Sugurd, I thought itd be okay with you if I shared a cognit I sent you personally a while back. SELF by NonistJohn Schaeffer With whom do you speak when you talk to yourself? A spirit? An angel? Some wry little elf? A watcher? A pilot? Some brain-dwelling troll? A zeitgeist? A psyche? Someone in control? A tiny dictator who rules from inside? Some psychic hitch-hiker along for the ride? An organ or tissue which somehow can care? Some home-grown homunculus? Or one from out there? Then wouldnt that mean that your self wasnt you, and some other is driving? Now whos foolin who? Theres no one inside us. No other at least. Were all self-contained in the brain of our beast. And beasties we are (....and some beastier than most!). Were made out of matter, and not out of ghost. But somehow our concepts of self all diverge. Its cause our descriptions are all made of.... words. Though words are mere labels, abstractions, and useful. With abstruse abuse theyre profusely obtuseful! To end this offense and to fend off this tendency, I recommend that one end ones dependency. Thinking in labels, omitting the functions, we all run the risk of our hidden assumptions. The logics illusive, but try this for size; A word may not mean what its meaning implies. A noun, for example, is sort of a short-cut. One thinks its the thing it purports to purport, but, thats all in our heads. For its we whove supplied all the means for its meaning from deep down inside. All by itself that ol noun dont mean beans! Its what _we_ bring to it that means what it means. From all weve been told, or believed, or inferred, we build up our notions surrounding a word. And self is a word that for years weve all used. But what does it label? Machine, or its muse? Can one call self other and still call one me? Then, might one be plural? A council? A we? If SELF may be many selves -- whos in control? And self-abdication frees one from the role, of self-as-the-chief of ones own inner tribe. Twit, selves may thus function to better describe. Ive talked with my selves. Oh, cmon! So have you. We all have. Its something that all humans do. While pondering quandaries our inner voices insist on assisting in all of our choices. Our own inner council we just cant shut up. Theyre always on-line, and they do interrupt. Theres only one way to put up with this mess. To beat em, I join em -- alas, I confess. Whoever I am, then, whatever my role, results from a constant, cacophonous poll, of facts and emotions all bangin about. And whoever I am is...... whatever comes out! Its none of my faults, then, just which one is I. I never know whos going to speak next, nor why. I cuss n discuss ad reducto absurd, til finally just one me gets in the last word. I wait on myselves to see which me will show. But one thing Im sure of, theres one thing I know; its not someone else who I am here inside. Its me! But which me, I can rarely decide. Theres one me thats peaceful. One loves a good spat. One mes always hungry. One knows Im too fat. Theres one that cries, Onward! Another that stalls. Theres one thats a coward. And one thats got balls. One thinks with his dick. Still another his brain. And one lacks the sense to come in from the rain. While one is a genius, anothers a fool. And one is so nerdy. And ones way too cool. One me values intellect far and above. Yet one covets passion, and suffers for love. The flower child me is a pacifist still. Another knows well that, if cornered, Id kill. Sometimes Im beside myselves, fraught with concern over how to abide myselves, each in its turn. Though making my mind ups a heady endeavor, I manage to pull my self, somehow, together.. It all sounds so schitzy, I hear someone say, ...to pick us apart and describe us this way. We know who we are. And we know that we know! But... how do you know, that you know that you know? And wherefore this power to reason so keen? Just where lives this knowledge to know what we mean? This body. you say? What, this meat under skin? Youre half right. Now ponder the patterns within. Like patterns of blood flow, and patterns of air flow, and lots more we cant see.. We know that theyre there though. Like patterns of factoids, and those of emotions. From patterning patterns derive all our notions. Our patterns of brainwaves describe states of mind, evolving through feedback with gathering time. They feed off each other and then reappear, as superposed waveforms, which then decohere. Our viewpoints are patterns that loop through the brain. Theyre all that we are. All the joy. All the pain. All memories, summaries, judgements as well, are just billions of neurons all goin to beat hell. Each neuron connects up with hundreds or more. Their looping re-entries forge patterns galore. And inside each neuron are bigger surprises. A quantum conundrum materializes! Each neurons a brain of its own, it would seem, of water filled tubules, with proteins between. The shape of each H20s charge and position, results from each tubulins lectric condition. Connecting these tubes there are proteins which modulate feedback thats like a Bose-Einstein Condensate -- a non-local function of quantum harmonics, with resonance patterns one could call phononics. Discrete bio-energy fields ebb and flow. These fields within fields are how neurons all know, which sets of synapses should fire, and how strong; which ones to inhibit, how much, and how long. In concert these