The world is not a picture, ok. But how then to know it? What do you think about this?

Yes, I know what you are asking.
What I was implying in my post about looking at the railings from the vehicle. Is that we see a picture in the standing wave, the strobe effect. It looks static to us, but in reality it is not, it is moving. But what it is that is moving isn’t what we see, what is moving is a natural element of nature, like water, air, fire, or light. The picture we see is emergent in this and we play a part in seeing it and producing what we see.

By analogy, when a person looks at a rainbow. The position of the rainbow is dependent on their position, the position of the rain and the position of the sun. The position of the rainbow is directly influenced by the position of the viewer. And if there isn’t a viewer, there isn’t a rainbow.

The standing wave is like this, it is only seen and known by an observer and what is seen is determined by the nature of the observer.

Going one stage further, the person viewing the picture is also a standing wave, so something in the movement of the observer and the movement of what they are seeing provides enough stability, is still enough for the experience to seem to be substantial and static in some ways.

So to answer your question, but how then to know it?
To develop wisdom, an appropriate philosophy, to develop ways to connect with nature, to learn from nature.

Also some can seek guidance, some can develop wisdom, some can learn to interpret ancient teachings and mythologies and gain insight. — Punshhh

At this moment in time I only know the reality that I exist within at this moment in time. I cannot know anything outside this reality because I cannot know what I don't know.

I could read The Republic by Plato and learn new things, but even after reading The Republic, even though my reality may have changed, it is still the case that I only know the reality that I exist in at that future moment in time.

It remains the case that at any moment in time, I can only know the reality that I exist in at that moment in time. However, this is not saying that my reality doesn't change with time.

We can change our reality, for example by reading The Republic, but we can never know what exists outside our reality. We can never know whether our reality is or is not reality itself.

As with Heidegger's Dasein, at each moment in time, there is an ever-changing horizon of knowledge that we can never go beyond.

My reality is not a static thing but is a dynamic thing.

My reality doesn't exist as a stone exists but has being as humans have being.

My reality is more a process in time than a substance in space.

We understand ‘same picture’ by seeing it as ‘same picture’. Or as you put it, by seeing something as ‘marks on paper’. The notion of marks on paper is no less in need of interpretation than seeing something as a duck or a rabbit. There is pre-interpretive, pre-conceptual perception. — Joshs

I agree entirely, apart from the last sentence. We agree that perception is not a passive process but involves activity (whether conscious or unconscious). Then we say that there is a perception before, without, independently of, all those processes. I don't think that fits together.
It is true that sometimes we are surprised by a loud noise or an unexpected flash or touch. We are startled, we jump, as they say. But that is not a perception - it's a reaction. In fact, we usually do manage to explain "I heard a loud noise" or whatever. One might, reluctantly, call that a perception; the difficulty is that a perception is always a perception of something. So it would be better just to say, "I heard a loud noise, which startled me." But that's a retrospective account and doesn't necessarily reflect my experience.

The reason I mention this is that in mysticism there is the idea that there are experiences in which the mind, or normal mental processing involved in the experience, is superseded by the body, or something approximating the soul. Indeed there are whole areas of practice seeking to do this. — Punshhh

There certainly are. What's more there are many reports of such events taking place. But are they veridical? By which I mean, not merely are they in fact accurate reports? Are they, perhaps retrospective, even filtered through the expectations of those practicing the practice? Many times, even if you take the reports at face value, they don't look as if they are necessarily veridical, but have quite different aims.

I’m not sure we would say that seeing the picture as marks on a page is an aspect of it (as it is so generally an aspect of any drawing), or maybe it is, as our becoming aware of the truth of it, the trick of it, both together as you say. Also, I would think that sometimes a rose is just a rose. In other words, I’m not sure seeing a chair, even recognizing or identifying a chair, would count as perceiving an aspect of it; as if each time we regard it as a chair. — Antony Nickles

I can understand that. On the other hand, I can't argue with @Joshs that it seems to have exactly the same conceptual structure as the duck and the rabbit. It may well be that it in fact has a different status, as a description that mediates between two incompatible interpretations. It may even count as a more objective description than either of the interpretations. In fact it may even be the appropriate answer to the question what the duck-rabbit picture is - what "it" is. Your chair, of course, is not a picture. One might point out that it is difficult to interpret it as anything else, so that case is different. As against that, who knows what puzzle pictures of a chair might be created? There is a not dissimilar issue, however, and that is the description under which we recognize it. It is a chair, but it is also furniture, carpentry, wood, a luxury and so forth.

