Chapter II presents a fundamental shift in how philosophy might approach life—not as something to be dissected from a distance, but as something to be encountered directly through lived time. Henri Bergson proposes that the essence of existence can only be grasped by immersing oneself in the continuity of experience, what he calls duration. Unlike fixed ideas or systems, duration unfolds, reflecting the natural flow of consciousness and life itself. Bergson sees this not just as a metaphysical insight, but as a necessary condition for meaningful reflection. Traditional philosophy, which often seeks clarity through abstraction, risks cutting away the very vitality it hopes to explain. Instead of defining life through structure, he encourages a return to its movement. This makes philosophy less a static system and more a practice of aligning thought with the rhythms of real experience.

The value of this approach becomes clearer when contrasted with other ways of thinking. Bergson draws a line between common sense and good sense. Common sense, though functional, responds to life in simplified, often repetitive patterns, shaped by immediate needs. It thrives on categories, habits, and shortcuts that support daily survival. Good sense, in contrast, opens the door to deeper understanding. It resists the urge to simplify and instead embraces the richness and complexity of what unfolds. Bergson’s philosophy relies on this good sense, which allows the mind to approach life without forcing it into predefined molds. By doing so, he reveals an alternate method of knowing—one not grounded in external measurements but in internal participation. This is not irrationalism but a more refined form of intelligence that learns from reality as it flows.

At the heart of this method lies a profound trust in intuition—not as a vague feeling, but as a focused, disciplined engagement with what is immediate. Bergson believes that intuition allows us to grasp the inner quality of things, something analysis alone cannot reach. When we analyze, we stop the flow of time and divide it into artificial segments. But real life doesn’t come in pieces—it arrives whole, unfolding from moment to moment without repetition. To understand it, we must resist the temptation to freeze it. We must enter its rhythm, not just stand back and observe. This demand for intuitive contact challenges the authority of scientific knowledge, which Bergson sees as built on practical simplifications. Science, though immensely useful, trades depth for precision. It gains control but loses contact.

Bergson’s critique of scientific reasoning is not a rejection of its value but a call to recognize its limits. Science is rooted in a perspective shaped by utility. It constructs models of the world that help us act, build, and measure, but it doesn’t necessarily help us understand life in its fullness. It breaks experience into parts, then examines those parts without restoring the whole. That method works well in the physical world, but it falls short in matters of consciousness, freedom, and existence. By contrast, philosophy—at least the kind Bergson champions—must be grounded in the uninterrupted flow of life itself. Rather than simplifying, it deepens. Rather than controlling, it connects. This is not a retreat from thought, but a transformation of its direction.

The power of Bergson’s insight lies in how it reframes the purpose of philosophy itself. Rather than offering conclusions, he offers a way to think that mirrors the openness of life. Philosophy, in his model, is not a warehouse of truths but a lens through which experience becomes clearer, richer, and more meaningful. It does not require stepping outside of life to judge it, but stepping more fully into it to feel its truth. The philosopher’s job is not to replace the world with ideas, but to bring thought closer to the world’s movement. This perspective turns philosophy into a lived practice—one that anyone can engage with if they are willing to slow down and listen. In this slowing down, something extraordinary happens: life itself becomes the teacher, and thought becomes its careful witness.

Bergson’s chapter ultimately calls for a return to immediacy, a refusal to let philosophy grow cold behind abstractions. By anchoring thought in the continuous flow of duration, he restores its warmth and humanity. This view transforms not only how we think but how we live—calling us to remain present, intuitive, and responsive to the life that is always unfolding within and around us.