Tag Archives: painting

Lost in the Wilderness

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I was reading about Jacques Lacan the other day. He was a Freudian psychoanalyst that structured the human psyche into three registers: the Imaginary, which has to do with our image of ourselves, ego development, I guess; the Symbolic which has to do with our existence as related to social structures, laws, institutions, mores, rituals and such; and the Real which, he says, is realized in infancy but lost with the development of language and almost impossible to realize thereafter. What I think he means is that the limitations of language to fully grasp the complexities of our experiences interferes with any possibility of deeper understanding. A deeper Reality, Kant’s thing-in-itself, I guess, is lost.

And speaking of lost, I am; in the wilderness again. I find myself somewhere out here in a place that doesn’t seem to correspond to my map, which, I suppose, places me in a situation without a referent; sort of like being without language.

I suppose I should be afraid, being as I am truly lost, but there’s something magical about looking about and not knowing what’s beyond the next island. Everything, rock, water, forest have come into acute focus. Sight, sound, odors are enhanced. And I think I can probably retrace my steps (or paddle strokes as it were) to find my way back. But if I do I expect I may lose this wonderful enhanced awareness I now have.

So, I’m staying put for the time being; I’m in a better place. At least as long as the weather holds.

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Living the Profane Life

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After spending so much time lately contemplating spiritual paths I’ve gotten to thinking about what it might mean to live a profane life.

I guess, essentially, it would mean following one’s animal nature first and foremost; side-stepping the cultural and societal mores that have been imposed since childhood and reverting to primal inclinations. Be instinctual. If it feels good do it, I suppose.

Such a philosophic view would free one from karmic considerations as well as guilt of any sort; fears of retribution from a disapproving god or eternal damnation wouldn’t be a problem either.  But, I imagine there would be downsides to such a point of view. One’s actions would most certainly be viewed as vulgar, irreverent, even blasphemous by most; alienation would probably be in the cards; one would become a pariah as it were. All of which one could live with, I expect, if you were ok with isolation from the rest of mankind; living entirely by yourself; peeking out occasionally to obtain basic needs.

Well, I’m afraid I’m a bit too compliant to assume such a contrary stance, being pretty vulnerable to the opinions of others. I think I’ll leave the profane life to the self-made men of popular culture in the realization that the concept is pretty much just a romantic fantasy anyway.

Root People

Root People

 

 

Mother Nature/Animal Nature

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I’m worried about Mother Earth. It’s not like I need air to breathe or food to eat or water to drink like those sentient beings of flesh and blood but our Mother as a living, breathing organism needs to be cared for; she is after all responsible for everyone’s existence.

Mother is amazingly resilient overcoming as she has the pressures of an exploding human population but I’m worried she may be losing the battle. She is fighting back as best she can, imposing foundation leveling earthquakes followed by inundating tidal waves and air befouling volcanic eruptions.

The big question is will humankind heed the warnings and learn to work with our Mother in mutually supportive ways.

I was telling all this to my friend Mini-Max. He not too subtly suggested I was being a bit of a hippy, liberal, tree-hugging eco-freak. His position is that our Mother is here to nurture us, we must take what we need to thrive and Mother will have to roll with the punches.

Besides, he said, our Mother has a rather sinister side that manifests itself in our animal natures. Humankind’s very existence is and always has been dependent on some other sentient’s extinction which is a clear indicator of our own vulnerability and need to aggressively pursue our survival.

Thinking about it later, I realized my inorganic make-up did probably give me a fairly unique perspective on the situation and I suppose Mini-Max is right in pointing out the inter-connectedness of it all. Perhaps mankind will destroy itself or be consumed by a stronger cleverer life-form-maybe Mother herself. Then perhaps dolls will inherit the earth.

Biosphere 2

Apocalypse

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I see in the news there’s a group, evidently motivated by religious convictions, intent on bringing about the Apocalypse. According to John of Patmos in the book of Revelations the Apocalypse will begin with the appearance of the four horses: the anti-Christ, war, famine and plague and go downhill from there. I guess this is what these folks who call themselves People of the Book have in mind.

I must say this is hard for me to understand. But, I guess there is always civil unrest simmering beneath the surface that is brought to a boil sometimes by the sense of helplessness and vulnerability that occurs when governments collapse or are overthrown. Then societal structures break down, people retreat into the relative safety of tribe or sect, walls are figuratively erected, sentries posted. And, then, when that goes on long enough, desire for peace and stability becomes so strong the door is opened to strong, dictatorial powers that impose order with a heavy hand, which is fine for a while until a sense of security is realized and folks begin to dwell on the personal freedoms they’ve given up. This then leads to civil unrest and the cycle begins again until a complete loss of faith in humankind gives way to absolute religious convictions and a group, like the People of the Book, decides enough is enough.