I’m not sure whether Astorre’s pointing out that some countries are just recognizing a thing’s presence is just as mundane as this, but, in contrast to equating a thing with something specific (with “is”), the difference in perspective at least highlights the occurrence of something surprising us (perhaps our letting a thing surprise us). — Antony Nickles

I agree that @Astorre's paper gave me a new perspective on "exists". I'm not sure that, in the end, the grammar is determinative - natural language is too flexible - some would say sloppy - for us to take it that seriously. But it is certainly suggestive.

Going one stage further, the person viewing the picture is also a standing wave, so something in the movement of the observer and the movement of what they are seeing provides enough stability, is still enough for the experience to seem to be substantial and static in some ways. — Punshhh

I really like your examples. I shall add them to my collection of stereotype or generalization busters. But extending that model to people, IMO, doesn't help much. I can take on board that people are not just fixed objects, like rocks, but are also a collection of processes, in constant change. So are many of the things that we see. But the phenomenon of a standing wave is very different from the brain waves that you may be thinking of. For one thing, they don't create the same kind of illusions.

There is pre-interpretive, pre-conceptual perception.
— Joshs
I agree entirely, apart from the last sentence. — Ludwig V

Damn it. I meant to write ‘ there is NO pre-interpretive, pre-conceptual perception’.

Wanted to thread this back to the OP

Damn it. I meant to write ‘ there is NO pre-interpretive, pre-conceptual perception’. — Joshs

That's good news. I've done similar things myself. :smile:

Someone told me Russian speech pervasively pictures properties as external things, impinging on the subject, where in German, the speaker owns the properties, so instead of the cold is upon me, it's I have cold. Do you think that influences the respective philosophies? Germanic languages conjure a huge inner landscape. — frank

As a native speaker of German, I'm unsure what difference they articulated here. It certainly doesn't work for "cold", as "I'm cold," is most commonly "Mir ist kalt," which translates to "Me is cold," where "me" is the dativ case, as in "Give ME the book." This is far closer to "cold is upon me" than "I have cold."

There are certainly "I have" constructions, such as "Ich habe Hunger," ("I have hunger") or "Ich habe Angst" ("I have fear"). In some cases, alternatives are equally common, as in "Ich bin hungrig," ("I am hungry.")

None of this conjures any kind of inner landscape for me (but that's something that might emerge as meaningful in direct language comparison).

@Joshs @Astorre

Your chair, of course, is not a picture. One might point out that it is difficult to interpret it as anything else, so that case is different. As against that, who knows what puzzle pictures of a chair might be created? There is a not dissimilar issue, however, and that is the description under which we recognize it. It is a chair, but it is also furniture, carpentry, wood, a luxury and so forth. — Ludwig V

I take Wittgenstein’s use of the duck/rabbit picture specifically only for him to have a simple, uncluttered, obvious case (like the builders) to draw out how an “aspect” works (analogously as it were, and not literally to only this type of case), which is different than when we discuss “interpretation” as only between options, and perhaps only in certain cases, like in taking an action from the way we interpret something first. I do think your examples are aspects of a chair: as regarding its beauty, and then perhaps only in its relation to the room; and, separately, regarding it as an example of finesse in carpentry; but, also, as a frivolous expense—bourgeoisie; or, becoming aware of it’s possible place in dance choreography.

I realized it was important to see that these are not aspects of the chair (necessarily), but that, in perceiving an aspect, we are regarding the chair as…. Much as we might perceive someone writhing in pain on the ground as a drain on taxpayer’s dollars, or we perceive someone as having a soul (and thus treating them as if they do).

