Part 1:



Original Philosophical Investigation series

(1)
On Human Being.

(2)
The Extreme Humungousness of the Universe
As an Impossible Recipe.

(3)
Of Dreams Night and Day

(4)
Dancer or the Danced Upon?

(5)
When a Tree Falls in the Forest

(6)
Religion’s Restraint

(7)
Unfree Will

(8)
Time and its Blast


Prolog

In this lost haunt, on the Orion arm
Of the Milky Way, safe from the core’s harm,
We philosophers meet in the tavern,
As sleuth-hounds, unweaving the Cosmic yarn.

We search for the Start of the Universe,
The End, the Before, the After, the Kinds,
The Measures, and All That Lies Between:
The Music of the Spheres’ Magnificat.

We follow every single avenue,
Whether it’s brightly lit or a dark alley,
Exploring one-ways, no-ways, and dead-ends,
Until cornered where the Truth is hiding.


Here we go…


1.
The Map Showing the Progression
From the Real’s Basis to Humans’ Being

Objective

A kind of pyramid is envisioned, with two oppositionals and two transitionals that cross to generate the humans’ being, via this and additional pairings of necessity derived that are basic, not complicated.


The Main Section

Here’s the theory of how the Who of Being
Becomes of Existence’s Why and How,
Via the transitional Then to When
And the oppositional What and Where.

Where: Space

!
!
!

When: Future <—— Here & Now <———— Then: Past

!
!
!

What: Matter

Movement’s a must in quantum’s ‘vacuum’,
Otherwise naught would have gone on to bloom;
Stillness is impossible; Time must be!
‘Particles’ clump; in between, space makes room.

The Real’s Why is that ‘Nothing’ cannot be;
Its How is that of Possibility,
Since all methods must be open, due to
The Real’s never-birthed eternity.

Matter vs. Space, of the Formless field,
Makes for Realm-of-Appearances’ yield,
Which, since crossed by Time’s passage, it builds life’s
Pyramid from Movement-of-Appearances.

Past that Was leads to Future that Will Be,
Transformational—‘Now’ in the middle,
Rolling smoothly, through recall, sensation,
And anticipation. Time is movement!

Space/Matter, oppositional, crosses,
As the Where/What top and bottom corners,
The left to right sweep of Past into Future,
Which is really as Then-into-the-When.

Where/What plus Then-to-the-When grows to blend
The Spirit-of-Life in the Pyramid’s core,
After some more pairing relationships,
Subsequent, toward the life of our species.

Then + What is History—what has occurred,
While When + What will become Progress.
Then + Where begets Memory—Remembrance,
While When + Where induces Wishes, as hopes.

Progress + Wishes combines into Vision;
Progress + History grants Change-in-Structure;
Memory + History makes for Learning;
Memory + Wishes births Change-of-Outlook.

Change-in-Structure + Vision = Planning,
Change-in-Structure + Learning = Creating,
Change-of-Outlook + Vision = Growth;
Change-of-Outlook + Learning = Direction.

Finally, Planning, Growth, Creating,
And Direction make for Being’s Who.

( Matter —- Space ) [ Being ] ( Future <—- Past )


The Inspiration

Before the above analysis, I had mapped
The forces, noting that two are transitional,
The Electric and the Magnetic,
Each giving rise to the other,

And that two others are oppositional,
The Weak and the Strong,
The Weak promoting changeability,
The Strong promoting stability.

What about gravity, AWOL? Where is it?

It needs matter and motion to exist
And so it is the blended result of
All the forces, a secondary effect.
Gravity is the spirit-blend of all.

( Strong —- Weak ) [ Gravity ] ( Electro <—> Magnetic )

The strong force facilitates stability;
The weak force leads to changeability.
Electric action, leading to magnetic motion,
Adds to the Movement-of-Appearances.

The strong force binds the atomic nucleus,
Barely beating E/M’s repelling force.
The weak force counters strong’s stability,
Through decay that promotes changeability.

It is the forces that count for everything,
Matter being but a secondary singing,
For atoms exert forces through space,
Especially of the electromagnetic race;

So then, it is forces that disburse
The currency of a rich universe.
Space is a kind of a large-scale limitation
Of an underlying discrete network of connections.

Atoms would not even know at all
That their companions existed, with no call,
Without the push or pull of the forces’ thrall,
For then they themselves would be as pall
As some ghosts passing through a wall.

The four forces hold our world together
In its diversity of shape, structure, form, and color.


Conclusion

So, would oppositional and transitional pairs
Work for our human being as well?

Yes!

The Duos and Duels of Nature:

Dualities seem to assist nature:
Good/evil, on/off, hot-cold, man/woman,
Up/down, left-right, here-there, past-future, and
So, none can exist without the other.

