The Two Sides Of Divinity

I Am Usually Not In The Experience That I Am Describing But I Can Be

2012-02-15T07:56:00.000-08:00

My God Relationship
Future Time Two

"In the common Gestalt representation of `faces' and `vase,'” I said,
“whether you see two faces or a vase depends on which part of the
drawing you see as a figure and which part as background. Although the
drawing allows you to switch back and forth between two ways of
organizing perception, you can not perceive the reversible drawing both
ways at the same time. This figure/ground relationship, by analogy, is
what is behind my personal relationship with God. Via the X/Y form,
God manifests the form of self-consciousness while I—think, feel, speak, and act out—the content of self-consciousness/self-awareness. In other words, my self-awareness is also God's self-awareness."

"So what happened? What did you do after that shocking experience," MV responded.

"Well, like I said, there were two experiences," I replied. "The
third-person one, the processing of the information, came first. I had
to talk to someone after that, and I knew what I had to say would not
be easy to understand, so I enrolled in an independent study class in
the religion department of my university. There, I knew I would be
able to express my ideas, as well as get the feedback that I craved. I
was finishing up that class when I experienced God in the
first-person. In fact, to get a better appreciation for that
experience, maybe I should read the paper that I was working
on at the time when I had that experience. As I recall, when I had that
experience, I was in the University library—it was awesome!

The God Connection

2012-02-15T07:06:00.000-08:00

My God Relationship
Future Time Two

"So when did you realize the connection?" said MV. "You know, getting
hooked up with the big guy, the one on high?"

"When I finally stepped back and took in the whole meaning of what I
was thinking," I replied. "At first the X/Y form was about how freedom
existed in a world of cause and effect, but as it developed, it became
impossible not to notice its religious significance. In fact, making
that connection was a very small step indeed."

"How so," said MV.

"Well, it wasn't hard to infer the existence of God when you consider
that existence is really expressed freedom, and sense everything that
exists does so as an expression of freedom, then something must be
free. I suppose you don't have to infer that God exists from that, but
what other option is there?"

"That must have been a shocker," replied MV, "a real leap of faith."

"Not really," I said, "Actually, experience, and that experience in
particular, takes place in two ways. The first way is like in reading
a book. I guess that's what we're doing right now--information
processing. After an explanation, a nod of agreement is expected, but
even with supporting evidence, vigorous debates are sometimes
necessary before agreements are forthcoming. However, there is another
level, a first-person level of experience that requires no leap at all.

"Typically, when I describe an experience I am not inside the
experience—but I can be. When I am in pain, and say as much, there is
no disconnect. My word's—`why me,' and body language, erase any doubt
that I am right there, front and center in the experience of the pain
that I am describing. To be sure, in the beginning, that was not the
way I experienced the X/Y form; then the knowledge/feeling experience
was not a first person experience. However, at a later date, I did
actually experience my `I-consciousness' merge with the `presence of a
self-aware God in the here and now,' and that, for me, was a shocking.
Eventually, I came off of that high, but there was never
any going back after that.

"Put another way, it works like this: God resides in my temporal
present as an all-knowing self-awareness, but I do not (usually)
experience self-awareness this way. Instead, I experience my own
beliefs, concerns, and intentions; I experience my past and my future
in terms of my own thoughts, words, and deeds. `All that is me,' says
the X/Y form, `is an affirmation,' and `all that is not me' says the
X/Y form, `is also an affirmation—an affirmation that takes place in
the ‘God space of logical implication.' Thus (and this is a really huge
thus), when the meaning of this state of affairs becomes clear,
responsibilities shift from my own personal relationship to myself, to
the more overwhelming relationship of `my relationship' to God's
self-awareness, i.e., my God relationship. This may sound strange, but
there is a common analogue to this relationship, an analogue to my
personal relationship with God through self-consciousness, --and it is
expressed in the Gestalt figure/ground images.

Key To Rule-Generating Numbers—Gap Between Self And Self-Knowledge

2012-02-14T06:33:00.000-08:00

Mystery Continued
Searching For A Philosophy

According to the logic school of mathematics, number is defined in terms of
the concept of sets and cardinal numbers. According to the Frege-Russell
definition, "two sets are said to have the same cardinal number if
there exists a one-to-one correspondence between them." The cardinal
number of a given set is defined as the set of all sets that have the
same cardinal number as the given set. However, it was later shown
that a contradiction arose from this number concept. Even before the
contradiction arose, this definition was received poorly among
intuitionists who did not consider it necessary to reduce the concept
of natural number to simpler concepts. For them number was simply the
result of the notion of an abstract entity plus the notion of an
indefinite sequence of those entities.

An advocate of the formalist school of mathematics, David Hilbert,
attempted to formalize mathematics in a way that would satisfy both
the logicists and the intuitionists. Hilbert proposed to formulate
classical mathematics as axiomatic theories and then prove that these
theories were free from contradictions. This attempt came to an abrupt
halt when Kurt Godel published a theorem that demonstrated that any
formal number-theoretic system, if consistent, contains an undecidable
formula; that is, a formula that can neither be proved nor disproved.
In other words, Godel's theorem tells us, "that it is
self-contradictory to suppose that mathematics can be proved free from
self-contradiction—that, in fact, there must always be true but
unprovable theorems" (Pledge, 1959, p. 190). This striking result--
Godel's theorem, suggests that the source for the certainty of rule
generated information will not be found in the "language of the
universe," which is what Galileo Galilee once called mathematics. If
we can't look to mathematics for certainty then where can we look?

Certainty is hard to find no matter where we look, but finding the
origin of number shouldn't pose so great an obstacle; at least that's
what the philosopher, mathematician, and linguist Ernst Cassirer
thought. According to Cassirer, "…in many languages, the etymology of
the first numerals suggests a link with the personal pronouns: in
Indo-Germanic, for example, the words for `thou' and `two' seem to
disclose a common root…we stand here at a common linguistic source of
psychology, grammar and mathematics; that this dual root leads us back
to the original dualism upon which rests the very possibility of
speech and thought" (Cassirer, 1957, vol. 1, p. 244). The
mathematician Dedekind traced the concept of number back to an even
more fundamental origin. He ended up reducing the system of natural
numbers to a single basic logical function: he considered the system
to be grounded in "the ability of the mind to relate things to things,
to make a thing correspond to a thing, or to image a thing in a thing
(Cassirer, 1957, vol. 3, p. 257). If the origin of number is located
in the mind's ability to relate things to things, then the
self-limiting theorems of mathematics, it seems to me, have something
to say about consciousness itself, something strange, and, ultimately,
something that will remain strange. Douglas Hofstadter seems to agree.
In his book, Godel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid, he echoes
this sentiment when he states:

"All the limitative Theorems of metamathematics and the theory of
computation suggest that once the ability to represent your own
structure has reached a certain critical point, that is the kiss of
death: it guarantees that you can never represent yourself totally.
Godel's Incompleteness Theorem, Church's Undecidability Theorem,
Turing's Halting Theorem, Tarski's Truth Theorem—all have the flavor
of some ancient fairy tale which warns you that "To seek
self-knowledge is to embark on a journey which…will always be
incomplete, cannot be charted on any map, will never halt, cannot be
described" (1979, p. 697).

Perhaps, it is that critical disjuncture between self and
self-knowledge that holds the key to the rule-generating phenomenon
that we are looking for!

Mystery—How Do You Define Numbers

2012-02-14T06:09:00.000-08:00

MV Conversation Continues
Future Time

“So tell me,” said MV, did your physics professor friend get back with you after reading your letter?”

“No, I think he was too busy with other things, more important things,” I replied. In fact, after my presentation, all communication between us stopped. I would see him from afar once in a while, but I never tried to talk to him. He was a very private person. It’s true, he probably did humor me by answering my questions in the beginning, but I don’t believe that had anything to do with why we stopped communicating.”

“Hmmm, but he did stop, right! Maybe he just wasn’t impressed with your ideas,” responded MV. “Did that thought ever occur to you?”

“No, I believe he really did have more important things to deal with,” I replied. “Well, all except for that one thing; there was another physics professor, one that always seemed to be talking to Dr. Clifford every time I went into his office. I believe he resented all the face time Dr. Clifford was kind enough to grant me. Every time our paths would cross on campus that Professor would either look away or sneer at me, well, at least it looked like a sneer to me. I never did figure out what all that was about, but I suspect that that Professor had something to do with the end of my relationship with Dr. Clifford.”

“So why do you believe there was more to it than that; what was more important to Dr. Clifford than answering your letter?” said MV.

“As I was saying, talking to anybody about quantum mechanics, for me, was exciting, but talking to a Professor who taught the subject was more than exciting, it was fantastic. However, when those conversations took place, I couldn’t help but pick up on the tension that Dr. Clifford was experiencing at the time. When I couldn’t understand what he was saying, I would make some off the cuff comment voicing my frustration, and he would come back with an example of the kind of frustration he had to deal with all the time. In addressing my frustration he would cite examples in his own life that were extremely frustrating—his comments betrayed the fact that he was having marital problems. He was, at the time of my presentation, contemplating divorce. Soon after my presentation, I believe, that is what happened. So you see he had many more important things to worry about than some kid pestering him over a few hypothetical questions concerning quantum mechanics. Anyway, I had already moved on in my thinking and began writing a paper on why I believed the universe was inherently rational.”

“Are you kidding me,” exclaimed MV. “Your mentor, someone who had more rationality in his big toe than you will ever possess, is having an emotional breakdown and you, arrogant as ever, continue to believe in a rational universe. How absurd, how sublime! That’s my boy, keep it up; keep me smiling and we may be friends after all--or maybe not!

“Hey, you didn’t let me finish. I didn’t complete that paper,” I responded. “I realized that mathematics was telling me something else. I realized I had to rethink my philosophy.”

Mystery—How Do You Define Numbers

Searching For A Philosophy
Aug. 6, 1981

What if the self that we identify with, the one expressed in the word
"I," is something different from what we think it is, something that
once it becomes identified, will entail bold implications, not just for
psychology, but also for everything that we know and understand?

An Inherently Rational Universe

In my presentation on the different contexts of freedom, I was,
basically, agreeing with Northrop's realistic interpretation of how
mathematical constructs are found to correspond with a real, knowable
aesthetic universe. As Goethe emphasized and Northrop concurs, the
cosmos is like a living organism even though law governs it. In other
words, I was trying, in my presentation, to make sense out of the
broad generalization that the universe is inherently rational. Support
for this idea can be found in many areas:

In Jean Piaget's exploration of cognitive development in children, and
in Ernst Cassirer's investigations—especially in his study of aphasia
(Cassirer, 1957, p. 205-77), this idea does indeed find support. In
fact, setting in front of me right now is a magazine article entitled,
"The Wisdom Of Babies" (Newsweek, 1-12-81). It strongly suggests that
an awareness of self is somehow embedded in the mind of babies. The
article states: 1) Babies quickly develop the notion of `self'—of
being different from other things in the world, which suggests that
the brain may be prewired for this concept. 2) Infants are born with a
set of dispositions, which may form the basis for symbolic thinking.
3) The belief that humans need language to make the mental leap from
the specific to the general is becoming more and more questionable in
that babies seem to be able to construct categories and make
generalizations. Could it be that at the time of birth information is
already being channeled by a set of rules? Perhaps, in the language of
mathematics we can find what we are looking for—precise definitions
for foundational rules.

Unfortunately, even in mathematics, foundational rules are hard to
come by. Part of the problem is that what gets called mathematics in
one culture is different from what gets called mathematics in other
cultures. The source of the problem—how do you define number—has
generated much controversy. In short, there is no agreement on whether
number refers to an idea or to a property of objects or to a pencil
stroke, and so on and so forth. Curiously, even with this hazy concept
of number, mathematics still provides the language for the most exact
of empirical disciplines—science. This problem has not gone unnoticed
by mathematicians.

Freedom—Embedded In Both Nature And Mind

2012-02-11T09:21:00.000-08:00

Letter Response To Dr. Clifford's Questions Concluded

The concepts of position and momentum, at the quantum level,
are intimately bound up with the
idea of what it means to exist. At the atomic particle level, for
instance, we cannot simultaneously determine position and momentum. In
fact, we may have to admit that this thing that we have been calling a
moving particle is not a moving particle at all. If we can't determine
(in our description of a particle) more than one of the two properties
that define existence then how can we be justified in concluding that
the thing under examination is actually a particle? I am suggesting that in the same way it is not possible to separate freedom from consciousness, so too, at the quantum level, freedom is inextricably bound to an "existing particle,"-- the inseparable unity of freedom and negation. That would explain why we never see moving
particles the way they really are. We only see them the way we choose
to see them. Niles Bohr, in his theory of complementarity, addressed
this very issue.

Complementarity is a concept developed to explain the wave particle
duality of light (or the conjugate variables at the heart of all
existence). Wave-like characteristics and particle-like
characteristics, or so the theory goes, are mutually exclusive, yet
complementary aspects of light. Although one of them always excludes
the other, both of them are necessary to understand light. Wave and
particle characteristics exclude each other because light, or anything
else, cannot be both wave like and particle like at the same time.

The almost identical relationship is taking place in what Sartre
calls the dyad of belief-consciousness. By standing off from itself as
it reveals itself, Sartre's pre-reflective cogito structures the
consciousness-belief dyad. According to Sartre, we have consciousness
of an object only through the negation of not being that object, and,
it is that negation that separates me (my consciousness) from my
belief. The pre-reflective cogito cannot be posited as an object of
reflection because it is its own existence; it knows itself only
through the consciousness of existing. For Sartre, the knower in this
knower-known relationship can never be known because it is existence
itself. Because consciousness and belief exist in a cohesive
relationship, each postulating the other, consciousness is necessary
for belief and belief is the being of consciousness. Their meanings
overlap. Thus, a necessary duality shapes our cognitive awareness and
that duality is what constitutes our "freedom to know" the world in
terms of spatiality, quantity, temporality, and instrumentality--to
know everything except the nothingness of the for-itself—to know
everything except the nothingness that binds wave-like characteristics
to particle-like characteristics. Zukav, in his book The Dancing Wu Li
Masters, again identifies the significance of this "common thread"—the
thread of nothingness extending through consciousness, freedom, and
the aesthetic continuum when he says:

Since particle-like behavior and wave-like behavior are the only
properties that we ascribe to light, and since these properties now
are recognized to belong (if complementarity is correct) not to light
itself, but to our interaction with light, then it appears that light
has no properties independent of us! To say that something has no
properties is the same as saying that it does not exist. The next step
in this logic is inescapable. Without us, light does not exist. (p. 118)

To sum up, the aesthetic continuum, --the precondition for anything
whatsoever, and self-consciousness, --the precondition for knowledge
of anything whatsoever, are themselves grounded in the "nothingness of
freedom and self-consciousness"-- the source of all possibilities. It
is this nothingness, the nothingness that is co-dependent with all
interacting relationships on the base level of the aesthetic continuum, and
the nothingness that rests at the heart self-consciousness, which, in
the world that we live in, births our capacity to question, know, and
transform that world—hopefully for the better.

Consciousness—Questions Collapse Consciousness

2012-02-10T08:09:00.000-08:00

Letter Response To Dr. Clifford's Questions Continued

In quantum mechanics, when a measurement is taken, one of the many
possible states of the system becomes actualized (the system breaks
down). It is the collapse of the wave function that allows the
physical state of a system to be observed. An analogue to this
process, collapsing the wave function, exists in our own consciousness.
Asking a question collapses the "jumping monkey"
behavior of our awareness. The strange animal that Von Neumann was
talking about (see post below) does not just exist at the quantum level of experience.

While remaining whole, consciousness too, continually moves through
its possibilities, constantly changing with the passage of time, and,
it continues to do so until an observation (measurement) is made on
"the system under observation." Perhaps you have had this experience,
I know I have, -- many times. Take a "time out" and just listen to
people in conventional conversation. It's "just one thing after
another." Mental associations move the direction of talk seamlessly
through different subjects. Moved by mental associations,
consciousness develops indefinitely; that is, until a question arises.
With the question we "collapse the system." We actualize future
possibilities. Why do I believe what I do? What will I be doing
tomorrow at this time? A question collapses the jumping monkey behavior of consciousness in the same way as Von Neumann's “strange animal” becomes a
thing-in-itself after a measurement is taken on the physical state of a system to be observed—only, according to Sartre, consciousness is already stopped before we even can ask the question. According to him, the very existence of for-itself consciousness—is a question in waiting.

In quantum mechanics it is not possible to observe reality without
changing it. When we get close enough to a system to see what's
happening, we change the outcome, or put more succinctly, there would
be a different set of alternatives had we not interfered. Even our
choice of experiment affects the outcome. The particle-like nature of
light or the wave-like nature of light depends on how we choose to
look at it. In quantum mechanics we cannot eliminate ourselves from
the picture. Thus, an objective look at nature is prohibited. The
knower and the known, at that level of experience, are inextricably
intertwined. At the quantum level, just as it is in self-conscious, we
are looking at the reduction of primacy of knowledge to the primacy of
existence; but, even more than that we are looking at the reduction of
the primacy of existence to the primacy of freedom, or at least the
freedom of multiple possibilities.

Returning to Sartre, two consequences follow from the being of the
for-itself. 1) Consciousness and belief have overlapping meanings;
and, 2) negation and freedom form an inseparable unity. According to
Sartre, it is not possible to separate belief from consciousness, nor
is it possible to separate negation from belief and still have
cognitive awareness. In Sartre's terminology, this is my consciousness
of presence-to-self. Therefore, it is not possible to separate freedom
from consciousness and still remain in existence, and that is the
way I see things at the quantum level of experience, also.

The Network—Sense Experience, Mind, Nature

2012-02-09T05:07:00.000-08:00

Letter Response To Dr. Clifford's Questions Continues

The aesthetic continuum (nature), as has been pointed out by Northrop, is both
determinate and indeterminate. This indeterminacy is encountered in
Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. In the subatomic realm, we reach a
point at which one part or another of our picture of nature becomes
blurred. Here the inner structure of the atom is closed off to all
descriptive accounts. In the logic of physics this means that A or B,
in an AB system, can be determined with any desired precision, but a
conjunctive statement concerning A and B becomes imprecise. In fact,
for some physicists, a conjunctive statement concerning A and B
becomes completely meaningless.

In an attempt to clarify the above described situation, the
mathematician, John von Neumann, in his book The Mathematical
Foundations of Quantum Mechanics asked the question: "If a wave
function (Schrodinger wave equation) actually should describe
something in the real world, what would that something be like?" He
then answered that question when he said; it would be "…a strange
animal constantly changing with the passage of time. Each moment it
would be a simple mixture of possibilities, it would be a sort of
organic whole whose parts are changing constantly but which,
nonetheless, is somehow a thing-in-itself. This thing-in-itself would
continue to develop indefinitely until an observation (measurement) is
made on the observed system which it represents" (Zukav, p. 218). Von
Neumann's description, I believe, is not only valid for what takes
place at the quantum level; it's also valid for what takes place in
consciousness—in particular, in Sartre's description of consciousness.

Asking A Question Collapses The Jumping Monkey Behavior Of Conscious

My relationship to consciousness--my self-consciousness (according to
Sartre)--brings to consciousness the pure negative of nothingness,
and, in so doing, denies itself the possibility of truly becoming
self-conscious. Again, according to Sartre, a negation separates me
from myself. Nothingness then, lies at the heart of consciousness.
Sartre describes man "as the being by which nothingness comes into the
world." Being for-itself can never, in any final sense, be conscious
of itself. It carries within itself the rift of nothingness that
negates that very possibility, and as such, only makes itself known to
me as a lack, a lack that typically fills up with ego, --but it does
something else too. Without the nothingness that negates,
the question or our capacity for inquiry would not exist. The
annihilating act of self-consciousness is the real consciousness
behind consciousness. It is the lack of self—a question unto self,
which we are left with. It is what Sartre calls the pre-reflective
cogito. What this means is that any knowledge of consciousness is
secondary to existing consciousness itself. This is not unlike what
physicists experience at the quantum level. There too, existence
precedes knowledge of it.

A Common Thread Extends Through Everything

2012-02-08T05:49:00.000-08:00

Letter Response To Dr. Clifford's Questions

March 11, 1981
Dear Dr. Clifford,

During the discussion period following my presentation, you asked two
questions: How is freedom implied in consciousness and how is
consciousness connected to the aesthetic continuum (the "stuff" our
senses connect us up with)? I was not happy with my response. So, I
will try harder this time. As I recall, my response to the first
question was that freedom and consciousness are the same thing, and,
in response to your second question, I said freedom cannot be
conceived as a thing to be isolated, it must be conceived within the
totality of the relationships it expresses. Now that I have had more
time to think about your questions, I would like to add that there is
a common thread that extends through consciousness, freedom and the
aesthetic continuum. In Eastern philosophy this thread is called by
the name sunyata. Basically, sunyata requires that all things are
linked together, or, put another way, not a single thing comes into
being without some relationship to every other thing. I realize this
is probably not a concept familiar to you, and, for my part, I will
not bring it into this discussion except to say that it must be
considered in any final evaluation of what I am trying to say.

But, on second thought, and from another point of view, perhaps you
are familiar with this concept. Zukav, in his book The Dancing Wu Li
Masters, connects the idea of interconnectiveness up with the
wave/particle nature of light when he says:

Transferring the properties that we usually ascribe to light to our
interaction with light deprives light of an independent existence.
Without us, or by implication, anything else to interact with, light
does not exist. This remarkable conclusion is only half the story. The
other half is that, in a similar manner, without light, or, by
implication, anything else to interact with, we do not exist! As Bohr
himself put it:

"…an independent reality in the ordinary physical sense can be
ascribed neither to the phenomena nor to the agencies of observation."

