15 March 2013

A Letter to a Friend

So, Bobby, metaphysics is ridiculous, right?

What I mean is that all of life we deem "physical" even if we label it something else--we say it has existence.

We argue about "thought" primarily as something confusing to us--"where does it come from?"--as it's difficult to undersand the existence of something that seems disembodied in a sense.

But this is "seeming" isn't it?

Thought is language and we assert that language is somewhat universal in terms of the creatures we call "higher organisms" but even in the lower organisms we might label information transfer as a communication.  Still, language directs action in many creatures...but likely language directs persuasion to action and is at the very least a secondary method of communication.

We grunt out of pain or fear or pleasure or because it's fun to make sound (a physical "wave") and at some point we conjecture that grunts turn to language due to vocal cord development and this brain of ours--chicken and eggs all in one place.

So the rub, the ghost, the god...all words and words alone.  Exist NOT in physicality but in words.

Unless we make the massive leap to say that words ARE "god"--that is to say, the element that, in our "becoming," elevates us as the creature just below angels (or Titans if you wish) with the capacity to BE angels--ie, a little closer to the god that gave us his "ness"--words.

Now that is elaborate and fanciful and as ridiculous as anything else--ie, metaphysical.

Death is Easy.  Consciousness and Death is Hard.  Hence Metaphysics, or God, or Higgs boson.  Particle physics is still physical.

It is further possible to conjecture not the "progress" of man, but the adventure against dying.

Did you see the movie The Highlander--cheese, yes, but psychologically enticing--"there can be only one" immortal.  In some respects this is often my feeling about humanity and technology--the race to create an immortal.

There is nothing "good" about it.  It is the crazy of the brain, a structure operating in a field of "randomness"--like the electron that is physically nowhere and anywhere "depending" on...well nothing as far as I'm aware.

Morning thoughts, post Beethoven's 2nd.

[This turned poem: "Death Is Easy!"]


  1. Did "Bobby" respond? Your argument is poetic so the poem grew organically. Bobby, comment!

  2. He responded via email: "I guess it's a bit ridiculous."