Seth Tichenor
Co-founder, Philosofarian
Seth keeps a steamer trunk in his home library—so large it serves as a table in the conversation area where he studies, usually stacked with whatever books he's currently poring over. Inside are thank-you notes from three decades of teaching: letters from students, colleagues, parents, and community members. "The letters remind me," he says, "of how much of the possibility of the world opens up to all of us when thinking and philosophy is shared, and we grow and continue growing into what we might be as we pass through life, thought, experience, and time." The trunk isn't a trophy case. It's a reminder of what education can be when it serves growth rather than credentials, connection rather than assessment.
Philosophy as a Way of Being
Seth didn't choose philosophy—it chose him. At three or four years old, he held two mirrors together, watching the reflections cascade infinitely inward, and wondered if this said something about what it means to exist. He felt sad knowing he would never see himself as others saw him. By college at Linfield, his roommate Kris had figured him out: "You could've been studying accounting and you still would've been studying philosophy, you just would've been studying the philosophy of accounting. You can't help yourself. It's just the way you approach the world."
He went to Boston University to study theology and philosophy of religion—not to analyze religious ideas from a distance, but to understand how logic and insight held up for people "who had skin in the game as it were." He wanted to see what could happen through religious consciousness by virtue of understanding deeply. At the University of Hawaii at Manoa, he pursued comparative philosophy, discovering that many seemingly intractable problems in Western philosophy could be addressed, even dissolved, by bringing in methods and insights from classical Asian philosophical traditions.
The Unfinished Doctorate
Seth left his PhD dissertation unfinished—a decision that perplexed some colleagues but clarified everything for him. The work was on "The Concept of the Guru and Teaching the Unteachable in Advaita Vedanta." Somewhere in the midst of writing it, he realized that scholarship was merely a means to an end in service of his teaching and evangelizing for philosophy as a basic part of life. Yes, evangelizing—he's committed to that word. Finishing the PhD would have meant committing to a path where scholarship came first and teaching served the CV. "I was beginning to realize," he reflects, "that I was on a different path from that of a traditional academic philosopher."
Teacher, Not Scholar
The distinction matters to Seth. A scholar, he explains, "works out, analyzes, and understands ideas for their own sake. They drive knowledge forward and often blaze intellectual trails where no one has gone before." A teacher "looks back to the intellectual, emotional, and cultural situation of the students who follow him... considers what can be done to move them, by their own power, towards the horizon of what he knows." The goal isn't to replicate the teacher's understanding but to help other minds "come to be more of what they may be in the pursuit and movement of themselves, and for their own understanding."
In practice, this means Seth thinks of himself as a fellow traveler on someone's road of inquiry rather than an expert dispensing wisdom. He's drawn to finding analogies and metaphors that make ideas naturally accessible without jargon. "I find many people intellectually lonely," he says, "and often a bit adrift in their thinking. They usually appreciate someone who can think through things with them, simply for the sake of an idea that they care about, and help them have insight as a consequence—an insight that they are pleased to find comes as much from their own power, as from my capacity to help them find that power."
The Betrayal
Over his teaching career, Seth watched something break in higher education. Students arrived spread so thin across work and activities that they couldn't bring themselves fully to an intellectual pursuit. Many told him they wished they could ask deeper questions and have richer conversations—they just didn't feel they had permission. "I came to think," Seth reflects, "that they felt in some sense betrayed by their education, but that betrayal was so deep and recursive that, ironically, they didn't even have the time, space, or wherewithal to name it."
Meanwhile, the institutions themselves abandoned even the pretense of caring about teaching. Course evaluations disappeared. Deans encouraged him to sacrifice teaching time for publishing and committee work. "The problem I have," Seth says, "is when an institution that is supposedly devoted to teaching sacrifices its teachers' work, expertise, well-being, and success simply to perpetuate itself as an institution." Educational institutions, he concluded, weren't especially good places for teachers to practice their craft anymore. Something had to change.
The Philosafari
In 2012, Seth and Gad Perez took a road trip they called a "Philosafari"—part Lewis and Clark's Corps of Discovery, part Don Quixote, part On the Road. Their mission was simple: have as many philosophical conversations with as many kinds of people in as many places as possible. But what that mission was supposed to achieve remained "an open and evolving question throughout the Philosafari."
They discovered that people were thinking far more than anyone imagined. A server in Astoria wondered whether celebrity had replaced the mythological hero in modern life—she was part of the inspiration to make Astoria Philosofarian's headquarters. A former gang member speculated that all thoughts that have been, are, and will be exist in eternity but manifest through history. An insurance agent believed liberty was a counterfeit concept used to keep people working against their own interests. "Most people have profundity somewhere in their lives," Seth reflects, "and that profundity forces them to reflect in meaningful ways about themselves and the world they live in. The problem is it's very hard to get profundity or reflections upon it to come out in the ordinary circumstances people find themselves in."
The trick was asking philosophically tinted questions about things people were already interested in. At a certain point in each conversation, something unique or mysterious or paradoxical would arise. Then, invariably, the person would "cock their head slightly to the side, get a somewhat far-off look in their eye, and say 'that's a really good question.'" When that happened, Seth knew the Philosafarians had brought another person into the conversation and into the project.
Creating Philosofarian
Gad's encouragement was essential. Without it, Seth says, he never would have left the institution—unless it was to go to Thailand and live in a monastery. Together, they built Philosofarian as a space where teaching could actually serve people rather than institutions, where philosophy could be shared as John Dewey described education: "not preparation for life but life itself."
Today, Seth continues his work as a fellow traveler in others' thinking. He's currently writing a book on freedom, bringing together his comparative philosophy background with his commitment to making philosophy accessible. The steamer trunk keeps filling with notes—reminders that when people are given space to think deeply about ideas that matter to them, the possibility of the world opens up.
For Seth, this is what it means to evangelize for philosophy as a basic part of life: not preaching at people about what they should think, but walking alongside them as they discover what they already know, and what they might yet become..