Nagel
Tom Nagel has published another philosophical work challening the dominant pragmatic realism that has imperialized science and social life. Basically I think he's saying since we can't explain consciousness and since we're apparently bound by its perspectives, we need a new one. It's obvious we can't explain life, where we and the universe came from, time and most anything we're really interested in. Total explanation precludes interest, which is to say mystery, the thrill of the hunt, the search, the journey. And what system can explain this? A recursive one. Godel's incompleteness theorem, Dirac's unitary hypothesis, fractals all suggest to me an approach to Logos. The All looking into our mind's eye peering into its. Our God is a living, loving God. And this cosmos is an illusion built for our delectation and edification. This moment is our only reality, and it, too, is a portal to God knows what and everything else. You can't grasp it. Be Aware, Be Aware....of wild eyes and floating hair. O that Dionysian rag. But I digress.
This journey is so beyond our ability to grasp it that there comes a tendency to idolize ourselves and our systems and shibboleths. Pain, or the fear of pain, seems to become the Other that diminishes us. Take arms against a vale of tears and....who wants to become a millionaire??!! Who doesn't? It's hard to remember we've all won the lottery by being conceived. In short, the journey to our next destination is a tough one for most of us. Hence, our idol worship. For some reason, Peter Horton screwing around on Michelle Pfeiffer comes to mind. And Queen Bees Perelman and Gagosian going at it. May the best man's lawyers win. And barring that, the best men's media-military-industrial-financial (ser)vices complex. And their running dogs.
Somehow this leads me to the question of why great art about current events is so rare. Probably because the recursive function is so difficult to apply to the moment at hand. Perfection in the life OR the work, Pater wrote. Gurus are the exception. I sometimes remember that great Canadian tenor, whose name escapes me, who said something like, "When I perform I am trying to embrace the audience and bring it up into the performance with me so they can see and feel the glory and wonder." This is very closely related to the joy we take in watching our grandchildren discover.
And that's an example of my idea of recursion. In watching our grandchildren we are re-activating our own childhood wonder. And this re-activation is selfless, ego-free. Our childhood wonder is the great universal. We've all got a ticket to ride...given the average expectable environment. My ability to escape the demands of discursive logic reminds me of the child's book of the little locomotive that kept jumping the tracks to smell the daisies rather than staying straight and true and becoming the great Flying Limited. When I was a child, I thought as a child....But now, as a man, I'm completely off the tracks, my ability to follow Imagination flourishing in the absence of Adderal.
Yet, somehow, when I encounter someone suffering, I become wonderfully focused. I suppose this is why I can never become an author. I can't stand imagining suffering readers, and I've never liked imaginary playmates. So, there's no escaping it. This writing is a masturbatory equivalent. I think I'm going blind.
This journey is so beyond our ability to grasp it that there comes a tendency to idolize ourselves and our systems and shibboleths. Pain, or the fear of pain, seems to become the Other that diminishes us. Take arms against a vale of tears and....who wants to become a millionaire??!! Who doesn't? It's hard to remember we've all won the lottery by being conceived. In short, the journey to our next destination is a tough one for most of us. Hence, our idol worship. For some reason, Peter Horton screwing around on Michelle Pfeiffer comes to mind. And Queen Bees Perelman and Gagosian going at it. May the best man's lawyers win. And barring that, the best men's media-military-industrial-financial (ser)vices complex. And their running dogs.
Somehow this leads me to the question of why great art about current events is so rare. Probably because the recursive function is so difficult to apply to the moment at hand. Perfection in the life OR the work, Pater wrote. Gurus are the exception. I sometimes remember that great Canadian tenor, whose name escapes me, who said something like, "When I perform I am trying to embrace the audience and bring it up into the performance with me so they can see and feel the glory and wonder." This is very closely related to the joy we take in watching our grandchildren discover.
And that's an example of my idea of recursion. In watching our grandchildren we are re-activating our own childhood wonder. And this re-activation is selfless, ego-free. Our childhood wonder is the great universal. We've all got a ticket to ride...given the average expectable environment. My ability to escape the demands of discursive logic reminds me of the child's book of the little locomotive that kept jumping the tracks to smell the daisies rather than staying straight and true and becoming the great Flying Limited. When I was a child, I thought as a child....But now, as a man, I'm completely off the tracks, my ability to follow Imagination flourishing in the absence of Adderal.
Yet, somehow, when I encounter someone suffering, I become wonderfully focused. I suppose this is why I can never become an author. I can't stand imagining suffering readers, and I've never liked imaginary playmates. So, there's no escaping it. This writing is a masturbatory equivalent. I think I'm going blind.
posted by bezdomny at 5:10 AM
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