This is to point out that an aspect is not an essential, constitutional part of a chair. Wittgenstein’s modern “essence” of something is the criteria we would use to even consider it one. This also speaks to how we “recognize” it as one, which in this sense would be: (the means by which we judge) differentiating it from something else, say, what we might mistake it for.

For our current purposes, what comes to be important about something for society (forming the criteria for it), here, in the “Western” case, may be more “fixed” or identified with the thing it is said to “be”. “She is a lawyer” is perhaps to necessarily associate them, equate them, and so maybe limit them as only that. Whereas what is done with she:lawyer (which I have claimed may be only to point them out from others, i.e. that person**) is not to necessarily associate them with the kind of person we take lawyers to be. This is not to say that the grammar is actually determinative in this way (even if not as I claim hypothetically), though the strong correlation in the case of “is” framing the picture of “essence” as metaphysical (though whether chicken or egg came first), begs that question, even perhaps to be possibly researched further.

Mir ist kalt," which translates to "Me is cold," where "me" is the dativ case, as in "Give ME the book." This is far closer to "cold is upon me" than "I have cold." — Dawnstorm

**My understanding is that in English this dativ form only remains to point out (identify) the (indirect) object, such as “I gave them flowers”, but nowadays in English we would normally say “I gave flowers to them”.

Calling (some individual) someone out, as a function, is like pointing at them, then simply saying, “lawyer”, as an attribution. And maybe this is like perceiving someone as something, just an aspect of them rather than making it an essential part of their identification. As if we did not control all of Marx’s means of production of the other, so they would not have to answer for all other lawyers, judged as if it were also all of what they are (allowed to be).

My understanding is that in English this dativ form only remains to point out (identify) the (indirect) object, such as “I gave them flowers”, but nowadays in English we would normally say “I gave flowers to them”. — Antony Nickles

Pretty much. Outside of that it only survives in specific idoms, such as "Woe is me," which I've seen native speakers miscorrect to "Woe is I" (which shows that the dativ is ailing).

As for what you'd normally say, while I can't offer a native speaker's intuition, my impression is that people put the important information at the end of the sentence, so it'd be "I gave them flowers," if the focus is on what you gave them, and "I gave flowers to them," if the focus is on who you gave the flowers to (whom you gave the flowers... <-- this usage seems in sharp decline, which must irk the no-preposition-at-the-end-of-a-sentence crowd).

At this moment in time I only know the reality that I exist within at this moment in time. I cannot know anything outside this reality because I cannot know what I don't know.

Yes, I know this and I agree. This is the starting point from which we can begin an enquiry. But unless we dare to go beyond this, then we are stuck, while wearing a pair of blinkers.

I realised this a long time ago and a looked for ways to find out something more. Others have done too and can tell us about it and we can seek a common thread. One in which our conditioned biases etc are screened out.
Also I consider that we would be able to (have the capacity to) know extra knowledge of it were imparted to us. That for example, if an alien were to arrive and tell us how things are, to give us the full explanation of existence in a manual. That we would understand it easily and would find that it tally’s in some way with a natural law, that we have worked out about our bit of experience. Or it might not be an alien telling us, it might be ourselves, animals, or plants, or even gods.

@Joshs @Wayfarer @frank @Ludwig V @Punshhh

Do you think we can discover something new by changing the perspective in this way? — Astorre

I think the opportunity is there. We might take a moment to investigate the specific differences of the individual cultural grammar apart from their relation to, say, in opposition to, the idea of “is” as essence (say, “fixed” vs “moving”). I feel like we may be skipping over that step to jump into a theoretical philosophical discussion that perhaps has more to do with its relation to “essence” than the grammatical/cultural independence. That we might be taking them as justification of something we’ve already decided, or want, or are forced into, rather than evidence of something we may not yet understand, something surprising, unthought before.

The reason I mention this is that in mysticism there is the idea that there are experiences in which the mind, or normal mental processing involved in the experience, is superseded by the body, or something approximating the soul. Indeed there are whole areas of practice seeking to do this.”
— Punshhh
There certainly are. What's more there are many reports of such events taking place. But are they veridical? By which I mean, not merely are they in fact accurate reports? Are they, perhaps retrospective, even filtered through the expectations of those practicing the practice? Many times, even if you take the reports at face value, they don't look as if they are necessarily veridical, but have quite different aims.

