(As many of you know, I have recently entered law school. I hope to turn this blog in some respects into a "law blog" (with the help of my good friend, bob loblaw, of course) in which I can speculate and think out my opinions of some of the cases we read and the topics we discuss. Today's topic concerns property rights of one's body, organs and tissue. While I know nothing regarding property (yet!), I felt compelled to write pertaining our discussion which focused mainly on the question of whether or not people should be able to sell parts of their body.)
On Self-ownership and Body Preperty Rights: In light of Moore v Regents of the University of California
When considering this issue, it seems right that one is in possession of one’s own self, and to the extent that one remains in possession of one’s self and products derived therefrom, one should be free to dispose of those objects as one sees fit. Given my admittedly novice understanding of the law so far, I also feel that the courts would be the best venue to set this kind of precedent.
One of the rights of ownership is to dispose of property, and there is ultimately no compelling reason to forbid individuals from the sale of this property, if they so choose. A main argument of opponents is to appeal to the slippery slope, that perhaps this would lead to some sort of shadowy market for body parts (indeed, such things, albeit illegally, already exist) and perhaps even, one might envision that a new slave trade might emerge. Debtors might be called upon for their organs if they could not make monetary payments and all other sorts of nightmare situations might arise. But, the reader should halt at this term, because we must expose the slippery slope for what it is: at base, a logical fallacy.
Perhaps the court is being this far-sighted, but if one tries hard enough, one can imagine an exception to every rule, this is a basic concept. If this were not the case, one could imagine the courts might have already written all the rules. Then, judges and legislators could rest at ease, there being no further foreseeable (and in this case, possible) scenarios. In fact, all of the Universe could reasonably be thought to be nearing a time where it was completely drawn under the yoke of Understanding, that Man would have become Master of the Universe. But, sadly, this simply is not the case.
Nor is it the case that the events imagined within the slippery slope are inevitable. In fact, many of them simply do not follow, to put it mildly. For the very same reason the courts refuse to set a precedent in this particular case, the notion that a new legitimacy might be found for slavery is extremely unlikely. The courts felt that Legislature is the proper venue for such decisions, that they are subject to greater accountability and pressures to reflect the views of their constituents. However, real inspection reveals that they are also the subjects of great pressures from lobbying groups and from within their own party. Recent events have highlighted the extent to which legislation has become a partisan issue and not a matter of conscience. But, if we return to our utopian Congress, given the current moral views regarding such topics, we could easily presume that they would not ever sign any bill that legalized slavery or legitimized a black market of organs. Even in an ideal system, this argument for legislation barely holds. And, we are far from ideal.
Fortunately, even if the courts did rule that sale of body parts by those who were in possession of them (ie-the person to whom they were a part) should be allowed in toto and in all regards, this does still not necessarily lead to the apocalyptic doomsday that has been foretold. Court law is subservient to statutory law, which already restricts the means in which tissue may be transferred (such as the Uniform Anatomical Gift Act), and as a last check, the Constitution itself has outlawed slavery. These rules are checks to the free reign that detractors imagine in their slippery slope, and surely there are many more.
(in case you don’t believe me…)
13th Amendment to the Constitution
“Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction. “
Capitalism rests on the theory of a free market, and it premises that one may sell one’s commodities to gain capital. This should not be restricted, except in cases when it interferes with someone else’s rights or perhaps when it conflicts with existing law. Moral considerations must be taken with a grain of salt, as they are only a temporary reflection of the current social and cultural norms. Morals are constantly changing, and therefore cannot serve as a consistent and fundamental basis for the law. There simply is too much flexibility in what we view as moral, and what we may feel is right or wrong may change given a different set of circumstances, even when we preserve the relations and interactions of the original scenario.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Anno Novo
The seasons change. Nature presses onward, but the change is not always a smooth and serene progression as we may like, a gradual blissful ambling from Summer to Fall and Winter, like a graceful aging. Life is instead punctuated by dramatic, often violent changes only after which a calm slowly sets in as homeostasis is renewed. These changes are permanent, the scars remain, but in time they become the very things they once marred. They melt into the character of the land, of the life altered.