What, Where, Who, Then, and When:

‘What’ Matter particles the ‘Where’ Space,
Begetting the ‘Appearances-in-Motion’ pace,
As ‘Then’ Past moves through ‘Now’ to ‘When’ Future—
This ‘Spirit-of-Life’ granting our ‘Who’ face.

Past flows to Future through the rolling Now,
As Memory to Anticipation’s bow;
Through Sensation’s bridge they smoothly glide—
Time’s essence is but Movement, this we vow.

Thus from the simplest oppositions flow
The complex patterns that let Being grow;
Through Time’s transforming touch they weave and blend,
Till consciousness can rise and wisdom know.

Like streams that join to form a mighty river,
These forces merge their gifts that they deliver;
From Why through How, from Then through Where and When,
Till Being’s Who emerges whole forever.

The Pyramid of Being thus builds its throne
From basic blocks to patterns fully grown;
Each level adding new complexity,
Till Being’s Who can claim its realm as known.

Mark well how from the simplest pairs arise,
The structures that let consciousness devise
Its plans and visions, learning as it grows,
Till Being’s Who can open wisdom’s eyes.

So ends this tale of transformation’s art,
How Being’s Who found form in every part;
From cosmic forces paired and merged anew,
Till consciousness could make its upward start.


Overall Summation

Why Existence?

No ‘Nothing’.

+

How?
Possibility.

!
!
v

Where? Space. <— Appearances —> What? Matter.

!
!
v

Who’s Being.

Yes, the Real’s Basis is as simple as can be, but we are the most complex that can be, and that’s where the Real’s excitement is.


2.
The Impossible Recipe?
A Dialog About the Universe’s Free Lunch

Goal:

Explain the extravagant spendthrift Universe.


In the Main

The Cosmos spreads its feast beyond the sky,
An endless banquet none can quantify,
Where matter rises from energy’s deep—
The greatest feast, yet none can tell us why.

Explaining the Cosmos is as easy as pie:
It’s an endless extravagance beyond the sky,
Which shows that matter’s very readily made—
Underlying energy raising the shades.

This All sounds rather like the ultimate free lunch,
For the basis is already made, with no punch,
It ever being around, as is, never a ‘was’—
Everywhere, in great abundance quite unheard of.

Behold this cosmic lunch that comes for free,
Where something springs from what can never be;
The basis ready-made without a source,
Eternal present without history.

Really now, why’s the universe so large—
With trillions of galaxies of billions of stars,
About which so many planets whirl and twirl,
With so much dust swirling in between worlds?

There are vast multitudes, true, so easily made.
So, there are stars to burn, as with riches,
But why must this largest be so damn large?

It is because the infinitesimal, the smallest,
Must be so very tiny, so minuscule,
As simple, continuous fields of waves,
Neither composite nor of course complex.

So, there is a basic lightness of being
Because anything more would then be of parts
And thus beyond the fundamental arts?

Yes, it is that the base can only be as such
When it’s just a bit more than nothing.
This handy for flexibility of construction.

Where do we lie amid this scale so vast?

The largest is so large, near everywhere,
Since the smallest is so small, barely there.
At the mid-point, there’s finite unity,
We’re suspended there, hovering entirely.

What!

Infinity * Infinitesimal = 1, as Finite Unity

Is it too that there are then so many more chances
For arrangements, due to the extravagances?

Not as meant, but that falls out, too, as free,
For since the opposite Not cannot be,
It must then be Everything—of Possibility.

I’m still astounded by the amount;
It seems to be an impossible recipe.

More numerous than thoughts can ever count,
Universes bubble past all amount;
In pockets vast beyond our universe,
New cosmos spring from every quantum fount.

What kitchen could produce this causeless cake?
What chef could such infinity awake?
There is no source from which it all could spring,
No recipe these worlds could undertake.

No turtles hold our cosmos from below,
No final cause makes all existence flow?
The buck stops at the edge of Nothing’s realm,
Where Being simply is—that’s all we know.

Not from Nothing?

Pure Nothing cannot give what Being needs,
No void can sprout existence’s first seeds;
Yet Something clearly dances here and now,
While Nothing’s barren garden grows no weeds.

It’s too much!

In just our universe, at first there were
About 2x10**85 particles
Which is now 2x10**76, less annihilations,
Since there are one billion photons for every proton.

Cripes!

There’s even more of it than can be imagined—
Of lavish big spenders, there in amounts unbounded:
Bubbles of universes within pockets more,
Across all the times and spaces beyond our shore!