Yes and that is a big problem within mysticism in the current world. It is taught in different ways in many different places. There is no common accepted terminology, or practice. But a philosophical analysis is different from practice and with the caveat that it may be little more than anecdotal, it can be considered and discussed.
There are some things that can be found to be in common in all schools and a can form the basis for further study. For example, to develop means of stilling, or escaping the mind, the world of thinking about things. And to instead acquaint one with one’s body and with other plants and animals via communion and interaction, screening out, or independent of the thinking mind.
There are many other commonalities to be found.

I really like your examples. I shall add them to my collection of stereotype or generalization busters. But extending that model to people, IMO, doesn't help much. I can take on board that people are not just fixed objects, like rocks, but are also a collection of processes, in constant change. So are many of the things that we see. But the phenomenon of a standing wave is very different from the brain waves that you may be thinking of. For one thing, they don't create the same kind of illusions.

Yes, the analogies do become a bit strained when you throw in people. But perhaps if we see the human body as a vehicle that we ride and see out of through the senses. I would include the mind with body ( the computation that goes on in the mind) and reduce the person to an onlooker, soul, or spirit.

Perhaps another analogy is appropriate. That of fire, a world of fires. We have the fire of the strong atomic force, the fire of the weak atomic force. The fire of electricity, the fire of spirit. All these fires interact in complex ways and can accommodate standing waves in an instant. That the fire of spirit equates to consciousness and beings are standing waves in that fire. Being a fire it can readily interact with the other fires, while remaining distinct. Perhaps the fire of electricity is analogous to the activity found in the brain. Electricity can take on many forms and structures with the right structures to work in.

Incidentally I might mention that 'substance' in philosophy is more properly 'substantia', 'the bearer of predicates', than 'substance' 'a material with uniform properties'. The philosophical term 'substance' is actually a different word than the everyday English word 'substance'. Of course this is common knowledge to students of philosophy but it doesn't hurt to repeat it from time to time. — Wayfarer

This is a wonderful comment that led me to the following reflections:

The key Greek concept of ousia was a noun derived from the verb einai (“to be”). This etymological connection lends it a dynamic connotation, closely aligned with “being” or “existence” (Aristotle, Metaphysics). In contrast, the Latin translation substantia was derived from the verb substō, literally meaning “to stand under” or “to be the foundation of something.” This translation has been deemed inadequate, as it “reified” or transformed the dynamic act of being into a static “something” that “stands under” things as their foundation (Heidegger, Introduction to Metaphysics).

In my view, this conceptual shift had profound consequences for the entirety of Western philosophy. Instead of exploring being itself as an event or process, metaphysics became preoccupied with the search for a static, indivisible “substance”—an unchanging foundation of reality. A striking example of this is René Descartes’ dualism, which divided the world into two independent substances: the thinking substance (res cogitans) and the extended substance (res extensa) (Descartes, Meditations on First Philosophy). This pursuit of a fixed, foundational “thing” underpinned many philosophical systems. Martin Heidegger, critiquing this tradition, argued that the translation of ousia as substantia lost the original, dynamic meaning of ousia as Being, leading to the “forgetfulness of being” and its reduction to the realm of beings (Heidegger, Being and Time).

Thus, the historical precedent of translating ousia as substantia serves as evidence for my hypothesis, going beyond mere speculation. This case demonstrates how linguistic form can transform a dynamic process into a static entity, creating a dominant paradigm that process philosophers, such as Hegel (Phenomenology of Spirit), Whitehead (Process and Reality), and Deleuze (Difference and Repetition), had to consciously overcome over centuries.

Incorrect translation is not a separate problem, but, as I believe, a consequence and confirmation of my main idea. He demonstrates how linguistic features, in this case the obligatory use of the bundle "to be," can predetermine fundamental philosophical concepts and direct metaphysics towards the search for a substantive basis, which then had to be consciously overcome.