And, as we are but elements of Nature, our lives are no different. We experience these events, whether miraculous or traumatic, and they shape who we are. They are the forks in the road; usually they are born of the decisions we make. They are of our own design. Our choices will echo through history, our own at least. Given this gravity and sense of permanence, it is no wonder that they are terrifying. Yet also, they are exhilarating. Despite the fear, perhaps even mortal terror, we must choose. We must press on, just as the Hands of Time and the change of seasons. Death becomes us, but not in the usual sense. Here, it is death of our old bodies as we transcend. If we choose wisely, we are like the caterpillar, we shed our skins and become something new, something beautiful. This is the metamorphosis. We will be changed, but, unlike the caterpillar, we can choose the form and the path of our changing.
The way of Life is not to stagnate, and no matter how content we are or how afraid we may be of what is to come, change will arrive. It may be as the cloaked Shade, rapping its bony, spectral finger upon our door. It will enter! We may as well invite it in, so that we may see just what it is we are so afraid of. We cannot know the future or the outcomes of our decisions for certain, but we can help to shape our destiny. Indeed, we do, the question is whether we realize it or not.
As for me, I know that I have reached the capacity of my present form. That I must shed this skin and rise anew is certain. This does not mean that I will be someone else. I will still exist, and I will still contain all those things that have made me who I am. I will be somewhere in between the completely cumulative person that we casually assume makes us who we are and that radical destruction that Foucault idealized between his epistemes. Obviously, this is not a clean break, but rather a sharp twist in direction. It is the mountain face rising upon the plateau of which lately I have walked.
Perhaps, as I am facing this sheer wall, this period of violent yet willful change, I am merely hoping to steel my nerve. Doubtless, this is true. But, as I prepare to stare this beast in his ghastly face, ghastly because unknown, I realize the truth and necessity in these words. Though my hands may tremble, and my heart race, I must be strong. I will forge ahead because I know that on the other side of this great journey, beyond challenge and adversity, lies a better world and a new sun. I have seen a glimpse of this new vista, and it is breathtaking. And, though I will be changed, I will always retain what I am right now. But, I will be of a higher dimension, a greater quality, and I will never cease to strive towards my dreams. This is not acquiescence, this is not a giving up. This is my will, and this is my choice. And, as change is a sort of death, (for what else can arise from this but a birth of new realms?), I may hope to echo Socrates, when he said "Now we go our separate ways, I to death and you to life. Which is better, no man can tell".
And, as we are but elements of Nature, our lives are no different. We experience these events, whether miraculous or traumatic, and they shape who we are. They are the forks in the road; usually they are born of the decisions we make. They are of our own design. Our choices will echo through history, our own at least. Given this gravity and sense of permanence, it is no wonder that they are terrifying. Yet also, they are exhilarating. Despite the fear, perhaps even mortal terror, we must choose. We must press on, just as the Hands of Time and the change of seasons. Death becomes us, but not in the usual sense. Here, it is death of our old bodies as we transcend. If we choose wisely, we are like the caterpillar, we shed our skins and become something new, something beautiful. This is the metamorphosis. We will be changed, but, unlike the caterpillar, we can choose the form and the path of our changing.
The way of Life is not to stagnate, and no matter how content we are or how afraid we may be of what is to come, change will arrive. It may be as the cloaked Shade, rapping its bony, spectral finger upon our door. It will enter! We may as well invite it in, so that we may see just what it is we are so afraid of. We cannot know the future or the outcomes of our decisions for certain, but we can help to shape our destiny. Indeed, we do, the question is whether we realize it or not.
As for me, I know that I have reached the capacity of my present form. That I must shed this skin and rise anew is certain. This does not mean that I will be someone else. I will still exist, and I will still contain all those things that have made me who I am. I will be somewhere in between the completely cumulative person that we casually assume makes us who we are and that radical destruction that Foucault idealized between his epistemes. Obviously, this is not a clean break, but rather a sharp twist in direction. It is the mountain face rising upon the plateau of which lately I have walked.
Perhaps, as I am facing this sheer wall, this period of violent yet willful change, I am merely hoping to steel my nerve. Doubtless, this is true. But, as I prepare to stare this beast in his ghastly face, ghastly because unknown, I realize the truth and necessity in these words. Though my hands may tremble, and my heart race, I must be strong. I will forge ahead because I know that on the other side of this great journey, beyond challenge and adversity, lies a better world and a new sun. I have seen a glimpse of this new vista, and it is breathtaking. And, though I will be changed, I will always retain what I am right now. But, I will be of a higher dimension, a greater quality, and I will never cease to strive towards my dreams. This is not acquiescence, this is not a giving up. This is my will, and this is my choice. And, as change is a sort of death, (for what else can arise from this but a birth of new realms?), I may hope to echo Socrates, when he said "Now we go our separate ways, I to death and you to life. Which is better, no man can tell".
