For your consideration
Nov. 4th, 2005 04:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
featherynscaleI present for your consideration Jon Carroll's column for 11/2. This is the Unitarian Jihad guy. He does a column every day. Like Mark Morford, whose shoes he is apparently filling at the SF Chronicle (maybe?), he's a little hit-or-miss. But on this day, I think he hits. He's talking about the idea of what is real and how we deal with that. I think it's worth my time. I hope it's worth yours.
It's a lie that we have all agreed to tell. It is useful to keep telling it, but it's also useful to remember that it's a lie.
About 10 years ago I realized that my idea of reality was changing. It was as though I were in a room, an ordinary square room with a sofa and a table and floor lamp, and slowly all the edges began separating. Slowly the walls pulled away from the floor and the ceiling, and the walls pulled away from each other. I could see something between the cracks.
For want of a better word, I called the space outside the walls "sky."
The existence of neat gashes in reality did not bother me. It was metaphorical; it had nothing to do with my ability to function. All the actual rooms I was in were solid enough; it's just that the Big Room was slowly drifting away from itself, piece by piece. Everything was normal, except the smears of sky at every right angle in the room.
Reality is not as real as we think it is. I am not prepared to say that all life is an illusion -- although some people are prepared to say that -- but some of life is an illusion. Or, if this works for you better, it's a construct. It's an imposition of order where none exists.
From money to minutes, from borders to bullion -- it's all something we made up. There do not have to be 60 minutes in an hour, any more than there have to be 24 hours in a day. A day itself is a little more real. Earth spins, sun appears, sun goes away. A year is realer still.
It's useful sometimes to remember that the phrase "I've been waiting 20 minutes" doesn't really mean anything. It's just a piece of the sky. Or: It's a way of describing your state of mind.
Why does gold have value? There are rarer things; there are prettier things. Gold has value because we have agreed that gold has value. It's a good thing to keep agreeing on. Why do diamonds have value? They don't, actually, as you know if you've ever tried to sell one. Diamonds are an expression of your state of mind. Diamonds are forever. So is the sky.
As I watched the room of reality drift apart, I came to believe that all illusions were the same illusion. They were all rituals. Like all rituals, they have meaning if everyone agrees that they have meaning. We hold hands and we summon the spirits. Whether you believe that the spirits come is an expression of your state of mind.
As I watched the room of reality drift apart, I came to appreciate ritual more. I developed a thirst for meaningless rituals. That is: meaningless to me; rituals that did not express my state of mind. I occasionally stand in places where people pray, and I pray right along with them because praying is cool. Praying is a way of saying hello. Praying is a way of talking about the sky.
What is real to you is not real to me. Your mother loves you, and that's real to you. You depend on it. It keeps the sky away. I don't even know your mother. I don't know whether she loves you, and it would not mean anything to me if she did. I'd be happy for you, but in terms of the sky: no. It's one of the many invisible things that I have agreed to believe in order to get through the day.
I am puzzled by very religious people who have a problem with science, just as I am troubled by very scientific people who have a problem with religion. You've got super string theory; you've got the ghosts of ancestors walking the earth. For me, in my room, they are the same thing. How can I ever say that I know anything, when the only room I've ever known is drifting apart?
Super string theory will change when new evidence is discovered. The theory concerning the reality of ghosts will probably not change because it is not a reality-based reality. That is an important distinction in many ways, but none of the ways have to do with the walls, or the sky, or the chanting of old men in the ancient forests.
I am troubled by people who want to tell me that the room is not drifting apart. They mean: Their rooms are not drifting apart. That is fine; I am happy if that gives you comfort. I am, however, no longer uncomfortable with the sky. If that was your intention in telling me how firm a foundation the room has, then fear not: I'm OK. I'm happy with my conditional reality. It gives me room to breathe.
I believe that there are people who do good things and people who do bad things, and we should embrace one and reject the other. Whether the people are "really good" or "really bad" is not for me to say. I can punch them in the nose, but I cannot inquire about their souls. Their souls are part of the sky, and the sky goes on forever.
It's a lie that we have all agreed to tell. It is useful to keep telling it, but it's also useful to remember that it's a lie.
About 10 years ago I realized that my idea of reality was changing. It was as though I were in a room, an ordinary square room with a sofa and a table and floor lamp, and slowly all the edges began separating. Slowly the walls pulled away from the floor and the ceiling, and the walls pulled away from each other. I could see something between the cracks.
For want of a better word, I called the space outside the walls "sky."
The existence of neat gashes in reality did not bother me. It was metaphorical; it had nothing to do with my ability to function. All the actual rooms I was in were solid enough; it's just that the Big Room was slowly drifting away from itself, piece by piece. Everything was normal, except the smears of sky at every right angle in the room.
Reality is not as real as we think it is. I am not prepared to say that all life is an illusion -- although some people are prepared to say that -- but some of life is an illusion. Or, if this works for you better, it's a construct. It's an imposition of order where none exists.
From money to minutes, from borders to bullion -- it's all something we made up. There do not have to be 60 minutes in an hour, any more than there have to be 24 hours in a day. A day itself is a little more real. Earth spins, sun appears, sun goes away. A year is realer still.
It's useful sometimes to remember that the phrase "I've been waiting 20 minutes" doesn't really mean anything. It's just a piece of the sky. Or: It's a way of describing your state of mind.
Why does gold have value? There are rarer things; there are prettier things. Gold has value because we have agreed that gold has value. It's a good thing to keep agreeing on. Why do diamonds have value? They don't, actually, as you know if you've ever tried to sell one. Diamonds are an expression of your state of mind. Diamonds are forever. So is the sky.
As I watched the room of reality drift apart, I came to believe that all illusions were the same illusion. They were all rituals. Like all rituals, they have meaning if everyone agrees that they have meaning. We hold hands and we summon the spirits. Whether you believe that the spirits come is an expression of your state of mind.
As I watched the room of reality drift apart, I came to appreciate ritual more. I developed a thirst for meaningless rituals. That is: meaningless to me; rituals that did not express my state of mind. I occasionally stand in places where people pray, and I pray right along with them because praying is cool. Praying is a way of saying hello. Praying is a way of talking about the sky.
What is real to you is not real to me. Your mother loves you, and that's real to you. You depend on it. It keeps the sky away. I don't even know your mother. I don't know whether she loves you, and it would not mean anything to me if she did. I'd be happy for you, but in terms of the sky: no. It's one of the many invisible things that I have agreed to believe in order to get through the day.
I am puzzled by very religious people who have a problem with science, just as I am troubled by very scientific people who have a problem with religion. You've got super string theory; you've got the ghosts of ancestors walking the earth. For me, in my room, they are the same thing. How can I ever say that I know anything, when the only room I've ever known is drifting apart?
Super string theory will change when new evidence is discovered. The theory concerning the reality of ghosts will probably not change because it is not a reality-based reality. That is an important distinction in many ways, but none of the ways have to do with the walls, or the sky, or the chanting of old men in the ancient forests.
I am troubled by people who want to tell me that the room is not drifting apart. They mean: Their rooms are not drifting apart. That is fine; I am happy if that gives you comfort. I am, however, no longer uncomfortable with the sky. If that was your intention in telling me how firm a foundation the room has, then fear not: I'm OK. I'm happy with my conditional reality. It gives me room to breathe.
I believe that there are people who do good things and people who do bad things, and we should embrace one and reject the other. Whether the people are "really good" or "really bad" is not for me to say. I can punch them in the nose, but I cannot inquire about their souls. Their souls are part of the sky, and the sky goes on forever.
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Nifty
Date: 2005-11-04 10:06 pm (UTC)Thanks!
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