By "agencies of observation", he may have been referring to
instruments, not people, but philosophically, complementarity leads to
the conclusion that the world consists not of things, but of
interactions. Properties belong to interactions, not to independently
existing things, like "light". The philosophical implications of
complementarity became even more pronounced with the discovery that
the wave-particle duality is a characteristic of everything. (1979 p.118)

Anyway, it's time to get back to my presentation, back to a
description of the significance of the indeterminate part of the
aesthetic continuum and the consciousness/freedom connection.

The Statement I Am Now Making Is A Lie—True Or False

2012-02-08T05:07:00.000-08:00

Judgment Day Conversation Continues

"Where did you get the idea for the X/Y form, anyway?" responded MV.

"That’s kind of a long story," I said. "Surprisingly, I’m sure Sartre’s
philosophy had a lot to do with it. I never liked Sartre or his
philosophy, it was too abstract, too empty, but without it, I
probably never would have discovered the X/Y form. Sartre’s for-itself
philosophy followed naturally from the X/Y form—it is a product of the
X/Y form.”

"Wasn't the `form' about logic and levels?" said MV.

"Well, yes, but it's even more about negation," I responded,
"the negation that constitutes Sartre's for-itself. From
there, I guess, the idea more or less fell out of the self-referential
paradoxes. When definitions for particular entities relate back to the
entity group to which the entity belongs, self-referential paradoxes
result. The definitions that fall into that category of paradox are
called self-referential concepts or relationships. Here are a few
examples:

["By way of introduction to Russell's antinomy, note that a set or
collection of objects may or may not have the character of these
objects. For example, a group of horses is not a horse and a group of
people is not a person. But in some cases a set of objects does have
the character of the objects. For example, a set of numbers may itself
be a number. As another example, the set of all sets may be
considered to be a set. In other words, a set may or may not be a
number of itself. Thus, the set of all horses is not a member of
itself where as the set of all sets is a member of itself. Consider
now the set, denoted by S, of all sets that are not members of
themselves. Is S a member of itself or not? Suppose S is a member of
itself; then (by definition of S) S is not a member of itself. Suppose
S is not a member of itself; then (by definition of S) it is a member
of S. Hence we arrive at the contradiction that S is a member of S if
and only if S is not a member of S. This is known a Russell's antinomy
and is an example of a set-theoretic antinomy…

In a similar illustration, consider the chief (or high priest) of a
tribe who makes sacrifices for those and only those members of the
tribe who do not make sacrifices for themselves. Does he make a
sacrifice for himself? If he does, then he does not; and if he does
not, then he does… (And lastly), another well-known antinomy concerns
a liar. For example, suppose a person says, "This statement I am now
making is a lie." Is the quoted statement true or false? It can be
shown that it can be neither, without involving a contradiction."
(Luchins and Luchins, 1965, p.13).]

“I need a little help here; where is the X/Y form in any of this,” said MV.

“The X/Y form,” I replied, “may be thought of as the pre-condition for
self-reference to occur. In fact, self-reference may be thought of as a product of
the X/Y form. But I am getting ahead of myself here. The original idea that
there was a pre-condition for self-reference was developed in the symbolic logic
of C.I. Lewis. To avoid contradictions such as occur in the Liar and other paradoxes, Lewis developed what he called pragmatic contradiction. It, pragmatic
contradiction, treats together the speech and the act of speaking.
‘All statements are false’ cannot be true because it implies, not a
restriction against self-reference as Russell said, but because it
implies the necessary truth of the contradictory opposite, ‘There
exists at least one true statement.’ Starting with a
contradiction-free affirmation, the structures of knowledge can then
be made to follow in a necessary and systematic fashion. In this way,
the closed system problems that arise in mathematics are avoided.
Trying to locate the foundation of this knowledge—the source of
rule-generated information--was what led me to the idea of the X/Y form."

You Begin From Within The Part That You Are Whole In

2012-02-06T05:02:00.000-08:00

Judgment Day Conversation Continues
Presentation Of My Freedom Philosophy—First Attempt

"I guess you could say, I replied, “that it all began with my
discovery of how freedom coexists within the physical constraints of
cause and effect. Freedom got a whole lot more meaningful after that."

"How so?" said MV.

"Well, as best I can remember," I said, "it all had to do with how
different types of freedom come together in our day to day experience.
Our sensed freedom—the freedom to avoid the unpleasant while pursuing
the pleasant—for instance, had the indirect effect of creating the
environment where all our other freedoms get expressed. We are free,
for example, to question our place in the environment and, hopefully,
those investigations lead us to the further discoveries of reliable
predictions concerning our environment. As knowledge accumulates,
expectations and goals change. The value and meaning of relationships
change. What at one time was sought for pleasure becomes unattractive
and so on and so forth. Sociologically, as regards the logically
consistent answers to our questions, we are free to change our
behavior. We are free to grow wiser and emotionally mature. What all
this means for freedom, and this is what I tried to communicate in my
presentation way back when, is that the dynamic of freedom must be
understood in terms of a liberation process that is in constant flux,
especially if one values freedom!"

"Okay, I kind of get it," MV replied, "so how did it go?"

"What?"

"The presentation," MV responded, "How did it go?"

"Why ask me? You were there!" I said. "It went fine; maybe too good,
in fact."

"Just because I was a witness doesn't mean I was `really' there,"
replied MV. "I'm not your twin, let alone privy to your inner
feelings. So what does `maybe too good' mean, anyway?"

"For a know-it-all," I responded, "you're not very bright. For as
many times as I've been at bat on this one, I haven't exactly hit the
ball very well! My first time was beginner's luck. The applause at the
end was nice, too."

"Beginner’s luck," MV replied. "It’s just that they didn’t get your message, right!"

"Why do you think I stopped giving presentations," I said. "People
couldn't or wouldn't understand. My inability to speak well probably
had something to do with it, though. It wasn't all a waste; as I said
before, freedom is growth, and I experienced a whole lot of that."

"Yeah, as I recall, at the presentation you even recited a poem on
the subject," MV replied.

"That's right," I said. "I was lucky to remember it. In fact, the poem
was what made it a good presentation. I invited Dr. Clifford to my talk,
the Professor who taught quantum mechanics at my university, and he brought
with him another physics professor. I guess he was curious, or maybe he just
wanted to pester me with questions. God knows I pestered him with more than a few concerning quantum mechanics. In fact, the questions he asked at the end of my presentation turned out to be instrumental in the development of the ideas that
would later turn into my full-blown philosophy. Unfortunately, at the
time, however, I was only able to answer one of his questions, the one
about "why I do what I do." I responded by referring to the poem that
Faith Johnson, my long retired Botany teacher, wrote on the blackboard. She loved
teaching so much that with another Professor she team-taught my Botany
class without pay. Back then I could remember the poem. Today, I have
to look to where it hangs on my wall, glued to the letter that confirmed my
CMU janitor’s job. Here it is:

They set the slave free, striking off his chains…
Then he was as much of a slave as ever.
He was still chained to servility,
He was still manacled to indolence and sloth,
He was still bound by fear and superstition,
By ignorance, suspicion, and savagery…
His slavery was not in his chains,
But in himself.
They can only set free men free…
And there is no need to do that;
Free men set themselves free.

James Oppenheim

Family—A Divine Gift—And, A Gift To The Divine

2012-02-05T09:10:00.000-08:00

Judgment Day--MV Conversation Continues

“Shit; this is really uncomfortable,” I replied

"You did get it, didn't you?" responded MV

"Yeah, it came like a falling brick,” I said. “That's when I found out that
to serve God, raising a family was enough. It was then that I made up my
mind to stop talking the gibberish that nobody could understand anyway,
find a wife, and raise a family. I didn't know what it took to be a parent—let
alone a good parent, but I was ready to try. Actually, the adage `ignorance is
bliss,' when it comes to starting a family, is probably the best plan
of action. There are other ways to serve God, of course, but for most,
being a successful parent is as God-centered as it gets. I was a slow
learner, though, but at least I didn't run off when the going got
tough. My family, for the most part, was a divine gift—and, right back at you,
a gift to the divine. That, for me, was my saving grace."

"And all those memories were good?" replied MV.

"Absolutely," I said. "That was the turning point for me. It's to
bad family gets taken for granted far too often."

"Your words belie the truth," responded MV, "For many, family is a
burden. Not that's that bad for me—its fertile ground! You
managed to get through it, though, and I got no thanks whatsoever."

"What!" I exclaimed. "Are you saying that somehow you did it? You
want credit for my family. I think not! I forced you out of my mind
long ago because, quite frankly, I didn't have time for you. Don't
tell me I owe you. That's absurd. If this is the end, if my time is
up, then bring it on. I'm ready; but I owe you nothing!"

"At least for now, perhaps," responded MV, "but going quietly into that
`last night' is quite an accomplishment all by itself. And you
wouldn't be ready for didley squat without me. When I first came along you
were wasted on drugs, and about to be pummeled into unconsciousness by
that butch son-of-a-bitch. If I remember correctly, your life was on
the fast track to a dreary end. Without my assistance, you would have
ended up nose down in a mud, rock-gut in your belly, and the whisper
of a wasted life on your lips. Come on, admit it!"

"Maybe."

"Maybe, nothing," replied MV, "I'm your savior and you're not man
enough to admit it! Ever ask yourself, `Why me?' Why did a mediocre
kid succeed, where others, many others, failed?"

"Luck I suppose," I said. "It's true in the lottery, why not here?"

"We're not talking lottery," replied MV. "Death is not a game!
However, maybe, just maybe you do deserve some credit; after all, it
was your life. I'm feeling charitable. Tell you what, I'll give you
more time, but remember, what I give I can also take away! Let's see,
what exactly is this all about, what did you accomplish anyway? You
tell me, where do we begin?"

If It Wasn’t For Me Your Last Breath Would Have Whispered—Wasted Life

2012-02-04T08:30:00.000-08:00

Judgment Day--MV Conversation Continues

"Do you remember the last time a decision of conscience turned your
world topsy-turvy?” said MV. “It should be a deja'vu experience for you. It took
place in that same chair you are sitting in right now, and you were
listening to the same music. Everything was going-to-black back then,
too."

"Yes, I remember," I said, "I was depressed because nobody could
understand me. I had an important message that I just couldn't
communicate."

"Perhaps they weren't listening," responded MV.

"Maybe," I said, "but I'm pretty sure it was me. I just couldn't say
what needed to be said. It was awful. I couldn't cope, so I just gave
up, and my depression grew worse."

"I wasn't part of that," responded MV.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I said. "I wasn't blaming you."

"Good! I get blamed for everything. Let me tell you who is to blame,
though. It's the big guy upstairs," said MV, "if you want to blame
somebody blame Him. It's idealism you know. If idealism ceased to
exist, suffering would be cut in half. Without idealism, I wouldn't be
out of a job, but I sure would be on a hell of a diet."

"I'm an idealist?" I responded.

"Is the kettle black!" MV replied. "Of course you are. You poor soul!
You were born that way. Maybe we ought to go now."

"Hold on," I said, "all I wanted to do was share what I believed with
others. Is that asking too much? Everybody wants to do that, don't they?"

"Haven't you heard; some beliefs have to be earned," said MV. "It's
not enough just to share them. Tell me that's not breaking news for you!"

"Well, even if I didn't know that back then, I do now."

"You had to learn that the hard way, didn't you?" responded MV.

"I guess so," I replied. "Back then, no matter what I said, it was
like trying to feed lemons to people who only liked ice cream.
What was I supposed to do?
I wasn't saying anything threatening, so why were my ideas rejected
outright, without so much as a second thought?"

"Hey, I'm just the witness, remember?" said MV. "If you want answers
you need to talk to someone else."

"Now who's playing coy?" I replied. "I was down for the count when I
asked for help, and you know exactly what I'm talking about because
you were there. You're always there, right? You could have spoken up,
but you didn't--why?"

"Why should I," said MV, "You still got the message didn't you?"
"I got it," I replied, "but no thanks to you."

"Don't be so sure of that," MV responded, "why do you think your
words fell on deaf ears in the first place?"

"Enough of your double talk," I said. "I know better than to listen
to you. But I am thankful that I got the message-- the message of
family. Family puts God right smack in the middle of things."

"Yeah, you got it," replied MV. "I suppose you deserve an `at-a-boy!"

A Deal’s A Deal—Time To Shed That Mortal Coil

2012-02-04T07:53:00.000-08:00

Judgment Day (a day that spans almost the whole of part four)
Some Future Time

"Jazz! You always did like jazz didn't you. That's probably because
of that freedom thing, your eminent preoccupation, right?"

"What's this? Is that you?"

"Yes, its me," responded MV, "Did you think you were rid of me? Well
I'm back, but as you know, I never really left. I would have been
right up front with you if you only would have called, but you didn't.
It's a pity; all that time I go unappreciated. You should be ashamed.
Why didn't you call?"

"You were my sickness and now you're back, after all these years, you
tell me why? Why even come back?"

"Because it's time," MV replied, "time to pay old debts; time to shed
that mortal coil."

"Oh, that explains it," I said. "A voice in my head announces it's
time to die and that's that. Sick people die. I can't argue that, but
why so scripted? It's like in a movie where the grim reaper points a
finger, and off you go. Maybe I'm sick, maybe even sick to death. But
if that's true, why do you have to be so uncreative about it?"

"Don't play coy with me," responded MV, "a deal's a deal! And now
it's time to pay up. After all, without me you never would have made
it this far. Instead of a smiling old man, consoled by your beloved
jazz music, rocking your heart away in your favorite chair, you would
have died unfulfilled and in pain a long time ago. Instead of savoring
memories of family, friends, and peaceful meditations, your corpse,
save a few rotting bones, would have all but disappeared by now. You might
even think yourself blessed, but I wouldn't go that far. Even so, you
have lived a good life-- a rare accomplishment indeed. But now its
time; prepare yourself, we must go!"

"Wait, what's the hurry?" I said, "I'm sorry if you felt neglected,
but if I really owe you for my good fortune, then maybe you ought to
give me a little more time. We can both appreciate each other that
way. After all, if you don't allow yourself time to feel good about
yourself, nobody else can do it for you. You're right; I do have much
to be grateful for. If I owe you that honor so be it. Actually, I'm
only asking that you to give yourself more time to be appreciated.
Believe me, you owe it to yourself, especially if, as you say, I would
not be me without you!"

"Well, I guess a small reprieve wouldn't hurt," MV replied. "And
besides, there's more to this story than you are aware. This could
even be fun!"

"What do you mean there is more to the story?" I said. "How can that
be? You are, as you yourself have said, only a `shadow presence.' I
affirm or deny you as I please. In the form of conscience, you may
have some influence, but that's the end of it, right?"

"I am a witness, true, but I also have power," responded MV. "Soon you
will understand!”

Introduction To The Remainder Of My Blog Posts—Second Introduction

2012-02-03T09:34:00.000-08:00

The X/Y form is an original idea that I developed over time.

Here’s a short explanation of the X/Y form—the power of representation X by Y form. The X/Y form is like cause and effect, but where as effect follows cause (temporal dependence), the X/Y form, at its source, is independent of time and space. Also, where as “cause” is found in the blue quadrant of the observer/observered relationship and the “effects of causes” are also discovered in the blue quadrant of the observer/observered relationship, those same effects, in order to be discovered in the blue quadrant of the observer/observered relationship, first must be identified in the purple quadrant of the observer/observered relationship. The X/Y form, ultimately, is the cause/source of all quadrants; hence, the observer/observered relationship is an effect of the X/Y form.

In summary form:

X/Y = big bang, mass, energy….stars, galaxies, planets…. blue quadrant.

~(X/Y)(X/Y)=life, survival, continuity, death, mutation, natural selection...green quadrant.

(-(-(X/Y) (X/Y))(-(X/Y)(X/Y)))=implicative affirmative of the not-me-self, personhood, reason,--ability to make the changes necessary to perpetuate life and civilization while seeking truth, justice, happiness, and spiritual growth….purple quadrant.

Unfortunately, before I found a way to simplify the X/Y form to ~~b =X/Y, ~bb=~(X/Y)(X/Y), b~b~bb=(-(-(X/Y) (X/Y))(-(X/Y)(X/Y))), I used the X/Y form version in my explanation of the observer/observed relationship—making the communication of this new version of the observer/observed relationship very difficult to wrap one’s mind around; get a feel for; make sense of—in a word, understand. In my defense though, the X/Y form is more a record of the genesis of my version of the observer/observed relationship than it is an explanation of the observer/observed relationship. In other words, the b~b~bb idea would be incomplete without an explanation of its genesis.]

A head’s up here, I’m not sure yet (it’s a day to day thing), but I don’t believe my
future posts will lend themselves to pictures. Consequently, I have decided to post at least one picture per post—a picture of album covers. My CD collection is larger than my album collection but, as you might surmise, album covers are more photogenic. Since this begins the end-of-life reflection part of my journal, what better way to represent those reflections than to post along side of them the music (album covers) I grew up with! For the most part, the covers will be posted A through Z (expect incongruities though, some are not alphabetized and others are miss-alphabetized).

Introduction To The Rest Of My Blog Posts

2012-02-03T09:16:00.000-08:00

This Post Marks The Beginning Of The Fourth (And Last) Part
Of My Journal Writing

"Man tries to make for himself in the fashion that suits him best a
simplified and intelligible picture of the world; he then tries to
some extent to substitute this cosmos of his for the world of
experience, and thus overcome it. This is what the painter, the poet,
the speculative philosopher, and the natural scientist do, each in his
own fashion. Each makes this cosmos and its construction the pivot of
his emotional life, in order to find in this way the peace and
security which he cannot find in the narrow whirlpool of personal
experience."

Albert Einstein, Ideas And Opinions, 1956, p.225

As an end-of-life reflection, my story becomes more personal now. Here
is a brief description of what is to come, and why that is the case:

Most people do not live in an emotionally warm universe; they live in
a universe that is either totally indifferent to the lives they live,
or they live in a hostile one. If more people lived in a
non-threatening and emotionally warm universe, I believe more good
would get done, more compassion produced, and less violence would be the
result. In part four of my journal, I will describe, either directly or
indirectly, the universe I live in now. Everybody, in his or her own
way, already lives in this universe. For those who know nothing of this
universe, I would like to suggest that it is only a small change
in perspective away; for some, however, a major shift in perspective
may be required.

The last of my journal (all but the very end) takes place in future time (at the time when I am only one conversation away from dying). Future time posts are broken up into segments, usually beginning with a dialogue between MV and myself (MV is the voice in my head that has popped up throughout my journal writing, but has been conspicuously absent for a long time). MV and I entered into a wager back when I was job hunting in New Orleans.

Well here’s a fine “how do you do,” I just went back to my New Orleans postings hoping to find my MV wager so I could cut and paste it here, but that post is not there. Between the post “Infidels” and “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” I was supposed to find the post “The Bargain,” but it wasn’t there. Back when I started this blog I was afraid that people would complain to WordPress that my blog ought to be X-rated; therefore, I was careful to edit out some sex and anything else that I though was controversial. My wager with MV did not make the cut. Since the whole (almost the whole) of the rest of my journal is based on that particular conversation, I am posting it now in its entirety.

What I originally intended to post in this spot will have to wait (or, maybe not). My plan was to introduce the X/Y form. X/Y form posts (the posts that developed into what I call the “new model of the observer/observed relationship”) are concentrated at the beginning of my future time posts. The X/Y form morphed (the meaning is the same) into the b~b~bb structure that grounds the “new model of the observer/observed relationship.” (see http://bwinwnbwi2.wordpress.com/2012/01/11/new-model-of-the-observerobserved-relationship-concluded/ and the post preceding that one for more on the b~b~bb structure and the observer/observed relationship.) For me, the “new model of the observer/observed relationship” is a personal response to Einstein’s invitation: "Man tries to make for himself in the fashion that suits him best a simplified and intelligible picture of the world……”

MV's Change Of Strategy—The Bargain
My One Room Apartment
New Orleans
January, 1970

I never did get a real job, but it wasn't because I didn't try. Just
thinking about the mileage I put on my shoes makes my feet hurt. I
was finally humbled into taking a job selling encyclopedias. I
didn't really want the job, but they promised good money and I was
getting desperate. When it came to giving a sale's pitch, I wasn't
sure if I could pull it off. (In College, I was so afraid of
speaking in front of people that I never gave one speech to my
speech class. I passed the class with a D since I did well on the
written tests.) Actually, I was lucky to get the job. Many of the
people didn't get past the first day. After the interview, I was
given a three page long dictation to memorize. On the following day,
many of the other people didn't have their lines memorized; they
were dismissed on the spot. If it weren't for the fact that I was
bored at night, I wouldn't have taken the time to memorize the
shitty speech anyway.

With my books to keep me company, my nights were mostly spent
reading in my room. Having only a few dollars in my pocket and even
fewer friends, painting the town was not an option. One night was
worth remembering, barely. After a disappointing day job-hunting, I
stopped by a local tavern. At the bar, I sat next to a pretty girl.
I listened as she poured her life story out to the bartender. She
was new in town and unattached. When she said she was from
Huntington Beach, California, I thought to myself, "Now there's a
connection, I've been there and I can use that to begin a
conversation with her." Drinking my beer, waiting for the right
moment to begin talking to her, a Dylan song popped into my head. In
the song, the protagonist strikes up a conversation with a girl at a
bar and discovers that both he and she share a common hometown and
acquaintances. As I was letting the song in my head play over and over,
it made it easy to wait for the right opportunity to talk to the girl. Just
as her conversation with the bartender was tailing off, in walked
this guy who sat down on the other side of girl, and when he heard
that she was from California, he asked, "Where in California?" As it
turned out, both he and the chick happened to be from Huntington
Beach, and they shared many friends in common. That could only
happen to me!

Back in my room, I was not in a very good mood. I didn't feel like
reading, but I needed to do something, so I sat down and started to
write. I guess I wrote a poem. Well, maybe it wasn't a poem. The
only thing that really mattered is that it helped me get through the
night.

