Illusion

Our brain does an amazingly good job of organizing random photon bounces into a meaningful and useful construction of objects in our world. Sometimes, of course, it can be mistaken and create an illusion.

An illusion is anything that cannot be confirmed by other senses, logic, or outside observers. Upon examination, what we thought was a snake in the grass may turn out to be a vine (or vice versa!) Consistent verification by alternate means yields what we call a fact.

Agreeing with others’ opinions does not necessarily dispel illusions. Many of us may believe there is a snake when there is none. One viewpoint with one sense is not fully reliable, even for a group.

There has always been an equivalent problem with knowledge, writing, culture. How can we determine illusion? Does it matter anyway? If Alexander the Great is a myth, not real in a factual sense, does it affect me? Who cares? A lot of facts are (in fact) pretty irrelevant.

Today we are fed illusions by the bushel. The internet is filled with influencer sorcerers weaving visions. For most of them we have no way to test validity except with the opinions of others. Is anything we think we know a “fact” or an “illusion”.

Yet, we act on illusions all the time. I may run away from our imaginary snake. A whole mob may run away from an imaginary dangerous illusion. We vote based on compelling illusionary advertising.

Perhaps that’s no more dangerous than it ever was. Most cultured belief has always been of that nature. There is comfort in believing that an untested cohesive illusion is fact. At some point, we may be shocked to encounter factual reality

Sometimes

We are blessed with a mercurial mind. Sometimes, for example, we feel a mastery of our particular universe. Other times we feel helpless. Sometimes we drift entirely out of this time and space, vividly imagining things that never were nor will be.

It’s a gift of our strange over-developed consciousness. Perhaps even an evolutionary trick to comfort us through pain and hard times, when pure logic would surrender and die. A reminder that no matter how sophisticated we may consider ourselves, we truly exist in not one, but infinite (and infinitely varied) dream times.

Ask me what I know of the future and I would honestly answer “nothing”. But that does not prevent me from sometimes imagining possibilities or what is likely to happen. These visions may inspire or terrify, make me wish I could stick around to find out, or be grateful I will never endure. As I said, mercurial.

Sometimes I do in fact believe I have lived in the best of all possible worlds. An easily disproved conceit. I worry about how things have changed: climate, AI, society. And yet, when I try, I remember so many things I once worried about that never came to pass. Sometimes even the nostalgic past can be a mirage.

While life continues, sometimes also, in its astounding variety and kaleidoscopic fractals.

Mortification 2

A recent reference to the religious meaning of “mortification” – giving up physical delights which are seen as sinful – tickled my fancy. I wonder if society today does not do a lot of the same things in relation to “scientific” fads and rumors. Mortification is basically an extreme extension of common sense rejection of total hedonism.

We all realize that if we go too crazy indulging every momentary desire, we will regret it. Some cults and individuals have extended that to believe ALL momentary delight will only lead to bad outcomes – rejection by a god, loss of eternal life, karmic judgment, whatever. So monks sat on pillars in a desert, or purposely inflicted pain on themselves to become more holy.

I have friends and read stories which indicate the same thinking is beginning to permeate the culture. Folks are avoiding ultra processed food, sugar, sun exposure, any given thing at any given day depending on the latest Internet “revelation”. All to feel better in the long run, sort out current problems, live longer and healthier.

Moderating hedonism is, of course, always a good thing. Being aware of lifestyle and its consequences is useful. But rejecting pleasure simply because it is pleasure – and therefore “evil” – is pretty stupid.

If we don’t enjoy our lives – a lot! – we are missing the whole point. That monk in the desert will refuse clothing. Some of my friends will refuse ice cream. I tend to laugh at each of them and think we will all end up in similar condition in another hundred years.

And I’ve also lived long enough to understand fads and that what is “good” for us today may be really “bad”. And vice versa.

