“If the book we are reading does not wake us, as with a fist hammering on our skulls, then why do we read it?” -Kafka
I've been struggling some questions recently. I’m going to phrase things philosophically but if i were as familiar with the language i could probably just as easily (and maybe more productively) talk about these things in terms of cognitive science.
anyway, my concern is this:
It’s not fair that we lose almost everything. We go along through life like sieves, with sense data and experience passing almost completely through us. Indeed, we are shaped by this experience, but it takes so long for it to add up to anything meaningful—skills, languages, mannerisms, relationships. To hammer something into our minds in the way that Kafka suggests takes endless pummelling—pummelling for which we rarely have time.
We are fortunate that we are not rocks. Rocks careen through their existences with firm closedness, stubborn solidity. Rocks are not open to experience.
And yet, how much better are we? Before we applaud ourselves for learning or language acquisition or technical expertise, we should be reminded that almost nothing changes us. We are more solid than fluid, more rock than student.
Of course, I know, we need a solid core to think at all… philosophers like Gadamer, Heidegger and Lakatos have taught us that. Thought needs a platform of non-thought in order to stand. That story is obvious on the level of evolution as a whole and on the level of the individuals specifically. Wittgenstein wrote that in order for the door to move, the hinges must stay put. We are mostly hinges, mostly givenness.
But it still seems wrong! It seems wrong that I can meet remarkable people, see remarkable things and then just live tomorrow like a lived today. It seems wrong that I can shrug off the depth of the world, the richness of life. I feel like I should be transformed by the things that I experience. I feel like I should be more open.
(But I’m prevented by the very structure of my mind! We are aware of a tiny portion of our actual sense input and our sense input is a tiny portion of what is actually going on in the world at each moment. I’m not necessarily claiming that awareness is everything—I know that we acquire much of our knowledge (especially knowledge about how to do things) through subliminal, unarticulated means—but much of what does make it into our minds below the level of ‘consciousness’ is scrubbed away as we sleep, as we dream. We lose almost everything.)
The other painful side of this is that when I am transformed at all, it seems just as infuriating for my past self to be shuffled off or pushed out. When I transform, why can’t I transform dialectically, retaining the process in the result? I want to be able be who I was as a child, as I was last year, as I was before I ate lunch. I want to retain every moment of myself in this self. Because I can’t do these things, I’m little better than the rock.
I've been struggling some questions recently. I’m going to phrase things philosophically but if i were as familiar with the language i could probably just as easily (and maybe more productively) talk about these things in terms of cognitive science.
anyway, my concern is this:
It’s not fair that we lose almost everything. We go along through life like sieves, with sense data and experience passing almost completely through us. Indeed, we are shaped by this experience, but it takes so long for it to add up to anything meaningful—skills, languages, mannerisms, relationships. To hammer something into our minds in the way that Kafka suggests takes endless pummelling—pummelling for which we rarely have time.
We are fortunate that we are not rocks. Rocks careen through their existences with firm closedness, stubborn solidity. Rocks are not open to experience.
And yet, how much better are we? Before we applaud ourselves for learning or language acquisition or technical expertise, we should be reminded that almost nothing changes us. We are more solid than fluid, more rock than student.
Of course, I know, we need a solid core to think at all… philosophers like Gadamer, Heidegger and Lakatos have taught us that. Thought needs a platform of non-thought in order to stand. That story is obvious on the level of evolution as a whole and on the level of the individuals specifically. Wittgenstein wrote that in order for the door to move, the hinges must stay put. We are mostly hinges, mostly givenness.
But it still seems wrong! It seems wrong that I can meet remarkable people, see remarkable things and then just live tomorrow like a lived today. It seems wrong that I can shrug off the depth of the world, the richness of life. I feel like I should be transformed by the things that I experience. I feel like I should be more open.
(But I’m prevented by the very structure of my mind! We are aware of a tiny portion of our actual sense input and our sense input is a tiny portion of what is actually going on in the world at each moment. I’m not necessarily claiming that awareness is everything—I know that we acquire much of our knowledge (especially knowledge about how to do things) through subliminal, unarticulated means—but much of what does make it into our minds below the level of ‘consciousness’ is scrubbed away as we sleep, as we dream. We lose almost everything.)
The other painful side of this is that when I am transformed at all, it seems just as infuriating for my past self to be shuffled off or pushed out. When I transform, why can’t I transform dialectically, retaining the process in the result? I want to be able be who I was as a child, as I was last year, as I was before I ate lunch. I want to retain every moment of myself in this self. Because I can’t do these things, I’m little better than the rock.