What is the birthing source of this tremendous weight?
There is nothing from which to make the causeless cake!
Its nature is undirected, uncooked, unbaked?
There can’t be a choice to that ne’er born and awaked!

There can’t be turtles on turtles all the way down;
The buck has to stop somewhere in this town.
‘Nothing’ is unproductive—can’t even be meant;
All ever needed IS, with nothing on it spent!

Yes, none from nothing, yet something is here, true;
But, really, you can’t have your cake and Edith, too!
And yet I’ve still all of my wedding cake, I do—
It’s just changed form; what ever IS can never go.

My wedding cake remains through all its change,
Though forms shift through their transformations strange;
What IS can never slip to never-was,
As matter-energy cannot estrange.

Since there’s no point at which to impart direction
The essence would have no limited, specific,
Certain, designed, created, crafted, thought out meaning!
Thus the Great IS is anything and everything!

Without a chef to guide creation’s art,
No recipe could give it form or start;
Thus Everything must be its own design,
When no Designer stood to play that part.

This All is as useless as Babel’s Library
Of all possible books in all variety!
Yes, and even in our own small aisle we see
Any and every manner of diversity.

Like Babel’s Library of endless books,
Where every possible combination looks
Both meaningful and meaningless at once,
All patterns swim in possibility’s brooks.

The information content of Everything
Would be the same as that of Nothing!
Zero. The bake’s ingredients vary widely,
And so express themselves accordingly.

Each aisle contains all diversity,
Each shelf holds chaos and symmetry.
The information content of it all
Equals pure Nothing’s null density.

Through dimensions stacked like layer cake,
See how the possible paths undertake
Their dance through time—your world-line stretching far
Through futures that your choices might yet make.

What’s Everything, detailed? Length, width, depth, 4D—
Your world-line; 5th, all your probable futures;
6th, jump to any; 7th, all Big Bang starts to ends;
8th, all universes’ lines; 9th, jump to any;
10th, the IS of all possible realities.

The fifth dimension holds all might-have-beens,
The sixth lets jump between these parallel scenes;
The seventh spans all cosmic histories,
While eight contains all universe machines.

The ninth permits our leaps through space and time
To any cosmos in the grand sublime;
The tenth encompasses reality
In all its forms, beyond reason or rhyme.

We stand before infinity’s grand horn,
Where endless plenty spills through endless morn.
Yet some stay hungry at this boundless feast—
A cosmic irony that leaves us torn.

What IS must be because naught else could be;
Existence brooks no opposite, you see;
Like mathematics’ truth, it simply is,
Beyond all cause, eternally set free.

Each universe a bubble in time’s wine,
Each possibility allowed to shine;
When Nothing’s ruled impossible by logic,
Then Everything must endlessly combine.

The multiverse spreads wider than all thought,
More numerous than numbers ever wrought;
Each quantum choice spawns new reality,
Till every possible path is caught.

No chef controls this cosmic cuisine’s yield,
No recipe these realities wield;
The menu offers everything at once,
When all that could exist must be revealed.

In this grand feast where all must simply BE,
Each morsel holds eternal mystery;
For in the end, the simplest truth remains:
Something IS—as none knows all, you see.

So here we dance in Being’s endless light,
Where all that could exist takes form in flight;
No reason gives us rhyme for why it’s so—
The cosmic cake bakes itself in the night.

Conclusion

Your elucidation is quite a piece of cake!
Yo, it exceeds, as well, and so it takes the cake.
Everything ever must be, because ‘nothing’ can’t?
Yes, it’s that existence has no opposite, Kant!

So, we’re here at the mouth of the horn of plenty,
For a free breakfast, lunch, and a dinner party;
Yet many starving are fed up with being unfed.
Alas, for now I have to say, ‘Let Them Eat Cake!’.


3.
What and How are Imagination’s Dreams Night and Day?

Dreams

Dreams are the starlight of our minds,
A canopy of hope that shines
Above our lives to light our days,
And prove we are more than our daily ways.

Dreams are the starlight of our minds’ vast night,
A scattered glory burning clear and bright;
Above the mundane world of daily tasks,
They spread their constellations of delight.

Like stars that guide the sailor’s seeking eye,
Our dreams direct us through life’s clouded sky;
Each hope a beacon burning in the dark,
Each vision showing paths we might yet try.

The day may bind us to Earth’s solid ground,
In duty’s chains and labor’s circle bound;
But dreams, like stars, reveal the infinite,
Where possibility knows no fixed round.

As astronomers chart heaven’s gleaming face,
So dreamers map the mind’s unbounded space;
Each vision adds another point of light
To guide us through time’s dark embracing grace.

These stellar fragments of our deeper souls
Burn holes through habit’s thick concealing folds;
Like distant suns they hint at worlds unknown,
Where wonder’s light its mystery unfolds.