Listener

I’ve never been an alpha male. I have stubborn firm beliefs and ideas, but both my size and temperament have caused me to keep them inbound. I’ll contribute when appropriate, rarely try to force a viewpoint down anyone’s throat. Before going very far, I’ve always found it very useful to listen with concentration. That habit makes it surprisingly easy to get along with almost anyone.

Our natural tendency in this media-driven culture is “I talk, therefore I am”. Listening becomes a mere mental intake breath, unconscious and oblivious, as we formulate what we must say next. So it pleasantly surprises anyone when you actually pay attention to what they are saying and let yourself respond to that .

Such an apparently passive conversational style is often regarded as wimpy acceptance, like the apocryphal 98 pound weakling having sand kicked on him by the big bully in the comic books of my youth. I rather find it a useful sieve. Without automatic deep engagement (with me trying to be the ringmaster), I can quietly decide if continuing interaction is worth it, and if so how I want to proceed.

I often learn quite a lot, and people remain friendly. Nevertheless, I remain internally certain of most of what I have learned and absorbed. It’s almost impossible to rock my core beliefs. I just don’t care to argue. I suspect most others – bullies included – are just as adamant..

Of course, in this blog format, nobody talks back !

Sausage

I’ve taken to habitually cooking a pot of spaghetti every month. Then I doctor some tomato sauce and add hot Italian sausage and onions. I hear the gasps .

In this age of internet prudes,”ultra processed foods” are the quick road to death. Sausage hovers near the top of the list, although with a bit of guilt lots of people continue to consume lots of hot dogs and cold cuts. Actually, what I use is no more processed than unfrozen hamburger – raw pork bits with spices. Not claiming it’s a health food but …

Sausage, of course, is famous as a metaphor. Turning nasty parts that nobody wants of a dead animal into a formless chunky mix of whatever stuffed into cleaned intestines. The results – cured or merely cooked – became staples of the diet. In days before refrigeration, a very useful way to store meat. Back then, of course, no internet fanatics .

Language use extended to describing it as the same methodology by which legislation in a democracy is passed. “Sausage making” is uglier than “log rolling” and both terms are left out of elementary simple civics texts. But for better or worse pretty much true .

Me? I’m already too old to worry about consequences. I savor each food I like as a marvelous gift. I’m even willing to chew it slowly and be very thankful for the flavor.

I do turn off the internet when doing so .

Omnivore

We had friends over for an afternoon lunch. As often happens when people in their late ’70s gather, talk tended to center on ailments and medical attention. Lately an awful lot of medical discussion – and not just for the aged – relates to diet .

When I grew up in the ’50s, there was much less concern. We ate anything we could afford. Our parents, having lived through depression and war, were grateful for simply having enough to eat. So maybe there was a little too much meat, and not much worry about new snack foods except cost.

Now – oh how different. Diet is life for so many. How they begin the day, what they must include, what they must avoid. Not only the obvious like salt and fat, but hidden issues like pesticides, GMOs, hormones, bacteria and a host of issues concerning invisible components like vitamins and fiber .

I’m slave to my upbringing, and still tend to think I can eat most anything in moderation. Humans are omnivores, after all. Our ancestors ate anything they could find when they had to. Additives, like high salt content, have been around since ancient times, and massively present not long ago. “Fresh” during most of the year in winter was a fairy tale until the late 1900s .

We talk and dream and think that at least by controlling our food we can control our health.

But. omnivores are tough creatures, well-equipped by evolution to handle almost anything.

We should always remember that .

Locally Infinite

I’ve always admired William Blake’s poem “To see the world in a grain of sand”. Although it has helped guide me through life, I find it more and more useful right now. How heaven, I discover, really is in that dandelion brilliant yellow in my lawn .

Our consumer culture has few advocates for common local miracles. No money in that! You must buy some exotic bloom, visit some distant garden, watch a feature on TV. The farther you travel, the more you spend, the more rare something is, the more the universe will smile on you.

But that grain of sand is composed of star stuff, the end result of billions of years and massive forces, just as much as any mountain, however high. In the proper frame of mind, just as inspiring. With proper regard, just as beautiful and meaningful .