We can illustrate the problem of “mistranslation” with the example of Parmenides’ statement: “Being is, non-being is not.” In a language with an obligatory copula, this phrase sounds like a final statement fixing being. In contrast, the translation of the same phrase into Kazakh and Chinese, suggested at the beginning of our discussion, completely changes its meaning: “Becoming is, non-becoming is not” (Bolý bar, bolmaý joq) or “The Way exists, the non-Way does not” (dào yǒu, fēi dào wŭ). These translations turn a statement about a static entity into a dynamic statement about a process and a relationship. This is a clear example of “mistranslation” as a conceptual act, not a grammatical error.

:100: :ok: :clap:

Here's what the AI found on this issue in deep analysis mode:

Greek Ousia and the Verb "To Be" (Einai)
The origins of the philosophical tradition, as is well known, lie in Ancient Greece. Here, the central term for designating essence or substance was ousia (οὐσία). Its etymology is of crucial importance: it is derived from the present participle feminine ousa of the verb einai (εἶναι), meaning “to be” or “I am.” This direct grammatical connection between the philosophical concept of “what a thing is” and the act of “it is” constitutes a unique intellectual foundation.
This connection implies that the concept of ousia is not an external abstraction but is deeply rooted in the very act of being. The nominal form ousia (a noun) carries the active, dynamic force of the verb (action). This suggests that for Greek philosophers, the starting point for reflections on being was inseparable from its living manifestation. Aristotle employed ousia in his Categories, defining prōtē ousia (πρῶται οὐσίαι), or primary substance, as a concrete, individual thing (e.g., “this man”), which serves as the ultimate subject of predication and the fundamental essence of reality. According to Aristotle, all other categories—qualities, quantities, relations—are ontologically dependent on this primary substance (Aristotle, Categories).
Latin Substantia and the Loss of Connection
A critical conceptual divergence occurred with translation. The term ousia was rendered into Latin as substantia. Substantia, in turn, derives from the verb substare, meaning “to stand under” or “to support.”
This substitution was not merely an innocent choice but a profound conceptual shift. The transition from a term tied to the verb “to be” (ousia) to one based on the metaphor of “standing under” (substantia) fundamentally altered the philosophical intuition about the nature of reality. The word substantia encourages thinking in terms of an underlying stuff or a bearer of properties, a fixed substrate, rather than a living act of being. This is the very “starting point of mistranslation” we sought to identify. This translation gave rise to a centuries-long intellectual habit of seeking a stable, unchanging foundation beneath the veil of a changing reality.
Historical context confirms this. Philosophers such as Boethius (ca. 475–526 CE), who translated Aristotle’s logical works, played a key role in shaping the Latin philosophical vocabulary. Following his translations of Porphyry’s Isagoge and commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories, a Latin tradition emerged that, for seven centuries, remained underinformed about Greek philosophy. This tradition was forced to develop its own vocabulary and concepts based on these foundational translational choices (Boethius, Commentaries on Aristotle’s Categories).
Finally, this conceptual divergence was definitively cemented in early Christian theology, particularly in debates about the Trinity. The use of the term homoousios (“consubstantial”) and the subsequent distinction between ousia and hypostasis required a strict, technical definition of “substance” that was entirely detached from its Greek, etymological roots. This theological dispute transformed the concept of a static substance into an unquestionable dogma, firmly embedding it in the cultural and intellectual foundation of Europe.

That for example, if an alien were to arrive and tell us how things are, to give us the full explanation of existence in a manual. — Punshhh

An alien may as be different to us as we are to a cat.

Would a cat understand if we explained Sartre's theory of existentialism to it?

Would we understand if an alien explained what they know to us?

Perfect! I had many debates on this forum in years past, on account of my claim that the noun 'ontology' is derived from the first-person participle of the Greek verb 'to be' (which is, of course, 'I AM'). Accordingly, I argued that ontology was, properly speaking, concerned with the nature of being (literally, 'I am-ness') rather than of 'what exists'. This distinction I held to be an example of what I considered fundamental to the proper distinction of 'being' from 'existence', which is hardly recognised by modern philosophers. I was told that my definition was 'eccentric' and completely mistaken. Finally, I was sent a link to a paper I mentioned to you before, 'The Greek Verb 'To Be' and the Problem of Being' , Charles Kahn, whom I was told was an authority on the subject. But I learned that rather than challenging my claim, this paper actually supported it, through passages such as:

[Parmenides] initial thesis, that the path of truth, conviction, and knowledge is the path of "what is" or "that it is" (hos esti) can then be understood as a claim that knowledge, true belief, and true statements, are all inseperably linked to "what is so" - - not merely to what exists, but what is the case (emphasis in original).

