Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Whereof We Cannot Speak and The First Myth

WHEREOF WE CANNOT SPEAK, THEREOF WE MUST REMAIN SILENT.

and:

THE FIRST MYTH

Ludwig Wittgenstein’s densely and meticulously reasoned Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, published in 1922, concludes with the elliptical statement above (not the subtitle). Ludwig, in his preface to the work, paraphrases: “What can be said at all can be said clearly, and what we cannot talk about we must pass over in silence.” Is there anything the human mind can’t talk about? Without intending here a nuts and bolts analysis of Ludwig’s philosophical argument, we will instead use his conclusion to launch an exploration of our own within the labyrinthine corridors of the purview of the mind, or, what is meant herein by the term “mind”: the conscious part of the brain (also known as the cerebrum).

By the “conscious part of the brain” we mean the seat of that uniquely self-reflexive human awareness that people refer to when they say “I” or “me”. “Me, myself and I”: the most intimate companions known to any man. Companions? Yes, and without fail every sane human deems it so. But when the mind thinks “I”, whom is it addressing? Itself. And who is speaking? Itself. Hmmmm, how can this be? Isn’t this tantamount to the brain lifting itself by its own bootstraps?! A hand grasping itself or an eye seeing itself is the logical equivalent. How can you see the back of your own head? Not with a mirror: what’s seen in a mirror is a reflection. Let’s see what may be said clearly about this curious state of affairs, and what deserves Ludwig’s silence.

The ultimate question for a man—because the exemplary illuminator of Ultimate Mystery—is “Who is this speaking?” (or, alternately, “Who am I?” )… NOT: “Does God exist” or “What is the purpose of life?” Yet it’s certainly the de facto quotidian practice that the ordinary mind never asks of itself the first question, whereas it’s quite prone to ask the latter two. Also, note that the latter two invite investigation away from the source of the questions; further, they can be answered (viz., all religions are answers) whilst the former cuts directly to the chase—but right up a dead-end alley! Basically, silence is the only proper answer to ‘Who?’ since the responding agency IS the asking agency. You might as well have enquired: “What happens to your lap when you stand up?” or “What’s the answer to this question?” What’s the point? Here then, is a prime candidate for the “whereof we cannot speak… “; for here is…The First Myth: “I”.

What exactly happens when the mind disregards Ludwig’s advice however, and provides the answer to itself of: “I am speaking” or “It’s me!”? It is, in effect, pretending unto itself. And all pretence is known pretence. Thus, at some level the mind must know that talking to itself is just a talking…of the talking! Ah hah! Now, why would the mind pretend to itself? And why isn’t everyone unavoidably aware that instead of “I,” it really is: “Attention on the set!—this is the conscious part of the brain speaking…”?

Another supremely unmasking question for an individual man: “What am I going to think next?” Any self-respecting mind that can ask the question clinically and acutely should be goggle-eyed and struck dumb, for—surely everyone can agree—nobody has the faintest notion of what idea is going to occur to them next, in the willy-nilly chain of thoughts continually arising in the mind! Zounds!: except when engaged in scientific research on some physical-world related problem, the brain is not in control of itself. It cannot dictate what it thinks; it registers and reacts to whatever external stimuli the environment provides, whether a hot stovetop, or a book of poetry or a cinema film or the artist’s blank canvas (or the blinking prompt-icon in a word document on a computer screen, importuning input for the written task at hand…).

Here’s one more killer question: “When did you decide to be born?” Or, “When did you decide to be a sorehead; to be beautiful or ugly or smart or short or happy or glum?” Face it and see clearly: ‘you’ had nothing to do with, have nothing to do with and will have nothing to do with creating the reality within which you move and breathe. Do I have your attention?` It is The First Myth in another form. Perhaps you don’t buy this scenario, yet with impartial observation and careful analysis it’s inescapably true. But the mind will say otherwise, and it is here that Ludwig’s counsel “thereof we must remain silent” becomes apt and essential. Only in silence, both outward and inward, can The First Myth be fully bared for what it is: pretence and misdirection. This is re-cognition and awakening.

Re-cognition? Consider an analogy. You walk into your garden shed to fetch a tool for weeding, when Yeek! you nearly step on a venomous snake curled on the floor at your feet!! Jumping back like a scalded cat and turning to dodge out the door, it suddenly clicks that it’s NOT a snake at all: it’s a coil of old rope lying on the floor. Whew! Pant, pant! Be still my beating heart. OK. So, what happened? The mind was fooled and took an illusion for reality. Sound familiar? Your famous “I” has the same substance as that snake in the shed; it’s just that the “I”-fooling goes on interminably—in everybody but Those-Who-See. Analogous to the seeing-thru (recognition) of the illusion of the snake, when the penny drops, all confusion, fear, worry, unease and self-importance related to “I” falls away, leaving the unadorned (perhaps even laughable) what-there-is-really: the conscious part of the brain talking of, for and to itself. When you see THAT, well, all bewilderment and noise condenses into a blackhole and vanishes. THEN, you re-cognize what’s going on...

Monday, February 4, 2008

The Tenth Man

THE ‘TENTH MAN’ STORY

Once there were ten monks traveling together from one Master to another, in search of the enlightenment they had failed to obtain. Crossing a river in flood, they were separated by the swift current and when they reached the far shore they reassembled while one counted the others to make sure that all were safely across… alas, he was only able to count nine brothers.

Each in turn counted the others, and each could count only nine. As they were weeping and bewailing their drowned brother, a passing traveler on his way to the nearest town asked what the trouble was and, having counted them, assured them that all ten were present. But each counted again, and the traveler, unable to persuade them, left them and went on his way…

Then one monk went to the riverside in order to rinse his tear-stained face. As he leant over a rock above a clear pool he gave out a cry and, rushing to his nine fellow-monks, he announced that he had found their poor drowned brother at the bottom of a pool. So each in turn went over to the rock in question and, leaning over, looked into the depths of the pool.

When all had seen their poor drowned brother, whom, owing to the depth of the pool they could not reach, they celebrated a funeral service in his memory.

The passing traveler, returning from the town, asked them what they were doing and, when he was told, pointed out to them and assured them, that since each had celebrated his own decease, and since all had celebrated the decease of each, one and all they were well and truly dead!

Hearing this, each monk was instantly awakened, and ten fully enlightened monks returned to their monastery to the intense delight of their grandmotherly old Master.

Note:

Each monk had found the answer to the OPEN SECRET, which the traveler had missed because he didn’t know it was a secret: THE TENTH MAN IS THE ONLY MAN. THERE IS NO OTHER…