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
On Animal Consciousness
(I have just learned that my family's dog, sadly, will have to be put down. He has lived a good many years, by dog reckoning, and I hope that he feels content. Though he will probably not realize what is happening until too late, I hope also that he understands that we have come to this very difficult decision because we care for him and want to ease his suffering. Since animal matters are on my mind, I feel the least I can do to honor him is to finally put pen to paper (so to speak) on an issue which I have long pondered: animal consciousness...)
To begin with, I make no apologies nor will I mince words with my conclusion: I firmly believe that all animals are conscious beings. To claim otherwise seems to me to be spoken from a position of anthrocentrism and profound ignorance. Of all the many contrary explanations and theories I have heard, I have found none to be satisfying.
It may be easy to believe that humans are the only conscious beings on the planet. We "know" that we are conscious, and beyond that, have used this consciousness to conquer the Earth, our predestined domain. But, one should see that the assumptions underlying these beliefs are overwhelming. Many may cite sources such as the early Judeo-Christian-Islamic texts, specifically the Old Testament as stating that (God) has given Man dominion over the planet, and this certainly seems fortuitous as we find ourselves to be just this privileged species. In claims of this sort, these texts are often corroborated by other ancient mythologies. But, appeals to these sources would require a confirmation of the utter authenticity of them first, which is a battle that continues to rage without end in sight. So, simply because (God) says it is so, is not an acceptable argument from an objective point of view. What this thought process does point out to us is that it sets up a hierarchy with ourselves at the top. This feature, ethnocentrism, is well-documented in cultural anthropology and needs to be examined very critically. Of course, a tribe will envision themselves as exemplars of proper living and the pinnacle of progress. The point can never be stated enough: one would not hold a belief unless one believed it to be true. And so then the question becomes: Why do we believe this? In a similar way, the claim that only humans have souls is equally ridiculous and offensive. That we, a small race that has existed for barely a blink of the Universe's eye living on an unassuming planet on the outskirts of one out of billions of galaxies, that this group is the only creatures possessed of souls is unfounded and reeks of self-worship. If souls even exist, what basis have we for such conceit? We are obviously of utmost importance to ourselves, but to the Universe, we barely exist at all, we are as good as invisible. In all likelihood, we will destroy ourselves long before we have a chance to appreciably impact the cosmos, if such a thing is even possible.
There have been a good deal of studies into animal intelligence and, by implication, animal consciousness. The troubling thing to me is the extent to which these results seem to strongly indicate learned behavioral and social adaptations amongst other species, not to mention some sophisticated problem-solving skills, and yet researchers still, seemingly without reason, practically fall over themselves scrambling to invent convenient explanations for why such and such a behavior only appears to be learned but is actually instinctual. I once was giving a speech about what I believe to be the Universal equivalence of humans with the other animals, which I take to be an issue about perspective, when, to mock a point I had made, one of the audience called out: "Well, have you ever seen a cricket driving a car?" Disregarding, the sheer physical impossibility of this absurd "argument", I was troubled because I saw several others nodding their heads in ignorant assent, as if somehow this nonsensical point had truly proven the case. Troubled because I knew that this line of illogical thinking actually reflects (though also cariciatures) a fatal error in the way most of us assess intelligence.
I suspect that the problem lies in a deeply ingrained unconscious attitude in society's perceptions that has pervaded throughout Western civilization (possibly in large part due to the very same texts I cited earlier). It is that "they" are different from us, the "animals" are beneath us. We are badly in need of a paradigm shift. That we even speak in the language of "animal consciousness" as if it is a thing much different from "human consciousness" indicates a profound linguistic and physical bias which is embedded deep within our cultural unconscious. We fail to realize that we are cut of the same mortal cloth as they. We are no more than animals, perhaps we are the most animalistic, certainly we can be the most vicious and beastly. And at the same time, we are confusing. We commit unspeakable atrocity and, almost in the same breath, indescribable beauty. We are the beautiful savage.