[The] intrinsically stable and lasting character of Being in Greek - - which makes it so appropriate as an object of knowing and the correlative of truth - - distinguishes it in a radical way from our modern notion of existence. — Charles H. Kahn

--

Finally, this conceptual divergence was definitively cemented in early Christian theology — Astorre

hence Heidegger's critique of 'onto-theology', the 'objectification' of the being. While the basic fact of the matter is that Being is an act, not a thing. (Something that is hardly news to Buddhists.)

Glad to have someone contribute who now recognises this distinction! :pray:

@Jamal

I believe that these findings have a direct impact on the things that we have discussed with you in other topics.

For example:

Then there's the added confusion around the word 'substance'. As you might know, 'substance' in philosophy means something quite different from 'substance' in everyday use. The philosophical term originated with the Latin translation of Aristotle's 'ouisia', which is much nearer in meaning to 'being' than to our word 'substance'. Essentially, for Aristotle, substance is the underlying reality that persists through change. A substance is a combination of matter (the potential to be something) and form (the actual, defining essence of that thing).The translation was actually 'substantia', meaning, that of which attributes can be predicated.

So the upshot of all of this, was that Western culture adopted this rather oxymoronic conception of 'spiritual substance' or 'thinking substance'. Whereas, the ability to manipulate analyse and exploit material substance, the main occupation of science and engineering, proceeded brilliantly. So when modern people talk about 'dualism', it is usually something like Cartesian dualism that they have in mind, even if they don't know any details of how that originated or really what it means, And besides, they will say, the idea of 'thinking substance', which they will equate with 'soul', is an outmoded concept. Everyone knows, they will say, that mind is what the brain does, the credo of scientific materialism. — Wayfarer

Some people ask, "What does your ontology give me?"

The answer is: EVERYTHING.

The way a person understands themselves, for starters.
If you reconsider the foundation on which everything is built, won't it change the superstructure?

In my view, this conceptual shift had profound consequences for the entirety of Western philosophy. Instead of exploring being itself as an event or process, metaphysics became preoccupied with the search for a static, indivisible “substance”—an unchanging foundation of reality. — Astorre

Consider "Socrates is a philosopher".

On the one hand, "is" could be a static "being", an unchanging substance. On the other hand, "is" could be a dynamic "becoming", a changing process.

Regardless of the meaning of "is", consider the meanings of "Socrates" and "philosopher".

"Socrates" and "philosopher" are concepts.

Even if "is" is being used as a static "being", the expression as a whole "Socrates is a philosopher" is dynamic, as all concepts by their very nature are dynamic.

No concept is static, in that no concept has a fixed meaning. The meaning of any concept constantly changes. What I mean by a particular concept is most certainly different to what you mean by the same concept, and what I mean by a particular concept is constantly changing as I learn new things.

Fixity in language is impossible. Language by its very nature is dynamic.

Before talking about the dynamics of concepts, I’d like to clarify: what exactly do you mean by “being”? Do you equate it with the linguistic meaning of the word, or with a concept?

If you reconsider the foundation on which everything is built, won't it change the superstructure? — Astorre

My interest in philosophy grew from a spiritual quest (rather a quixotic one, hence the avatar). I pursued it through two degrees, one in Comparative Religion, the second in Buddhist Studies. There is a religious aspect to it, although 'religious' is probably too narrow a word. It is more like 'theosophical', (not referring to the Theosophical Society, but to the original 'small t' version.) Some of the experiences (or epiphanies) originating from those studies have had considerable influence on me, and I've been tracing them through various philosophers and schools. That change you’re referring to is ‘metanoia’, a transformation of perspective.