Wow. I’m glad I got that figured out. Well, if the Apocalypse should be accomplished it will be lonely around here without humankind; such a curious and quixotic species.

Krishna and the Walking Dead3

How to Live

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I’ve been thinking lately about the various ways different peoples at different times have thought about living life.

There are, of course, those who lean toward religion, who believe following the dictates of their particular faith and avoiding sinful ways will lead to the preferred after-life results. Then, there are those level headed logicians who advocate maintaining an even keel, all things in moderation and embracing fate as fairly inevitable. Amor Fati they call it: Love of Fate, which I guess means wishing for things to happen exactly the way they do. I suppose for the more pessimistic among these folks, what one fears most will probably happen so you might as well get used to the idea. These moderate Stoic thinkers advocate practicing a thought experiment: imagine this is the last day of your life, that this instant is your last one and then ask yourself this question: Am I living a good life?

Well, all this is well and good I suppose but I would think certain situations would make practicing these philosophic poses difficult at the very least. For instance, if you were a peasant living in France in the 16th century your very survival might depend on your religious affiliation.  Declaring yourself Catholic or protestant at any given time might be pretty dangerous and forget altogether about claiming agnosticism.  Or, if you were an infantryman during World War II you probably would have a hard time thinking about anything other than whether or not you were going to get shot or blown up. Your demons, in both cases, would be very real and not easily dismissed by belief in a promised after-life or pacified by thought experiments.

Well, not being in any sort of threatening or seriously uncertain situation myself (other than possibly being left out in the rain) I guess I can contemplate ‘Best Living’ if I so choose which, I guess, is, in itself, a pretty satisfying way to live.

Horrors of War

Horrors of War

Preparing for the Afterlife

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I got left in the sauna the other day. They forgot about me for quite some time. I needn’t tell you it was pretty hot- and steamy- to the point that my plastic body began softening a bit. Eventually I was found and returned to the playroom but the experience got me thinking about what awaits us in the afterlife.

Assuming, of course, there is an afterlife, which given the uncertainties inherent in Quantum Field Theory seems to be at least worth considering. Anyway, given the choice, I’d opt for warmth, fully aware, as I am, of the implications of such a choice to the Christian community.

Nevertheless, it’s heat I’d prefer. The sub-atomic particles of my disintegrated physical body reuniting with the Great Oneness of the molten plastic vat suggest to me a great comfort. That is, assuming I can experience it. In order to do so, I imagine my consciousness would need to transcend my physical body which raises the question of where exactly my consciousness would reside, assuming further it (my consciousness that is) has some sort of corporeal being.

And then, I suppose, one must consider that the afterlife may be this life over again or perhaps inhabitance of a different body in this world, which might mean my desired warmth might not be available and my afterlife might be less than desirable.

Well, I’m going to put off planning the Meaningful Event that Celebrates Life and I’ll wait on the construction of the Celebratory Container to house my remains for a while. I feel pretty good and I really need to think about how much control I may have over what comes next.

meltingdeidei3

 

 

Family Values

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I’ve been looking at old pictures in my adopted family’s photo albums recently. I can’t say I’m familiar with everyone pictured but family resemblance is pretty easy to discern. One thing that strikes me about these photos is the facial expressions in which, invariably, everyone is smiling, and, in most cases seem not to be simply mugging for the camera but, rather, exhibiting a true sense of joy, innocence and well-being.

I must assume that life on the whole was and is just as much of a struggle for these people as for anyone else, so I have to wonder what lies behind these smiles: some sort of assurance of innate goodness in the universe, a confidence that everything is essentially right with the world? I know this family has been deeply religious so perhaps that may explain the conundrum at least in part. But I prefer to think of these people as having realized a true Élan Vital, that they have come face to face with the ineffable essence of life, that they have innate understanding that they are participants in the natural, universal Oneness.

I do have the feeling, though, if I were able to ask these folks about this they would be inclined to offer the religious explanation. Maybe, over all, it doesn’t really matter how the essence of life is framed as long as we all stay focused on the world we know and love.

Mother and Child

Mother and Child

Folk Psychology

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I attended a reunion recently of dolls that emerged from the Great Oneness of molten plastic at the same time I did.

