[This is some data from the noematics blog. It seems appropriate to insert it here . . . and then we will leave this business of only-reality-mind for a while.]
FEBRUARY 1, 2009
No One Here But Me
[An academic exercise and part of a larger project on authenticity in writing, 12/08.]
[THIS PAPER MAY BE USED IN WHOLE OR IN PART FOR ILLUSTRATION OR INSTRUCTIONAL PURPOSES WITH OR WITHOUT PERMISSION.]
Abstract
A passage from Gabriel García Márquez's book, The General in His Labyrinth, gives rise to a short discussion on the locus of reality. The unconcluded contemplation is that all exists in mind, mine. There is no separate external reality.
No One Here But Me
At one point in Gabriel García Márquez's book, The General in His Labyrinth (2003), "José Palacios, [the General's] oldest servant, found him floating naked with his eyes open in the purifying waters of his bath and thought he had drowned. He knew this was one of the many ways the General meditated, but the ecstasy in which he lay drifting seemed that of a man no longer of this world."
Upon awakening from this apparent trance, the General said to his servant, "Let's go . . . as fast as we can. No one loves us here."
This passage has raised this possibility: The world is located in mind, in my interior, not outside of my body somewhere. The world is not separate with an independent existence. It is only by consensus with others that we suspect an objective and separate-from-me world.
Based on this understanding, I often "just feel like" taking some action or changing course, because nothing really matters except as I would have it inside me. So much is this true for me that sometimes I even choose based on what I think is true, whether or not I can otherwise prove it.
As the General is described above and for me, there appear to be multiple realities. There are those we can sense physically and there are those of the mind, or internal. Ecstasy is of the mind. The idea that no one loves us here is also an internal experience. That idea, fact or not, seems to give the impetus for action for the General. It is his call to action, which is leaving. We also act and change course based on the world we have, the mental experiences.
What is the relationship between these realities, the physical and the mental? The contention here is that the relationship is flawed oneness. What I experience inside me is my only reality, but what I experience is not always intentional. Some stuff happens that I (we?) just (have to?) attend to.
Before I am accused of not being of this world, I declare that I am not immune from stubbing my toe on a rock or enjoying pizza and Pepsi as I write these words. Toes are real, but mine the most, as is this pizza; and, just a moment, so is my (experience of my) Pepsi. However, these supposed physical things have reality because it is I who through my intentions, awarenesses, mental experiences, and mind-directed actions accept and make them so. My internal experiences are the only things that exist that I can be sure of. Things out there do not exist, for me.
Another way to say this is to answer this old quandary. Does a tree make a sound when it falls to the forest floor? Although I am not a philosopher and this meditation is a bit speculative, I answer no, the tree makes no sound if I am not there to hear it.
Even though the reality of what I believe to be true is what I think or somehow internally experience, and this is paramount and the definition of real, other stuff happens which calls for, sometimes demands, awareness, focus, and action. Because of the call or demand, I choose to attend, that is I intend to have it real. One objection is that we may not be aware of every "intention," but after the fact of having done something means that at some level of mind (perhaps it is consciousness), there was a choice.
So I can act and change course because nothing really matters except my experience of. If I choose a course based on what I think is true, whether or not I can otherwise prove it, this might be instinct or intuition. I do not know. But this suggests a lengthier consideration.
As with the General, there is no great, unconditional affection for me, or anyone. So run as fast as you can, or silently escape as I do into my own world of a computer, music downloads, and Internet games I can play with people whose physical existence I do not acknowledge. It is as if they do not exist, or if they do, they are just objects of mind that exist for a time and later do not. I never know them. I only make choices based on my intentional engagement with their actions and the tacit understanding that their actions are part of my experience, a part of my reality, until I let them go.
Some would say that you can gather evidence (impressions or opinions or convictions--again "immaterials") that there is affection. This would be to rely on memories (past mental experiences). At my age the idea of many loves and sensual adventures such as the General may have had, as recounted in The General in His Labyrinth, is very tempting. The better orientation is that that reality is in my head. Sex is not real or of this world without my mental-immaterial reception and recognition.
Enough for now. I appear to be drifting. Am I in a trance and no longer of this world? Am I either in meditative ecstasy or in someone's physical reality? These questions, let alone that reality only exists inside me, are way too difficult to conclude in a little over two pages. For now I say, "Let's go, as fast as I can, for there is no one here but me."
