Reality

Smother my senses,
quell my voices,
so I ask not from whence I came

so the ego is all I know,
is all that I can trust
so the ego is the only thing,
I can believe to be just

Smother my senses,
quell my voices,
so I ask not from whence I came

Smother our senses,
quell our voices,
so we know not what we are

that we are the powers that be,
that we are worshipable
that we are the only ones,
to save our eternal soul

Smother our senses,
quell our voices
so we know not what we are

Smother its senses,
quell its voices,
so it knows not that it’s GOD

so it sits and watches,
watches the barrage,
so it sits alone, safe and sure,
blind to the mirage

Smother its senses,
quell its voices,
so it knows not that it’s GOD

It Ain’t right,
lost in flight,
no soul home tonight

Why did your write that?

Because I’m fed up!

Fed up with what?

Fed up with everything!

What do you mean everything?

You know–everything!

No I don’t know–everything?

I’m fed up with the fact that its so hard to know what’s real!

For example?

For example, I can’t turn on the TV without coming to the conclusion that the world is full of nothing but ignorant, selfish, violent, untrustable people!!

So!

So! What do you mean so?! I don’t know any of these ignorant, selfish, violent, untrustable people! If they are out there, and there are so many of them, why don’t I know any of them? Probably because you don’t live in the inner city. That’s a crock of shit!

OK then, why do you think you don’t meet them? Because they’re not out there!

But people are robbed, and people are murdered. Somebody is out there doing it!

I know! But if you look at the T.V., read the newspaper, or listen to the radio, it seems as though everybody is doing such things!

We all know that isn’t true.

Exactly! That is exactly the problem!! We all know that the vast majority of us are fairly harmless, gentle, somewhat boring individuals. But if this is true, why isn’t this what we hear and know about one another?

I don’t know, but if you know what is true, why would the deceit presented by the media bother you so much?

Because in this country, in these United States, we have no social truth, ethos, no culture, no agreed-upon way of thinking about one another that guides us through those situations the law does not cover. The largest arena of social structure in which we have culture is the family. After that, we have very little we share as a community. What we have in common is the media. And when the only ethos provided by the media is a big lie, when the way in which we know one another is dictated by those who are trying to convince us that we are weak, unworthy, and ugly, and thus, in dire need of the product they are trying to sell, when this is the source of information we have in common, we are doomed to be disgusted and disenfranchised. We withdraw, stay home, watch our big-screen TV, and play Nintendo. So the nightly news is harmful because we know it’s not the truth?

Yes.

But again, if we know the truth about who we are as a people, why should it matter what is said in the media?

Because knowing what isn’t true and knowing what is true are not the same thing. 200 years ago, when we immigrated across the Atlantic, we traded in our freedom to participate in the the ethos of a group larger than ourselves, for freedom from the structure provided by that larger group. One of the good things to come out of this trade was the increase in economic possibilities experienced by the individual. A major downside, however, was the loss of ethos. To be sure, the ethos provided by that larger group was not the truth. Rather, it was an answer to the truth of our need for ethos. The ethos of the open market does not qualify as social truth because we know that its depiction of humans is wrong. This doesn’t mean that we can state which depiction of humans is correct. Rather, it simply says that we know when a depiction is wrong.

“Neil, I’ve gotta go to work.”

And how do we know a particular depiction is wrong?

When it doesn’t satisfy our need for ethos. And how do we develop this need for ethos?

“Neil, I said I have to go to work!”

We don’t have to; feeling the need is an irreducible aspect of the human condition. And how do we know when this need for ethos is not being satisfied?

“Neil, I am leaving, and if you don’t say good-bye to me I am going to be very upset!” When we are not sure how we should go about cooperating with one another. Please wait. I will be back.

“I’m sorry honey,” said Neil as he turned from the computer, stood up, and approached his wife. When he reached her he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She did not smile.

“I said I was sorry,” he said in a pouty sort of voice as he pulled her a little closer.