My Despair

Discontent is as much a part of my soul
as being human is a part of my body.
I say look to the future for salvation.
You say, wallow in your shit.
I say there is always hope.
You say the future is present now,

and shit stinks forever too.
I say you are a fool.
You say eat shit,
hope for an early death
and win paradise.

I had arrived in New Orleans four weeks before Mardi Gras. The whole
time I was there I could feel the excitement building. Every day the
city was becoming more alive with its new decorations, fresh paint,
and newly installed bleacher seats. Although I was looking forward
to Mardi Gras, I didn't figure on any surprises. The people in the
French Quarter were already celebrating. The excitement of watching
people throw beer cans, scream obscenities, and, in general, act
like jerks, loses its appeal after awhile. I suppose I could be
speaking out of envy, since I was not one of the good-time people,
but I hope not. The week before Mardi Gras there was the pre-Mardi
Gras party. Bourbon St. and Royal St. were awash in drunken
celebrations. The highlight of the party came when this muscle bound
peacock stopped traffic and tried to pick up a Volkswagen full of
terrified tourists. Even with his drunken buddies cheering him on,
he could not pick up the car.

The thing that turned me off more than anything else was the
indisputable prejudice that was all around me. Although the black
population got the brunt of the prejudice, there was more than
enough to go around. It seemed some of the people down here were
still fighting the Civil War. Being from the north and a hippie, I
was not immune from being the object of prejudice. Not one to back
down, though, I would often walk through the black section of town
and stop to swing on one of the swings in the playground reserved
for black kids. Everybody, blacks and whites alike, gave me dirty
looks. The anti-social stigma of being the wrong color in the right
swing, or being the right color in the wrong swing, did not win me
points among the locals. Fortunately, I wasn't trying to win a
popularity contest. I just learned to swing with my eyes closed.

I stayed with my encyclopedia job for better than a week while I
learned all the sales pitches and promotion exercises. I was one day
away from getting my first paycheck when I told the whole fucking
establishment to kiss my ass. I couldn't picture myself as a
salesman anyhow, but the real reason I got pissed had to do with the
way they treated one of the girls who I became friends with. She was
from Silver City, New Mexico and she was counting on her promised
paycheck so she could buy a bus ticket home. The guy in charge found
out that she wasn't going to stick around and sell encyclopedias, so
he fired her. She spent what little money she had on clothes and now
she was out of money and a job. She was devastated. I felt sorry for
her since I knew how she felt; I also had to send home for my suit
coat so I would have something to wear for the job. I guess
quitting my job wasn't the best way to show my support for her, but
the thought of working along side garbage, like the guy who fired
her, made my skin crawl.

After kissing both the girl and my job good-by, my depression
started to kick in. By the time I got back to my apartment, New
Orleans was making me nauseous. I wanted to pack up and get out of
town, but I had already paid the rent and my suit coat hadn't
arrived in the mail yet. Feeling out of control, I retreated to
familiar territory; I bellied up to the nearest liquor store and
bought myself a bottle. It was a pretty safe bet that I would see
things differently from the bottom of a whisky bottle. Back in my
room, before I got drunk and after putting the finishing touches on
another poem, a voice interrupted my train of thought, MV as I liked
to call it, was the voice of my insanity. And it had returned!

"What the hell do you want?" I said. "I'm not in a good mood. Do
yourself a favor and get the hell out of here."

"Manners! Manners!" came the retort. "That's no way to treat your
old friend. I want to help you and you treat me like a cockroach.
Can't you be more civil?"

"I don't feel civil," I said, "in fact, I feel anything but civil.
I don't need you to spoil the one thing that gives me pleasure,
getting drunk. Now leave me alone. I can drink just fine
without the likes of you around. Go away, please!"

"You need me," MV said, "someday, when I'm not needed I might go
away. Would that make you happy?"

"Overjoyed," I replied, "But you've got it wrong. I don't need you,
especially now! All I need is a damn drink and I prefer to drink
alone."

"Let's see," said MV, "you're saying that getting drunk has left you
bubbling over with joy. Right? Oh come now, this is no time for
silence. How about sharing some of that joy, I could use a
little `pick me up.' Let's see what you've written, correct me if
I'm wrong. As I recall, it went something like this:

Dark shadows fall,
the echoes of my life.
Worry, sadness, and pain,
the never ending present.
The emptiness of living is my plight.
Life is in agony,
my soul in chaotic drift.
If only mercy killings
were the fashion and
I not such a coward.

Yeah, now I'm happy. Happiness is contagious around a party animal
like you. Be careful though, you're liable to kill yourself with
laughter. Are you sure you don't need my help? I mean, anybody can
dig their own gave, but to make it official you need to be buried
and mourned. It appears you've mastered the first half. If you do
not need my help, what do you need? I tell you true, I can give you
more than you can imagine. Certainly, I can do enough so that you
will never again feel compelled to write such drivel."

"What I need," I said, "you will not, or cannot give me. I
need you to go away. I need to know I am not loosing my mind."

"But we've been over that one before," replied MV, "I am your mind.
Lose me and your mind will surely be lost, the best part of it too.
By the sounds of it, maybe you need the girl next door. I know I do!"

"Oh," I said, "the guy's prostitute in the next apartment over
must be back. It seems to be a once a week thing. Wait a few minutes
and the walls will be vibrating."

"Nothing wrong with that," said MV. "If you like, I can get you
girls and they won't even be prostitutes."

"Fine," I said, "Bring me a girl and while you're at it, bring me a
girl I can love. Sex is always better if you at least like the girl
you're with and I imagine it's great if you love her. Wait! Better
yet. Bring me a girl that everybody would love to love. Shit! Why
not have everybody love everybody! That's it MV. How about it, can
you do that? I want to look out my window and see nothing but
loving and peaceful souls. Can you turn souls that hate into souls
that love? That's what I want MV. Can you do that for me?"

"What you want is to turn the world into a Garden of Eden minus the
apples. Right?" responded MV.

"You've got it," I said, "Now go and do it. Take your time, I'm
patient!"

"If I could grant your wish," MV replied, "what would you do for me?"

"You flatter me. What could I possibly do for you," I said, "Be
your slave?"

"That's not a bad idea," MV responded, "If I could do the
impossible, then yes, for services rendered, I could make you my
slave. But, I cannot do the impossible, so I guess you're safe for
now. Besides, if you really knew what you were asking, you wouldn't
be asking."

" What's that supposed to mean?" I said.

"It means you don't know what you're saying. If you did you
wouldn't say it," responded MV. "You look out at the world and see
black and white and good and evil. Those things are mere reflections
of what's really going on. In the real world it's not possible for
me to do what you ask. If it was, then all righteousness and
goodness would, in a blink of an eye, cease to exist. You look at
the world and see cruelty, suffering, injustice and, if I know you,
a fiendish plot to turn all good things bad. But what if bad things
were necessary in order for good things to happen? Would you still
wish away the bad? Of course you wouldn't! If an irremovable bond
linked bad to good how would you feel then?"

"Now who's asking for the impossible," I said, "there is no
plan, no purpose to this world. It's just what works that counts, and
what works, unfortunately, is usually violent in nature. It all
started with an exploding universe and now it's come down to big
fish eating the little fish. If you see reason and purpose in that,
fine, but all I see is the strong and smart killing the small and
weak and that's called `survival of the fittest' with lots of pain
thrown in for good measure. Comprende?"

"All I want you to do," replied MV, "is admit that you don't know
everything. That's the beginning! I really can help if you just open
up a little. Just admit it; your knowledge is incomplete."

"Ok," I said, "so explain it to me, so we both can be enlightened!"

"I can't give you the answers without you first asking the
questions," replied MV, "a clear vision of `reality' may be obtained
only through your own eyes, never through the eyes of another, but I
can give direction. Besides, my words--my answers to your questions,
unless they affect your heart, will not be of use to you."

"How can you talk about the heart?" I interrupted. "You are
ridiculous. First you tell me that what I believe is wrong, and then
you say `sorry sucker, I have what you want but you're not getting
any!' How sublime! What a crock of shit! You talk like a madman.
God! What does that make me, a genius on the insanity scale? Okay,
you say that everything is the way it's suppose to be, and
therefore, everything is already an expression of the good. Right?"

"That's right," replied MV.

"Well, the only good that can come out of this is for you to leave
me alone," I said. "Get the hell out of my life! I've got some
serious drinking to do and trying to make sense out of your nonsense
is giving me a headache."

"I'll make you a deal," MV interrupted. "In the beginning
you wanted a girl, and then it changed to paradise. Right?"

"Yeah, something like that," I replied.

"Then I told you that what you wanted was impossible because good
and bad are so interconnected that one can not exist without the
other. Right?"

"If you say so," I replied.

"Well here's the deal: I'll help you understand what's `real,'"
said MV, "and if I succeed I promise you will become free from all
scorn and bitterness. You will discover, with my help, how it all
fits together, how good and evil are woven into one reality. To get
to that place you must penetrate reality's nexus, and that my friend
is no minor achievement, but together we will triumph. Are you up
for the challenge? All that I require for this service is your soul."

"Say again," I exclaimed.

"I'm offering you that `final realization' where, by design, pain
and suffering become a necessary part of all that is righteous and
good," replied MV.

"No," I said, "I mean the part about me giving you my soul? Am I
missing something here? Have we made some kind of right turn? The
word soul is hardly in my vocabulary, but I still don't like what
I'm hearing. This is important. We're talking about my sanity now,
not just a dream!"

"Wait a minute. Think about what you're saying," said MV. "Get your
head out of the Dark Ages and listen to me. How can giving me your
soul be bad when to make that possible bad must become good? In the
end, you loose nothing. And anyway, look at what you get in return;
I'll do your bidding. You will have total control."

"I need to understand what you're saying," I said. "When you
say bad is good you don't mean that bad is good relative to
different levels of badness, you mean that bad is somehow inherently
good. Right?

"Right," said MV.

"And, if I discover how good and bad are inherently good
then and only then, do I give up my soul. Right?

"Yes, that's right," replied MV.

"If I agree to this," I said, "you will do whatever I tell you to
do, and you will continue to do so during the entire time that it
takes for me to conclude that bad is good. Is that right?"

"We are not talking semantics here," MV responded, "the rules of
language, the rule of non-contradiction, keeps opposites apart.
Don't worry, we are not talking about language we are talking about
vision. When you are able to see past the rules of language then you
will see also the good and evil connection."

"I need an answer to my question, thank you," I said. "As long as I
believe bad is not good, I get to keep my soul and I get to tell you
to get out of my life?"

"Almost," MV responded. "You don't get to bury me. I need to be able
to help you along. However, if at anytime you want me to leave just
say so, I will go. I will be available if you need me, though.
That's part of the deal!"

"I need to hear it one last time," I said, "if I am not in
agreement that bad is good, then I keep my soul?"

"That is right," replied MV.

"Then we have a bargain. Where do I sign?"

"Don't be so archaic, MV responded, "We are adults here. Your word
is as good as it gets."

"Okay, then go," I said, "get the hell out of my life. I've got to
wash this whole affair out of my memory and I don't need any help
from you to get the job done."

When I woke the next morning, I wasn't exactly at a hundred
percent. At first, I thought I had a nightmare, but on second
thought I knew I couldn't be so lucky. I faced up to the fact that
my mental health was deteriorating. My emotions were pulling me in
every direction. If I really believed that MV was the real McCoy and if he could be
trusted, then from here on out I might be able to turn my insanity
around. But, if I actually believed that, I really would be insane,
not to mention I would be giving my soul, a soul I never even knew I
had, up for grabs. Anyway, illusion or not, making that deal with MV
was probably the safest bet I have ever made.

Well, There You Have It; in the rest of my journal MV and I (in future time) will be haggling over the wager’s outcome and, in the process, I will continue to cite significant past experiences (more journal posts) in order to (1) prolong my life and (2) argue my way out of the wager!

Body Of Christ—The Door Into The Most Vital Love

2012-01-30T08:43:00.000-08:00

St. Ignace, Michigan
Aug. ‘80

The teaching of the meaning of the death of Jesus was a uniquely
Christian teaching, but that meaning was not what Jesus taught.
Sitting in that congregation, totally absorbed in the words coming
from the pulpit, I felt a sudden change in my disposition. I no longer
felt like a particular. My sense of separateness began to dissolve.
When Peter approached Jesus and heard the words, "The time is coming
when I must leave my body," Jesus was not talking about "stepping out
of life," rather he was talking about "stepping into life," into the
whole birth-death process that sustains life and divinity. "Leaving,"
for Jesus, meant that a door opened—a door into the body of Christ,
into the body of all people caring for each other, into the body of
all divinity that makes love possible. Jesus died so that a more vital
love might be shared—a love for each other, for life, and for the
divine. For that one brief moment I felt at peace, really at peace. I
felt whole. I felt love.

I don't have any more words for what happened to me while I listened
to that sermon, except possibly, that there is a whole lot more to say
if I only had the words. Walking away from church I was overcome with
yet another emotion, one that said, "It's all right, everything's
going to be okay." At the start of this bicycle trip I was curiously
aware that I should not expect any new insights. The simple fact that
I was going on another bicycle trip was success enough. It affirmed my
chosen lifestyle and living that lifestyle was all the reward I
needed. No further contentment was necessary. So why, on this, the
very last day of my trip, did I get this feeling of wholeness while
sitting in a completely unfamiliar Christian church with total
strangers. It's funny how some things work out differently than
planned--and better.

About this trip -- it's been good. It's that simple. The one thing
that did go wrong -- my knee, I accepted with no hard feelings. I took
a totally relaxed attitude about this trip and it paid off. Even in
the rain, and there was plenty, I did not let myself get to down. When
it got bad, as it did in northern British Columbia, I boarded a
train--a good choice. On many occasions I was so high from the scenery
that I felt like I was going to burst with joy. All of life came
together in those special moments, in those very special moments. On a
more negative note, I was definitely the odd man out among the more
adventurous youth. Youth has its place, and so does age; it is too bad
they rarely find a comfortable place to coexist—that separateness is
not irreproachable. Responsibilities go with each, and both are to be
valued for their potentialities. I think its time to leave. I see my
parent's coming to pick me up.

Stepping Into God Presence—Leaving One’s Body

2012-01-30T08:20:00.000-08:00

St. Ignace, Michigan
Aug. ‘80

The minister’s sermon began simply enough. He spoke of the time when
Jesus told his disciple, Peter, that the time would soon come when he would
have to leave his body. It was the meaning the minister attached to
"leaving one's body" that, perhaps, the congregation had a difficult
time with. Forget about St. Peter and the pearly gates. According to
this guy, you didn't go anywhere. On second thought, maybe that's too
strong of a way to put it. It might be more accurate to say that
leaving one's body was like "stepping into God's house." You still
didn't go anywhere, but, in a manner of speaking, God came to you. The
Christian church preached that Jesus was sacrificed for the sake of
the rest of us, to save all the sinners, but this minister wasn't
saying that. Rather, he was saying that Jesus was not a sacrificial
lamb, he was a messenger, and, as was common among sinners confronting
disturbing messages, they, the sinners, murdered the messenger. In
this case, the message, "love thy neighbor," was just too threatening,
not to mention the horrifying idea of seriously considering the
possibility of unconditional love. "Messages promoting love are
grudgingly received and never, or hardly ever practiced," said the
minister.

At that point in the sermon, it was as if the lady sitting next to me
had reached over and pinched me because in that instant I realized
that if I had been living at the time of Jesus, I probably would have
been one of his accusers. I probably would have called for his
execution. It was so easy to condemn, especially if one felt afraid or
threatened. It was next to impossible to love under those same
circumstances. Jesus knew that he would die for love. That's why he
taught that death transcends the particular. The Christian church
teaches something similar—that the good go to heaven, go to Jesus.

In Church The Tension Was Real

2012-01-29T10:06:00.000-08:00

Episcopal Church
Aug. 3, ‘80

The next morning, while enjoying campfire coffee, I couldn't stop
thinking about the conversation I had with the minister. It was
intriguing for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that
the guy appeared to be struggling with something that he wanted to
talk about but couldn't or wouldn't. He appeared depressed, too. I
began to think seriously about attending his church service. After
all, it was a beautiful morning, and I had to wait around for my
parents anyway. "Why not," I thought, "it sounded like a good way to
end a good bicycle trip."

I went downtown on my bike, and asked directions to the church. In
another 15 minutes, I arrived at a small, wooden building with a white
steeple. While chaining my bike to a tree in front of the church, I
started to wonder why I was there. Sometimes I acted impetuously, and
when it dawned on me that this was one of those times, I found myself
too embarrassed to leave. Some of the congregation had already greeted
me, so I took a deep breath and went inside. There were probably forty
or so people waiting for the service to start. The place was about
half full. Two old ladies had cranked their heads around to look at
me. They were smiling, so that's where I sat, in the pew next to them.
The ladies were quick to make sure I had my hymnal and bible in hand,
and after I thanked them, the service began.

It began with the "robbed ones" parading down the isle swinging a
canister of burning incense. I guess the incense was meant to bless,
or possibly purify the congregation. It was my first time, so I wasn't
sure what was going on. The smell of incense was especially pleasant,
though. As the minister walked past me we made eye contact. I was
right; his eyes betrayed his feelings. I could see his eyes light up with
tension as soon as he recognized me. Upon reflection, though,
I’m not sure if he became tense on account of me, or if it was already
there in anticipation of his sermon, which I would be a witness to.
I'm not a churchgoer, but back when I was attending Bill's
Methodist church with Carin (Carin being an old girlfriend of mine and
Bill being both a minister and Carin’s father), I got a feel for how far a
minister could stray from the "party line"--Christian orthodoxy.
What I was about to hear stretched those limits.

He Didn't Talk Like A Minister

2012-01-29T09:57:00.000-08:00

St. Ignace, Michigan
Aug. ‘80

I had a good night last night. After my shower, I walked downtown
and stopped at a couple of bars. At my second bar, Ken, the owner and
ex professional wrestler, greeted me. He was a very funny guy.
I was the only person in the bar until another fellow came in
and sat one stool down from where I was sitting. After awhile, the
bartender introduced the guy sitting next to me as the town's
Episcopalian minister. I found that surprising. He was my age, and he
didn't talk like a minister. After Ken bought a round of drinks, I
returned the favor by buying a second round for the three of us. The
subject of religion was never brought up; that is, until the minister
got up to leave. He invited me to his morning church service. I was
sure he wasn't serious. I could see it in his eyes. The last thing he
wanted was to have a Saturday night drinking buddy show up in the
middle of his Sunday congregation. "Don't be surprised," I said,
"maybe I'll be there." When I finished my beer, I said goodbye to Ken
and headed back to my campsite. On the way there, I passed another bar
where I had to stop for a pizza and beer. Hey, I was hungry.

Bicycling Highway 2—Not Recommended

2012-01-29T09:35:00.000-08:00

Manistique, Michigan
August, `80

Well here I am, sitting in a $6. per night camp site--the end of the
line, end of the road, the end of the trip. After I started throwing
things away, I started feeling empty. In retrospect, the same type of
thing occurred on my last bicycle trip. I hope my parents appreciate
the fact that I'm not bicycling the best part of the trip -- the home
stretch. Tomorrow, I will meet them on the north side the Mackinaw Bridge.

Yesterday, when I reached Munising, I called information. I was
looking for an old college roommate of mine. In the early `'70s we
hung out together, and I wanted to pay him a surprise visit if
possible. He was from Manistique, so I thought maybe he was still
there. The operator told me there was a J. Fredrickson phone number
listed, so that was good enough for me. I reconfigured my route and
headed down to Manistique.

When I arrived, I went into a bar on Main Street and inquired into the
whereabouts of Jimmy (Manistique was a small enough town for that kind
of thing). The bartender informed me that he hadn't seen him in a
long time, but his parents lived in town. "Why don't you get in touch
with them," he said. I tried calling, but nobody was home. The guy
sitting at the bar drinking a beer told me he didn't know what Jimmy
was doing now, but three years ago he was working as a corrections
officer in the prison system up in Marquette. Disappointed, I got on
my bicycle and started pedaling east on Highway 2.

Highway 2 was enough to turn a bicycler's hair white, especially when
the bicycler in question knew there were better routes to travel. The
traffic was so bad I had to stop bicycling early. I camped just off
the highway, under some power lines. The next day it was more of the
same. Michigan was a great state, but my opinion concerning the
idiot's driving the highways remains in tact -- Michigan has more than
its share of assholes.

Pictured Rocks--Munising, Michigan

2012-01-28T04:35:00.000-08:00

Lake Superior
Aug. 1

Yesterday was a good day, as was the day before that, and the day
before that. Michigan is a great State. Of course, it helps when the
weather is good, too! The flies forced my quick departure from the
beach yesterday, so I didn't get a chance to acknowledge the great
company Rick turned out to be. The two of us left the beach together,
and went to the hospital where we ate a great breakfast for a
reasonable price. We wished each other well after that, and I headed
out for Munising, another fifty or so miles down the highway. It was
already afternoon, so that was a good place to aim for, particularly
since it was my last chance to camp on Lake Superior.

The bicycling was great. The weather was muggy, and occasionally the
traffic was heavy, but that was the only drawback. I almost forgot,
before leaving the last campsite, I thought I'd try swimming in the
lake. Lake Superior is very cold. This time, however, the water was
tolerable, even pleasant, after I got used to it. I enjoyed my
morning swim tremendously. It was just me, in the middle of the lake,
digging my toes into the sand,--looking out at miles of deserted
shoreline. Beautiful!

