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The Mystic Perspective

Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Kolbitar » October 14th, 2007, 11:54 pm

::Walk with me for a while. Leave philosophy behind for a while and think in prosaic terms.

You mean, load the dice in your favor and expect to exempt you when you “philosophically” frame the picture in (so called) “prosaic terms”? Hmmm, I can make no promises -- but I’ll try.

::Here is the newborn creature. The creature is hard-wired for pattern processing. Don't worry how it got that way. The world comes to it through its senses. As it accumulates patterns, it feels the need to begin sorting these patterns; it also hears sounds associated with the patterns. The more sounds, the more patterns, the more sophisticated the organisation.

Isn’t it ironic that those who, apart from God, find “point[s] of life” and grand meaning in man’s achievements and, by extension, man’s innate potentialities to achieve great things are so insistent on maintaining a focus which excludes the primary and most remarkable facts about man? I will, for a moment, forget about “how [man] got that way”. But why turn off my innate sense of curiosity, ignore the most fundamental facts of my reality, and refuse them access to the light of intelligence? I don’t care how hard wired a creature may be, if a creature is indeed hard wired the fact remains: that same creature *knows* he is (to whatever extent) hardwired. Why should we be immune to investigating the conditions and conclusions which accompany such knowledge? why does the atheist seem happy simply to ignore this fantastic reality which brings to light the true wonder, awe, dignity and profundity of human nature?

But look how quickly I’ve forgotten! I was supposed to walk along with you, assume my brain is over active, and suspend evident conclusions like these: that a permanent “I” is the subject of knowledge and feeling; that “I” make decisions over and above, at times, my immediate desires according to reason; that reason operates according to a ground/consequent causal system inexplicable by the laws of physical nature; that my intellectual knowledge consists of universal concepts a particularized organ cannot produce; that I self reflect; that I have a will, which necessarily desires happiness and chooses particular goods as a means to happiness – thus pinning atheism, with it’s implicit denial of the object of beatitude (happiness), against a self evident proposition; and that the delightful variety (essences) of finite existences – the horse-y, doggy, human-y, oak-y, rocky, atom-y, rose-y, grassy, watery existences I experience – can only exist as they do in reference to an existence whose essence is existence, that is, who exists in eternity and is eternally delightful: Indeed, how quickly I forget not to think in my own, but in your dull terms :-) Sorry about that. Let me try again…

::Some patterns seem more important; closer to its needs than others. It sorts the patterns by importance.

Would you say there is an objective ordering of goods, corresponding to our needs, which makes some things really (as opposed to seemingly) more important?

::But the creature is not a sponge. It actively seeks new stimulus, new patterns, and tries new organisation. It imagines patterns that are extensions of those already in its organisation.

Towards what end? I agree that the creature is not a sponge, but why does the creature seek new patterns?

::All around it sees purposeful activity. It extrapolates on these purposes and supposes other purposes.

Towards what purpose? In other words, is this not a purposeful endeavor in the first place?

::Now, in all this, it constructs meaning, derives purpose and ascribes value. Because it lives in such vast numbers amongst others, it is constantly re-evaluating all these.

Why?

I’ll hold off commenting on the rest –with one exception.

You write:

But I will let a child speak. "What is the point of life?" she asks. I say, "Did you not see the point when you felt hunger, when you doubted your friend's motives, when you touched the cold of the drink in your hand. Did you not see the point when you longed to be taller and for a new cat? Are these not points?" And the child went away and pondered.

And if that child had the mind of Aristotle? She might then reply – perhaps after much pondering – “yes, they are indeed points, for they point to something; they are means pointing to an end – so to return the favor I ask you, Sensei Salanor, what is that end?”
The man who lives in contact with what he believes to be a living Church is a man always expecting to meet Plato and Shakespeare tomorrow at breakfast. He is always expecting to see some truth that he has never seen before. --Chesterton

Sober Inebriation: http://soberinebriationblog.blogspot.com/
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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby salanor » October 19th, 2007, 7:59 am

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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Ben2747 » October 22nd, 2007, 7:14 pm

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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby salanor » October 25th, 2007, 11:54 am

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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Ben2747 » October 25th, 2007, 4:40 pm

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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Ben2747 » October 25th, 2007, 10:44 pm

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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Boromir » October 26th, 2007, 8:50 am

Grown-ups are always thinking of uninteresting explanations.

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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Ben2747 » October 26th, 2007, 2:49 pm

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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Boromir » October 26th, 2007, 3:58 pm

Grown-ups are always thinking of uninteresting explanations.

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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Ben2747 » October 26th, 2007, 5:21 pm

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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Stanley Anderson » October 26th, 2007, 5:47 pm

…on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a fair green country under a swift sunrise.
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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Ben2747 » October 26th, 2007, 6:28 pm

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Re: The Last Bastion

Postby Stanley Anderson » October 26th, 2007, 9:20 pm

…on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a fair green country under a swift sunrise.
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