03-29-2023, 10:20 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-29-2023, 11:26 PM by Rubaiyyat.)
Disappearing the gods
Disappearing the gods
Associative reasoning—the kind that brought many of our ancient forebears to believe that the stars made it rain simply because they’d noticed certain stars invariably climbing over the eastern horizon at the start of the rainy season—sometimes brings about erroneous beliefs, as in our example; but then, further experience will eventually cause some to realize that there’s something wrong with their reasoning, ultimately bringing them to turn reason inward upon itself in search of just where it went awry.
And so it is with the belief in a Creator.
Step by careful step along the path that leads to this belief, we can easily make that disappear.
As one looks about the world, then, we see various objects. Over there, a chair; near that, a glass; somewhere nearby, some eating utensils; in the mirror, oneself objectified and according to one’s birth certificate, called—well, whatever. And all of these ‘things’ are different, right?
Well, yes and no. The thing that we called a ‘chair’ is just part of a tree that itself is part of what we’ve come to know as simply nature, whose wood in this case has has been cut into assorted pieces and then assembled into a utilitarian object that we’ve come to know as a ‘chair’—albeit others know the same thing as a stuhl. silla, krzesło, कुर्सी (kursee), and so forth. In other words, in the Big Picture, this form of the tree has no ‘real’ name and is ultimately unknowable unless one knows what nature itself is.
And the same goes for everything else that we mentioned. In fact, one is helpless to think of anything at all—especially oneself—that doesn’t ultimately trace back to just ‘nature’; whatever nature is! One thing alone do we know: in our human experience, nature is the ultimate reality, and the myriad forms that it takes, including all of our utilitarian creations, are ultimately just so much inexplicable phenomena.
So now let’s ask a really stupid question—stupid because to anyone who agrees with the above assessment of reality, it makes no sense whatever: Ultimately, what am I? You see, ‘whatness’ only makes sense where there’s multiplicity and names are merely useful creations for distingushing one thing from another; where there is no ‘other’, the idea of whatness is just an embarrassing brain-fart.
Ditto the question, Ultimately, where am I? Please. Have you ever been lost in a forest? You weren’t lost because you didn’t know where you were; you knew exactly where you were—you just didn’t know where you were in relation to anything else, or to something ‘other’ in your experience. Whereness too requires something other in order to make sense—the word has no other meaning. In the context of the ultimate, it’s just another helpless, habit-driven brain-fart.
Ultimately, when am I? But of course, you can’t ask that either. You may be so many hours, days, weeks, months, or years from some past event or anticipated future event, sure; but without some other point in time to which you might relate yourself, or in a world where you know of no ‘other’, the idea of a whenness about it all makes no sense, is ultimately absurd.
So now for the Big Question—Ultimately, why am I, or why do I exist? And here comes the good news. Ultimately, without any ‘other’, you’re free to exist for whatever reason or purpose that suits you—bearing in mind, of course, an ancient Jewish comment on life that goes something like this: Hey, the world is yours, take or do whatever you want; just remember that everything has a price, and you’d better be prepared to pay it.
Or as an old Zen koan goes, What’s the sound of one hand clapping? That is, in the context of the ultimate, there’s really no second or ‘other’ hand. Your brain simply invents one, at least at first, since reason can only function in a context where there’s a second point or ‘other’ to which it might relate.
Which brings to mind the gist of a book written early in the last century by the progressive Austrian theologian and political activist Martin Buber. Called I and Thou, it posits that many people staring into the darkness of their own ultimate ignorance about life see only their own shadow reflected back at them, and trying to understand it through reason, are helplessly brought to address the shadow as thou.
And so it is with the belief in a Creator.
Step by careful step along the path that leads to this belief, we can easily make that disappear.
As one looks about the world, then, we see various objects. Over there, a chair; near that, a glass; somewhere nearby, some eating utensils; in the mirror, oneself objectified and according to one’s birth certificate, called—well, whatever. And all of these ‘things’ are different, right?
Well, yes and no. The thing that we called a ‘chair’ is just part of a tree that itself is part of what we’ve come to know as simply nature, whose wood in this case has has been cut into assorted pieces and then assembled into a utilitarian object that we’ve come to know as a ‘chair’—albeit others know the same thing as a stuhl. silla, krzesło, कुर्सी (kursee), and so forth. In other words, in the Big Picture, this form of the tree has no ‘real’ name and is ultimately unknowable unless one knows what nature itself is.
And the same goes for everything else that we mentioned. In fact, one is helpless to think of anything at all—especially oneself—that doesn’t ultimately trace back to just ‘nature’; whatever nature is! One thing alone do we know: in our human experience, nature is the ultimate reality, and the myriad forms that it takes, including all of our utilitarian creations, are ultimately just so much inexplicable phenomena.
So now let’s ask a really stupid question—stupid because to anyone who agrees with the above assessment of reality, it makes no sense whatever: Ultimately, what am I? You see, ‘whatness’ only makes sense where there’s multiplicity and names are merely useful creations for distingushing one thing from another; where there is no ‘other’, the idea of whatness is just an embarrassing brain-fart.
Ditto the question, Ultimately, where am I? Please. Have you ever been lost in a forest? You weren’t lost because you didn’t know where you were; you knew exactly where you were—you just didn’t know where you were in relation to anything else, or to something ‘other’ in your experience. Whereness too requires something other in order to make sense—the word has no other meaning. In the context of the ultimate, it’s just another helpless, habit-driven brain-fart.
Ultimately, when am I? But of course, you can’t ask that either. You may be so many hours, days, weeks, months, or years from some past event or anticipated future event, sure; but without some other point in time to which you might relate yourself, or in a world where you know of no ‘other’, the idea of a whenness about it all makes no sense, is ultimately absurd.
So now for the Big Question—Ultimately, why am I, or why do I exist? And here comes the good news. Ultimately, without any ‘other’, you’re free to exist for whatever reason or purpose that suits you—bearing in mind, of course, an ancient Jewish comment on life that goes something like this: Hey, the world is yours, take or do whatever you want; just remember that everything has a price, and you’d better be prepared to pay it.
Or as an old Zen koan goes, What’s the sound of one hand clapping? That is, in the context of the ultimate, there’s really no second or ‘other’ hand. Your brain simply invents one, at least at first, since reason can only function in a context where there’s a second point or ‘other’ to which it might relate.
Which brings to mind the gist of a book written early in the last century by the progressive Austrian theologian and political activist Martin Buber. Called I and Thou, it posits that many people staring into the darkness of their own ultimate ignorance about life see only their own shadow reflected back at them, and trying to understand it through reason, are helplessly brought to address the shadow as thou.
There never was a false god, unless you consider a child a false person. - Max Müeller (1823-1900)
![[Image: Life-is-full-of-questions-Idiots-are-ful...nswers.jpg]](https://i.postimg.cc/tT1zWmg4/Life-is-full-of-questions-Idiots-are-full-of-answers.jpg)