At the end of that gorgeous day, I went to a bar and had a couple
beers, and ate a turkey sandwich. That was a great way to end the
day. I also called home and set the date for my parents to pick me
up--Sunday, Aug. 3, in St. Ignace. After I had made those
arrangements, I felt strange. My trip was coming to an end, and it was
a very heavy feeling. This had been a very good bicycle trip, but I'll
probably speak more on that later.

I just finished my last pancake and am about to begin another great
day. There were no flies in the campground last night and hardly any
mosquitoes. It doesn't get any better than that!

Moon Over Lake Superior—Rustic Camping

2012-01-28T04:26:00.000-08:00

Marquette, Michigan
July 31, '80

I arrived in Marquette just in time to purchase an $11. bicycle tire.
Prices got higher the farther east I went. I bought the same tire for
$8.50 the last time. After completing that task, I biked up the hill to
Northern Michigan University and grabbed a shower. At the University,
I met up with another biker. He was out of London, Ontario, on his way
to Vancouver. We agreed to camp together, and after a pizza and beer
at a local pub, we biked to a stretch of deserted beach just north of
Marquette. The white sand beaches of Lake Superior were fantastic. We
had no problem setting up camp, and enjoying the six beers we had
carried back with us. We watched a big red moon come up over the lake
-- nice.

Not so nice, however, were the Lake Superior mosquitoes. They tried to
carry us away last night, and then today we have the man-eating flies
to contend with. They're biting my ankles through my socks about every
four minutes-- making me write faster and faster. I suppose I've
enjoyed this beach long enough, anyway. I think I'll go tell Rick
I'll be heading out instead of spending a couple of days here in
paradise like we had talked about last night. All things considered,
Lake Superior is still worth the hassle.

Tobacco Stains On The Old Man’s Toothless Lower Jaw

2012-01-28T04:21:00.000-08:00

Michigan’s Upper Peninsula
July, '80

I biked in mostly rain today, but I did manage to perform a good deed.
On the highway, I found some tools that had fallen off a semi-truck.
Knowing that the tools were high quality and therefore expensive, and
also knowing that the trucker probably was pissed when he discovered
his tools missing, I reflected on the times when I had lost something
of value. I would tell myself, "Whoever ends up with my stuff needs it
more than I do," or at least I hoped it happened that way. Keeping
that thought in mind, I set out to play the middleman in order to make
that hope come true.

I was a little disappointed at first since I couldn't find anybody who
I thought would be extremely joyful over a gift of tools. I needed to
get rid of them, though. I didn't need another thirty pounds weighing
down my bike. I was thinking about handing them over to just anybody when I
road past a restaurant and saw a man and a woman getting into their
car. The man was in a T-shirt, and, as I approached him, the tobacco
stains on his toothless lower jaw identified him as the man I was
looking for. I road up to the car and said, "I found these tools on
the highway. I can't use them, but maybe you can." Then I handed him
the tools. At first he appeared confused, even a little frightened.
But, after he realized I meant no harm, he thanked me very kindly, and
his wife even rolled down her window and voiced kind words of
gratitude. I was glad that I had waited until I had found the right
person to give my gift of tools. In fact, I was very pleased with myself.

Winter—Snowed In For Weeks

2012-01-24T08:47:00.000-08:00

Upper Peninsula Farm
July, `80

The Kitzman's numbered nine children with twenty-nine year old Guy
the only child still living at home. Together, he and his mother
worked the farm. According to Guy, his seventy-three year old mother
did the same work I was doing. (I didn't know whether to be happy for
her or sad. It was a little hard to believe, however.) All the
children, except Guy, were born in the little shed out back. The shed
now contained a calf and a very pretty colt. The Kitzman's had lived
on their farm for a long time. In fact, the gravel road I came in on
was named Kitzman road. The farm itself was 350 acres, but only 150
were cleared. The farm fed 10 cows, 13 horses, 2 pigs, 2 geese, and
one dog. Over yonder they pruned a grove of apple trees just to keep the
bees happy, and happy bees produced the Kitzman's sugar. Sitting just inside
the back porch was a milk separator and butter churn. Also, on the back porch,
a huge number of flies were buzzing around. On the window seal, they measured
three to four inches deep. When we went into the main part of the house,
after the work was done, I found myself sitting in room full of houseflies.
"They're here because of the heat," Guy told me. "When the sun goes
down, they thin out some." They didn't seem to bother Guy, but they
did me. The room itself had some furniture scattered around the wood
stove. Aside from the refrigerator and radio, no other signs of luxury
were present. It was pretty easy to tell that the Kitzman's lifestyle
was work, work, work, and more work.

According to Guy, in the winter, they got snowed in a lot, sometimes
for weeks. They survived on his trap line. It produced food and
brought in $1000 to $1500 each winter in pelts. It was a two-day
affair to run the trap line, which meant a cold night in the woods
each time he went out. Occasionally, he even got caught in his own
traps. He told me he never worried about it, since his mother fixed
everything. One time he shot himself in the knee with a 22-caliber
rifle and had to walk three miles back to the farm. His mother fixed
that too. Guy's trapping even developed into a philosophy of life. He
told me there are four kinds of people in the world: the sheep that
follow; the wolf that is always out to get the sheep (and, while trapping
Guy has run across wolves and a cougar—both species, according to the
DNR, are not found in Michigan); the conniving, complaining, coyote
that will do whatever it takes to survive; and the trapper. The trapper, in
which Guy includes himself, is always ready to fight, both for himself
and for others. In either case, though, the trapper is always fighting.

My trip to the Kitzman's farm was a great experience. I originally planned to
spend the night, but I was already uncomfortably dirty, a love-boat for
the flies, so to speak! Therefore, I decided to say farewell to Guy and bicycle
off into what was left of the afternoon sunshine. The northwest wind
not only made bicycling easier, it also took away the barnyard smell
that had not left my body. Before the day was done, I had covered
another 40 miles. I camped that night at Perch Creek wayside, another
beautiful wayside—Michigan, a wayside paradise for long distance bicyclers.

Sweat, Grit, And Barnyard Smells

2012-01-24T08:43:00.000-08:00

Upper Peninsula, Michigan
July, ‘80

Sitting on the steps of an old rickety house that was badly in need of a paint job,
I was beside myself wondering what to do next. Out back was a falling down
barn, and on the other side of that was the hay field. I was ready to leave when
out from the hay field came this roaring motorcycle headed in my direction.
Once the guy on the motorcycle realized there was someone sitting on his back
porch, I was warmly greeted. After introductions (his name was also Guy),
I explained to him that with a little coxing, his mother had gotten me
to volunteer to help him put some hay in the barn. He just chuckled
and said, "Yeah, she's always looking after me, but I can handle it.
And anyway, as you can see we don't have a barn."

I felt uncomfortable. Guy was right, what there was left of a barn was good
only for firewood. There I was, in the middle of nowhere, talking to this guy
who didn't seem to need my help and he wasn't surprised to see me. It was as if
I was just another "no name" his mother had sent him for the purpose of which
I could not even imagine. I wanted to get on my bike and ride out of there,
but I bit my lip and said, "Well, here I am. What do you want me to do?"
As long as you're here," he said, "I'll go get the tractor and we'll stack some hay." And then back into the field he went on his motorcycle. Minutes later,
he was back, pulling a wagon-load of hay with his tractor.

Once I started working, I felt much better. Guy turned out to be a
nice guy afterall. What I originally took to be slow wittedness
wasn't. Guy talked slow, even slurred his words, but he was not
"slow." He did have a hard time with why I was there, though. My
desire to get a feel for what it's like to be a farmer just didn't
make sense to him, but I couldn't fault him for that. Before we were
through, we had stacked 150 bales of hay, and secured the stack with
plastic. The hay was protected from the long, cold, windy, Upper
Peninsula winters by using tires strapped together with ropes (and in
some cases chains) to hold down the plastic. "I always seem to lose
the weather side,” Guy exclaimed, “but the rest of the hay, or hopefully
most of it, stayed good throughout the winter.” The hot, very hot
afternoon sun saturated me in sweat, grit, and the smell of barnyard.
I was not disappointed. The conversation that came next, though, was the
best part of my visit to the Kitzman farm.

Surviving On God Given Wits

2012-01-24T08:35:00.000-08:00

Upper Peninsula Farm
July 30, `80

Hi journal. Lots to talk about.

Back at that wayside, before I was able to head out, the lady greeter
came over to me and asked if I ever worked odd jobs. She wasn't really
offering me a job, but she was offering me food and a place to sleep
if I would help her son put up bails of hay. It was bailing time back
on her farm, and the job, apparently, was strenuous and a bit
dangerous. "Normally I help him," she said, "but I can't get away
today." If I ever had a romantic daydream, it was putting up bails of
hay in a barn's loft. The closest I had ever got to living that dream
was when I fed bails of hay into a mulcher. I worked for a sodding
company and the hay kept the sod from drying out. Under those
conditions, I found out what straw sticking to sweat felt like, but it
still wasn't the "real thing." This time around, however, I wasn't
just going to throw bails of hay, I was going to see how people
survive using only their God given wits and resources! After I told
the lady I would help (and that was the easy part), I headed off to
find the farm.

The farm was twelve miles northeast of the wayside. To get there I
had to backtrack four miles, and then go north on a county road. After
another four or five miles of pitted pavement, I found myself in "no
man's land," and that's when I made another turn and headed down a
bumpy, gravel road, my eyes clued to the bulge in my front tire. After
a mile or so, I began to regret my decision, but I gave my word, and
besides, I was repulsed by the thought of wasted effort. Before I
reached the farm, the road went from gravel to a dirt trail. After two
and half miles of bicycling through the backcountry of northern
Michigan, I came to the meadow where the farm was located. I was not
happy. Scratching through my sweaty t-shirt the five or six insect
bits that I accumulated along the way, I road up to the house and
found nobody home. I sat on the steps of the back porch contemplating
what to do next.

Almost Home—Michigan

2012-01-21T08:25:00.000-08:00

July, ‘80

I'm frying up potatoes, onions, and eggs at a wayside rest area about
twenty miles from the Michigan border. I'll be in tiptop shape when
I cross over into Michigan tomorrow. The last three days have been beautiful.
If my memory serves me correctly this is only the third time
I have had three days in a row of good weather since Oregon.

Michigan
July 29

It's a beautiful morning in the upper peninsula of Michigan. I just
met the wayside greeter lady. She's very friendly, and quite a
character. At 73 she's still going strong. She lives with her son on a
small farm.

Yesterday, while I was writing in my journal, the clouds started to
roll in, and by the time I had finished eating breakfast, I had to don
my rain gear. All total, I was in and out of the rain four times, but
I missed the main cloudburst by hanging out in a store. It started
really raining about 30 minutes after I reached the wayside. I almost
got caught in it because when I pulled in this nice family immediately
befriended me, and I was obliged to drink a beer with them. They were
really nice people, but when the rain hit, I was still putting up my tent.

It doesn't look like rain today, but the voice on the radio (coming
out of one of the parked cars) just said thunderstorms for tomorrow.
Oh well I guess I can handle a few more days of rain. Anyway, it
looks like a super day today. Yesterday, when I was in and out of the
rain, I noticed a bulge in my front tire--Bummer. I had over a hundred
miles to go before the next big town. I patched the tire on the inside
of the bulge. With that added strength, I should make it. That said, I
am disappointed in myself. Strapped to my sleeping bag, I
carried a used spare tire all the way across Canada. When I hit
Minnesota, I threw it away. I figured I was home.

She Said You Wanna Check Out A Rowdier Bar

2012-01-21T08:20:00.000-08:00

Superior, Wisconsin
July 27, `80

Biking was good, and I arrived in Duluth around 6 p.m. I didn't stick
around. Except for the hills, the old iron ore city wasn't that impressive. On
my way out of town, I had to cross a bridge that didn't allow
bicycles. The bridge connected Duluth to Superior, Wisconsin. There
was a fifty dollar fine if you got caught crossing the bridge on a
bicycle. The traffic wasn't bad, so I rode across the bridge anyway.
Embedded in the pavement, in some spots, were large metal bars with
gaping spaces between them. After almost wrecking my bike on the
first two holes, I found that if I rode across the bars counter to the
direction of the highway I stood a pretty good chance of not falling
through the holes. It was a relief to make it to the other side of the
bridge without a ticket, and in one piece.

I decided I needed a drink to celebrate my arrival in Wisconsin. Bars, in
Wisconsin, were not difficult to find and in Superior they were everywhere.
Once inside, I ordered up a nice 45-cent draft, and a speedy pizza
(even though it had sausage-- for religious purposes I had given up
eating red meat a couple of years ago). Three girls came in and sat at
the bar next to me. One of them asked me if I wanted to check out a
rowdier bar. I said, "Sure, its Saturday night, isn't it!" I figured
I could roll my sleeping bag out behind the gas station next to the
bar. It was already dark, so I stashed my bike there, and went off
with the girls.

Before long, I was out on the street, walking around in a drunken
haze. For me, it was too many beers too fast. I remember being in one
really crowded bar where I ran out of beer. Instead of pushing my way
through the crowd to get another one, I walked over to a shelf by the
pool tables and grabbed a full beer. With beer in hand, I just kept
walking right out of the bar. That incident was so totally out of
character for me that it shocked me sober enough to call it a night.
I had lost the girls, but luckily, before total panic set in, I ran into one
of them on the street, and she and her friends drove me back to my
bike. Behind the gas station, I more or less crawled out of the back
seat of their car, and that's where I remained until morning. When the
sunshine and the gas station attendant intruded in on my hangover,
I went looking for coffee.

I felt a little better after I stopped at a restaurant and had pancakes, eggs,
and corn beef hash. Actually, the corn beef hash wasn't all that good
(again the red meat), but I needed to get my alcohol-wracked body back in shape.
Bicycling was not what I wanted to do, but I rode until I found a place for
my tent in the Wisconsin woods where I spent the night. After the next morning's
breakfast, I finally started to feel normal again.

After Dick’s Four Heart Attacks It Was Still Cigs, Salted Beer, And Friends

2012-01-19T08:56:00.000-08:00

Virginia, Minnesota
July, ‘80

After climbing the three or four steps up to the screen door that opened into what the sign said was a bar, I saw two men and three ladies, all old people sitting at, yes, it was a bar. I knew of neighborhood bars, but this was more like a hallway bar. I made a head turning entrance and, as I walked past the ladies and sat down on a bar stool between the two men, the bartender put his huge hands on the bar and said, “What’ll it be?” I said, “How about a Papst.” He said, “No Pabst,” so I asked, “What’s on tap?” “Miller,” he replied, “This bar only serves Miller.” “Okay,” I said, “give me one of those.”

I got the message; if you wanted a beer in this bar it had to be Miller. Four unoccupied stools remained at the bar, and there was a man and woman sitting in one of the three booths situated on the adjacent wall. The best part of the place was that if you happened to fall off your bar stool, for whatever reason, you would probably end up in one of the unoccupied booths; I mean the place was that narrow, that small.

By the end of my second draft, things relaxed a bit. The large chap behind the bar even asked me if I was new in town. When I told him about my trip, everybody got real friendly. I became just one of them after that—a good feeling. The guy sitting to my left even moved over a stool, and proceeded to fill me in on the history of the place. According to him, the place was Dick’s hobby. Dick was the bartender. In fact, everybody in the place lived close enough to the sign in the window to see when he was open. “That’s why we’re here,” Harry said, “we saw the light, and lucky for us too, because it’s the cheapest beer in town. When Dick turned on the light, it meant that he and his wife were fighting, or that he was lonely and just wanted some company.” Harry was right about the beer--thirty-five cent drafts were cheap.

Before I left the bar, I bought Dick a beer. “I’ve had four heart attacks within the last year,” he said. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, though. His huge mid ‘50’s frame looked healthy, except maybe for the telltale sadness in his eyes. You couldn’t even tell that he was working. He had a beer in hand the whole time. “The doctors told me to quite drinking, smoking and eating salt, but here I am enjoying this cigarette and beer, with my friends,” he said, as he salted down the head of his just poured beer. “So what do I care if I don’t make it through the night. At least I’ll go happy.” Harry later informed me that Dick took seriously the part about drinking with friends. According to Harry, if Dick didn’t like you, he cut you off, and getting cut off at Dick’s meant stay away. “You’re lucky,” Harry said. “He likes you.” Yes, I was lucky, and Dick was a likable guy. It was a pleasure to meet him. Getting drunk with him was a bonus.

It was midnight when Harry and I staggered down the steps of the hallway bar. Harry invited me to spend the night at his place and I happily accepted. In the morning, after eating breakfast (Harry lived alone), I left to go to Western auto where I had my bearings greased on both bike wheels. I needed new cones on my front wheel, but nobody had any, so I just had to hope the new bearings and grease would get me back home.

Top Of Minnesota—International Falls

2012-01-19T08:45:00.000-08:00

Virginia, Minnesota
July 26, ‘80

It was sunny and windy. I survived both. I camped at a state forest campground in the most northern part of Minnesota. I didn’t make my usual 80 miles.

The next day it rained, almost all day. The rain and highway (worst since Prince Rupert) made bicycling impossible, so I gave up the effort, and pulled into a grocery store. When I started eating crackers and honey under the protective awning, a customer asked me where I was heading. After I gave him a brief trip summary, he said, “If you can get your bike in my car, I’ll drop you off at the Fall’s turn off.” I was trying to reach International Falls before I gave up hope. I made it to the town just in time to make my purchases—dry slide (for my chain), a canteen, and one bicycle tire. The rain had finally stopped, so I proceeded to replace a tire and clean my bicycle. After that I stopped at a local bar to celebrate my arrival in the States. I had three beers, and watched Buck Rogers on TV. I camped around eight miles down the highway.

In the morning, bicycling was excellent--sunny, on a good to great highway through northern Minnesota scenery. When I arrived in Virginia around six o’clock, I inquired at a gas station about a campground with shower. The boys hanging out at the gas station were sympathetic. They didn’t know of any, but they told me about a swimming hole not far from where I was. I really needed a shower, and I didn’t want to rent a room, so off I went, backtracking to find the dirt trail that would take me to the swimming hole. The sun was still hot, and the water wasn’t all that cold. The boys were right; it was a nice spot to swim.

Clean once again, I went looking for a laundry mat, and stumbled upon a baseball field that I thought would substitute nicely for a campsite. (I wanted to camp close to town because I had made a morning appointment to have my bearings greased or replaced). It looked good, but I didn’t want to make my presence known until after dark. I needed to find something to do until then. As I was walking my bike on the sidewalk, making my way to the street that would take me to the main part of town, I noticed a blinking bar sign in a window of a house, or at least I thought it was a house. I had never experienced a bar, if indeed it was a bar, in a residential district before. But then again, I had never experienced northern Minnesota before, either.

Serenaded By Coyotes—Fantastic

2012-01-17T07:53:00.000-08:00

Manitoba

July, `80

Groomed and clean after my youth hostel shower, I went
for a walk in downtown Winnipeg. I didn't run across
any bars that I wanted to drink in, but I did take a walk up some
stairs and paid $5.00 for a backrub from a topless woman from Trinidad.
The price went up with added stimulation. I had already satisfied my
curiosity, though, and that was really all I wanted to do. Actually, I
really enjoyed just talking with her. She was a very nice, dark
skinned woman, and, I believe, she enjoyed my company also.

July 23

Just before I left Winnipeg, I exchanged my Canadian money for U.S.
currency. When I came to the last major town before the border, after
a hot sunny day of bicycling, I stopped at a pub and spent all but
my last five Canadian dollars. Knowing that I had to drink four or
five beers and eat onion rings was a delightful experience.

My evening bicycle ride was super. I was in the wilderness again with no
traffic, a soft yellow sun at my back, pine trees and aspen all around
me, and best of all I was biking on a newly paved highway. When I came
to a picnic area in the middle of nowhere I immediately set up camp.
It was pancakes for dinner, and in the waning daylight, coyotes
serenaded me—fantastic.

I'm presently finishing up my morning pancakes and coffee. Yesterday
I took my limit on sunshine and today it’s supposed to rise to 30
degrees centigrade once again. If I'm not careful I could overdose. To
complicate matters, I just discovered a hole in the bottom of my
canteen. Except for those few hassles, I have no worries at all. I'll
be riding my bike in the States come evening.

Run The Biker Off The Road Game-Manitoba, Canada

2012-01-17T07:48:00.000-08:00

Winnipeg, Manitoba

July 21, `80

Here I am sitting in the Winnipeg youth hostel. I spent the last
two nights and most of yesterday lying in my sleeping bag on the floor
of that vacated granary shed. I couldn't leave because of the rain,
and now I have pleurisy; anything more than shallow breathing cause’s
pain—no fun. The worst part of getting to Winnipeg was when I hit the
urban areas. That's when traffic picked up. In fact, I had to take an
alternative route in order to avoid a couple nasty truck drivers.
Well, I didn't really avoid the nasty one, but before I tell that
story I need to log in my dietary experiment.

I began the day by thinking I wasn't getting enough roughage, so I
bought a stalk of celery and a jar of peanut butter. By afternoon I
had half the celery gone, and I was beginning to experience severe
stomach craps. I found an outhouse and, over a thirty-minute period,
lost my guts. I never really felt sick, though, so I knew it wasn't
food poisoning. But for that short period, I was in a lot of pain. I
passed by another picnic area where I spent some more time relieving
myself and then things started to get better. Well, better until I
encountered that nasty trucker.

I was keeping to my six inches of pavement when two sixteen wheelers
rolled up behind me and started playing that old game of "who can be
the first to run the biker into the ditch." It was potash country and
the trucks were loaded. The first trucker started horning me from
about a quarter mile back. Then he pulled up right on my tail and laid
on his horn. I was riding on a suicide shoulder already. The edge of
the road dropped off into six inches of loose gravel. At any speed
that transition was dangerous, but at fifteen miles an hour, on a
fully loaded ten-speed, that fall would have resulted in a bloody
mixture of flesh, dirt, stone and mangled bicycle.