We measure a rat's ability to navigate a maze or a rhesus monkey's skills in constructing a solution to a dilemma, yet, the real problem is that we have designed the test. As such, it is inherently biased to measure the things that we, as humans have designated as intelligence, in short, human intelligence. It is quite possible that, if the tables were turned and a rat devised a similar game of "rat intelligence," a human would fail miserably and fall in disgrace among the ranks of the other "dumb" animals of which rats had mounted the apex. To claim that intelligence is a measure of an ability to deal with novel situations hardly helps because the sheer persistence of many species of animals throughout much longer ages than humans and a greater degree of environmental and climactic shift would seem to make a stronger case for the species's intelligence than humans. That we have dictated what intelligence is and tried to impose this definition upon other species who have no experience or need to think in the way that we do is illogical and irrelevant. Even our conception of our own intelligence is constantly changing. In recent years, we have vastly amended the ways we quantify intelligence among humans based on varying skill sets, so is it ridiculous to think the same might be true for other species?
So, what of the consciousness question? An argument against the consciousness of a fruit fly was given that their brains simply possess too few neurons to be able to give rise to anything so complex as conscious thought. The mechanisms that flies demonstrate are like the unconscious workings of a simple machine. This begs the question: what does one define as consciousness? Is it an awareness of self, of deeds, of desires? If this is so, it seems difficult to claim that even a fruit fly lacks consciousness. It flies about, careening wildly through its brief lifespan searching madly for food and a mate. These drives probably consume most of its "thoughts" (for lack of a better term), yet can we truly call this unconscious? Do we know, and how can we prove that a fly's brain doesn't register things such as: "There's food over there! How can I get to it?" Indeed, even this simple primitive thought demonstrates some level of consciousness. By the very virtue that it acknowledges the concept of self, which must be presumed by recognizing that there is something else which is not already incorporated inside of whatever is doing the thinking, the fly has become conscious. The concept of self must be understood once any creature realizes that some thing exists apart from itself, in a way, before it even knows it has a self. This designation of something as other necessitates a realization of Self, it needs a context in which to set this other entity. And this, I believe, is all that is needed to establish the rudiments of consciousness.
A more agreeable hypothesis has been proposed that perhaps Consciousness is not an all-or-nothing switch, that instead it is gradated and a matter of degree. It seems more acceptable to claim that a fly is simply less-conscious than a dog or human rather than being a completely unconscious automaton. The range of actions seem to indicate that something is different between all of these animals, yet perhaps it is even too much to try to guess which state of consciousness is "higher". In some ways, a fly may be said to be more conscious than a human. It is focused on these perhaps one or two things which are the principal drives and motives of its life, whereas we humans are so confused and pulled in all directions, constantly, perhaps perpetually distracted from the true and essential purpose of life, which is simply to live. It may be possible that flies actually represent a more evolved form of life than we, no politics, no emotions, no imposed structures, simplicity defined.
However, I, for one, believe that this misses out on the subtleties of existence, which are the true pleasures in living. They are the reasons why we seek companionship in the first place, why we find so much in common with animals, why we consider them our pets. We are not to say what is better or higher, things simply are. We feel a strong desire to engage in all of the things that we can to fill up our lives, and that means the elated highs of love just as much as the sad, grim reality of mortality. This is our consciousness, the ways in which we diverge from the path of autotomia. We cannot help but feel it, it sustains us, even through the loss of those we hold so dear. Since we cannot hope to win in this game of mortality, the best we may be able to do is to recognize the ephemeral nature of everything around us. In this way, we can hold things more dear, savor each moment and relish in the opportunity of experience. We must learn to "drink life to the lees" before life turns to dust.
To begin with, I make no apologies nor will I mince words with my conclusion: I firmly believe that all animals are conscious beings. To claim otherwise seems to me to be spoken from a position of anthrocentrism and profound ignorance. Of all the many contrary explanations and theories I have heard, I have found none to be satisfying.
