Changing things

Nature is said to act without design or deliberation – then along comes consciousness.  Consequently, intentions get deposited in objects, and things on the surface begin to change, with surfaces serving as active interfaces in a succession of levels.  For instance, when a naturally formed pit is turned into a primitive animal trap set by our early ancestors, the investment of intention becomes a manifest extension to the nature of nature.  Likewise, albeit at a lower level, the instinctive behaviour of the spider, in building its web, doesn’t so much define what can happen in nature as redefine it.  Nowadays, things are vastly more developed – static features, machines and smart devices serve artificial purposes, and computers are being designed to mimic a conscious rational intelligence.  Yet the underlying natural events remain oblivious: unchanged, un-living, unconscious and unintended.  In effect, things become more than they were.  Indeed, an ‘unconscious reality’ becomes recognisable only via its conscious counterpart – a paradox of change overlaid by the rational illusion that we can always explain occurrences retrospectively, as if the answer is tucked-away in the way things were.  However, it might be more realistic to accept change for what it is rather than searching endlessly for the ‘holy grail’ of an original cause.

The dawning awareness in nature, of nature, is an event centred in a ‘from-to’ reality.  However, our causal mythology portrays it as a bottom-up chain of events in a temporal succession, as if the effect was somehow embedded in the preceding sequence of causes, just waiting to be released, as if nature already contains a rudimentary consciousness – otherwise, logically, where else might it come from?  Then can we, in general, unlock the mystery of change by looking for a primal cause, as if all can be explained by unpacking the nature of nature at its inception?  Or does the answer come from evolution, which is change by another name, diffusely portrayed as the explanation of itself – that is, things change because they evolve?  The problem with explanations of change is that they don’t do justice to the ‘quantum leaps’, unless we put them down to chance – how else did life emerge?  And though reality is seen to unfold by one event preceding another, we can’t explain the emergence of causality without postulating an exceptional origin in an event that independently triggers everything, but which does not equate to pure chance if it so much as contains a seed of an intentional intelligence to become manifest when the right conditions materialise.

Mike Laidler

 

Mythscapes

It’s entirely possible that everything we know about how things happen will remain purely academic until we find out how existence happens.

The fact of change is the big event of the ‘big bang’ and beyond, which we incorporate into our explanations as if to explain it – as if by taking it into account we have accounted for it.

Evolution, as it happens, is the effect that we presume to identify as the cause of change.

Despite our collective faith in the infallibility of logic as ‘true’ in itself, logic provides no guarantees that it will ‘externalise’ to show us truths about the world at large.

It’s a mass delusion tantamount to madness: the belief that logic cannot fail to show us the truth.

If science can admit to the incredible yet ‘finite calculable probability’ of a person being able to pass through a solid wall under certain circumstances – because objects are and are not solid – then what about the certain circumstance in which the earth is both flat and round?

We talk about consciousness as a phenomenon to be explained by the fact of life, as if we have already explained the fact of life.

We know of the phenomenon that is existence only because of what knowing brings to it.

In all the sightings of ghosts throughout the ages, duly attired in the dress of their time, has anyone ever wondered how the clothing manages to gain an afterlife?

Can a scientific explanation of the universe explain its most curious feature – its evolution, through us, of a curiosity about itself?

How can an objective account of nature, by precluding the subjective elements of conscious sensation and understanding, show us a greater truth in the lesser fact of existence?

Strictly speaking, we are but ghostly manifestations in the midst of an essentially physical universe that knows nothing of our existence – since, in the scheme of its absolute reality, our presence amounts to nothing more than a negligible flurry within an all-engulfing tide of atomic flux.

Does a mathematical proof of the universe not reflect more upon the enlarged particulars of mathematics than the particulars of the universe at large?

Presumption is the ancestor of all myth and a living part of all we take to know.

Mike Laidler