and explicit reasoning to convey ideas, poetry can capture and express complex thoughts and emotions in a condensed and metaphorical manner. Through the use of symbolism and figurative language, poetry can encapsulate profound philosophical concepts and make them more accessible to a broader audience. Poetry's ability to condense complex ideas into evocative and memorable language can be seen as an advantage over the sometimes dense and technical nature of philosophical discourse.

It's important to note that these arguments don't suggest that poetry is inherently superior to philosophy. Both disciplines have their unique strengths and contributions to human understanding. Ultimately, the value and preference for one over the other depend on individual perspectives, interests, and the purpose one seeks from engaging with these forms of expression and inquiry."

​I appreciate this answer. I've borrowed from it above. Admittedly, its manner of explanation is very philosophical, not poetic. I don't think ChatGPT can think poetically, at least not yet. There's a lesson here: you can make a case for the superiority of poetry over philosophy in a clear, non-poetic way. In truth, this is what I want to say. There are ways in which poetry is superior to philosophy and theology and ways in which they can partner to the benefit of each. 

​- Jay McDaniel

The Courage to be Vague
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I borrow the idea that poetic thinking consists of synecdoche, metonymy, irony, and metaphor from Harold Bloom's introduction to "The Art of Reading Poetry" in his book "The Best Poems of the English Language: From Chaucer through Robert Frost." Bloom himself borrowed this concept from Kenneth Burke, a scholar of rhetoric, who referred to them as the four "tropes" or figures of poetry. Bloom demonstrates that different poets excel in different tropes among these four, and there is no obligation for a poet to employ all four. However, when combined, these four tropes offer an understanding of poetic thinking, You do not have to be a poet to think in metaphors or to think ironically. It is not necessary to be a poet to perceive wholes within parts or to recognize connections.

This manner of thinking is available to everyone. However, we live in a time when poetic thinking has been neglected due to an excessive emphasis on prosaic thinking. It is the task, and possibly the responsibility, of philosophers and theologians to help rectify this situation. If they choose to do so, they must have the courage to be vague; to possess multiple perspectives, even contradictory ones; to see the entirety of the universe in a grain of sand or a blackbird, and to encourage others to do the same.

In "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird," Wallace Stevens presents thirteen different glimpses of a blackbird, each capturing a distinct and elusive aspect of its presence. He embraces ambiguity and invites readers to contemplate the diverse interpretations and meanings that can arise from different perspectives. Here is an excerpt from the poem:

I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.

There is something wondrous and beautiful in not confining a glimpse of a blackbird, or anything else, to just one interpretation. This way of seeing acknowledges that the universe is filled with potentiality as well as actuality, with the undecided as well as the decided, with poetry as well as prose. Such a universe is poetic indeed. Process theology tells us that is a universe sorely loved by an imaginative Poet whose own mind and heart thinks poetically. Even for this Poet the future is undecided. The Poet is Imagination with an upper case I. She knows that there are thirteen ways of looking at a blackbird, none solidified into a final answer. We are made in this Poet's image.

​- Jay McDaniel