It may be easy to believe that humans are the only conscious beings on the planet. We "know" that we are conscious, and beyond that, have used this consciousness to conquer the Earth, our predestined domain. But, one should see that the assumptions underlying these beliefs are overwhelming. Many may cite sources such as the early Judeo-Christian-Islamic texts, specifically the Old Testament as stating that (God) has given Man dominion over the planet, and this certainly seems fortuitous as we find ourselves to be just this privileged species. In claims of this sort, these texts are often corroborated by other ancient mythologies. But, appeals to these sources would require a confirmation of the utter authenticity of them first, which is a battle that continues to rage without end in sight. So, simply because (God) says it is so, is not an acceptable argument from an objective point of view. What this thought process does point out to us is that it sets up a hierarchy with ourselves at the top. This feature, ethnocentrism, is well-documented in cultural anthropology and needs to be examined very critically. Of course, a tribe will envision themselves as exemplars of proper living and the pinnacle of progress. The point can never be stated enough: one would not hold a belief unless one believed it to be true. And so then the question becomes: Why do we believe this? In a similar way, the claim that only humans have souls is equally ridiculous and offensive. That we, a small race that has existed for barely a blink of the Universe's eye living on an unassuming planet on the outskirts of one out of billions of galaxies, that this group is the only creatures possessed of souls is unfounded and reeks of self-worship. If souls even exist, what basis have we for such conceit? We are obviously of utmost importance to ourselves, but to the Universe, we barely exist at all, we are as good as invisible. In all likelihood, we will destroy ourselves long before we have a chance to appreciably impact the cosmos, if such a thing is even possible.
There have been a good deal of studies into animal intelligence and, by implication, animal consciousness. The troubling thing to me is the extent to which these results seem to strongly indicate learned behavioral and social adaptations amongst other species, not to mention some sophisticated problem-solving skills, and yet researchers still, seemingly without reason, practically fall over themselves scrambling to invent convenient explanations for why such and such a behavior only appears to be learned but is actually instinctual. I once was giving a speech about what I believe to be the Universal equivalence of humans with the other animals, which I take to be an issue about perspective, when, to mock a point I had made, one of the audience called out: "Well, have you ever seen a cricket driving a car?" Disregarding, the sheer physical impossibility of this absurd "argument", I was troubled because I saw several others nodding their heads in ignorant assent, as if somehow this nonsensical point had truly proven the case. Troubled because I knew that this line of illogical thinking actually reflects (though also cariciatures) a fatal error in the way most of us assess intelligence.
I suspect that the problem lies in a deeply ingrained unconscious attitude in society's perceptions that has pervaded throughout Western civilization (possibly in large part due to the very same texts I cited earlier). It is that "they" are different from us, the "animals" are beneath us. We are badly in need of a paradigm shift. That we even speak in the language of "animal consciousness" as if it is a thing much different from "human consciousness" indicates a profound linguistic and physical bias which is embedded deep within our cultural unconscious. We fail to realize that we are cut of the same mortal cloth as they. We are no more than animals, perhaps we are the most animalistic, certainly we can be the most vicious and beastly. And at the same time, we are confusing. We commit unspeakable atrocity and, almost in the same breath, indescribable beauty. We are the beautiful savage.
We measure a rat's ability to navigate a maze or a rhesus monkey's skills in constructing a solution to a dilemma, yet, the real problem is that we have designed the test. As such, it is inherently biased to measure the things that we, as humans have designated as intelligence, in short, human intelligence. It is quite possible that, if the tables were turned and a rat devised a similar game of "rat intelligence," a human would fail miserably and fall in disgrace among the ranks of the other "dumb" animals of which rats had mounted the apex. To claim that intelligence is a measure of an ability to deal with novel situations hardly helps because the sheer persistence of many species of animals throughout much longer ages than humans and a greater degree of environmental and climactic shift would seem to make a stronger case for the species's intelligence than humans. That we have dictated what intelligence is and tried to impose this definition upon other species who have no experience or need to think in the way that we do is illogical and irrelevant. Even our conception of our own intelligence is constantly changing. In recent years, we have vastly amended the ways we quantify intelligence among humans based on varying skill sets, so is it ridiculous to think the same might be true for other species?