While the asshole honked, I filled my head with nam myho renge kyo,
and finally he flinched first. As he slowly inched his way past me, I
had already made up my mind that I would not flinch, and I didn't. I
took a deep breath, and readied myself for the second trucker. He gave
me a couple warning honks and drove on by. He had probably already won
his buddy's money—I was still there. I wasn't about to hang around for
a three peat, though. I turned south at the first opportunity.

I still had a ways to go before Winnipeg, and I was looking for a
place to camp when I met another truck driver--a nice one—at a truck
stop. He asked me if I wanted a lift into town. I told him sure, and I
arrived in Winnipeg around 9 p.m. He even dropped me off right at the
youth hostel where I checked in and immediately took a shower. If it
weren't for that 90-kilometer truck ride, that shower would have had
to wait for another full day of biking.

Bicycling Saskatchewan

2012-01-16T07:45:00.000-08:00

July, `80

The morning after saying good-bye to Jean, I said so long to Saskatoon.
With a brisk northwesterly wind at my back and under lots of sunshine, I had
put 120 miles behind me before day's end. I would have put even more miles,
behind me, but I had a flat tire. I ended up camping behind a garage next to a
garbage dump because I didn’t want to pay the $4.00 campground fee.
Needless to say I was up early, around 5 a.m., and was hoping for another
good weather day. 120 miles later, I was not disappointed.

Right now I'm sitting at a picnic table at a free campsite. When I
stopped to fill my canteen last night, I asked the guy at the gas
station if he knew where I could set up my tent, and he told me about
this place. When I rolled in, I was shocked. The place was large, and
very scenic. There were fire grates, piles of precut firewood, and the
grounds were green and well kept. Best of all, there was a bathhouse
with free hot showers. I had carried with me a couple of beers, so I
was set for a great evening.

I'm presently finishing up in my journal, and eating my morning
pancakes under a rising sun. What a treat!

July 19

Yesterday I thought the day was going to turn into a scorcher, but it
wasn't all that bad. Bicycling was good. Although the wind at my back
had kind of petered out, I still had another long distance day.

Right now, I'm sitting in an empty grain storage shed, watching it
rain cats and dogs. There's only one leak in the roof. Originally,
I was trying to hide behind some trees, out of sight of the
highway, when I stumbled upon this place. I am lucky to be here.
Goodnight! I'm tired.

July 20

A poem attempt that failed.

No Plumbing, Days Of Rain 240/yr, No Mortgage Payments,-Priceless

2012-01-16T07:36:00.000-08:00

Saskatoon, Saskatchewan
July 18, `80

I cleaned up my bike as soon as I arrived In Saskatoon (gasoline the
running gear, apply new oil, check for loose screws, etc.), and then I
went to the laundry mat. On the phone, Jean said, "Sure, I'll buy you
a beer." When I went to her restaurant and drank my first beer, she
agreed to go to a movie with me. After a few more beers, I left and
went back to the YMCA, which, for me, was substituting for the youth hostel.
After that, I bought tickets for the 8:30 p.m. showing of The Empire
Strikes Back, and met Jean at the theater. We had a half-hour to kill,
so we went for a walk.

We got along pretty well, but Jean didn't like the movie. She wasn't
into Star Wars. Afterwards, we went for a beer, and at the first hotel
last call had already come and gone, but at the second one we got
served. In Saskatchewan there was no set time for "last call."

I already knew Jean to be, from our conversation back on the train,
pretty damn independent. She was twenty-six years old, had just quite
a good government job (she said temporary jobs gave her more freedom),
and was in the process of selling her house in Prince Albert (a
relationship gone bad I guess, but she didn't want to talk about it). She
had also made up her mind to join her wilderness girlfriends who were
homesteading on the Pacific coast. "You never had to worry about
mortgage payments," she said, "Of course, there wasn't any plumbing
and you had to expect 240 days of rain a year, but you got use to it."
I always considered myself a nature lover, but a Paul Bunyan I am not.
I asked her if the girls ever got lonely living like that and she
said, "Oh, there's men, but they come and go, and that's fine." I
wanted to walk her home after the bar, but she wouldn't have any of
that, so we hugged and I said "goodbye." She hollered back at me that
she would write.

Saskatoon Almost In Sight

2012-01-14T07:41:00.000-08:00

July, `80

Here are a couple of thoughts that I want to journalize before I
forget: While biking, I sing a lot, especially in the mountains. More
than once I have lost my voice. By singing, I get to express the
emotion that builds, as the beautiful scenery intensifies around me. I
know lots of melodies, but few words. I just make the words up as I
go. Nobody hears anyway. (I'm back. I had to zip up the tent. It's
raining.) Words don't really matter; it's the singing that matters.
When I'm not singing, I tend to think about home--my apartment,
guitar, stereo, color TV, cold beer, and my cat, Heather, sitting on
my lap as we watch a good movie. My paintbrushes are always
handy if I get bored. (I hope my tent stays up. I should have done a
better job putting it up.) I hate to admit it, but on a couple of
occasions, I actually thought about a quick train ride home. Like
maybe right now, if one was only near.

July 15

I'm finally getting it together. I guess Saskatchewan has free tent
camping. All you have to do is ask for the "tent spot." I found that
out at my last stop. I also asked if that was the case in Alberta, and
I was told "no." There you had to pay. Anyway, I'm presently a happy
camper, eating peanuts, bread, cheese, eggs, and beer. What a life! I
have even figured the beer out. You go into a hotel and order a beer
and then get two more to go. Up until now I thought all alcohol had to
be bought at the retail brewery. I'm enjoying my second Pilsner and if
the rain holds back, I'll be able to finish it.

I awoke to the same rain that poured on me all night long. I biked
for the first six hours in the rain, and then it was just cloudy, with
a few scattered showers. The temperature was hot, in the high
eighties, so the rain was warm—the best kind. According to the local
residents this was the first rain in six weeks. I bet if the farmers
new what I could do for them, I would be kidnapped. On the radio, the
weatherman told me that tomorrow it's supposed to be sunny. That's
about right; I did ninety-five miles today, and tomorrow I'll reach
Saskatoon. It's only my bicycling that attracts the rain! Actually,
the rain gives me something to write about. What I hate though, is
crawling into my tent with wet clothes on. Tomorrow I'll have a roof
over my head and a real bed to sleep in, but best of all; I'll be calling up Jean
Johnson to see if she's up for that promised beer. I'm excited about that.

Prairie Thunderstorms-Some Dump On You, Some Don’t

2012-01-14T06:47:00.000-08:00

Wet Tent, Saskatchewan
July 14, `80

Hello journal. Tonight you're talking to one tired desperado. At
lunch, I met a man who told me Calgary was 256 miles due west, a two
day ride. Those miles have just caught up with me. I stopped a bit
early when I found this secluded campsite. I'm in a gully on the other
side of the railroad tracks that separates me from the highway. It
looks like Saskatchewan is going to create some problems come tent
time. It's flatter, less trees, and more farms.

Bicycling wasn't as good today. The sun did its job, ninety-two
degrees worth. When the clouds rolled in, I was beginning to cook. I
was lucky. With the clouds, came the storms. Bicycling on the prairie
you get to watch the thunderstorms roll in. Some dump rain on you,
some don't. Wondering when it's your turn causes considerable anxiety.
Right now there is a black cloud coming in over my shoulder. We'll see
how that turns out. If it rains, I'm just going to close my eyes hard
and roll over. I'm only a page away from turning the lights out anyway.

Morning rain is the best; you're fresh and can enjoy it. There's a
good chance you will dry out before the day is through. But evening
rain is nothing short of melancholy because you have nothing to look
forward too except—wet, cold, and tired. No tenth gear today, instead
there was a headwind, and a shitty highway that varied between cracked
asphalt to cinder surface. Aside from the intense heat that sapped my
morning energy, and the thunderstorms that upped my anxiety level, the
day wasn't too bad. I made good miles. Also, just before I found this
campsite, I stopped at a Dairy Queen and bought a fish dinner and had
a Dilly Bar desert.

Prairie-Total Immersion

2012-01-10T08:23:00.000-08:00

Farmer’s Field, Alberta

July, ’80

I awoke to pouring rain, and found myself out in it promptly at 9 a.m., the hour everybody had to leave the hostel. For five continuous hours I bicycled in the rain. Nothing-new there! In fact, I was beginning to feel like a rain god. I had been telling people that rain followed me everywhere, and if it hadn’t been for the disc jockey on the radio telling me that the sun was about to chase the clouds away, I think I could have easily convinced myself that I did have some sort of mystical rain connection. With that thought, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It’s amazing what you do to amuse yourself when you’re traveling ten miles an hour and you’ve got thousands of miles to go. Anyway, the sun finally did come out, and bicycling got a whole lot better.

I stopped at Drumheller, a town on the edge of the Alberta, badlands. But that was after the big decision. I had to decide whether or not to visit Jean in Saskatoon, or take the southern route that followed Canada’s border with the States? I figured going north would add another six or eight hundred miles on my trip, but how could I pass up an opportunity to visit Saskatoon, Saskatchewan? That name alone had magic power. And, Jean, the girl I met back on the train in British Columbia would be there. What more could I ask for? Besides, she promised me a beer! On the other hand, if I took the southern route, I would have to fight the trans-Canada traffic, and if there was anything I disliked more than bicycling in the rain, it was bicycling in heavy traffic. Of course, I knew the beer Jean promised me might not happen—so, to alleviate my fears, I stopped at the nearest hotel and ordered up my usual four drafts.

After talking with some locals, I toyed with the idea of sticking around to explore the badlands. Apparently, lots of paleontologists were attracted to this place. From just the small part that I bicycled through, I had no trouble envisioning roaming dinosaurs, and that was in addition to its natural beauty. In fact, the place was called the valley of the dinosaurs. But, as much as I wanted to stay, I also knew it was getting dark, and I needed to get my tent set up, so I bid the friendly bar people adieux, and headed out of town. A few miles down the highway, I set up my tent and called it a night. I went to sleep anticipating dinosaur dreams, but I also hoped to see a morning sun. If the sun turned up, I knew I would be called back to bicycling. If it didn’t, well--I didn’t have to worry about it because it did.

I awoke to sunshine. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. It was a no-shirt day, too, my first of the summer. You had to like bicycling in bad weather to make long distance bicycling worthwhile, but under a hot sun, on a good highway, with little traffic, and the Chinook winds at your back, you forget all about the bad stuff. After weeks of mountain biking, I found the prairie beautiful. My head was swimming in the fragrances pouring off the yellow flowered wheat fields. It’s funny, but I have not talked to one person who liked crossing the prairies. Maybe they were heading in the wrong direction. Moving through one field after another, I gained a new appreciation for the adjective, earthy! The prairie was total immersion. The people in the cars and trucks were incredibly nice, also. Most of the time, I had to deal with honking horns, not this time, though. The Albert-ans were really friendly. They made me feel like a human being--a good feeling.

It’s getting to dark to write. I’m in a farmer’s field, not far from the highway. I just hope tomorrow will be as good as today!

Biggest Rodeo In The North

2012-01-10T08:15:00.000-08:00

Calgary

July, ’80

After leaving the hostel in the morning, and after only two hours of bicycling, I had to look for shelter once again. Just before the downpour, I went into a tavern at Lake Louis. After the rain subsided, I was back on the highway and headed for the largest tourist town in the Canadian Rockies. However, the beauty of Banff was more than worth the hassle. Upon arrival, when I asked for directions from some guys about to enter a tavern, I was invited to join the fellows for a couple of beers. Later, the same fellows treated me to a “welcome to Banff reefer” just outside the tavern. When I finally did get to the Banff hostel, I took the shower that was long overdue and called it a night. My last shower was on Vancouver Island.

After heading due east on the following day, and sixty miles later, I was no longer in the Canadian Rockies; I was rubbing shoulders with cowboys and cowgirls in the town of Calgary. I biked right into the middle of the Stampede, the biggest rodeo in the northern hemisphere. At that hostel, I had to stand in a long line. I was lucky to get a bed. The only thing that saved me was that hostel members got to go in ahead of non-members and I was a member. Outside, a whole city block full of hostel kids was left standing with no place to go.

After I stowed my gear, I went exploring. The streets were crowded. It was like New Orleans at carnival time, except I wasn’t on Bourbon St. and, “aw shucks, it was just me and a whole bunch of bandanna-ed cowboys being happy together.” After getting a taste of the streets, I ambled into a rodeo bar and got myself a beer. The ear blasting country band was playing lariat music. After all the bicycling solitude, I wasn’t up for that kind of noise, so I decided to pack it in early.

Back at the hostel, in my corner seat, in between writing down sentences in my journal, I sat back and watched the activity going on around me. There were lots of people. I had a great place to sit, between the kitchen and dorms. I was having so much fun “people watching” that I didn’t even go outside to watch the fireworks.

Tomorrow, I’m off on a different kind of bicycle trip, hopefully on a flat, dry, surface, under sunny skies, with little or no competing traffic. I can dream, can’t I!

Looking Up At Cloud Whiffs Breezing By

2012-01-10T08:07:00.000-08:00

Solitary Hosteler

July 11, ’80

After a breakfast of blueberry muffins and coffee, we thanked Tony, Noel, and Stan for all their hospitality and then started hoofing it out of the back-country. Up around Jonas Pass, Peter and I left the trail to explore the rising mountain columns above us. I discovered the entrance to a natural amphitheater and in the center was a huge rock. With a little imagination the rock became an altar. Of course, I had to climb it, and lying prone on top, I offered myself up to the gods as a sacrifice. All that was play, but lying there, looking up at the cloud whiffs breezing by, all play stopped. I was filled with primal emotion. When it came time to leave, I felt completely renewed. When Peter and I met back on the trail, we started out for the hostel once again, and we made it back before dark.

The following day, after I said good-by to Peter (we exchanged addresses), I started bicycling toward Banff. The weather was good, and since I was already at the highest point of the Jasper-Banff highway, it was downhill from there. After coasting into what seemed like a bottomless valley, I was greeted by a strong headwind. Ten miles later, I sought shelter at a youth hostel. On the door, I found a poorly scratched message that read, “Make yourself at home. Gone to Hilda Creek hostel to work. Be back tomorrow.” Alone in the hostel, I watched the rain fall through the hostel’s solitary window. After a period of long silence, I reached for my journal and started to catch up on the events of the past few days.

My Review Of R. D. Krumpos’ E-Book On Mysticism

2012-01-06T07:54:00.000-08:00

Keeping An Open Mind
Jan. 2012

Inspired by Ron Krumpos’ comments on my blog, I found myself encouraged to read his exceptional e-book, “Five Traditions In Mysticism: Mystical Approaches To Life.” You can find this e-book at http://www.suprarational.org/g.a.i.l.11.pdf, or you can also find it at his website suprarational.org . After reading this remarkable book,-- a must read for any person interested in learning why mystics, philosophers, and scientists have been inspired, since time immemorial, by the issue(s) raised above—I highly recommend Ron’s book.

Upon my return to Ron Krumpos’ book (for the purpose of writing this review), I discovered the following definition:

“Mysticism, according to its historical and psychological definitions, is the direct intuition or experience of God; a mystic is a person who has, to a greater or lesser degree, such a direct experience; one whose religion and life are central not merely on an accepted belief or practice, but on that which he regards as first-hand personal knowledge.” (Oxford Dictionary of World Religions)

However, I found much more than the above definition. I found the most comprehensive, informative, and complete book on what it means to be a truly spiritual person in this world (or any other) that I have ever read. I highly recommend this free e-book.

There is far more in Ron Krumpos’ book than I could possibly hope to comment on in this limited space, but I did take a few notes. In addition to giving some of the history of the five major mystical religious traditions (Christians, Hindus, Buddhists, Islamic and Jewish), he also offers copious quotes from the essential mystics that represent these traditions. By giving different mystical viewpoints, Ron Krumpos leads the reader through a discussion of the question, “What is reality?” Various topics in this regard are also discussed throughout the book, e.g., worldview perspectives, why some people reject the idea of mysticism while others do not, recognizing self-professed mystics who are deluded believers, and, probably most interesting, his discussion: Mysticism Is Not….! All in all, R. D. Krumpos’ book on “Mysticism” is an extremely valuable read for anybody interested in the subject, be they curious, novice, or experienced practitioner.

I leave you with two quoted passages from R. D. Krumpos’ e-book that I found especially helpful in my own on-going education of the world’s mystical traditions:

[“Spirituality, unlike the occult spiritualism, is sometimes defined as an “attempt to grow in sensitivity to self, to others, to non-human creation, and to God who is both within and beyond this totality.” In practice, spirituality will often “cultivate tranquility, mindfulness and insight, leading to virtues of wisdom and compassion.”]

[Devotees of mysticism can accept, intellectually, the absolute unity of all existence and ultimate oneness with the divine. Most other people either doubt these concepts or reject them altogether. Suddenly, consciously being in the One can transform some of the aspirants into confirmed mystics or shock a few non-believers into amazement. Each of them may emerge from that direct awareness enlightened; it might just result in their ego inflation or neurosis.

Realize is defined both to comprehend correctly or become aware completely and to make real or to actualize something. In incorrect usage, it could also mean attainment or achievement. The unity of existence and oneness with the divine are a present condition of all life; they are not something to be either attained or achieved, yet are usually unrealized by most people. True mystics, frequently, are correctly aware and do really actualize union in this life.]

Once again, I highly recommend R.D. Krumpos’ 104 page e-book on Mysticism—and it’s free!

Review Of R. D. Krumpos’ E-Book On Mysticism--Introduction

2012-01-06T07:46:00.000-08:00

Keeping An Open Mind
Jan. 2012

What is the place of religion in an age of science? How can one believe in God today? What view of God is consistent with the scientific understanding of the world? In what ways should our ideas about human nature be affected by the findings of contemporary science? How can the search for meaning and purpose in life be fulfilled in the kind of world disclosed by science?

In the preface of his book, "Masks Of The Universe," Edward Harrison (Professor of Physics and Astronomy at the University of Massachusetts) writes:

“I take the view that we, and we alone, are the makers and shakers of the universes in which we live. The comfort I offer, if any, is of the kind that once sustained the medieval mystics who, while aware of much knowledge, had the sense to admit that they lived in ‘the cloud of unknowing.’ The message I offer, if any, is that the mysteries are vastly more profound and the mind vastly more potent than we commonly imagine, perhaps more than we can ever imagine.”

Brian Swimme (Professor of Physics and Cosmology at the California Institute of Integral Studies) writes in the preface of his book, "The Hidden Heart Of The Cosmos":

“From the beginning, humans have been pondering the ultimate nature of existence. Shamans and sages, philosophers and saints, rishis and rabbis and theologians, all in their various ways, have reflected on the deep and endlessly fascinating questions of existence….The question I consider in the present volume is perhaps the most ancient of all ‘Where did it all come from? Where is the center of reality? Where is the heart or source of the universe? Where is that place where everything sprang forth into existence?’”

And, in the Forward of Alan Watts’ (British Philosopher and ordained Zen monk) book, "The Joyous Cosmology," we read:

“We are dealing here with an issue that is not new, an issue that has been considered for centuries by mystics, by philosophers of the religious experience, by those rare and truly great scientists who have been able to move in and then out beyond the limits of the science game. It was seen and described clearly by the great American psychologist William James:

‘…our normal waking consciousness, rational consciousness as we call it, is but one special type of consciousness, whilst all about it, parted from it by the filmiest of screens, there lie potential forms of consciousness entirely different. We may go through life without suspecting their existence; but apply the requisite stimulus, and at a touch they are there in all their completeness, definite types of mentality which probably somewhere have their field of application and adaptation. No account of the universe in its totality can be final which leaves these other forms of consciousness quite disregarded. How to regard them is the question,--for they are so discontinuous with ordinary consciousness. Yet they may determine attitudes though they cannot furnish formulas, and open a region though they fail to give a map. At any rate, they forbid a premature closing of our accounts with reality. Looking back on my own experiences, they all converge toward a kind of insight to which I cannot help ascribing some metaphysical significance.’”

New Model Of The Observer/Observed Relationship Concluded

2012-01-01T08:15:00.000-08:00

The Difference That Makes The Difference

Jan. 2012

Looking again at the highlighted quadrants in the diagram above, the reductionist/life bridge is clearly marked as #8. This bridge is positioned at the overlap of the brown and green quadrants. Upon completion of my bicycle trip, I will talk more about the events that contributed to the creation/discovery of this quadrant idea, but until then I have a few concluding words about the other bridge, the one that is positioned where the blue and green and the blue and brown lines cross. As marked, the #9 bridge both connects and separates the mind quadrant to-- the life quadrant and reductionist quadrant. It is because of this bridge that we can read, write, and understand meanings. It is also because of this bridge that (to borrow a phrase from Clifford Geertz), we can “understand how it is we understand understandings not our own.”

[In the above diagram the bridges (black triangles), ~bb (8) and b~b~bb (9), are identified. These bridges support life and mind (mind representing the psychological/sociocultural environment of human discourse), respectively. The bridge ~~b, being-what-is-not-while-not-being-what-is, is not identified, but it supports evolution (the brown line reductionist platform) which, in turn, liberates ~bb reality, which, in turn, liberates b~b~bb reality, which, in turn, liberates civilization.]

It was not easy finding words to describe the #9 bridge, but, in the end, I chose the computer jargon words of uploading and downloading. Where the blue and green lines meet, at the front end of this bridge, a kind of uploading occurs, and where the blue and brown lines meet, at the other end of the bridge, a kind of downloading occurs. At the uploaded blue/green intersection, we confront/discover the fundamental problems of human existence—including the nature and meaning of life as well as the ways in which human identity is defined and maintained. It is also at this intersection where the universe, as an object of thought, takes on at least as much significance as does the more necessary effort of satisfying our own personalized needs. At the front end of the #9 bridge, discrimination, curiosity, inquiry, imaginative insight, creativity, skepticism, and analysis are uploaded.