“I know you did Neil,” she said in a way that indicated that this was not the first time this scenario had played itself out. “But if you were really sorry, I wouldn’t have to yell at you to get your attention.”

“You didn’t have to actually yell at me.” he said. He ended the sentence with a smile in the hope that such a gesture would serve to lighten her mood. It didn’t work.

“Look Neil,” she said as he stood there with his arms around her waist, and she stood there with her hands on her hips, “I don’t mind the fact that you spend so much time talking to people on that computer. What really bugs me is that you don’t feel you can talk to me about these things.”

“Oh baby,” he returned, “I don’t spend a lot of time talking to you about these things because I really don’t think you want to talk about them. As a matter of fact, I don’t think anybody really wants to talk about them. There are a few people out there, however, who cannot help themselves, who have to talk to someone about these idiosyncratic little itches that they just can’t seem to scratch. And since there are so few such people, the web is the perfect place for them to meet.”

“So what were you talking about just now?” “The lack of culture in the United States, and the media’s idiotic attempt to fill the void.” She stared into his eyes. While doing so, a small look of pity spread across her face.

“Neil, my dearest Neil, I love you like you’ll never know,” and now she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close, “I love the way you are concerned about the whole, entire world, and I love the way you try to solve the whole, entire world’s problems. But sweetheart, those problems have been here ever since we crawled out of the swamps. Those problems are part of the human condition. Your constant worrying about them is going to do nothing but ensure that you die earlier than you should.” She kissed him gently on the lips and pulled away. “I have to go to work,” she said as she walked away. “Wait up for me. I have a few of my own problems you can help me solve when I get home, if you know what I mean.”

He knew exactly what she meant.

“I love you sweetheart,” he said as she walked out the door.

“I love you too,” she called from the hallway.

As he listened to her footsteps fade down the hallway, he realized what a truly lucky guy he was. He then thought about how weird their relationship was. The common denominator was love; true, undeniable, genuine concern. What was weird was how that love expressed itself beyond themselves. After him, she seemed to be most in love with the other people in her life; her sister, her brother, her parents, her friends, while he seemed to be in love with the people of the world. He thought about that and laughed to himself; she was in love with people, while he was in love with concepts. His computer beeped.

Are you there?

Are you there? Obviously the person he had been talking to was getting tired of waiting. Are you there?

Yeah, I’m here. I didn’t think you would wait so long.

I’m not going anywhere.

Well, I am. I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Sorry to disappoint you.

No problem.

Talk to you later?

Yeah, talk to ya later. Same bat-time, same bat-station.

Disconnect

Neil turned off his computer and walked around rubbing his neck. He hadn’t really finished saying what he had wanted to say about reality, but Sandra had put him in such a good mood, he was no longer able to concentrate on the topic. He walked around the apartment for a few more minutes, frustrated at his inability to settle into a mood. Finally the frustration reached a peak and he picked up the phone to call John.

“Hello.”

“John, John is that you?”

“Yeah, this is John. How ya doin Neil.”

“I’m doin fine. What are you up to?”

“Not much, just getting ready to watch the Bulls play the Pistons.”

“Wanna watch the game at Spike’s with me. Sandra went to work and I need to get out of the apartment.”

“Sure,” said John. “Meet ya there in 20 minutes?”

“Cool,” said Neil. “See ya there.”

“Yeah, see ya there.
*************

“John, that doesn’t make any sense!” exclaimed Neil. The Bulls game had ended an hour ago and they were both busy drinking their fourth or fifth beer. They had been arguing ever since the end of the game, and it did not look as though the argument would end any time soon.

“The hell it doesn’t!” exclaimed John.

“The hell it does!” returned Neil. “You are definitely holding a glass in your hand!”