So, what of the consciousness question? An argument against the consciousness of a fruit fly was given that their brains simply possess too few neurons to be able to give rise to anything so complex as conscious thought. The mechanisms that flies demonstrate are like the unconscious workings of a simple machine. This begs the question: what does one define as consciousness? Is it an awareness of self, of deeds, of desires? If this is so, it seems difficult to claim that even a fruit fly lacks consciousness. It flies about, careening wildly through its brief lifespan searching madly for food and a mate. These drives probably consume most of its "thoughts" (for lack of a better term), yet can we truly call this unconscious? Do we know, and how can we prove that a fly's brain doesn't register things such as: "There's food over there! How can I get to it?" Indeed, even this simple primitive thought demonstrates some level of consciousness. By the very virtue that it acknowledges the concept of self, which must be presumed by recognizing that there is something else which is not already incorporated inside of whatever is doing the thinking, the fly has become conscious. The concept of self must be understood once any creature realizes that some thing exists apart from itself, in a way, before it even knows it has a self. This designation of something as other necessitates a realization of Self, it needs a context in which to set this other entity. And this, I believe, is all that is needed to establish the rudiments of consciousness.
A more agreeable hypothesis has been proposed that perhaps Consciousness is not an all-or-nothing switch, that instead it is gradated and a matter of degree. It seems more acceptable to claim that a fly is simply less-conscious than a dog or human rather than being a completely unconscious automaton. The range of actions seem to indicate that something is different between all of these animals, yet perhaps it is even too much to try to guess which state of consciousness is "higher". In some ways, a fly may be said to be more conscious than a human. It is focused on these perhaps one or two things which are the principal drives and motives of its life, whereas we humans are so confused and pulled in all directions, constantly, perhaps perpetually distracted from the true and essential purpose of life, which is simply to live. It may be possible that flies actually represent a more evolved form of life than we, no politics, no emotions, no imposed structures, simplicity defined.
However, I, for one, believe that this misses out on the subtleties of existence, which are the true pleasures in living. They are the reasons why we seek companionship in the first place, why we find so much in common with animals, why we consider them our pets. We are not to say what is better or higher, things simply are. We feel a strong desire to engage in all of the things that we can to fill up our lives, and that means the elated highs of love just as much as the sad, grim reality of mortality. This is our consciousness, the ways in which we diverge from the path of autotomia. We cannot help but feel it, it sustains us, even through the loss of those we hold so dear. Since we cannot hope to win in this game of mortality, the best we may be able to do is to recognize the ephemeral nature of everything around us. In this way, we can hold things more dear, savor each moment and relish in the opportunity of experience. We must learn to "drink life to the lees" before life turns to dust.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Sunrise
(this post is my recollection of a recent experience i shared with my girlfriend. i was surprised that such a seemingly mundane thing could move me in such a way. it was like...i don't know...say, a double rainbow, all the way across the sky...)
In the daily tumult of our "waking" lives, in the crush and pull of this forced existence, it is easy for one to simply keep one's head down and heart grounded. Given the constant struggle we find our days to be, we have no time anymore to believe in magic and mystery, in fairy tales and legend. But, as we run the maze, we endanger our selves because we become unaware that there is a world of wonderment all around us, lurking in the mundane and overlooked.
I am, I must admit, no less at fault for these crimes against ourselves, but I count myself fortunate to be occasionally reminded of this fact, as a I slip for a moment from "what is real", and stumble upon a place where, if only for an instant, my heart comes into phase with the waves of this hidden majesty.
This particular morning, I had done something which, though it is a thing I often do, never before with this purpose. I was awake early to watch the Sun rise. Strange that I had never to this point taken advantage of this common show, but as I said, we tend to take such things for granted. The view from high above was quiet, tranquil. The slow, steady rhythm of waves breaking gently on the shore were like the ticking of some kind of cosmic clock. The sand, neglected during these cold winter months, had a virgin aspect of new-fallen snow. In the grey distance, I could trace out the dark, distant outlines of huge ships. Were they coming or going? What distant shores had they seen? Had they been, like us, lost in the ocean's vastness, tossed about by enormous waves, (worthless) desperately searching for a light to ring out in the dark?
Gradually, I became aware of a gently increasing light from somewhere far beyond. I imagined the orchestra warming up in the pit, and as the opening airs of Das Rheingold began to softly crescendo, I knew the actors were preparing themselves just offstage, behind the curtain of the Stage at the Edge of the World. The low lying clouds, which were furthest away, became tinctured with a softwarm glow. The intensity grew. It was the unstoppable progress of the Sun as he made his way across his airy domain. This light was an annunciation and the clouds were his heralds.