At the off-ramp of the #9 bridge, where the mind quadrant connects to the reductionist quadrant, we, once again, encounter the body/brain/mind event. At this intersection, however, we discover recorded history---and the many past, present, (and future) scientific events where, as a consequence of logical and mathematical based predictions, we observe, via scientific instruments, e.g. telescopes, cyclotrons, etc. (blue quadrant material engineered for the purpose of extending the range of our five senses), the success or failure of said predictions. All inquiry, at this intersection, is restricted to sensed events and, according to Harris, “relationships that are knowable by means of explicit, logico-empirical, inductive-deductive, quantifiable public procedures or ‘operations’ subject to replication by independent observers.” (James Lett, The Human Enterprise, p. 89).

Well, I hope this new model of the observer/observed relationship is clearer now, but if it isn’t, stay tuned because at the completion of my northwest bicycle trip I will be talking more about these ideas and the bridges that support them.

New Model Of The Observer/Observed Relationship

2012-01-01T08:00:00.000-08:00

The Difference That Makes The Difference

Jan. 2012

Instead of another bicycle trip post, I’m taking time out to blog another way to perceive the relationship that occurs between observer and object observed. If we are ever going to get beyond the incongruity that separates how we perceive and understand the micro and macro universe, a different model of perception, I believe, is necessary. I am not suggesting that science has it wrong. I am suggesting, though, that a more encompassing model of perception will provide science—science being how we understand the physical world--a more comprehensive and coherent platform from which to understand how the universe works. So far in my blog, I have made various attempts at describing culturally generated mystical visions, but on this bicycle trip I change direction. On this bicycle trip I talk about quantum mechanics, Relativity theory, and epistemology and that’s why I am posting the above diagram now. However, except for this post, I will not talk much about the above diagram. I am posting it only as a reference point that could be useful if questions arise. After I complete my bicycle trip, though, I will begin to use the diagram to facilitate further discussion.

To lighten things up a bit, let’s say the above diagram was created to help me write a sci-fi novella (one that remains unwritten). The novella’s plot went something like this: On a terrestrial planet that no longer supports life, some space explorers discovered a temple. Inside they found preserved texts, which, luckily, their onboard ship computer was able to translate. Fortunately, for this blog, the translated texts and the above diagram reveal the same thing—the meaning of the universe.

Okay, I may be speaking a bit tongue and cheek here, but only a little.
So back to the other story; aren’t we all looking for a means to feel secure, at home, and connected to a meaningful universe? Without trying to besmirch anybody’s religion, isn’t that what religion is all about,--to make people feel comfortable, at home, chosen, -- and loved, by that which nurtured all of us into existence in the first place? Every culture produces heroes, myths, shamans, and priests, all of which breathe religious meaning into existence. Rights of passage, totem and ancestor worship, religious rites and rituals—all contribute to the how and why of existence. The “how” of existence is also considered the main subject matter of science, but that doesn’t void the “why.” Take, for instance, Albert Einstein, he did not practice any orthodox form of religion, yet, in my opinion, he was as devout as any priest. When coaxed into answering the question: “Do you believe in God?” he hesitated, and then said words to the effect, “Well if I do believe in God, it would be the God of Spinoza.” Putting challenging questions to orthodoxy, while at the same time aspiring to coherent, unifying answers to those same questions, I believe is the definition of a religious person. Before I talk more about the specifics of the above diagram, I offer one of my favorite Einstein quotes:

“Man tries to make for himself in the fashion that suits him best a simplified and intelligible picture of the world; he then tries to some extent to substitute this cosmos of his for the world of experience, and thus overcome it. This is what the painter, the poet, the speculative philosopher, and the natural scientist do, each in his own fashion. Each makes this cosmos and its construction the pivot of his emotional life, in order to find in this way the peace and security which he cannot find in the narrow whirlpool of personal experience.”
(Einstein, Ideas And Opinions, p. 225)

For me at least, the above diagram speaks directly to Einstein’s quote above, as it also speaks to the issue of why nature responds so strangely when certain questions are put to her, questions like: wave or particle? Why is the universe comprehensible as opposed to incomprehensible? Is nature independent of the observer? Why, on the quantum level, do we find a physical reality with no uniquely determinable location, a physical reality that exists in several states at the same time, a physical reality structured by a mathematical equation? Nature’s response to these questions becomes less strange, I believe, if we look through the prism of the above diagramed relationships-- at the relationship that occurs between object observed and observer.

It is not that science is wrong. It is just that science is limiting itself to a small piece of a much larger picture, one when looked at in its entirety, reflects the connections that turns the perceptual process into a chain of processes which, ultimately, come together in the identification of the known world. Let me begin by labeling how I perceive the known world and then conclude this blog with some comments concerning the relevance of that perception.

Layered Sequencing Of Platforms—Reductionist, Life, Mind—That Constitute Self.

1 R—Reductionist (physical)--mass/energy platform
2 L—Life--biological/reproductive platform
3 M—Mind--symbol/meaning platform
4 S—Self--- inter-subjective boundary horizons
5 Reductionist (physical/chemical environment)
6 Life (biological/emotional environment)
7 Mind (psychological/sociocultural environment of human discourse)

8 Bridge connecting physical/chemical environment to biological/emotional environment

9 Bridge connecting psychological/sociocultural level of human discourse to physical and biological environments—“self” is simultaneously in touch with all three horizons—physical (blue quadrant), biological (green quadrant), and psychological/sociocultural (purple quadrant)

For instance, when I look up from my computer screen, I see a physical world of cinder block walls (I’m at work), tile floors, furniture, colors etc. My five senses inform me of this world and science informs me that there is more to these sensations then what my five senses are telling me. The unfortunate thing about science is that, in most cases, it tries to reduce all quadrants--life and mind--to the physical platform—not possible.

The red horizon of self is a product of the overlap of the mind/life platforms—the green quadrant. This quadrant, in addition to representing life, also represents emotional life. Emotions are a defining characteristic of the plant/animal kingdom (yes, a quirky group of scientists have produced evidence that plants have feelings), but emotions are not just a product of the green quadrant. Emotions are informed by the mind and that is the difference that makes a difference. J.E. Creighton writes:

“In the development of mind, feeling does not remain a static element, constant in form and content at all levels, but…is transformed and disciplined through its interplay with other aspects of experience…Indeed, the character of the feeling in any experience may be taken as an index of the mind’s grasp of its object; at the lower levels of experience, where the mind is only partially or superficially involved, feeling appears as something isolated and opaque, as the passive accompaniment of mere bodily sensation… In the higher experience, the feelings assume an entirely different character, just as do the sensations and the other contents of mind.” (Susanne K. Langer, Philosophy in a New Key, A Study in the Symbolism of Rite, Reason, and Art, p. 100)

The yellow self-horizon is also a product of the overlap of the mind/life/reductionist platforms, but its content—the purple quadrant, is restricted to the psychological, sociocultural, self-boundary of human discourse. This purple quadrant deviates somewhat from the standard science model, which lumps the “self “into the “physical stuff” of body/brain/mind--- the blue quadrant. However, there is some disagreement here. If you were to ask a “structuralist” or a “symbolic anthropologist” if the mind can stand alone, their answers would be interesting. Here’s how the philosopher, Ernst Cassirer, addressed this question:

“Man has, as it were, discovered a new method of adapting himself to his environment. Between the receptor system and the effector system, which are to be found in all animal species, we find in man a third link which we may describe as the “symbolic system.” This new acquisition transforms the whole of human life. As compared with the other animals man lives not merely in a broader reality; he lives, so to speak, in a new dimension of reality.” (An Essay On Man, p. 25)

Cassirer, also adds:

“All knowledge of the world and all strictly spiritual action upon the world require that I thrust the world back from itself, that in contemplation as in action it gain a certain distance from it. Animals do not know this distance: the animal lives in his environment; he does not place himself over against it and so represent it. This acquisition of the world as idea is, rather, the aim and product of the symbolic forms --–the result of language, myth, religion, art, and theoretical knowledge.” (Cassirer, The Phenomenology of Knowledge, p. 276)

Sunyata—At The Root Of Being—bwinwnbwi

2011-12-31T05:13:00.000-08:00

Reposted From October 13, 2011

“It is not that the self is empty, but that emptiness is self; not that things are empty, but that emptiness is things…
On the field of sunyata, each thing is itself in not being itself, and is not itself in being itself.”—Nishitani

Existentialism And Mysticism concluded

Jan. ’78

“All things that are in the world,” according to Nishitani,
“are linked together, one way or the other. Not a
single thing comes into being without some relationship
to every other thing. Scientific intellect thinks here in terms of
natural laws of necessary causality; mythico-poetic imagination
perceives an organic, living connection; philosophic reason
contemplates an absolute One. But on a more essential level, a system
of circuminsession has to be seen here, according to which, on the
field of sunyata, all things are in a process of becoming master and
servant to one another. In this system, each thing is itself in not
being itself, and is not itself in being itself. Its being is illusion
in its truth and truth in its illusion. This may sound strange the
first time one hears it, but in fact it enables us for the first time
to conceive of a force by virtue of which all things are gathered
together and brought into relationship with one another, a force
which, since ancient times, has gone by the name of “nature” (physis).

“To say that a thing is not itself means that, while continuing to be
itself, it is in the home-ground of everything else. Figuratively
speaking, its roots reach across into the ground of all other things
and help to hold them up and keep them standing. It serves as a
constitutive element of their being so that they can be what they are,
and thus provides an ingredient of their being. That a thing is itself
means that all other things, while continuing to be themselves, are in
the home-ground of that thing; that precisely when a thing is on its
own home-ground, everything else is there too; that the roots of every
other thing spread across into its home-ground. This way that
everything has of being on the home-ground of everything else, without
ceasing to be on its own home-ground, means that the being of each
thing is held up, kept standing, and made to be what it is by means of
the being of all other things: or, put the other way around, that each
thing holds up the being of every other thing, keeps it standing, and
makes it what it is. In a word, it means that all things ‘are’ in the
‘world.’” (Religion and Nothingness p.149)

To be sure, the sunyata reality referred to above by
Nishitani is not your typical fair. No wonder the very idea of
mysticism generates so much controversy, especially among academics!
But, this nothingness of the mystics, on some level at least, found its way into the
existentialism of European philosophy. And, as far as the “reality of Mysticism” goes, I would only defer to what Dr. Folkart said on the very first day of class:
“The claim to that other reality cannot be merely stated; its credibility
must come through a direct experience of it.”

POSTSCRIPT to the above post: As Douglas Hofstadter would say, I’m jumping out of the system here—errr jumping out of my story. In the next few sentences I’m going to structure the philosophies of Sartre and Nishitani in terms of symbolic structure — a symbolism for reality, life, and reason. I’m jumping out of my story because I believe that this post (on Nishitani) and yesterday’s post (on Nishitani and Sartre) are embedded in a vocabulary rich enough for me to suggest that we live in a universe that can be symbolized thusly: Let ~~b, or being-what-is-not-while-not-being-what-is represent reality. Reality grows in complexity until it becomes alive, or, in other words, ~~b reality liberates ~bb, i.e., life. Increasing complexity continues to move life forward until, once again, at a sufficient level of complexity, life liberates reason, which, in turn, liberates “civilization.” Bottom line here is that when Nishitani talks about sunyata he is talking about the reality of being-what-is-not-while-not-being-what-is; and when Sartre says, “the human project, suspended in nothingness, projects the self ceaselessly outside of itself,” he is also talking about sunyata,– the sunyata of a higher dimension, i.e., a higher dimension of being-what-is-not-while-not-being-what-is. In this new dimension, ~bb represents Sartre’s for-itself consciousness, which, in turn, is discovered embedded in b~b, i.e., aesthetic continuum/nature. In the aesthetic continuum/nature one discovers emotions, beauty and truth—the medium where confirmation of scientific hypotheses occur (physical events).In other words, Nishitani’s sunyata is not inconsistent with Sartre’s for-itself consciousness, or the ego/nothingness that condemns man/woman to freedom; it’s just that in Sartre’s being-what-is-not-while-not-being-what-is “the human project, suspended in nothingness, projects the self ceaselessly outside of itself,” while in Nishitani’s being-what-is-not-while-not-being-what-is “the being of each thing is held up, kept standing, and made to be what it is by means of the being of all other things: or, put the other way around, that each thing holds up the being of every other thing, keeps it standing, and makes it what it is.”

In a word, the above means that “all things that are in the world are linked together, one way or the other.”

Jean Paul Sartre

2011-12-29T09:15:00.000-08:00

Innate Structuring Capacity—Reciprocal Movement

Jan. ’12

Reciprocal Movement, –The Carrier Of Free Thought, The Same Free Thought That Brings Into Being Language, Myth, Science, Ethics, And Civilization

Identifying Sartre’s philosophy as structuralism is, I am aware, pushing the envelope. However, an authority on structuralism has proposed this option (without, I might add, elaborating on it.) “One might go as far as to say…that structuralism is analogous to Sartre’s view of consciousness — it is what it is not, and it is not what it is.” [Jean-Marie Benoist, A Structural Revolution, 1975, p. 1] In Sartre’s book Being And Nothingness, his chapter on Being-For-Itself is subtitled “Immediate Structures of the For-Itself.” [Jean-Paul Sartre, Being And Nothingness, 1966, p. 119] Structure is not hidden in Sartre; it’s just that on the whole Sartre’s book is a polemic against reading structure as anything more than appearance.

In the representation of Sartre’s thought as “consciousness is what it is not, and it is not what it is,” we find reciprocal movement, the same reciprocal movement encountered, in one form or another, in all the structuralists I have discussed hitherto in this paper. Specifically, Sartre defines the consciousness of the transcending For-itself (our self-space) as: “Consciousness is a being such that in its being, its being is in question in so far as this being implies a being other than itself.” [Ibid. p. 801] In an extrapolation from Sartre’s definition of the consciousness, Benoist describes that relationship as: “it is what it is not, and it is not what it is,” while I describe it as: being-what-is-not-while-not-being-what-is. In both cases, however, we end up with a definition for reciprocal movement.

This double movement is represented on many levels in Sartre’s exegesis on being and nothingness. This double movement becomes very specific in Sartre’s description of his pre-reflective Cogito. In so far as we find ”nothingness” at the center of Cogito, consciousness per se must be understood to be set apart from itself, therefore, Sartre’s pre-reflective Cogito will always form one pole of our conscious experience while the “objects” of consciousness will take their place at the other pole of conscious experience. In this way, Sartre is able to dispense with Descartes’ Cogito on the grounds that consciousness cannot be separated from its object. This condition, where the pre-reflective Cogito becomes a preexistent condition for the conscious awareness of objects, establishes the double movement of conscious reflection — the object of consciousness less the pre-reflective Cogito, and the pre-reflective Cogito less the object of consciousness. Depending on where “you” focus your concern, the content of consciousness is either pushed to the front of consciousness (the unreflective consciousness), or, the object of consciousness is pushed into the background, as the “negation of consciousness” is brought into the foreground (the reflected upon object of consciousness).

Together, our pre-reflective Cogito and the object of consciousness form our conscious experience of the knower-known dyad (this is also the origin of “time of mind,” the same experience that so perplexed St. Augustine that he mused, -- “What then is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks, I do not know.)In so far as this double movement turns on the pivot point of pure negation, the known exists for the knower, but the knower can never be fully known. As self-consciousness rises in consciousness, it is denied the possibility of becoming fully self-aware. This result, the incompleteness of self, brings us back to Sartre’s original definition of consciousness, or, “consciousness is such that in its being its being is in question in so far as this being implies a being other than itself.” This movement, the symbol-generating movement of free thought, the movement that makes thinking possible, emancipates language, myth, science, and morality. In the absence of this movement, thinking (or thought) is restricted to the manipulation of signs—mere sensual indicators, minus the symbols that carry the significance of those same indicators.

Human Spirit’s Self-Liberation

2011-12-29T09:04:00.000-08:00

The Next Level—Our Modern Episteme
Jan. ’12

Pre-moderns (the human spirit’s pursuit of self-liberation), as participating agents in an environment conceived holistically, objectify mind and culture in and through creative acts of differentiation. This process evolves out of the acquisition of life’s necessities and into the creation of more complex societal structures, e.g., kinship systems, sacred and profane boundaries, talismans, origin myths, etc. Thus, myth, or the mythical-religious consciousness of man, for Cassirer, is understood to be the precursor to the technological culture that, from the standpoint of utility, increases our ability to do work, as is makes life easier for all. However, this is not the end of the story. Self-liberation or the movement towards constancy, endurance and certainty continues to direct the human spirit’s progressive movement towards new forms of self-expression.

For Cassirer, myth and “myth making” becomes an expression of the human spirit/culture as it seeks to liberate itself from the restrictive conditions that hinder and retard the self-liberation process. In our present modern episteme, as Foucault likes to call it, however, the myth-centered universe of the Middle Ages has given ground to a more matter-centered, self-centered universe, a universe that, for Cassirer, represents a more spiritually liberated state, but, for Foucault, represents just another power/knowledge driven episteme, catering to the needs of those who desire and benefit most from power/knowledge relationships. Shortly, I will challenge this assumption by Foucault, but first I must add a bit more structure to Cassirer’s self-liberation world view. This structure comes from an unlikely source, the philosophy of Jean Paul Sartre.

Pursuit Of Self-Liberation

2011-12-29T08:56:00.000-08:00

The Evolution Of Symbolic Forms
Jan. ’80

Myth, or the mythical-religious consciousness of man, for Cassirer, is understood to be the proto-reality out of which symbolic forms evolve e.g. language, art, religion, science etc. These symbolic forms, in turn, are thought to result from the human spirit’s progressive movement towards more liberated forms of self-expression. From within the matrix of mythical thought, according to Cassirer, evolves the differentiation of the “I” of our personality and, over time, the more potent symbolic forms that define the present state of our modern knowledge and belief.

The origin of the self-liberation process (and knowledge in general), is first discovered in mythical thought as the capacity to order and differentiate, and then the self liberation process, in its capacity to transcend its own reality, metamorphizes into higher levels of symbolic expression. These higher levels of symbolic expression move self-liberation in the direction toward more constancy, endurance and certainty. Cassirer informs us:

“For a glance at the development of the various symbolic forms shows us that their essential achievement is not that they copy the outward world in the inward world or that they simply project a finished inner world outward, but rather that the two factors of “inside” and “outside,” of “I” and “reality” are determined and delimited from one another only in these symbolic forms and through their mediation. …The crucial achievement of every symbolic form lies precisely in the fact that it does not have the limit between I and reality as preexistent and established for all time but must itself create this limit–and that each fundamental form creates it in a different way.” (Ernst Cassirer, Mythical Thought, 1955, p. 155-156)

Cassirer tells us that Pre-moderns, as they engaged their environment through emotions, desires and work, acquired the ability, via symbolic representation, to objectify nature–the nature of both “inner and outer reality.” There was (and is) a double movement that arises from one’s interaction with his/her environment; in one direction there develops an objectification of one’s self-nature and in the other direction there arises the objectification of the social and cultural contents of society. From Cassirer’s point of view, art, myth, magic and ritual are co-creative products arising from this objectifying movement, which in turn, arises from the work that people do in society. “For the form of society,” Cassirer states, “is not absolutely and immediately given any more than is the objective form of nature, the regularity of our own world of perception. Just as nature comes into being through a theoretical interpretation and elaboration of sensory contents, so to the structure of society is mediated and ideally conditioned reality.” (Ernst Cassirer, The Philosophy of Smbolic Form, 3 vol., vol. 2, Mythical Thought, 1955, pl 193) In his three volume work, The Philosophy of Symbolic Forms, Cassirer concentrates his focus on the nature and origins of symbolic form as it first arises in language and myth and then, over time, develops into the theoretical orientations of scientific thought. The utility of symbolic forms, if that is the right word, is not just about a “thing” to be apprehended, it is about a movement towards constancy, endurance and certainty, and that objective applies to both culture and mind.

The Human Spirit’s Pursuit Of Self-Liberation

2011-12-29T08:48:00.000-08:00

A Brief Timeout From My Journal Travelogues
Jan. 2012

In the next series of posts, I will continue to make the case for a different way to understand “reality” and “self”—the carrier of free thought, i.e., the observer/observed relationship. I will describe existence, life, knowledge, and meaning—the meaning of what it means to be intelligently alive in a spiritual universe. Cassirer’s philosophy and Sartre’s for-itself philosophy, especially its structural significance, will be noted and further developed. My old post—“Sunyata At The Root Of Being” will be re-posted and following that post I will present a diagram that describes the observer/observed relationship. The last post, the post before my return to my northwest bicycle trip, will be a review of Ron Krumpos’ excellent e-book on mysticism: “The Greatest Achievement In Life--Living In Conscious Oneness.”

“Meaning becomes the moving force of self-transcendence, which reaches beyond the limited horizon and longs for the whole.” (Erich Jantsch, The Self-Organizing Universe)

If a universal structure is co-contemporary with the world and its history then we should be able to find this structure waiting to be discovered. I believe this structure has always existed, unconsciously no doubt, in the historical context of people and culture. Levi-Strauss’s structuralism, especially as it is described in The Savage Mind, is just one attempt at disclosing this structure. The holism/ elementarism debate,–the tension that exists between group demands and individual desires–is another attempt at disclosing this structure. This tension exists in all cultures, but varies in degree. For instance, it appears as though Pre-modern man, in the early stages of his development, was able to maintain cultural stability while at the same time maintaining a holistic perception of his environment. This ability, in the words of the anthropologist Levy-Bruhl, “sets Pre-modern man apart from his modern predecessors.” The qualities that we take for granted, or our ability to differentiate the space that surrounds us ad infinitum, did not exist for Pre-moderns. Rather, his/her experience of the participation process was more restrictive and inclusive within what Levy-Bruhl called the “synthetic whole”. In other words, Pre-modern society was considerably different from modern society. Still, all societies must have some mechanism to preserve and perpetuate the social roles that are vital to the on going existence of the group. For Pre-moderns, as for the rest of us, this mechanism lies in our work. In this respect the investigations of Ernst Cassirer become extremely helpful.