“But how do you know I’m holding a glass in my hand?” asked John, making sure to emphasize the word “know”. His eyes locked in on Neil’s as an impish smile spread across his face. To accentuate the gap he knew was developing between the Knower and the Questioner; the Teacher and the Student, John took a sip of beer from the glass who’s very existence he was challenging. Neil’s face reacted violently. He to was aware of the gap, but could not for the life of him figure out why such gaps seemed to develop during their conversations. To be sure, John was no dummy. Nor was Neil. But to Neil it seemed as though John was always so sure, as if he really did KNOW the answers. During their usual conversations Neil could let such feelings roll off of his back because he believed he knew a little something about whatever it was they were discussing. For example, when discussing the war in Bosnia, the two friends had different opinions about how the situation should be dealt with, but neither was really able to gain the upper-hand in the discussion because both new the other’s proposal was neither completely right nor completely wrong. This little spark of faith had always been enough to allow Neil to experience John’s arrogance as medium rather than message. But now Neil believed John’s smugness both inappropriate and insulting. How dare he question that fact that there was a glass in his hand, and how dare he pose this to John as a serious statement. Neil felt himself becoming more and more annoyed and felt he should just stop talking. However, he could not help himself.

“John,” he said in the slow, somewhat deliberate voice one uses while speaking to a foreigner with whom one is losing patience. “I know you are holding a glass in your hand-,” his voice became louder and more deliberate as he worked his way through the sentence, “because I can see you holding it in your hand!”

The idea seemed to float through the air on a bed of conviction, as if daring someone to question its inherent correctness. Fortunately, the bar they were in was loud. Unfortunately, a lull in the background noise had developed just as Neil’s conviction reached its peak. Those close to the two of them clearly heard Neil’s exasperated affirmation. The looks in their eyes clearly communicated their discomfort. The looks Neil refused to return clearly communicated his. After a few such moments, everyone went back to their own business and the background noise returned. Neil sat forward tensely, resting his weight on his forearms which were firmly planted on the table. His questioning eyes were directed toward John’s, waiting for some sort of response. John sensed the tension in Neil’s posture and looked away. As he read the beer prices on the sign above the bar he felt Neil lunge forward a couple of inches as if to repeat the question he had never asked. “Damn Neil!” said John, who was now shifting his own posture from side to side. “Take it easy!”

“Take is easy, my ass!” retorted Neil. “You act as if you know THE TRUTH while you sit there telling me there is no such thing as truth! That’s a crock of shit!” Neil stabbed his finger in the air toward John as if to emphasize the point. His eyes chased John’s as if to lock them in place and force him to deal with the issue. John saw this and did not let his eyes be caught. After a few moments of such gaming, however, John could no longer stand the tension and raised his hands in mock surrender.

“OK, OK man. You’re right. You’re absolutely right”

“No way man!” exclaimed Neil. “No way. You know you don’t believe that. Don’t pull that condescending bullshit on me! Play your cards straight and tell what you really believe!”

“I don’t want to,” said John as he took a slow, calm sip of his beer. “You’re taking all of this way to personally. You’re not allowing me to be wrong.”

“You’re not allowing me to be wrong! You’re not allowing me to be wrong!” wined Neil in a sarcastic, high-pitched voice. “What the hell does that mean? You’re not allowing me to be wrong! Man, you always find a way to redirect the issue and avoid the point!”

He starred at John for a second without receiving a response. Frustrated beyond the point of communication, he threw his hands up in the air and slumped into the booth. After quite a few moments of slumping he looked up at John.

“Man,” he said with a very sad look on his face, “you have absolutely no clue what you’re talking about!” and now it was Neil’s eyes that refused to be found.

John lunged forward and rested his elbows on the table.

“Fine asshole!” stated John. “You want to know what I believe?” I’ll tell you what I believe!” He hesitated just long enough to lock eyes with Neil and make sure he would hold on to the end. “I believe there is no such thing as a glass in my hand because I do not believe in things!”

He checked. Neil was struggling, but he was still with him.

“The only reason we claim to know things exist is because certain experiences are replicable. This glass in my hand is a replicable experience.”

“A replicable experience!” responded Neil with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Yes Neil, a replicable experience.”