And importantly for elders – more confined than we were in youth – that dandelion and that grain of sand are right here, right now. I need go nowhere. Simply open my mind and appreciate existence. The best things in life may not be free, but the definitions of both are flexible .

I’ve gradually become able to focus on the local. To be grateful for anything I can sense or think about. To truly appreciate “eternity in an hour” .

Mortal Moment

In a Roman triumphal procession, a slave rode the same chariot as the honored general, constantly whispering “remember, you are mortal”. Useful tradition. Perhaps we should reestablish it for our politicians and plutocrats. Death is still the great leveler .

I have both elements residing inside me. Logic is my general, domineering all it surveys, proud and glorious and quite imperiously smug. My body, on the other hand, plays the part of the slave and constantly reminds me of my true condition. Sometimes, like those slaves of old, it rises up in revolt to make me take notice .

For example, yesterday I had a couple of small bowls of potato chips for lunch, breaking my normal diet. The grease and salt combined for excruciating pain in the afternoon. These days, If I overdo a bit too much, I will strain joints, pull muscles, ache, lapse into a tired semi-consciousness.

Logic plans brilliant maneuvers and says “why not?” Body has the tragic answer .

I’ve learned to accept it all as part of the messaging of my universe. An easy (or relatively easy) way to control dangerous hubris. Even painful reminders can sometimes help put other good things into perspective .

The battle of the potato chips is over. Perhaps not a victory, but a good lesson in strategic dreaming .

Tough Guys

If you rabbit-hole into health news and advice on the internet, you would think that humans are snowballs in hell. So many terrible things can happen. A new problem discovered daily. Any of which are certain to cripple or kill you slowly or suddenly, at any time .

I remember that I am on the far end of millions of years of evolution. Admittedly, some luck was involved, but humans did not take over the world because they were soft and weak .

Lately we tend not to give ourselves enough credit. People can eat anything, and throughout history, they have done so. A lot or a little, in conditions from charred to raw to spoiled. We automatically vomit up most poisons, we purge bad bacteria. Anything that makes it through the first line of defenses faces almost certain oblivion from a fearsome immune system. As for injury or damage – most organs usually repair themselves .

Admittedly, we do die eventually (although that might be another aspect of evolutionary toughness). And also over half of us now survive childhood when we would have once been dead before adolescence. No matter. With or without technology we’re the baddest life form that ever existed .

Okay. We need to avoid getting hit by a truck. Eat sensibly. Follow a relatively careful lifestyle. But the parameters in that lifestyle are immense, regardless of what some nerd with a microscope “discovered” yesterday .

So swagger a bit. It’s useful to play the bully once in a while. And all advice isn’t good.

Bugs and Features

When I was writing software and something unexpected would result, we’d laughingly claim “it’s not a bug, it’s a feature!” I’ve often applied the same logic to my own life, rather than complaining about things that usually cannot be fixed.

For example, I’ve always been nearsighted. I actually enjoy taking my glasses off to view the world in a different way. Lines and shapes may be blurred, but other things such as colors are richer and I often notice different focal points .

Being short is hardly fun in this culture, but it did keep me out of trouble since I knew I would lose any fight I was in. My genes fit my size well to keep me mostly healthy, and lately it’s been a blessing to be small in cramped spaces like airplane seats. And, often, it is useful to be unnoticed and non-threatening .

The various degradations and pains of advancing age are never any fun, but if they are minor and temporary they do remind me to appreciate whatever remains. Nothing makes one appreciate normal teeth more than a toothache .

Admittedly it is a shallow, pollyannish or Panglossian view of “the best of all possible worlds” But like many philosophies, when it fits it works very well. Why waste time cursing fate, or gnawing outlook with envy? Some ambition is useful, some anger cathartic, some pain unbearable. But for the rest – well I prefer to try to change perspective .

Features, not bugs!