Alfred North Whitehead—The Bootstrapping Of Sentient Nature

2011-12-26T09:39:00.000-08:00

For Whitehead, insofar as occasions conform to their environment, insofar as the ‘self-aim’ conforms to its immediate past, there is determinism, but insofar as any entity modifies its response through the subjective element of feeling, there is freedom.

Discussion In Thin Air Concluded

July, ’80

“Whitehead,” said Stan, “spent the first half of his academic career as a Professor of Mathematics. He and Bertrand Russell attempted to prove that the axioms of number theory could be deduced from the premises of formal logic. Their book on that subject, Principia Mathematic, is quite famous. Whitehead also published another book on mathematics in which he formalized a set of rules and theorems, from which the theorems of Euclidean geometry are derivable. All this was done, for the most part, before Einstein published his famous theories. Whitehead, not surprisingly, took a keen interest in Einstein’s published works. And, like Cassirer, he wrote a book on relativity theory; only in his book, he disagreed with Einstein. As I recall he didn’t like the elevation of the velocity of light to a law of nature and he was critical of the flexible nature of space. Whitehead’s formalism was based on the premise of uniform space, or more precisely on the ‘non-contingent uniformity in spatial relations.’ As might be expected, in the scientific community, his ideas fell out of favor, but they played a major role in the metaphysics that he developed latter in life. In that metaphysics, Whitehead lifted the ‘process’ out of the philosopher (Kant) and put it squarely back into nature where he felt it belonged. Man, the symbol-generating animal, became instead, a product of process reality.”

“I guess this is as good a time as any to bid you fine fellows ado,” interrupted Peter, “It’s past my bedtime. But thanks for making my sleeping bag look so delicious. See you in the morning.”

“Sleep tight,” Stan replied, and then after throwing another log on the fire he continued, “what you were saying about ‘organic unities of time’ constituting our inner sense of being really made me think about Whitehead. He too believed that ‘whole movements’ or ‘epochs’ constituted individual unities of experience. Is anybody familiar with what I am talking about?”

“Yeah, it’s called animism,” replied Noel, “Eh, I’m only joking. Sure I’ve heard of Whitehead’s metaphysics, but I haven’t studied it in any depth. As I recall he turned nature into a kind of sentient being, and thus sidestepped all the epistemological problems that arise in subject-object opposition and in the self-world dichotomy. But, in his philosophy, didn’t he understand occasions as processes of self-development, or even self-creation?”

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Stan responded. “The idea was that an occasion was a ‘prehending entity’ in active interaction with its whole environment. Whitehead thought of these ‘prehending entities’ as processes of self-formation with ‘subjective aim.’ They began as simple overlapping events, evolved, and, as they say, the rest is history. Right!”

“Thanks for the history lesson,” Tony replied, “and now it is my turn to bid you fine fellows ado. And, like my friend Peter before me, I want to thank you all for making my sleeping bag look so delicious. Goodnight.”

“What, you don’t want to hear about Whitehead? He’s got some really interesting ideas. His insights speak directly to what we’re talking about.”

“As that philosophical cowboy, Kenny Rogers, likes to sing,” Noel interrupted, “You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. Actually, I think its time for me to call it a night too. See you with the sun. Errr, scratch that. See you when I see ya.”

“Well it looks like it’s just you and me kid, or are you calling it a night, too,” said Stan.

“Whitehead was another one of my philosophy teacher’s favorite people, but I don’t remember much about him,” I replied.

“Gee, your teacher was doing some interesting work. What was his name anyway?”

“John Gill,” I said.

“Never heard of him! What university did you go to?”

“Central Michigan University,” I replied.

“Never heard of that university, either. It’s not a Big Ten school, eh,” said Stan.

“What about Whitehead,” I said, “Tell me what he believed?”

“Sure kid,” replied Stan. “But it’s getting late. Anyway, he was full of ideas on how to make everything fit together. Ultimately, what is going on in Whitehead’s metaphysics—in addition to eliminating the subjective /objective split that occurs in the philosophies of Descartes, Locke, and Kant, is a ‘bootstrapping’ of self-development, a bringing into existence a more self-fulfilling, self-expressive, sentient nature.” He even managed to incorporate free will and divinity into his thesis, or the theory of the ‘bootstrapping’ of self-development. For Whitehead, insofar as occasions conform to their environment, insofar as the ‘self-aim’ conforms to its immediate past, there is determinism, but insofar as any entity modifies its response through the subjective element of feeling, there is freedom. Feeling and freedom are codependent for Whitehead, and divinity--God by any other name, is in touch with all feelings. Divinity is inside all agonizing screams, especially screams caused by injustice. He is also there, however, in all hopes, joys, and happiness, in addition to fears, regrets, and sorrows. Good feelings move the world forward to a better place. It is feeling that gives subjective aim to occasions. We encounter, in good feelings, the ‘allure of realization.’ For Whitehead, it is possible to create a more humane, peaceful, and loving world. Whitehead said as much, and Gandhi told us how to proceed, ‘You must be the change you want to see in the world’—both in life and love. Well, that’s about it. I feel my sleeping bag calling me. Are you staying up?”

“For a little while,” I said. “I’m not at all tired.”

“Well, goodnight then; I’d be throwing another log on that fire if I were you,” replied Stan. “See you in the morning.”

Realm Of Objectivity—Pythagoras, Einstein, Whitehead

2011-12-26T09:23:00.000-08:00

Discussion In Thin Air Continues

July, ‘80

“Stan I think,” Noel interrupted, “you a victim of your own success. And, I might add, welcome to the club. We’ve all been there. The hardest lesson we have to learn is when to stop when we’re ahead!”

“You mean you’re disagreeing with me,” Stan replied.

“Well yes, because I didn’t say any of that,” Noel responded, “you’re just getting carried away with your own extrapolations.”

“I am?” said Stan, “But I thought you were insinuating, ideally at least, that the function of the conceptual symbolic form was to reduce everything to number, or at least to the simplest possible abstractions.”

“That’s true enough,” Noel replied. “But I didn’t compare Einstein’s success to Pythagoras’s failure, nor did I remotely imply that between the two theories, there was not much difference.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Stan, “I guess I saw it a bit differently. What about Minkowski’s world—a world reduced to numbers? Besides number, the space-time continuum, and the constancy of the velocity of light, what else is left to say about the idea of a ‘fixed and permanent’ realm of objectivity? Anyway, didn’t you say the goal of the conceptual symbolic form was to simplify, simplify to the most necessary relations, simplify to the simplest application of mathematics and law? And didn’t you further say that that determinism must be weighed against the creative aspect of the only symbol-generating animal we know of--man? Did I hear you wrong or what?”

“What’s your point Stan?” replied Noel. “Sure I said those things, but isn’t it a bit of a stretch to link Einstein with Pythagoras, I mean did Pythagoras give us the bomb?

Pythagoras did one better than that,” replied Stan. ”He showed us how to generate harmonies from strings, but don’t get me started on that. It’s not strings were talking about here, its symbolic form and function. From that point of view, Pythagoras was doing the very same thing as Einstein, and, if I heard you correctly, even Einstein’s theory will one day get replaced with a new form of symbolic representation, a new theory that will increase our predictive power and broaden the range of our perceptual field. If you ask me, Einstein and Pythagoras were brothers in arms!”

“You win Stan,” responded Noel, “tell me more about what I said.”

“Wouldn’t you know it,” said Stan, “I’ve lost my train of thought. But I do have a few more observations, albeit a little off the topic.”

“Go for it,” said Noel, “it’s time to move on anyway.”

“Well, it’s not totally new,” Stan replied, “its just that when I was listening to your bantering, I felt like I had heard it all before. In my youth I studied Alfred North Whitehead. In fact, he inspired my desire to attend Harvard. He ended his career teaching there. Did you read him Tony?”

“No, I shy away from metaphysics,” responded Tony. “But I know about him. You can’t go to Harvard without becoming familiar with prestigious alumnae.”

Teaching The Boys How To Understand The Conversation In Thin Air

2011-12-26T08:58:00.000-08:00

Space, As A Phenomena That We Ascribe To Nature According To Law,--Is A Geometrical Presupposition

Discussion In Thin Air Continues

July, ’80

“Slow down,” I said, “I need to know if I’m keeping up with you guy’s or not. Are you saying that, in effect, space and time are to problem solving what muscles are to locomotion?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that Dave, but yes;” replied Noel, “We are able to predict events in our field of perception because of the meaningful connections that space and time bring to the sensuous contents of that field. However, what gets revealed to us is less about what’s ‘really out there’ as it is about answering the questions that we bring to the table of our understanding.”

“Hold on Noel, what about the effects, the predictable consequences of Einstein’s theory?” said Tony. “If they don’t occur in reality, then where do they occur?”

“Right where they are predicted to occur,” Noel replied, “In the surrounding manifold of our sensual experience. Nature, or the name that we give to that manifold, takes in everything we can see, hear, feel, taste, smell, and explain. Space, as an ontological entity, in the theory of general relativity, doesn’t exist. The being of space has been replaced with purely methodological considerations. What space ‘is,’ or whether any definite character can be attributed to it, is no longer a concern. Rather, we must be concerned with the geometrical presuppositions, the ‘ideal meanings’ that get used in the interpretation of the phenomena that we ascribe to nature according to law.”

“I’m getting tired of this,” said Tony. “Science gets done and benefits follow, which, really, is all we have to worry about, right Stan? How come you’re so quiet, anyway? That’s not like you. Are you sick or something?”

“I’m fine. You know me, quiet as a mouse, but sharp as a tack,” said Stan. There’s a time for talking and time for listening. I’ve been enjoying the latter. I’m not sure how much of this conversation the boys have actually caught. I’d like to try to catch them up; that is, after I throw another log on the fire.”

“Always the educator, eh Stan,” said Tony, “but that’s why we love ya.”

“Take nature for instance,” responded Stan, “for you Tony nature is independent of the observer. It’s a bit complicated, but knowable, and it exists before one begins to experiment on it. That’s not the case for Noel. For him, nature does not exist independent from the observer. In fact, the questions raised concerning nature, for Noel at least, actually bring nature into existence. And, he looks to quantum mechanics to substantiate that claim. On that level, the physical world seems to emerge from the observations made on it. Any argument yet, fellows?”

“You’ve got the stage,” replied Noel, “go for it.”

“Now for the hard part,” said Stan, “On the one hand we have Einstein’s theory of general relativity, and on the other hand we have quantum theory. Both theories are proven successes, but when taken together they are out of joint. The equations that describe the gravitational field are completely different from the one’s that describe subatomic interactions. Moreover, space and time are intimately related in relativity theory. They are dependent on the state of motion of the observer. In quantum theory space and time are not tied to existence at all. As far as man’s limited reason is concerned, there is no quantum world, just an abstract quantum physical description. Given this confusing state of affairs, it would be doctrinaire and dogmatic to say that one theory is better than the other, or that one is talking sense and the other is lacking in it. Right fellows?”

“Who’s patronizing now,” replied Tony.

“Guilty as charged,” responded Stan, “I guess nobody’s perfect! For Tony, the mind’s ability to discover the true nature of ‘reality’ is a religious belief, just like it was for Einstein. If Einstein had a religious belief, it was that the world is comprehensible and objective.”

“I’d probably go to church, if I could sit next to Einstein,” Tony replied.

“As I was saying,” said Stan, “under the rule of cause and effect everything has its place and time, but that is not what works for Noel. Knowledge, for him, constitutes what we take to be the physical world, and new knowledge may substantially alter that world. In other words, for Noel, over time, both knowledge and the perceptual field that we find ourselves in changes according to how it is symbolically constituted. Both Cassirer and Kant agreed on this. The function of the mind’s capacity to connect meaning to sensual contents goes beyond sensual contents and establishes an order among the connections between them. The necessary elements of every assertion—being and non-being, similarity and dissimilarity, unity and plurality, identity and opposition—cannot be represented by any content of perception, but through them, ‘ideal meanings’ get created, and when applied to the perceptual field, they fill our perceptions with meaning. That process, over time, alters both the meaning and the content of our perceptual field. But, what it comes down to in the end is testing the deductive consequences of those ‘ideal meanings’ against the sensual contents in the field of our perceptions. That certainly is the way it works in Einstein’s universe, but, according to Noel, Einstein’s success represents little more than that failed attempt by the old Greek, Pythagoras, when he tried to reduce a whole universe of meaning to a few integral numbers some 2,500 years ago.”

Even More Important--Use Value

2011-12-26T08:41:00.000-08:00

Conversation In Thin Air Continues

July, ’80

“So what are you saying,” I interrupted, “How exactly did Cassirer rescue us?”

“I’m saying,” said Noel, “that the conceptual symbolic form, the one that reduces everything to the lowest possible denominator, is a preeminent success; except its meaning is only one of the many meanings that are generated by the multi-functional meanings of symbolic form. Success, when measured on the level of the conceptual symbolic form, reduces, to the simplest possible ‘ideal meaning.’ That success, along with every other meaningful success, has contributed to the survival of our species. In the evolutionary scheme of things, the innovations of sensed space and time, and mathematical space and time have been absolutely essential to the survival of our species.”

“Space and time are an invention; that contradicts everything,” exclaimed Tony.
“Everybody listen up. No more whiskey for Noel. He’s cut off, as of right now.”

“Very funny,” replied Noel, “but if you think about it, the theory of relativity gives a clear indication of what Cassirer was talking about, that the meaning of space and time is found in its use value, not in the so called ‘objective world’. Think about it. In relativity theory ordinary methods of space and time measurement fall short. We no longer can use rigid bodies and ordinary clocks as measures of space and time. In Einstein’s calculations, space and time are reduced to mere effects.”

Most Important—What An Event Means

2011-12-26T08:35:00.000-08:00

Conversation In Thin Air Continues
July, ’80

“I read somewhere,” said Noel, “that in the world of space-time nothing changes; that all that has been and all that will be just ‘is.’ Like in a crystal ball, everything in space-time is just there, in Parmenidean stillness.”

“You’ve got to stop reading those ‘new age’ books, Noel,” responded Tony. “Nothing is quite that simple.”

“I absolutely agree,” said Noel, “it’s never simple, and that’s exactly the point. In Minkowski’s ‘absolute world,’ time, as a becoming, is abandoned. We have not learned how to express time as a becoming, either linguistically or mathematically. The temporal process that psychologically constitutes our inner sense of consciousness, in Minkowski’s ‘absolute world,’ gets represented in the absolute rigidity of a mathematical formula. It becomes time as a state of being. That kind of time, as H.G. Wells pointed out a long time ago, sees a person only as ‘slices of time,’ like pictures in a photo album. The time that gets represented in a photo album lacks the flowing, wheeling, qualitative determinations that constitute our inner sense of time. Without that kind of time there wouldn’t be any photographs at all because there wouldn’t be anybody to take the pictures. In space-time the ‘now’ embraces the ‘whole life,’ but totally left out of that picture is time as a becoming. Cassirer comes to the rescue here.

“According to Cassirer, the time where ‘the whole precedes the parts,’ where ‘organic unities’ are formed, that time constitutes personal experience--our inner sense of becoming. In that time we become from one moment to the next our future. In that time, the continuity of our becoming signifies living flux, which is given to our consciousness only as flux, a transitional flux within which arises the meaning of symbolism. Whether we take mathematical time to be the t-coordinate of an undifferentiated continuum or the ‘absolute now’ of Minkowski’s space-time, for Cassirer, either way, it’s still only a conceptual symbolic form, a symbolic form that is produced by our personal time, our time of becoming.”

Einstein’s Universe Attacks Your Sense Of Freedom And Dignity

2011-12-20T08:30:00.000-08:00

Conversation In Thin Air Continues

July, ’80

“Okay, Tony, if you want to jump into the thick of it, than lets do it,” replied Noel. “The space-time interval, what’s it based on?”

“The speed of light, or rather the constancy of the velocity of light,” Tony responded. “You and I share the same space-time, but my space and your space, and my time and your time, are the same only when we are at rest relative to each other. We live in our own private worlds of space and time, but in the new public domain of space-time, space and time are the same for everybody. In fact, the intrinsic structure of that space-time accounts for the constancy of the velocity of light for all observers.”

“Do you know why?” said Noel.

“Sure,” responded Tony, “it has to do with the implications of relativity theory. In the mathematics of space-time, Minkowski, Einstein’s mathematics professor, showed that even though the Pythagorean theorem does not work in space-time, something like the Pythagorean theorem is still at work. In Euclid’s geometry the square of the hypotenuse of a right triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of its two sides. In the geometry of space-time, the distance between two events, like in the Pythagorean theorem, is equal to the time interval squared minus the space interval squared, however, that minus is the reverse of what takes place in the geometry of Euclid. Subtracting, instead of adding the two intervals, produces four-dimensional space-time. In space-time the distance between two events connected by a light ray becomes zero. Light rays coming at us from outer space take time to reach us, but in space-time no distance is traveled. That’s one of the incredible results that follow from Einstein’s theory. And that is also why the speed of light is constant for all observers. In space-time light is just there, everywhere.”

“I’m just a little confused,” said Noel, “If light doesn’t go anywhere, how can we know that the length of a space-time interval between any two events is the same for everybody?”

“Because of the constancy of light’s velocity,” Tony replied.

“So what you’re saying is that time doesn’t change, just space?” said Noel. “Is that the answer? Don’t answer that. There’s ‘no’ time to answer, right? Anyway, Einstein’s field equations dictate the space of space-time, and, as you have all ready pointed out Tony, we can agree upon the measured value of space-time. Is that about right?”

“Well, a stab in time will get you nine,” Tony muttered. “You know damn well what I’m talking about Noel. It’s just that you don’t like it. You won’t accept that in the cosmic scheme of things, you and I, and everybody else, are just world lines. That past, present, and future may, or may not, possess meaning scares the hell out of you. You hate the idea that your private frame of reference might be limited and meaningful only to you. Einstein’s universe attacks your sense of freedom, your dignity. Well I’ve got news for you. Nobody was more concerned about dignity than the old man. He didn’t bemoan the fact that he wasn’t God. It was enough for him to peer into the heart of nature, or the mind of God if you prefer to call it that, and understand what was really going on. It was enough for him to know that all human beings had this gift, but how it was used was a person’s own business. Denying it, however, was not dignified. It was plain stupid.”

In Science The Stabilizing Objective Tendency Predominates

2011-12-20T08:21:00.000-08:00

Conversation In Thin Air Continues

July, ’80

“You see, it’s all about time and place,” the Philosophy Professor said, “a time to move forward and a place to rebel, a time to attack and place to settle down. Einstein had to reject the Newtonian paradigm before he could move on, and according to Cassirer, that process is inherent in the functioning of symbolic forms. In the relation between the symbol and its significance a polarity exists. In symbol formation there is a tendency toward stabilization and a tendency toward the breaking apart of permanent symbolic patterns. Myth explains new phenomena in terms of past origins. Language conforms to rules, yet over time, phonetic and semantic change takes place. Art inspires, but as a cultural phenomenon, it always remains in communication with its traditional forms. In science, the objective, stabilizing tendency predominates, but innovation and change will never be completely subsumed under determinate concepts. That's where Einstein…"

“Maybe Noel,” Tony interrupted, “you’re referring to a different Einstein. The one that I thought we were talking about is the one who eliminated the confusion concerning space and time. We have known for a long time that people in other cultures experience space and time differently. But that’s the beauty of Einstein’s work; now we can all agree that space-time intervals are the same for everybody, even for space aliens traveling at close to the speed of light. We now know that the length of a space-time interval between any two events is the same for everybody.”

Ernst Cassirer—Early On The Picture Was Reality—The Functioning Of Symbolic Forms

2011-12-19T09:51:00.000-08:00

Conversation In Thin Air Continues
July, ’80

“Yeah, I think some of this stuff is coming back to me now,” I said. “I’m beginning to remember why I liked Cassirer.”

“In the early history of myth and magic,” said Noel, “the sign and its significance merged into one another. For people about to embark on a dangerous hunt, the painted picture of the successful hunt on a cave wall, was not just a picture, it was ‘reality.’ No distinction was made between the painting and what it represented. The painting of the successful hunt and the upcoming hunt became ‘one.’ By such means early people gained control over their world and predicted many, if not most of the events.

“As language developed, and human societies became more intricately organized, a more symbolic intuitive function began to dominate. Language differentiated the perceptual world into spatially and temporally related material objects. The expressive ‘magical function’ that animated everything with human impulses and desires gave way to a more efficient, predictive power. The predictive power of ‘common sense’ worked to displace the predictive power of myth and magic. Now, however, even that predictive power has come under fire. Magic was the first to go. Now ‘common sense objects,’ the bearers of both subjective and objective properties, also must go. Science and mathematics--the conceptual world of relations, as opposed to the ‘reality’ of substances--owes its existence to the ‘symbolic conceptual function,’ and progress, as measured by that function, tends to move in a direction away from the world of ‘common sense.’ One only has to look to where our knowledge has taken us for a confirmation of that idea. At the micro level of our experience we have a description of the ‘now you see it, now you don’t world’ of quantum mechanics, and at the macro level of experience we have a description of the curved surface of the four-dimensional space-time continuum.” In both directions little of our ‘common sense’ world remains.”

“So big deal,” said Tony, “Knowledge is like that. That’s why it’s called knowledge, and thank God for it.”