“Why can’t you just say it’s a glass?”

“I could, but once I’ve done so, all I’ve really done is utilize a verbal symbol, the word glass, to refer to some replicable experience.”

“Again with the replicable experience!” stated Neil in a manner indicating he was not buying John’s argument.

“Look Neil, you claim you know things exist because you can see them. Can I get away with rephrasing your comment in the following way: We know things exist because we can experience them.”

“Yeah,” said Neil half-heartedly. He hated to agree with John. He knew he was being set-up.

“OK, so to state your claim more explicitly, we know that objects exist because we detect them with our senses.”

“Sure John,” agreed Neil. “No problem.”

“OK, so in other words, we know things are real, we know things exist because of the impact they have upon our nervous system.”

“Well, I…, well,” stammered Neil. He didn’t feel safe using the phrase nervous system, but couldn’t see how it was necessarily wrong.

“So, due to the impact these things, these real things have upon our senses, we know they exist?”

Neil said nothing, so John continued.

“The problem with this explanation of reality is as follows: If we know things by the impact they have upon our senses, what we really know is not the thing in and of itself. Rather, what we really know is the state of our senses!”

“Come again,” said Neil.

“If we know things by the states they produce in our nervous system, then what we know is the nervous system.”

“OK,” responded Neil.

“OK!” exasperated John. “It’s anything but OK. If all we know are the states that things produce in our nervous system, then how can we know what is producing those states in our nervous system?”

“The thing!” answered Neil, as if the question had been absurd.

“But how can we know that!” returned John. “If all we know are the states, it might be the case that those states are being produced by some mad scientist pumping chemicals into our nervous system!”

“That’s absurd!” scoffed Neil.

“Of course it is, but it’s no more absurd than claiming that things reveal themselves to us by producing states in our nervous system.”

Neil’s eyes took on the sort of look that communicates both confusion and dismay. The friends simply sat their for a few moments, neither being sure of the direction the conversation should take. Finally Neil found something to say.

“John, I can’t tell you that you’re wrong, but I can tell you that you don’t make any sense. All, or almost all, of modern science is based upon testing. And all of the tests used by scientists involve the senses; how something looks, how it tastes, how it smells, feels, and sounds. All of these tests are tests of the senses. If we refuse to believe in the senses, and refuse to believe that we use them to figure out what’s real and what isn’t,…..”

“What?” asked John.

“What do you mean What!” responded Neil. “Every one of us believes that glass is in your hand. Even you do!”

“Well….,” stammered John.

“Don’t give me that well crap! You know you believe that glass is there! Now how does that jive with your claim that it isn’t?” Neil felt somewhat victorious, for it was a rare that John was not able to immediately respond with some clever quip or quote.

“You’re right. I do believe there is a glass in my hand. But that’s not the same as saying I know there is a glass in my hand. When we say the word know, we mean to imply that the belief we are expressing is absolutely and undeniably true, as if GOD himself had for one reason or another determined that this particular belief should and will, forever and ever, qualify as THE TRUTH. And even though I experience this sort of absolute certainty when I hold this glass, I refuse to say I know. Rather, I prefer to say I believe. There are many reasons why I do so, but for now I’ll just cover those which are most important.”

John looked at Neil, who was now completely involved. Neil was John’s best friend. Actually, he was John’s only real friend. No one else really cared about John’s silly ideas, and John never really saw their ideas as worthy of conversation. Neil, however, was special, for he was able to carry-on what people refer to as a normal life, as well as give John better arguments than most of his professors. John’s eyes must have betrayed his emotional thoughts, for a smile spread across Neil’s face.

“Trying to find a way to school me that will allow me to save face?” asked Neil with a laugh.

“No,” returned John, also with a laugh.

“Just feeling a little grateful that you tolerate my bouts with life.”

“So why do you choose to believe instead of know?” Both took a sip of beer in a way that indicated the conversation had taken on a new tone.