I reflected that it is of no surprise that the Ancients have accorded such respect and mythical qualities to our Lightbringer. To see it now filled me with reverence and awe. The orb slowly became more visible, a fiery ball of burning brilliance. It ascended higher and higher, past the clouds as it mounted its throne.
It seemed to me, in the silent stillness of the scene, as if I were witnessing a sacred rite passing between the elements of Nature itself to which I had no right to witness. I felt strangely that I should be ashamed, as if I were Actaeon unwittingly spying upon the beautiful Diana. I peeked out cautiously from behind the curtains and didn't say a word.
As the flame grew higher, I imagined what it would be like to have witnessed this sight and to have no idea what it was. To be this unknowing creature, I would simply be terrified at the vision of this huge, blazing inferno rising far in the distance. Was it a divine sign or some fell catastrophe come to dispatch of me? I would know not, at least at first, and then, once I had grown sure of my safety, would attempt to explain it in what ways I could, fashioning explanations and tales that reflected my experiences and knowledge. In this way, legends are born.
I watched the luminary continue to rise, and as it climbed higher, I was reminded yet again of the reality of our small place. In a matter of minutes, the sun traced out the realm we have been given, the land between ocean and clouds. In this narrow band, we carry out our days. Yet, the sun, apparently not so content, had, before my very eyes, easily transcended what Man took millenia to penetrate. We allow our consciousness to be trapped within the narrow band. It is where our lives pass and years fade, it houses our concerns and worries. We could simply relieve these burdens, but we just forget to look up. Instead, we settle for days in mediocrity, afraid to soar or to explore the depths of the unknown. We are unaware prisoners of our own devices. We could break free, but first we must realize that we are bound.
What I came to realize from this solemn and majestic spectacle is that we should not attribute such events to some mystical realm, because that merely serves as a boundary between Ourselves and the Sublime. Paradoxically, there is significance in these things in that they have no meaning for us beyond what we give to them. If we create our Gods, does this not make us Gods ourselves? As I watched the Sun rise, I could discern in it no concern for the trivial laws and conventions of mankind. The world does not exist for us, we are visitors, guests and spectators. The Sun and Earth care little for us and will continue about their way long after we depart, just as they had for eons before our arrival.
And yet, exactly in this lack of meaning is where I find a purpose. The significance we attribute to things is of our own design. We must make our own meaning because, even if there is any greater thing out there, we almost surely figure very little in its designs. We must recognize however, that this loneliness is our freedom, that we have, therefore, the ability to shape our own lives, and we have only ourselves to blame if we do not.
For me, I thought that to look into the Sun may be like looking into the face of Truth itself. It can only be viewed indirectly, and from far away. Even then, one can only bear its full Illumination for a very brief period of time. We are left then, to speculate about it, to infer its nature from its effects, and to always know, out of the corner of our sight, it is there.
And, as it goes, so it shall continue. We will carry about our existence under the Sun, concerned with the less-lofty things that seem more important because they constantly tear at our attentions. If we are lucky, perhaps every now and again, we will remember to look skyward, or find the meaning in the gentle waves of blades of grass. Whatever images speak to us, that spontaneously becomes their purpose, to become some significance to us. Grasp onto them, because they will just as quickly fade away. Indeed, these things that trouble us do matter, but we always want for perspective. Mankind is not long for this world. We are here for only a blink of the Universe's eye. We will die, and the codes and monuments we have built are sure to fade. But it matters not to the Sun, which will continue to rise for many years to come.
In the daily tumult of our "waking" lives, in the crush and pull of this forced existence, it is easy for one to simply keep one's head down and heart grounded. Given the constant struggle we find our days to be, we have no time anymore to believe in magic and mystery, in fairy tales and legend. But, as we run the maze, we endanger our selves because we become unaware that there is a world of wonderment all around us, lurking in the mundane and overlooked.
I am, I must admit, no less at fault for these crimes against ourselves, but I count myself fortunate to be occasionally reminded of this fact, as a I slip for a moment from "what is real", and stumble upon a place where, if only for an instant, my heart comes into phase with the waves of this hidden majesty.