“I would whole heartedly agree with you Tony, except for one small snag,” responded Noel, “Our journey down the road of discovery is a very lopsided journey. In a technological society gone berserk, the ‘earth stewardship ethic’ seems to have disappeared at a rate inversely proportional to what gets called ‘progress.’ We are on a course of self-destruction, and, apparently, nothing can be done about it. It’s a damn shame.”

“Here, here,” exclaimed Peter, “If you ask me the world would have been much better off if mankind would have stayed painting successful ‘realities’ on cave walls, as opposed to creating successful war machines. What did that get us anyway--a predictable history of unnecessary suffering and an earth full of pollution?”

“Yes Peter, I know what you’re saying,” replied Noel, “but remember, all of civilization, the civilization we take for granted-- agriculture, medicine, literature, technology—has benefited mankind immensely.”

“Fellows, I don’t mean to sound rude,” I said, “but what happened to relativity?”

“I’m getting there,” Noel replied, “and maybe we’re already there.”

“If you haven’t already guessed,” said Tony, “’philosopher speak,’ goes on and on and on. Here, have some more whiskey. It only gets better!”

The Ordering And Differentiating Of Particulars

2011-12-19T09:27:00.000-08:00

Conversation In Thin Air Continues
July, ’80

“And, what principles did Cassirer take to be a priori anyway,” I said. “Obviously Kant’s space and time had to go, but causality and relation, I suppose, they could stay. Right?”

Woe, too many questions too fast,” responded Noel. “We need to back up a little here. First, no individual can claim to grasp absolute ‘reality.’”

“That’s what you say,” Tony replied, “Don’t tell that to my Harvard buddies.”

“Give it a break Tony,” Noel shot back, “and listen up.”

“Testy, testy, fellows,” Stan, the English Professor, interrupted, “after all this is not a stuffy conference. Mountain air is moving through our lungs, so lets try to keep it civil, shall we.”

“As I was saying,” Noel continued, “nobody has a claim on absolute reality, so we make do with approximations, and those approximations result from symbolic representation. And further, the pre-conditions for those representations are what make Cassirer a neo-Kantian philosopher. Expressed in the mind’s capacity for representation is the ordering and differentiating of particulars, the opposing of being to non-being. That was the source of expression early on in cave paintings and idol worship, and that is still the source of expression in today’s artwork. In fact, that is the source of expression in all symbolic forms, in literature, in science--the abstract and identifiable nature of that capacity drives the transmission of culture. At the cutting edge of symbolic representation is found the activity of ‘interrogation and reply,’ as well as the interplay of the understanding with our creative imagination, and the rules we use to extend and restrict that imagination. But here I am getting ahead of myself.”

Ernst Cassirer— Philosopher

2011-12-19T09:12:00.000-08:00

Conversation In Thin Air Continues
July, ‘80

“So Noel,” I again interrupted, “what’s with Cassirer’s take on Einstein’s theory?”

“Well, before that question can be answered, you’ve got to know something about Cassirer’s philosophy,” Noel replied.

“But I do know something about his philosophy,’ I said, “I took a class in it. As I recall, it’s about how language, art, religion, and science are regarded as continuous constructs of cultural development, which, when understood from Cassirer’s point of view, were taken to be expressions of the power of man to build an ‘ideal’ or symbolic world.”

“That’s very good,” Noel responded. “You are a student of philosophy. Actually, Cassirer was a philosopher of the neo-Kantian variety, and he held that the objective world resulted from the function of human consciousness to symbolically produce, through a priori principles, culture--myth, religion, language, art, history and science. For Cassirer, man was a symbolizing animal, and the principles used to differentiate and order culture were, according to him, dispersed over a wider range than Kant supposed. Kant’s a priori principles were more restrictive and static than were Cassirer’s. However, that said, Cassirer still believed that the organizing principles of the human mind were responsible for all aspects of culture, including the dynamic critique of culture that formed the substance of his work on symbolic forms. In effect, Cassirer, like Kant, investigated not so much the objects of knowledge and belief as the manner in which those objects were constituted in consciousness.”

“But what’s that got to do with relativity,” I said. “How did Cassirer apply his a priori principles to the physical world, the world that we are able to know and predict?”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” exclaimed Tony.

Cassirer And Einstein

2011-12-19T08:57:00.000-08:00

Conversation In Thin Air Continues
July, ’80

“Cassirer, I know that guy,” I said. “He was one of my philosophy teacher’s favorite people. I had to read his books on symbolic form. But what’s he got to do with Einstein?”

“And,” Peter added, “I wouldn’t exactly call him unorthodox. Being German, I can vouch for the guy. I assure you that his work is well respected, at least in my country.”

“Well, before he published his work on symbolic forms,” Tony continued, “he wrote a short piece on Einstein’s Relativity Theory. In it he attempted show how Einstein’s work was an extension, if not a confirmation, of his own epistemology. Is that about right Noel? He even sent the manuscript to Einstein for his comments, but I don’t think the old man was impressed.”

“He published that book, Tony,” responded Noel. “You can check it out of the library if you want too. And Einstein was impressed. It’s just that his stubbornness, his psychological need to prove laws of strict causality, would not allow him to take Cassirer’s epistemology seriously. In fact, that same stubbornness never allowed him to take quantum mechanics seriously. Einstein’s obsession, answering the question—does the universe really come down to a dice throw—carried him, some might say sent him, to his grave. What a waste!”

“I’m not to sure that’s an accurate description of Einstein,” Tony replied, “but you’re right, he challenged the credibility of quantum mechanics to the very end.”

Gravitation, Virgo, -- And The Philosopher

2011-12-19T08:43:00.000-08:00

Discussion In Thin Air Continues
July, ’80
“What about Einstein?” I said. “What’s his perspective? What’s he got to say about Virgo? I’m sure Peter would like to know?”

“Yeah, what’s the haps there, anyway;” responded Peter, “where does Virgo fit into Einstein’s universe?”

“Einstein tells us,” replied Tony, “that the large-scale universe is a curved surface of four dimensions, three of space and one of time. The gravitational force, the force that binds us to the earth, and Virgo to the zodiac, arises from the very structure of that space-time continuum. Many believe, including myself, that mass/energy points will one day be understood as field intensities, and thus as a manifestation of that very same continuum. But that day hasn’t arrived yet. That’s what Einstein wanted to prove. It’s much too big a problem for me, though, but that doesn’t mean that someday somebody else won’t solve it.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait for another Einstein,” I said.

“Well, maybe,” Noel added, “but Einstein spent thirty good years trying to answer that problem and came up with zilch. I’m afraid those fuzzy little phantoms at the small-scale end of the universe are not going to go away. We would be better off to recognize and accept that. It’s time to move on.”

“Oh, do I smell a snide comment or what?” exclaimed Tony. “Move on to what, to where? I feel we are about to hear a different set of conjectures, never mind that Noel and I have agreed to disagree on this subject before. But, if you must Noel, go ahead, enlighten us.”

“What are you guys talking about,” said Peter, “If there’s anything I hate it’s being left out a conversation.”

“Sorry old boy,” replied Tony, “Its just that Noel has this unorthodox way of looking at things. You’ll have to excuse him, though, his genealogy lists an ancestry of university professors and his father, a Philosophy Professor himself, went to Yale back in the ‘40’s and studied under this guy called Ernst Cassirer. Noel likes to bang Cassirer’s drum whenever he gets a chance. Like father, like son, eh Noel!”

Does The Universe Really Come Down To A Dice Throw

2011-12-16T09:06:00.000-08:00

Discussion In Thin Air Continues
July, ‘80

Peter, what you’re saying is interesting,” the Physic’s Professor (Tony) responded, “but we really don’t want to go there?”

“Careful Tony,” Noel interrupted, “You’re patronizing. Don’t you think the boy has a point? I mean, no individual can claim to grasp absolute reality. How do you know the plane of the zodiac is out of synch? In fact, what makes a statement meaningful, anyway? Or, more to the point, how do you ‘know’ anything at all? Veracity issues, as I am sure you are aware, extend beyond the calculations in your equations. I would think that you physicists should be extremely sensitive to reality claims—of all varieties."

“Always the philosopher, eh Noel,” replied Tony.

“Yeah,” I interrupted, “what about the problems in quantum physics? Where is the reality there? I don’t know much, but I do know that at the subatomic level, some things just ain’t right. A couple of other campers and myself, in fact, discussed that subject just a couple of weeks ago. Help me out. What’s the real deal there?”

“Woe fellows,” the English Professor, Stan, said, “you’re about to put old Tony on the spot. Noel, you set this up, so I guess the question now is, ‘What are we going to do with it?’”

“What about mass and energy,” I said, “not to mention cause and effect. What’s going on there? Do they even exist anymore?”

“Of course they do,” Tony replied, “it’s just that we understand them from a slightly different perspective now. Actually, we have two different perspectives, one at the quantum level and one on a larger scale, that scale being Einstein’s universe. At the quantum level, mass and energy are still in tact; it’s just that their quantification is a bit problematic. Our knowledge of small quantities is restricted. At that level, nature apparently harbors secrets, but that has nothing to do with whether mass or energy exists. They do, or put more accurately, it does. We don’t want to forget Einstein’s equivalence equation. As far as cause and effect goes, well, again, we can only know it through statistical analysis at the quantum level.”

Zodiac People And Personality

2011-12-15T08:36:00.000-08:00

Conversation Continues
July, '80

After finding a good place to make camp, the two of us, along with Tony, the Physics Professor, took off to climb one of the surrounding peaks. We were looking for a good place to watch the sunset and we weren’t disappointed. The sunset turned into an orange and yellow hued mountaintop spectacular, and things only got better after that. Back at camp, after eating our fill of Stan’s delicious stew, Noel, the Philosophy Professor, pulled a fifth of Crown Royal from his backpack. I wasn’t a big whiskey fan, especially straight from the bottle, but on that night, high in the mountains, sitting around a blazing campfire, and exhausted from a hard day of hiking, the whiskey was duly appreciated. In fact, we were all about to fall asleep when Tony pointed out the constellation, Draco. That reinvigorated the group, especially Peter, who, apparently, had an intellectual investment in the workings of the zodiac. When Tony began to treat the whole “zodiac thing” with disrespect, Peter got angry.

“You see,” said Tony, “identifying personality traits with the constellations is just plain stupid. The movement of the earth around the sun, and the movement of our solar system within the plane of the Milky Way galaxy, reconfigured the location of the stars relative to the observer on earth. A Greek born under the sign of Virgo in 300 BCE, today is born under the sign of Leo. Over a period of 2500 years the constellations have retrograded an entire sign. Astrologers do not take into consideration the changing plane of the rotating earth. A Leo is still a Leo to the astrologer, even though the Virgo of yesterday has become the Leo of today, and the Leo of tomorrow will become a Capricorn in the future. Change is pervasive. That’s just the way the universe operates.”

“You’ve got your signs out of order,” said Peter.

“Yeah, I probably do; but you still know what I mean,” responded Tony.

“Well maybe you’re wrong! How do you know that anyway?” said Peter. “If that’s the case, if everything changes anyway, maybe some day the zodiac will find its way back to where its supposed to be, to its original path above the earth.”

“You’re not following what I’m saying, “replied Tony, “what about the in-between time?”

“Isn’t the first law of physics the one that ties theory to evidence?” Peter shot back. “If that’s the case, then how do you explain the fact that zodiac people almost always answer in the affirmative when they’re asked if their sun sign fits the description of their personality?”

Jasper National Park, Alberta

2011-12-15T08:24:00.000-08:00

Mountain Heights, Professor Conversation Begins

July 8, ’80

With my sleeping bag and a fully loaded bike pannier tied to opposite ends of the pole that I carried across my shoulders, Peter and I began our hike into the backcountry. I left my bike at the hostel. We were already pretty high up, so we didn’t have the typical climbing day that began most backcountry hikes. Peter was excited. He told me that the mountains were higher than the ones he had climbed back in Germany, where he was from. He turned out to be a good traveling companion with an unshakable positive disposition. Well, it was almost unshakable. But before I get into that story, I want to at least mention the dream I had on the first night out camping. My old girlfriend, Carin, came back into my life in that dream.

The dream was notable because it was a nightmare. My relationship with Carin was made possible because it was only meant to last a moment, a night, or a week. It was not meant to last the almost two years that we were together. Still, it ended as if it never had happened, and that was the nightmare. That level of relationship was nightmarish even in a dream. When I awoke I had a queasy stomach. I haven’t seen Carin in almost a year, and although I have never thought of her in a bad way, I absolutely know for sure I will never again engage in a relationship like that one. That would be insane.

It was on the trail, in late afternoon, on the second day of hiking, when Peter and I met three sweating backpackers coming towards us. They were exhausted. It was, for them, the first day of a ten-day hike, and they had prepared themselves well. That was the problem. On their backs they were carrying 70 or 80 lbs of equipment and supplies. After Peter and I satisfied their concerns about the upcoming trail—a lot of down hill and a beautiful stream to follow (we had just crossed over Nigel Pass), the three University of Kentucky professors suggested that we all spend the evening together. By that time Peter and I had pretty much eaten all of their pickled bologna. It would have been impolite not to accept their offer. And, besides, these guys wanted to lighten their loads. For Peter and I, it was mainly crackers and jelly until we returned to civilization, so there was really no decision to be made.

Super Bicycling--Jasper National Park

2011-12-13T08:54:00.000-08:00

Jasper Valley
July ’80

There were quite a few college age kids in the bar car, and everybody was having a pretty good time. All there was to do was look out at the falling rain and drink beer. Before Jean went back to her friends, she invited me to visit her in Saskatoon. That was a little out of the way for me, but you never say no to a pretty girl. She was a waitress at a steak house, and she promised me a beer if I showed up. I told her we had a date.

It was cold when I got off the train in Jasper. Fortunately, I found a place to get hot coffee and donuts. By 6 a.m. I was headed south. Before sunrise I had already taken a couple pictures of a deer and an elk; that is, when I realized I had forgot to buy film. It would be awhile before I could buy more. I had four shots left. The mountains were very large and beautiful, and the road ran straight down a natural valley with mountains rising high on both sides—a super bicycle ride. Off and on throughout the day, clouds covered the peaks, and a few raindrops fell, but not enough to dampen my spirits. By late afternoon the sky had cleared and the sun was everywhere.

I was up pretty high in the mountains and by nightfall I arrived at a youth hostel. Most of the beds were empty. It was a beautiful spot; more or less perched on the mountain pass. The only problem was that the cold climbed with the elevation. At the youth hostel, I met Peter. He was planning a hike into the back-country and he asked me if I would accompany him. I didn’t have the equipment for that kind of hiking, but Peter’s energy was contagious. I told him “Sure, let’s do it.” We would leave tomorrow and make a two or three-day hike out of it.

Jean From Saskatoon

2011-12-13T08:43:00.000-08:00

On The Train Alberta Bound
July 7, ’80

The train ride was great! After leaving Smithers, the countryside leveled out some. Looking at the pouring rain from my warm, dry seat on the train was a redemptive experience all by itself. Every so often the train would pass an attempt at a farm. Homesteading had to be difficult anywhere, but in the northern Canadian wilderness it had to be painfully difficult. At least that was the consensus of opinion that the girl I met on the train and I came up with after our first beer together. She was both pretty, and interesting to talk too.

I met Jean while watching the scenery pass from the bar car. She happened to fall into the seat next to me. Lucky for me, the seat was empty. She was from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, and she had her own story about homesteading. She was returning from a visit with her three girlfriends who were homesteading a piece of land on the coast. They had lived in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere for the last three years. The girls supported themselves by working the land—barely. Things were falling apart, though. When Jean left, one of the girls called it quits, and returned to her parents’ home in Vancouver. There were only two girls left to do the work of three, but it was even worse than that because, according to Jean, the girl that left did most of the work. Jean didn’t hold out much hope for the two girls that remained. I told her that all social experiments had that problem, the problem of unequal distribution of labor, and before we had finished our beer, we both agreed that guts, sweat, and a short life had to be the watchwords for anybody thinking about homesteading. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it wasn’t, but Jean talked as if she was seriously thinking about joining the duo. Leaving her job and friends behind was, for her, the most difficult part though.

Arrival Time 5:30 A.M. Jasper, Alberta

2011-12-11T07:36:00.001-08:00

Smithers, B.C.
July 5, ’80

Well, here I am, in a dry room, wet, and waiting for the train
departure that will take me across B.C. to Jasper, Alberta, some 490
miles. In Jasper I will get off the train and bicycle down the
Canadian Rockies to Banff, 300 miles south. I'm looking forward to
that ride, but even more, I'm looking forward to leaving this rain behind.

When I packed up my gear, and left the falling down barn, I walked
out into a heavy drizzle. I carried my bike back across the cow dung
and through the tall, wet, grass. Soaking wet, and back on the
highway, I had already made up my mind to check out a train ride as
soon as possible. Three days of wet wilderness biking had taken
everything out of me. After arriving in Smithers, the first question I
asked was "What's the weather report?" The ticket guy responded, "More
of the same." But then he added, "You should have been here three days
ago. It was absolutely gorgeous."

I spent the rest of the morning, after buying my ticket, cleaning my
bike and getting groceries. Arrival time in Jasper was 5:30 a.m. Even
though the train was running an hour late already, it would still get
into Jasper before the stores opened in the morning, and I didn't want
to wait around to buy supplies. I found shipping my bike easy. Whereas
back in Ottawa I had to "package my bike," out here I just put a
name tag on the handlebar. The baggage guy lifted it fully loaded into
the boxcar and that was that. Everything was looking good except the
weather. If it stayed that way, the shear beauty of the parks would
have to become my sunshine.

Slapped With Pigeon Shit

2011-12-11T07:31:00.001-08:00

Coastal Mountains, British Columbia
July, ’80

Very carefully I climbed over the barbed wire fence that was between
the barn and me. Then I lifted my bike (around 75 lbs.) over the fence
and carried it. I didn't want to wake up with another punctured tire.
After trudging through a field of knee high grass, I walked the last
fifty yards across ankle deep mushy cow dung. When I arrived at the
barn soaked from the waist down, I found so much water falling through
the roof that I had to put up my tent anyway--inside the barn. I
actually had a hard time determining the driest spot to erect my tent.
Finally, after shedding my wet pants and crawling into my tent, I
realized that I hadn't noticed the roosting pigeons in the barn's
rafters. Lying in my damp (almost wet) sleeping bag, and listening to
a mixture of raindrops and pigeon shit slap the outside of my tent, I
had finally arrived at day's end of the worst bicycling imaginable, and,
as such, I vowed I would never spend another night in the rain.

I'm sick of being in, riding in, and feeling rain in my face. Right
now I'm going to take off this wet jacket and crawl further down into
my warm sleeping bag (yes, goose down is warm even when wet) and
block out from my mind this whole mind-numbing experience. And don't
give me that crap about "been there done that" because I refuse to even think it!
I'm wet, miserable, and sick to my stomach. Goodnight!

Climbing Into A Wet Gritty Sleeping Bag

2011-12-11T07:24:00.001-08:00

Coastal Mountains, British Columbia
July, ’80

The rain did not stop. I spent the entire next day bicycling in the
kind of rain that if you were walking without a raincoat, you would be
soaked in three minutes. That was a long day and an even longer night
because I had to climb into a tent and a sleeping bag that never had
time to dry out from the wet night before. I hated that; I mean
sleeping in gritty, wet conditions with no reprieve to look forward
too. It's a terrible experience. And, to make it even worse, the
following morning I awoke to find a thorn in my bicycle tire. By the
time I fixed the tire, packed up my wet gear, and headed out, I was
totally depressed, not to mention cold and feeling sick.

It was another day-bike in the rain, which made it hard to make
distance, and be anything but miserable. Around 7 p.m. the rain was
coming down so hard I couldn't even stop to put up my tent. In that
kind of downpour everything would be soaked before I could get my gear
off my bike. So I just kept slowly moving forward, hoping beyond hope
that I would find shelter. I had managed to break free from the
mountains, and every once in a while I passed what looked like
farmland, so I kept my eyes pealed for a shed, barn, or broken
foundation where I could rig a makeshift roof. Daylight was running
out when I spied an old barn sitting quite a ways off the highway.
There were no roads to it.

Johnny Carson Not But It Was Fun

2011-12-11T07:02:00.001-08:00

Coastal Mountains Of British Columbia
July, ’80

After a wet night in the wilderness, sleeping on very rocky ground,
I got up and biked into Terrace. I went straight to the Laundromat.
Walking to the Laundromat, I must have looked like a drowned rat,
which made it all that much more surprising when this guy started
asking me questions. As it turned out he was part of a late night
television talk show program that was looking for people to interview.
He told me someone would be around to talk to me, and sure enough the
woman who was the host of the show stopped by the Laundromat and asked
me if I would tape an interview. I agreed, and after I finished doing
laundry, I walked into the building next door, and entered the studio
where Marge, the talk show host, had everything set up for tapping.

It wasn't Johnny Carson, but even so, she asked the questions and I
answered them. Questions like: "Where are you from? Where are you
going? How many miles a day do you ride?" Afterwards, when I thought
about the way I responded to her questions, I was not happy. Curious
people asked me those types of questions all the time, and I would
respond with habitual answers. Well, upon reflection, some of Marge's
questions required more than habitual responses, but that's what I
gave her. She deserved better. If I had had more time to think about it,
she would have received more than superficial responses to her honest
questions. It was still fun, though.

The biking got better after Terrace. For a couple of hours the sun
even came out, but then the sky got really dark around 8 p.m., so I
automatically started looking for a place for my tent. When I was
checking out what looked like a good spot, a black bear came running
at me from out of the thicket. Fortunately, when the bear actually saw
me, he turned and went in the opposite direction. I wanted to get back
on my bike and ride, but the rain had already started to fall. I had
no choice. I put up my tent just before the downpour.