“I do so,” said John with a smile as he tipped his glass toward Neil, “because reality is not a physical thing that can be known. Reality is a process, an interaction between my nervous system and the structures beyond that nervous system.”

“But why can’t you just say things instead of structures?”

“Because things implies a structure that exists independent of my nervous system.”

“Most things do exist independently of your nervous system, or even mine for that matter.”

“There are many other ways to see this structure other than as a glass.”

“For example?”

“For example, the physicist would claim that this glass is actually a whirling dervish of electrons, protons, and neutrons.”

“So!”

“So how is it possible for this structure to be a collection of atomic particles and a device for consuming good beer, all at the same time? It is possible because both descriptions are correct. Are they correct because they are correct according to GOD’s law? No. Both descriptions are correct because both are replicable.”

“I still don’t get this thing you call replicable. What is replicable about a glass or atoms.”

“What is replicable is the experience. Anytime you direct your eyes towards this structure you will see what we call a glass. Further, even if you look at this structure from a different perspective, there will be enough similarities in those two different perspectives to allow you to experience this structure as the same glass. The same rules apply to science. Only those experiences that are replicable across perspectives are considered to be true experiences. Only those results that can be produced by any scientist having the correct equipment are considered true results! However, the truthfulness is found not in the object. Rather, it is found in the replicability of the experience.”

“What you’re saying then, is that science does not tell us the truth!”

“Exactly! To tell you the truth, no pun intended, what science really does is reveal those levels of structure that are not available to use in experience!”

“What?!”

“Atoms and molecules are not truths in the sense that they are pre-determined to be true. Atoms and molecules are true because they are highly replicable experiences. That is, the experiences we can produce by assuming that atoms and molecules exist are extremely reliable. If tomorrow, however, we are not able to produce those replicable experiences, we will have to alter what we think about atoms and molecules.”

“So.”

“So, the fact that we have to change what we think about atoms and molecules when those ways of thinking no longer produce replicable experiences, indicates that those ways of thinking were never correct! It further demonstrates that those ways of thinking were never really anything more than ways of thinking about experiences, or what scientists refer to as models.”

“You mean to say that the theories and models developed by scientists are really just made up!”

“Exactly. However, to be fair, we have to admit that they are pretty strong models. Imagine how many replicable experiences can be produced by thinking of the world as being composed of elements. By thinking of the world this way we can produce what we call plastics, metals, and all sorts of substances. The model of substances provided by the periodic table is an extremely powerful model. It is not, however, the absolute truth. It is not God’s law. It is a model of the world, developed by man, based upon millions upon millions of experiences. If for some reason tomorrow, this model no longer leads to replicable experiences, it will have to be scrapped.”

Neil sort of sat back in the booth and sipped his beer. He was no longer upset. John’s arguments, as usual, seemed to make sense. However, something just didn’t feel right. Neil did not even have to think about whether or not the glass was in front of him. He knew that glass was there! He had to say something more.

“John, I seem to have followed your notion about replicable experiences, but I still cannot bring myself to believe that the glass is nothing more than a replicable experience. That makes it sound as if the glass is in my head!” John laughed and almost choked on his beer. This loss of control on John’s part made Neil laugh. He too almost choked on his beer. Now both friends got caught up in the laugh, which swelled in robustness and continued for a few moments.

“Look Neil, I gotta get going soon, so I’ll answer that question real quick. The glass is neither in your head or in my hand.”

Neil’s brow furrowed as he questioned John’s sanity.

“Seriously Neil, the glass is neither in your head nor in my hand.”

“Pray tell dear friend,” laughed Neil as his head swayed back and forth in disbelief at how far out on the edge John seemed to be willing to go this evening, “where exactly is the glass?”