REFERENCE
Marquez, G., (2003). The General in His Labyrinth. London: Vintage.
FEBRUARY 1, 2009
No One Here But Me
[An academic exercise and part of a larger project on authenticity in writing, 12/08.]
[THIS PAPER MAY BE USED IN WHOLE OR IN PART FOR ILLUSTRATION OR INSTRUCTIONAL PURPOSES WITH OR WITHOUT PERMISSION.]
Abstract
A passage from Gabriel García Márquez's book, The General in His Labyrinth, gives rise to a short discussion on the locus of reality. The unconcluded contemplation is that all exists in mind, mine. There is no separate external reality.
No One Here But Me
At one point in Gabriel García Márquez's book, The General in His Labyrinth (2003), "José Palacios, [the General's] oldest servant, found him floating naked with his eyes open in the purifying waters of his bath and thought he had drowned. He knew this was one of the many ways the General meditated, but the ecstasy in which he lay drifting seemed that of a man no longer of this world."
Upon awakening from this apparent trance, the General said to his servant, "Let's go . . . as fast as we can. No one loves us here."
This passage has raised this possibility: The world is located in mind, in my interior, not outside of my body somewhere. The world is not separate with an independent existence. It is only by consensus with others that we suspect an objective and separate-from-me world.
Based on this understanding, I often "just feel like" taking some action or changing course, because nothing really matters except as I would have it inside me. So much is this true for me that sometimes I even choose based on what I think is true, whether or not I can otherwise prove it.
As the General is described above and for me, there appear to be multiple realities. There are those we can sense physically and there are those of the mind, or internal. Ecstasy is of the mind. The idea that no one loves us here is also an internal experience. That idea, fact or not, seems to give the impetus for action for the General. It is his call to action, which is leaving. We also act and change course based on the world we have, the mental experiences.
What is the relationship between these realities, the physical and the mental? The contention here is that the relationship is flawed oneness. What I experience inside me is my only reality, but what I experience is not always intentional. Some stuff happens that I (we?) just (have to?) attend to.
Before I am accused of not being of this world, I declare that I am not immune from stubbing my toe on a rock or enjoying pizza and Pepsi as I write these words. Toes are real, but mine the most, as is this pizza; and, just a moment, so is my (experience of my) Pepsi. However, these supposed physical things have reality because it is I who through my intentions, awarenesses, mental experiences, and mind-directed actions accept and make them so. My internal experiences are the only things that exist that I can be sure of. Things out there do not exist, for me.
Another way to say this is to answer this old quandary. Does a tree make a sound when it falls to the forest floor? Although I am not a philosopher and this meditation is a bit speculative, I answer no, the tree makes no sound if I am not there to hear it.
Even though the reality of what I believe to be true is what I think or somehow internally experience, and this is paramount and the definition of real, other stuff happens which calls for, sometimes demands, awareness, focus, and action. Because of the call or demand, I choose to attend, that is I intend to have it real. One objection is that we may not be aware of every "intention," but after the fact of having done something means that at some level of mind (perhaps it is consciousness), there was a choice.
So I can act and change course because nothing really matters except my experience of. If I choose a course based on what I think is true, whether or not I can otherwise prove it, this might be instinct or intuition. I do not know. But this suggests a lengthier consideration.
As with the General, there is no great, unconditional affection for me, or anyone. So run as fast as you can, or silently escape as I do into my own world of a computer, music downloads, and Internet games I can play with people whose physical existence I do not acknowledge. It is as if they do not exist, or if they do, they are just objects of mind that exist for a time and later do not. I never know them. I only make choices based on my intentional engagement with their actions and the tacit understanding that their actions are part of my experience, a part of my reality, until I let them go.
Some would say that you can gather evidence (impressions or opinions or convictions--again "immaterials") that there is affection. This would be to rely on memories (past mental experiences). At my age the idea of many loves and sensual adventures such as the General may have had, as recounted in The General in His Labyrinth, is very tempting. The better orientation is that that reality is in my head. Sex is not real or of this world without my mental-immaterial reception and recognition.
Enough for now. I appear to be drifting. Am I in a trance and no longer of this world? Am I either in meditative ecstasy or in someone's physical reality? These questions, let alone that reality only exists inside me, are way too difficult to conclude in a little over two pages. For now I say, "Let's go, as fast as I can, for there is no one here but me."
REFERENCE
Marquez, G., (2003). The General in His Labyrinth. London: Vintage.
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