Chap­ter I opens with a reflec­tion on how Hen­ri Bergson’s thought marks a turn­ing point in mod­ern phi­los­o­phy, par­tic­u­lar­ly in how we approach con­scious­ness, real­i­ty, and the sacred. His work intro­duces a way of think­ing that does not begin with def­i­n­i­tions or log­i­cal premis­es but with life itself—moving, chang­ing, and cre­at­ing. Berg­son places intu­ition and imag­i­na­tion at the cen­ter of philo­soph­i­cal inquiry, offer­ing an alter­na­tive to the ster­ile detach­ment often found in rigid ratio­nal­ism. Though he does not write the­ol­o­gy, his ideas stir ques­tions about the divine and the spir­i­tu­al. He sug­gests that real­i­ty is not some­thing to be dis­sect­ed but some­thing to be entered, felt, and cre­at­ed with. This shift in approach opens space for a more inti­mate, imag­i­na­tive way of under­stand­ing existence—one that res­onates with the spir­i­tu­al core of human life.

Bergson’s influ­ence grew at a time when sci­ence seemed to dom­i­nate intel­lec­tu­al dis­course, offer­ing cer­tain­ty through mea­sure­ment and struc­ture. Yet for many, this frame­work left some­thing out—life’s inner vital­i­ty, its capac­i­ty to sur­prise, its emo­tion­al weight. Berg­son answers this by call­ing for a phi­los­o­phy root­ed in expe­ri­ence, not for­mu­las. He does not reject sci­ence but believes it is one way among many to know the world. What sci­ence miss­es, he says, is the cre­ative move­ment that defines liv­ing beings. This move­ment can­not be cap­tured by analy­sis alone. Bergson’s phi­los­o­phy thus becomes an invi­ta­tion: to turn inward, to notice the qui­et flow of intu­ition, and to find knowl­edge not only in facts but in the pulse of exis­tence itself.

In exam­in­ing life’s move­ment, Berg­son intro­duces the con­cept of cre­ative evolution—a view that regards time not as a back­drop but as a force. Unlike the mechan­i­cal mod­els of Dar­win­ism, which focus on adap­ta­tion through neces­si­ty, Berg­son sees evo­lu­tion as dri­ven by an inner impulse—a élan vital—that push­es life toward new forms and expres­sions. This isn’t ran­dom­ness, nor is it fixed design. It is cre­ation, unfold­ing moment by moment. This view has impli­ca­tions beyond biol­o­gy. If life evolves cre­ative­ly, then so must con­scious­ness, moral­i­ty, and even spir­i­tu­al under­stand­ing. Bergson’s thought opens the pos­si­bil­i­ty that human aware­ness itself is unfin­ished, always mov­ing toward deep­er forms of insight. In this light, spir­i­tu­al­i­ty becomes not a doc­trine to accept but an expe­ri­ence to grow into.

The ear­ly sec­tions of the chap­ter also high­light Bergson’s method­ol­o­gy, which resists con­struct­ing sys­tems. Instead, he val­ues approach over out­come. His phi­los­o­phy is like a path, meant to be walked rather than mapped. Each step tak­en through his writ­ing aims to bring the read­er clos­er to life’s essence—not through expla­na­tion but through felt under­stand­ing. This style demands patience, because it does not offer imme­di­ate con­clu­sions. But for those who per­sist, it reveals a new way of think­ing that is as trans­for­ma­tive as it is philo­soph­i­cal. The goal is not sim­ply to “know” more but to expe­ri­ence real­i­ty more deeply and with greater free­dom.

The chap­ter also cri­tiques the lim­i­ta­tions of pure­ly ana­lyt­i­cal rea­son­ing, espe­cial­ly when used to explain con­scious­ness. Berg­son argues that break­ing the mind into parts—sensation, mem­o­ry, logic—misses the essen­tial con­ti­nu­ity of thought. Con­scious­ness, he sug­gests, is not built from blocks but flows like a melody. Each note mat­ters, but only in rela­tion to what comes before and after. This musi­cal metaphor reflects his belief that phi­los­o­phy must be sen­si­tive to move­ment, rhythm, and unfold­ing. What mat­ters most can’t be frozen in place—it must be lived. This view chal­lenges the dom­i­nance of analy­sis and pro­pos­es a broad­er vision that includes intu­ition, emo­tion, and direct expe­ri­ence as valid sources of knowl­edge.

At a time when many thinkers were los­ing faith in old­er forms of belief and cer­tain­ty, Berg­son offered a new foundation—one that embraced uncer­tain­ty not as fail­ure but as free­dom. He helped shift the con­ver­sa­tion from rigid cat­e­gories to lived real­i­ties, from expla­na­tion to par­tic­i­pa­tion. His influ­ence reach­es beyond phi­los­o­phy, shap­ing lit­er­a­ture, psy­chol­o­gy, and even reli­gious thought. Not because he offers answers, but because he reframes the ques­tions. Rather than ask what life is, he asks how it moves, how it feels, how it cre­ates. And that question—how life creates—becomes the start­ing point for a phi­los­o­phy that remains alive.

In sum­ma­ry, this chap­ter lays the ground­work for a way of think­ing that hon­ors life’s com­plex­i­ty with­out try­ing to sim­pli­fy it. Berg­son offers a vision where truth is not out­side us, wait­ing to be found, but with­in us, wait­ing to be lived. Through his explo­ration of time, evo­lu­tion, and con­scious­ness, he reminds us that phi­los­o­phy is not just a dis­ci­pline of the mind—it is a move­ment of the soul toward greater under­stand­ing. His lega­cy is a liv­ing one, invit­ing each read­er not just to think dif­fer­ent­ly, but to feel and live more ful­ly in the world.