“The glass, dear friend, is in neither your head nor my hand, for the glass is not a thing. It is a process. And that process is the interaction between the structure of your nervous system and the structure of the light energy reflected by this structure in my hand. I also experience what we call a glass when I look at this structure, not because we are looking at the same glass, but because we have similar nervous systems that interact in the same way with the light energy reflected by this structure. The glass is simultaneously in your head as well as in my hand. If we focus on the structure in my hand, we refer to it as a thing, a physical object, that is, a glass. If we focus on what’s going on in my head when I look at this structure, we refer to that activity as mental, cognitive, or psychological. The point is that the glass is neither physical nor mental; the glass is both, what some have referred to psychophysical!

“OK man, OK man,” said Neil as he finished his beer. “I think we’ve done enough for tonight. And since I just finished my beer that really wasn’t there, I think I’ll go out to my car, which really isn’t there, and go home to my wife, who really isn’t there.”

John laughed out loud and Neil joined in. Both contributed to the tip and headed out. As they walked out into the stillness of the night, they turned to one another and shook hands.

“Buddy, as always, it was a pleasure.”

“Yes, I would agree,” returned John. “Our discussions truly are one of my more enjoyable replicable experiences.”

Neil just laughed and continued to laugh as he walked to his car. As he drove home he thought about the things he and John had discussed. He also thought about this earlier web conversation about reality and the media, as well as Sandra and the comments she had made before leaving for work. As he drove, he turned all of these ideas over and over in his head, trying to determine the common thread. It just wouldn’t come. He searched a while longer. Nothing happened, so he turned up the stereo and let Stevey Ray Vaughn’s version of Voodoo Child smother his senses and quell his voices, all the way home.
********

“How was work?” he asked as she entered the bedroom.

“Same-old same-old,” she responded.

“What did you do all night?” she asked as she began to undress.

“Went to Spike’s and watched the Bull’s game with John.”

“Watched the Bull’s game with John, huh” “Yeah.”

“More like you and John got into another one of your arguments about the problems of the world.”

“Yeah, something like that.” They both laughed. She walked by and kissed him. She then went to the closet and hung-up the blouse she had just removed.

“How is John?”

“He’s fine. I don’t know if he and Beth are going to be getting back together or not, but he seems to be holding his own.”

“Are you in a better mood than you were earlier?” she asked as she slipped on her night gown and sat on the bed next to him.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he responded half-heartedly.

“OK, what’s still bugging you?” she asked as she began to unbutton his shirt and kiss his chest.

“I don’t know if anything is really bugging me babe, it’s just that,” and now he held her by the shoulders and pulled her face up to his, “how can you be such a happy, loving person when the world seems to provide so little to believe in? The media lies to me and tells me the world is full of horrible, greedy people, and my best friend tells me that a glass really isn’t really a glass! What on earth is real?”

With that she stood up and put here hands on his cheeks. As she looked down into his eyes she saw the despair and unsatisfiable quest for absolutes she had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“Honey,” she said gently as she starred deeply into his eyes, “do you have faith that the world is not full of horrible people?”

“Yes, yes I do.” he answered.

“Do you have faith that a glass is a glass?” “Yes I do.”

“And do you have faith in me?”

He sat there staring deeply into her eyes and saw the hope, love and faith he had fallen in love with all those years ago.

“Yes I do.”

“Then my dearest,” she said as she bent down and began to kiss his face. “What else do you need?” And with that she pushed him onto the bed. He could not argue. He did not want to argue. Rather, he let nature takes its course. As they made love, all of the earlier questions seemed to disappear and he lost himself in the sureness of their passion.

Later than night, as he lay awake thinking about the strange events of the day, he suddenly felt the need to go to the computer. He tried to resist, but could not. He turned on the PC and initiated the word processor. When the computer was ready, he wrote the following:

There was a time in life,
when everything was crystal clear to me
like the smile of a child
Now it seems like everything
goes round and round and round and
round and round and round and round

Like a big whirlpool that is drowning me
Never bringing me to choice
Like an unknown verse that is haunting me,
Never taking form nor voice

As I take the time
to find the things that keep it all in place
it comes as a surprise
That the only thing
to survive the analysis is the process itself
and the look of love in your eyes.