Those who bring truth into an important debate are always met by the custodians of the existing lies, and that means there will be conflict. That's what Jesus meant when he said, "I come with a sword," a metaphor that let his followers know that what was to come would not be some pleasant stroll into a world of instantaneous peace -- but a world of struggle, through what became two millennia of fitful, passionate, often badly pursued but nevertheless dogged work (undertaken by monks, theologians, musicians, scientists, lay people, healers, philosophers, teachers, and many others) on behalf of something that only now is becoming gradually recognized for what it is, a new paradigm of truth about the human condition, which has still not been fully understood. It is the same truth that Aldous Huxley wrote about in "The Perennial Philosophy": the understanding that power is not corporeal. "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly," Jesus also said, with no metaphors for that announcement. This is not about religion, it's about ontology. Violence is done to bodies, by bodies, on behalf of lies. Nonviolence is done by minds, for minds, on behalf of truth, and the saving and empowerment of life is always its purpose.
Showing posts with label Aldous Huxley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aldous Huxley. Show all posts
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Saturday, July 4, 2009
What are we ignoring?
In his remarkable book, The Perennial Philosophy, first published in 1962, the late English novelist Aldous Huxley wrote:
"There is no reason to suppose that, between the thirteenth century and the twentieth, the human mind underwent any kind of evolutionary change...What happened was that men turned their attention from certain aspects of reality to other aspects. The result, among other things, was the development of the natural sciences. Our perceptions and our understanding are directed, in large measure, by our will. We are aware of, and we think about, the things which, for one reason or another, we want to see and understand. Where there's a will there's always an intellectual way. The capacities of the human mind are almost indefinitely great. Whatever we will to do, whether it be to come to the unitive knowledge of the Godhead, or to manufacture self-propelled flame-throwers -- that we are able to do, provided always that the willing be sufficiently intense, and sustained. It is clear that many of the things to which modern men have chosen to pay attention were ignored by their predecessors."
What are we ignoring now? Unless it can safely be said that we are not ignoring anything, then perhaps we cannot be certain that the default beliefs of the prevailing worldview -- for example, that life and consciousness are fundamentally material, or that violence is a form of power, or that money is a prerequisite for creativity -- are true. We understand a great deal about the operations of many external phenomena that are presented in daily experience. Science and other forms of empirical investigation have sharpened that understanding. Do we understand as much about who we are, or even how we think? Can we proceed from within a set of definitions of what exists, which rest on material premises, to understand certain faculties -- such as our capacity for free and unprompted imagination, or our intuition about distant people or imminent events -- which seem to require no passage of time or no material means of apprehension? What are we ignoring that might lead to new explanations of these and other commonly reported natural faculties?
The traits and operation of the external structure of the world in which we appear to move may not fully explain the agency we bring to changing it. In regard to the creations of thought, mechanism is not causation, let alone meaning. The idea of a painting cannot be derived from the canvas on which it appears, or even from the brush. The destination of the car you intend to drive to Philadelphia cannot be ascertained by examining its engine. For centuries, some of the finest writers have testified that when it came to their best material, they felt they were not creating the text so much as transcribing what they were hearing. "The book wrote itself," we are often told.
In the book of Exodus, when Moses saw God face to face on Mount Sinai, he asked God who he should say he had been talking with, when he returned to the people. "Tell them, I AM has sent you to them," was the answer -- That Which Exists. Adi Shankara, the 9th century Hindu philosopher, said that there is not even a class of substance to which the Brahman, or Divine Ground, belongs. "It is the One before whom words recoil." In an age of obsession with celebrities, in which the media coach us to believe that the desirable story and the reliable explanation live on the surface of a painted screen, the concept that there is a Cause that has no image, and that cannot be described with words, but which employs and loves us, seems increasingly strange and safely ignorable. How convenient it would be to live in a world in which what we get is only what we can see.
"There is no reason to suppose that, between the thirteenth century and the twentieth, the human mind underwent any kind of evolutionary change...What happened was that men turned their attention from certain aspects of reality to other aspects. The result, among other things, was the development of the natural sciences. Our perceptions and our understanding are directed, in large measure, by our will. We are aware of, and we think about, the things which, for one reason or another, we want to see and understand. Where there's a will there's always an intellectual way. The capacities of the human mind are almost indefinitely great. Whatever we will to do, whether it be to come to the unitive knowledge of the Godhead, or to manufacture self-propelled flame-throwers -- that we are able to do, provided always that the willing be sufficiently intense, and sustained. It is clear that many of the things to which modern men have chosen to pay attention were ignored by their predecessors."
What are we ignoring now? Unless it can safely be said that we are not ignoring anything, then perhaps we cannot be certain that the default beliefs of the prevailing worldview -- for example, that life and consciousness are fundamentally material, or that violence is a form of power, or that money is a prerequisite for creativity -- are true. We understand a great deal about the operations of many external phenomena that are presented in daily experience. Science and other forms of empirical investigation have sharpened that understanding. Do we understand as much about who we are, or even how we think? Can we proceed from within a set of definitions of what exists, which rest on material premises, to understand certain faculties -- such as our capacity for free and unprompted imagination, or our intuition about distant people or imminent events -- which seem to require no passage of time or no material means of apprehension? What are we ignoring that might lead to new explanations of these and other commonly reported natural faculties?
The traits and operation of the external structure of the world in which we appear to move may not fully explain the agency we bring to changing it. In regard to the creations of thought, mechanism is not causation, let alone meaning. The idea of a painting cannot be derived from the canvas on which it appears, or even from the brush. The destination of the car you intend to drive to Philadelphia cannot be ascertained by examining its engine. For centuries, some of the finest writers have testified that when it came to their best material, they felt they were not creating the text so much as transcribing what they were hearing. "The book wrote itself," we are often told.
In the book of Exodus, when Moses saw God face to face on Mount Sinai, he asked God who he should say he had been talking with, when he returned to the people. "Tell them, I AM has sent you to them," was the answer -- That Which Exists. Adi Shankara, the 9th century Hindu philosopher, said that there is not even a class of substance to which the Brahman, or Divine Ground, belongs. "It is the One before whom words recoil." In an age of obsession with celebrities, in which the media coach us to believe that the desirable story and the reliable explanation live on the surface of a painted screen, the concept that there is a Cause that has no image, and that cannot be described with words, but which employs and loves us, seems increasingly strange and safely ignorable. How convenient it would be to live in a world in which what we get is only what we can see.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpg){kind=small}