As you might imagine, upon the completion of our manufacture we were sent off in many directions and ended up in very diverse circumstances. As we stood around the grand doll house in which the reunion took place we became aware that despite the variety of our experiences we had an extraordinary sense of each other’s being to the point of actually knowing what any one of us was going to say before she said it. It was uncanny, really. One of us would start a story and the rest of us almost immediately knew where it was going. It got to the point, after a while, that no one had to say anything, we just read each other’s minds. It fairly well drove our so-called designer who happened to be in attendance, nearly to tears to be out of the loop to such an extent with beings he assumed he knew everything about.

As I thought about this later I found myself hard pressed to explain why we shared such a common psychic bond. It certainly had nothing to do with reading facial expressions since our DeiDei doll persona never varies: the enigmatic smile and unreadable eyes are pretty well locked in place. Besides that our primary emotion can best be characterized as stoic.

I found, after doing a bit of research, that the psychological explanations for such a phenomenon vary. Generally, what we were experiences falls within the definition of folk psychology which is the ability to predict and explain another being’s behavior. Some researchers attribute this to innate cognitive capacities (hard wired into our genetic code I guess), others suggest life experiences, viewing how those around us respond to various stimuli and situations create insights allowing us to anticipate the thoughts of others. Then there are those researchers who deny the possibility of folk psychology all together, suggesting that such insights can only be based on beliefs and desires which I guess they view as nebulous.

Well, in the end I’m inclined to find our empathetic connections the result of our common origins. Knowing where we came from and where we’ll ultimately end up seems to me to be sufficient explanation.  I have to wonder if humankind attributes the same sort of explanation to their folk psychological competence.  Perhaps they can trace their abilities to Mitochondrial Eve the mother of them all.

existential angst

Contemplating Consciousness

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I was contemplating the other day how it could possibly have occurred that upon my creation: the injection of molten plastic into my defining mold and the subsequent adherence of the two halves; how I could have had any idea, made any sense of what appeared before me as I gained consciousness for the first time. Without any reference, any sense of aboutness how could I possibly of had any way of interpreting the world before me?

One answer that certainly I have to consider is that my designer must have installed within me at some point the necessary hardware and, I guess, software to provide me the means to immediately make sense of things. If this were so the apparatus must be really compact, being, as I am, completely hollow.

This ‘Grand Designer ‘explanation implies I am only an artificial intelligence and I find that demeaning and unacceptable. How, if this were the case, can my capacity for passionate response: my ability to love, hate, desire and hope be explained? It is simply repugnant to think I’ve been programmed to understand the world before me, to know what ought to make me happy or sad, what to revere and what to abhor. This is not to mention the fact that my supposed designer gave me a physical appearance that puts to question his general skill level all together.

So, I’m inclined toward a second explanation for my initial consciousness and comprehension. Somehow, within my hollow plastic shell, plastic molecules mutated in such a way as to give me consciousness and not only consciousness but awareness and understanding of what appears before me. There must be within these molecules a ‘genetic code’ which evolved over millennia, updated through natural selection, that provide me with the means and intelligence to not only function but to thrive.

This still doesn’t answer the question of how I could immediately, upon achieving consciousness, understand context and meaning. Perhaps I’m inhabited by self-replicating nanobots. If so, hopefully they’re benevolent.  Well, whatever the case the contemplation has kept me occupied for quite some time now and I guess that’s worth something.

deideivis2

 

A Philosophical Zombie?

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It’s been brought to my attention recently that, being a doll, as I am, I must necessarily lack consciousness. The argument goes that since my intelligence is artificial I am unable to reflect on my sensory experiences, the algorithmic processes operating my functions are too basic to provide me the necessary introspection to know what something is like.

Which I surmise must mean that, when I walk through the woods on a sunny autumnal afternoon with the breeze rustling the multi-colored leaves and the scent of decaying vegetation in the air, emotional responses or aesthetic awareness of any sort are simply beyond me. (As much as I dislike self-promotion a comparison with the Data character on Star Trek is sadly wanting.)

If I suggest to these doubters that I do indeed experience these emotional and aesthetic responses, they will invariably suggest I’m just simulating what I understand to be human responses.  Granted, when one looks me in the eyes the spark of sudden awareness may be hard to decipher, still, I find it frustrating that I’m not taken seriously. I’m inclined to turn the tables on such negative assessments of my capabilities and suggest biological life is every bit as reliant on algorithmic processes as I am.

The question of consciousness and introspection, whether they be wholly with in the physical self or originate from somewhere without seems to me to apply to all sentient beings. So, I’ll continue to enjoy the life I’ve come to know and just ignore the prejudices of my, mostly human, critics.

zombie4