Saturday, September 26, 2009

The Rigor Of Spasticity

What is life? What is abstraction? How do we access pure becoming, pure presence that is not a crystallization and ultimately an alienation from the our real world? Each thought we conceive is one step away from the absolute truth that it was extracted from; how do we access that pure resource of life, of truth.

Our tools, technology must be more exacting; our steps must grow faster and we must attack aggressively, reaching out for this ultimate reality. The great prejudice of our age is that the rigorousness of language, a simpler language that is exactingly total, all encapsulating, is the key to reality; a man-made language like symbolic logic that captures the ultimate forms of human language and thought is the ground of epistemic fertility. The notion that theoretical physicists will write equations, with limited symbols that communicate the absolute truth of physical reality is one of the manifestations of this prejudice. The building blocks of the universe continue to get smaller, and more numerous, endlessly we find that which comprises, which comprises, which comprises, down into the limits of our latest exacting scalpel. We'll find that true, exact word that denotes that exact thing that comprises the entire world. Is it an atom, a neutron, a quark, what is next? Until then, let us blindly continue to let technology blossom like a stainless, serpentine flower, growing, coiling endlessly.

My philosophy is simple. For everything that has been thought and done, never assume that it cannot be done in the exact opposite way -- strike out to do the exact opposite of what is customary. The universe is comprised of energy as best as I can understand as a layperson. The categorization of that plastic, explosive, ubiquitous yet nonexistent energy is, as Nietzsche would term it, human -- all too human.

The universe can be counted endlessly, divided, dissected, added and multiplied, but, the universe is not any of those things. Humans are by their nature the ones that attempt to arrive at a number, a being, a thing in which they can think about, to manipulate and to use. But, looking into evolutionary patterns, we realize the formation of attributes and behaviors in a species has little interest in a definitive truth. Evolving a being into something that efficiently ascertains an external truth about reality with either its mind or body is highly complex and difficult. Evolution starts simple, and therefore, would evolve a being up until a point where its chaotic flailing and gesticulations would ever so often allow them to hit some cosmic truths to make them successful. Evolution did not create efficient beings, but rather, it create something simpler: many, many tiny buck shots, the hundreds of billions of tiny humanoid that have lived, that shoot out into reality and with many different slight variation in each member of the species, eventually allows for gradual trends in certain members of the species. One way in which our very distant ancestors came to be successful was by their mechanical adaptations that arbitrarily thrusted them out into reality, unaware of it, unattached but deeply embedded in it. Their random behaviors, basic mental tools that by successful combination eventually led to a very gradual development of the human mind that perceives the universe in its own highly evolved, yet comically simplistic way.

Mathematics seem as if they are highly complex, necessarily true by the access to reality they give us, but in truth, these mathematics that are locked in the natural structure of our brain are the end products of billions of years of senseless and arbitrary bodily deterministic mechanics being thrusted out into reality, eventually allowing for some of these mechanics to work and latch on to a tiny portion of reality. Our rigorous proofs, our basis for all science and empirical data, for all exacting languages -- is there any more of an exacting language than mathematics -- 1 = 1! -- could this all really be just the relatively successful baggage of highly evolved spastic machines waving their limbs and ideas out in the air of reality hoping to latch on to something to allow them to be successful?

What is that for truth? Is that truth? Could it not be that all we say and do is actually false -- 1 = 1 is not true, but rather, it is some false short cut that works like if a schizophrenic person kills somebody who is about to kill them, but they killed them because the voice in their head told them to, not because they perceived the threat and took care of their well-being. 1 = 1 works not because it is surely true, but rather, it works because it works. It has allowed us to do things, to survive and strike out successfully in the world, but it could be no different than a successful schizophrenic who by accident, induced by other causes in his unbalanced, spastic brain continues to make the right decisions unaware of the real decisions that need to be made. Sounds impossible, but consider if you have billions of year to fail over and over again, until the perfect failed system is able to exist perfectly, blissfully unaware resolving all of its issues by accident through shortcuts -- no =, not the pretty unity of thought and reality, but rather a giant explosive burst of mental excrement that shoots out into the world and hits the few nuances of reality by a luck that took billions of year to achieve.

Dare we do the unthinkable and abandon science for something else? What kind of truth might the language of poetry contain? Is poetry really the abstract medium?

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