The word philosophy sounds high-minded, but it simply means the

Hugh Jackman, though an actor of the stage, speaks here as one who knows the drama of the soul: “The word philosophy sounds high-minded, but it simply means the love of wisdom. If you love something, you don't just read about it; you hug it, you mess with it, you play with it, you argue with it.” In this saying, he strips away the ivory tower’s coldness and restores philosophy to its true heart: not a dry discipline, but a living love of wisdom. For what we love, we do not treat as a distant idol—we embrace it, wrestle with it, let it shape us as fire shapes iron.

The ancients themselves knew this well. The word philosophy, from philo (love) and sophia (wisdom), was never meant to signify lifeless abstraction. Socrates lived it in the marketplace, questioning, teasing, arguing with his fellow citizens, “playing” with ideas until truth emerged. He did not worship wisdom from afar; he held it close, sometimes roughly, but always faithfully. Jackman’s words echo this original spirit: to truly love wisdom is to engage it with passion, with struggle, even with joy.

History bears witness in the life of Augustine of Hippo. He did not merely read about God and truth; he argued with them, resisted them, and even fled from them. Yet in the wrestling came transformation, for his love of wisdom would not let him rest until he embraced it fully. His Confessions show that wisdom is not for the passive reader, but for the seeker who dares to wrestle with the eternal as Jacob wrestled with the angel.

Jackman also reminds us that love is active, not passive. To “hug it, mess with it, play with it” is to give oneself wholly to the thing beloved. As lovers of music do not only study notes but lose themselves in song, so lovers of wisdom do not merely read, but live, breathe, and embody it. To love philosophy is to let it seep into daily life, to test it in trial, to laugh with it in joy, and to argue with it in doubt.

Let the generations remember: wisdom is not a fragile relic but a living companion. To love it is to engage it fiercely and tenderly, to let it challenge, comfort, and transform. Those who only admire it from afar will never taste its sweetness. But those who embrace it with their whole being—like lovers, like children at play, like wrestlers locked in contest—will find that wisdom, once embraced, never lets them go.