By day we walk the well-worn paths of Earth,
Our feet upon the ground that gave us birth;
But nights reveal our truer, higher selves
In dreams that prove our more celestial worth.

Each hope that glimmers in our inner sight
Burns like a nova through doubt’s clouded night;
These cosmic sparks of possibility
Show paths beyond the bounds of wrong and right.

Our dreams outfit the ships of thought with sails
To catch imagination’s star-born gales;
Beyond the harbor of the known they fly,
Through spaces where no Earthly map avails.

Like telescopes that pierce the cosmic deep,
Our dreams reveal the secrets that we keep;
Each constellation of desire and hope
Maps territories that our souls would reap.

The mind’s dark matter teems with dreams unborn,
Like nebulae from which new stars are torn;
Each vision waiting for its time to shine,
Each hope a sun to light some future morn.

These astral wanderings prove we’re more than dust,
More than our daily labors and their rust;
For who could dream of flight yet never fly,
Unless some star-born spirit earned their trust?

So let the night-sky of the mind reveal
Its chart of dreams, whose light can help us heal;
For in their glow we glimpse our higher selves,
And touch the truths that daily life conceals.

Imagination

Behold how heart and soul and mind combine
When touched by life’s sweet wonders, line by line;
As Love lifts heart toward inspiration’s peak,
The spirit takes its flight through realms divine.

Deep in the soul, unimaged whispers sing
Their wordless songs of every nameless thing;
Too vast for bounded thought to capture whole,
Yet in the depths their echoes ever ring.

These mysteries that no eye has ever seen
Flow through the subconscious, dark and green
As ancient forests where no path is marked,
Where meaning dwells in spaces in between.

If one but yields to wisdom’s gentle source,
These whispers take a dual-flowing course:
Through senses’ gates they pour their precious wine,
While mind drinks deep their truth without remorse.

See how they merge like rivers joining seas,
As intellect and feeling find their keys;
Beyond mere joy they lift the spirit high
Where inspiration sets the vision free.

Here in this space where reason touches light,
Imagination spreads its wings for flight;
The mind’s cold logic catches fire at last,
As understanding blazes pure and bright.

The heart’s wild wonder meets the searching mind,
While soul-songs leave their fingerprints behind;
In this sweet union poetry is born,
As all the fragments of our self align.

Like scattered stars that form one galaxy,
These separate powers join in harmony;
The heart’s deep knowing guides the mind’s clear sight,
Till wisdom blooms in full maturity.

Conclusion

So let the wonders of this life inspire
Your heart to leap toward heaven’s distant fire;
While soul-songs echo through thought’s deepest caves,
Till mind and spirit join their sacred choir.

For in this merging lies creation’s art:
When logic’s light and feeling’s shadows part,
Then poetry springs forth like morning’s dawn
To heal the rifts within the human heart.


4.
Am I the Dancer or the Danced Upon?

Objective:

Explain the Scribe of Being

Mainly

Who’s the scribe; what slab is written upon?
Where’s horrid Hell, and gloried Heaven yon?
I asked Myself of such stylus and slate:
‘You’re both the dancer and the danced upon’.

The mind that seeks itself in endless quest
Finds seeker, seeking, sought—all self-possessed;
No separation twixt the eye that sees
And that which is by seeing’s light caressed.

We chase our shadows round the cosmic hall,
Like cats that chase their tails and sometimes fall;
Not seeing that the watcher and the watched
Are one same dance against existence’s wall.

Who observes the thought that thinks this thought?
And who records the wisdom thereby caught?
The scribe who writes upon the slate of mind
Is but the slate on which the words are wrought.

Heaven and Hell we seek in realms apart,
Not seeing they’re but chambers of one heart;
The judge who weighs our deeds in final scale
Is weighed himself—of every judge a part.

Consciousness curves back upon its source
Like snake that swallows tail in endless course;
Subject and object merge in knowing’s light,
As river joins the sea without remorse.

The dancer whirls to music’s mystic sound,
Not seeing that the dance itself spins round;
Both movement and the one who moves through space
Are one same flow above the spinning ground.

The stylus writes its message on the page,
Not knowing it’s the page that sets the stage;
The words that flow are both the ink and sheet,
As wisdom writes itself from age to age.

Conclusion

Look in the mirror—who sees whom therein?
The eye that looks, the face that might have been?
Both viewer and the viewed are one same self,
Playing at two until the game wears thin.

So ask not where the scribe and slate may dwell,
Nor seek for separate Heaven, separate Hell;
All opposites unite in consciousness,
Where knower, known, and knowing weave their spell.