(no subject)
Apr. 25th, 2011 12:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
proximoceptionWe have the world in our heads except not. We control the world in our heads except not. Our attempts to control the world outside, whatever their degrees of success, inevitably proceed based on half-controlled simulations we run in a half-world within.
Excepts having been excepted, that explains part of God as a notion.
Our parents do make things right for us, as children, produce food and other necessities from next to nowhere, know so vastly more than us we negligently round it up to omniscience. When things are wrong they become something to blame, appease, forgive.
This explains part of God as a need.
Things fall into the orders that things fall into, and where they don't no order is perceived; having no internal order knowable without leaning on patterns outside us, we use some of these as crutches, scaffolds, models. Think after things long enough and things start to look like thoughts.
This explains part of God as a cause.
We fall from earlier views of ourselves at puberty, first love, first loss of love, first crucial death of another, first crucial illness of our own, first extraordinary and prolonged loss of self-control, first realization we're nowhere near on schedule, first that we'll never arrive, first that we never could have, that we're getting older, that we're declining, that we're old, that we're dying. No, 'views' is weak, from earlier feelings of what we are, say - but these feelings lasted for years, they were us, they're still part of our memories, photographs, habits, the habitual reactions of others to us etc. To feel we have fallen from what we are and for the worse, the more usual result of most of these changes, is a hard thing to face directly but a harder thing to deny entirely. The space between the new, shrunken nimbus and the lost, expansive old is a charged sort of emptiness. Unfaced, it molds its ghosts behind our back, which filter in through the two holes at the base of our skull and into our dreams or misapprehensions. The notion of a me who could handle right now better is inescapable because I've met him. If I forget just where or how, because why would I want to remember such an intimate, irrevocable loss, the meeting is projected somewhere else.
A meeting with your better self projected somewhere else explains part of God as a feeling that some unreal things are less unreal - thus maybe, we wish-think, more real.
Excepts having been excepted, that explains part of God as a notion.
Our parents do make things right for us, as children, produce food and other necessities from next to nowhere, know so vastly more than us we negligently round it up to omniscience. When things are wrong they become something to blame, appease, forgive.
This explains part of God as a need.
Things fall into the orders that things fall into, and where they don't no order is perceived; having no internal order knowable without leaning on patterns outside us, we use some of these as crutches, scaffolds, models. Think after things long enough and things start to look like thoughts.
This explains part of God as a cause.
We fall from earlier views of ourselves at puberty, first love, first loss of love, first crucial death of another, first crucial illness of our own, first extraordinary and prolonged loss of self-control, first realization we're nowhere near on schedule, first that we'll never arrive, first that we never could have, that we're getting older, that we're declining, that we're old, that we're dying. No, 'views' is weak, from earlier feelings of what we are, say - but these feelings lasted for years, they were us, they're still part of our memories, photographs, habits, the habitual reactions of others to us etc. To feel we have fallen from what we are and for the worse, the more usual result of most of these changes, is a hard thing to face directly but a harder thing to deny entirely. The space between the new, shrunken nimbus and the lost, expansive old is a charged sort of emptiness. Unfaced, it molds its ghosts behind our back, which filter in through the two holes at the base of our skull and into our dreams or misapprehensions. The notion of a me who could handle right now better is inescapable because I've met him. If I forget just where or how, because why would I want to remember such an intimate, irrevocable loss, the meeting is projected somewhere else.
A meeting with your better self projected somewhere else explains part of God as a feeling that some unreal things are less unreal - thus maybe, we wish-think, more real.