This particular morning, I had done something which, though it is a thing I often do, never before with this purpose. I was awake early to watch the Sun rise. Strange that I had never to this point taken advantage of this common show, but as I said, we tend to take such things for granted. The view from high above was quiet, tranquil. The slow, steady rhythm of waves breaking gently on the shore were like the ticking of some kind of cosmic clock. The sand, neglected during these cold winter months, had a virgin aspect of new-fallen snow. In the grey distance, I could trace out the dark, distant outlines of huge ships. Were they coming or going? What distant shores had they seen? Had they been, like us, lost in the ocean's vastness, tossed about by enormous waves, (worthless) desperately searching for a light to ring out in the dark?
Gradually, I became aware of a gently increasing light from somewhere far beyond. I imagined the orchestra warming up in the pit, and as the opening airs of Das Rheingold began to softly crescendo, I knew the actors were preparing themselves just offstage, behind the curtain of the Stage at the Edge of the World. The low lying clouds, which were furthest away, became tinctured with a softwarm glow. The intensity grew. It was the unstoppable progress of the Sun as he made his way across his airy domain. This light was an annunciation and the clouds were his heralds.
I reflected that it is of no surprise that the Ancients have accorded such respect and mythical qualities to our Lightbringer. To see it now filled me with reverence and awe. The orb slowly became more visible, a fiery ball of burning brilliance. It ascended higher and higher, past the clouds as it mounted its throne.
It seemed to me, in the silent stillness of the scene, as if I were witnessing a sacred rite passing between the elements of Nature itself to which I had no right to witness. I felt strangely that I should be ashamed, as if I were Actaeon unwittingly spying upon the beautiful Diana. I peeked out cautiously from behind the curtains and didn't say a word.
As the flame grew higher, I imagined what it would be like to have witnessed this sight and to have no idea what it was. To be this unknowing creature, I would simply be terrified at the vision of this huge, blazing inferno rising far in the distance. Was it a divine sign or some fell catastrophe come to dispatch of me? I would know not, at least at first, and then, once I had grown sure of my safety, would attempt to explain it in what ways I could, fashioning explanations and tales that reflected my experiences and knowledge. In this way, legends are born.
I watched the luminary continue to rise, and as it climbed higher, I was reminded yet again of the reality of our small place. In a matter of minutes, the sun traced out the realm we have been given, the land between ocean and clouds. In this narrow band, we carry out our days. Yet, the sun, apparently not so content, had, before my very eyes, easily transcended what Man took millenia to penetrate. We allow our consciousness to be trapped within the narrow band. It is where our lives pass and years fade, it houses our concerns and worries. We could simply relieve these burdens, but we just forget to look up. Instead, we settle for days in mediocrity, afraid to soar or to explore the depths of the unknown. We are unaware prisoners of our own devices. We could break free, but first we must realize that we are bound.
What I came to realize from this solemn and majestic spectacle is that we should not attribute such events to some mystical realm, because that merely serves as a boundary between Ourselves and the Sublime. Paradoxically, there is significance in these things in that they have no meaning for us beyond what we give to them. If we create our Gods, does this not make us Gods ourselves? As I watched the Sun rise, I could discern in it no concern for the trivial laws and conventions of mankind. The world does not exist for us, we are visitors, guests and spectators. The Sun and Earth care little for us and will continue about their way long after we depart, just as they had for eons before our arrival.
And yet, exactly in this lack of meaning is where I find a purpose. The significance we attribute to things is of our own design. We must make our own meaning because, even if there is any greater thing out there, we almost surely figure very little in its designs. We must recognize however, that this loneliness is our freedom, that we have, therefore, the ability to shape our own lives, and we have only ourselves to blame if we do not.
For me, I thought that to look into the Sun may be like looking into the face of Truth itself. It can only be viewed indirectly, and from far away. Even then, one can only bear its full Illumination for a very brief period of time. We are left then, to speculate about it, to infer its nature from its effects, and to always know, out of the corner of our sight, it is there.
And, as it goes, so it shall continue. We will carry about our existence under the Sun, concerned with the less-lofty things that seem more important because they constantly tear at our attentions. If we are lucky, perhaps every now and again, we will remember to look skyward, or find the meaning in the gentle waves of blades of grass. Whatever images speak to us, that spontaneously becomes their purpose, to become some significance to us. Grasp onto them, because they will just as quickly fade away. Indeed, these things that trouble us do matter, but we always want for perspective. Mankind is not long for this world. We are here for only a blink of the Universe's eye. We will die, and the codes and monuments we have built are sure to fade. But it matters not to the Sun, which will continue to rise for many years to come.
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