patterns consort with themselves. It gets more apparent, the deeper one delves, that self as-a-concept is so ill-defined. But choose the right words, and it can be refined. To see self as _function_ might serve to suffice. And function could be a defining device, to keep all our mental conceptual mappings, more closely aligned to Realitys hapnings. Then self is a does, not an is, one could say. And functions preserved in the language that way. Thus thinking of self more in terms of a-flowing, may better describe this emergence of knowing. This flow, like the spectrum electromagnetic, can range from near zero to high-energetic. Thus, levels of consciousness seamlessly surge, from quantum beginnings as patterns converge. The lines that we draw between conscious, and sub-, cut through the connectedness. Aye, theres the rub! So what we call self is misnomer, at best. The label falls short in a functional test. The question of self is semantically bent, from not seeing self as a space-time event. In space, self is multiple, strewn through the mind. It only seems single when focused in time. As time cant exist independent of space, nor can space escape times most ardent embrace, to split space-times _function_ in parts that arent there, leaves logic agog in semantic despair. We often give labels to things which are not. Then use them to reason, and figure, and plot. Such reasoning cant help but lead us astray, and delusion soon follows. Lifes funny that way. *note** [ On speaking of labeling things, please refer to my ISes Dont And Nouns Are Not for its purview. ] So self isnt singular, nor is it plural. Nor limited, thus, to the mater-subdural. Nor does self exist independent of time. Its constantly fluxing, thus hard to define. I know what youre thinking, Then, where is the soul? And wherefore this need to make goodness our goal? And what about miracles, God, and the rest? Dont we humans need em to live at our best? We cant be mere patterns, I hear someone snicker, ...all neurons and ions electrical flicker. Weve got to be more, or wed lose self respect. And civilization would surely be wrecked! We must have a Reason to do what we must. How else can we know what were doing is just? Without souls were just existentialist stew.... and anything goes. Im afraid that wont do! Concerning the reason for things as they are, our language can only support us so far. Then, try as we might, we end up in distress. Debate obtains only infinite regress. Our knowledge thus far has an event horizon, beyond which theres nothing to lay our minds eyes on. Reality runs off the edge of our maps. Between what we know, and what-am there are gaps! We know lots of stuff about how some things work. The why is the thing that drives most folks berserk. They cant see that Why?s the wrong question to ask -- and answering, thus, an impossible task. They grasp at their straws, and they jump their conclusions, cause something inside demands final solutions. Theyre driven by need for some Ultimate Truth. Like Boomers obsessing some fountain of youth. Theyd rather believe in THE ultimate plan, than think evolutions the reason for man. They pray for a sky-hook to show them the way. To those who demand one to live, I could say... You want one? Invent one! Why bother with fact? You dont even have to leave logic intact. Pick any religion. Or just make up one. Dont let being rational spoil your fun. Dont bother with evidence! You now whats what. Just close your eyes, and its there in your gut. You want it? You got it. As simple as that.. No Masters. No Bachelors. No taking the SAT. Theres no need to learn what you dont understand. Reject all that science which strays out of hand. You know what you need, and you know what you feel. To hell with the heathen who say that aint real! Theyre just out to get you as likely as not. Theyre Godless elitists. And evil, the lot! Their facts and their figures dont mean what they say. Its all just a smokescreen to keep you at bay! Theyre after your soul. Dont you pay no attention, to progress, discovery, change, or invention. Theyre killers of faith, and theyre spreaders of doubt. Why not kill em all, and let God sort em out? Sheesh! Taking this track to its logical end, theres no telling the depths we might likely descend. Our histrys replete with disastrous results, where reason conflicts with unreasoning cults. But these too are part of the patterns of learning. And wonder. And striving. And conflict. And yearning. It hasnt been pretty, as history points out. But Ive every faith evolution will out. We got here that way, and its worked well so far. Without it we wouldnt be who-all we are! Its simple pragmatics. Seen in retrospect -- were lucky we made it this far. What the heck! The spectrum of consciousness, like that of light, extends both directions, and clean out of sight. Our knowledge will grow more as our tools evolve. But self, as-a-question, can never be solved. Is one not the master of ones so-called fate? Does having a choice or free will ever rate? Or are we pre-programmed matrixed radiation, determined from physics that subtend creation? Therell always be places our theories wont touch. The edges of knowledge are bounded by such. Between what we know and they way things may be, therell always be room for a sweet mystery. -end-
Posted on: Fri, 05 Sep 2014 17:33:06 +0000
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