Before talking about the dynamics of concepts, I’d like to clarify: what exactly do you mean by “being”? Do you equate it with the linguistic meaning of the word, or with a concept? — Astorre

"Being" is a word in language and Being is a concept in the mind.

As regards linguistic meaning of the word, the Merriam Webster Dictionary describes "being" as "the quality or state of having existence, something that is conceivable and hence capable of existing, conscious existence, the qualities that constitute an existent thing, a living thing .........................."

As regards concepts in the mind, each word represents a concept, whether "being", "the", "quality", "or", etc

As concepts in the mind are dynamic, and words represent concepts, the word for a concept must also be dynamic.

It seems to me you are confining “being” to the realm of linguistic tokens and mental concepts, and therefore discussing only our representation of being, not being itself.

But philosophy has long asked whether there is an ontological reality — “what is” — that exists independently of language, mind, or concepts.

If you reduce being to a concept in the mind, you’ve already answered the question in advance: it exists only as a mental construct. That’s a legitimate position, but it’s not an inquiry into being — it’s an inquiry into thought.

I am interested in the other question: whether there is something that is regardless of whether we speak of it, think of it, or conceptualise it. This is the difference between epistemology and ontology.

I have already told you above, and I will tell you again. I am not diminishing your reasoning, because it is correct within your paradigm. You are talking about epistemology, but I am talking about ontology.

I probably won’t surprise you by saying that I am neither a philosopher by profession nor by my initial education. Only now, after many years of working in my field, am I trying to earn a philosophy degree, seeking to substantiate my ontological intuitions, using this forum, among other things, as a tool for development. I am a lawyer, or more precisely, a specialist in legal proceedings (or, more broadly, a specialist in the process of law enforcement). Since my student days, when out of five hundred people in my cohort I was the only one who chose the direction of legal process rather than substantive law, I have always been more interested in how something works rather than what it is made of. Apparently, this inclination has unconsciously carried over into my philosophical pursuits.

I am impressed with your ideas and think you’re a valuable contributor to this Forum.

I am interested in the other question: whether there is something that is regardless of whether we speak of it, think of it, or conceptualise it. This is the difference between epistemology and ontology. — Astorre

Suppose there is an ontological "being" independent of human language or human thought.

How can a human approach ontological being if they can neither speak about it nor think about it?

What other approach is there?

In no way — it’s all speculation, in the sense that any scientific postulate is, at its inception, a conceptual construct accepted without direct proof, but rather on the basis of its explanatory and predictive power. For example, the law of conservation of energy and momentum holds true in the overwhelming majority of observed cases, yet in certain quantum systems these laws are formulated differently or have limited applicability. The same applies to many fundamental notions of modern physics, including descriptions of particles and fields that cannot be directly perceived by our senses. If one assumes that the absence of direct verification renders a concept “nonfunctional,” then by that logic we would have to discard a substantial portion of theoretical science.

We simply ask: “What if it’s not at all the way we think it is?” — and then proceed to test the persuasiveness of the arguments for self-contradiction, falsifiability, and so forth, employing every known epistemological tool at our disposal.

In no way — it’s all speculation, in the sense that any scientific postulate is, at its inception, a conceptual construct accepted without direct proof, but rather on the basis of its explanatory and predictive power — Astorre

How can you speculate about the ontology of being without using language or thought?

The moment you speculate about the ontology of being using language or thought you are in the realms of epistemology.

And language and thought are, by their very nature, dynamic rather than static.

How can you speculate about the ontology of being without using language or thought? — RussellA

This was the starting point for my article.

It seems to me you are confining “being” to the realm of linguistic tokens and mental concepts, and therefore discussing only our representation of being, not being itself.

But philosophy has long asked whether there is an ontological reality- “what is”- that exists independently of language, mind, or concepts — Astorre

I just thought I would mention, since you have been bringing Heidegger into this discussion, that while Heidegger would agree that reducing Being to mere linguistic or conceptual representation is a trap that the Western metaphysical tradition after Plato fell into, he would insist that the issue is not just limiting being to language and concepts, but that our very linguistic-conceptual framework is already rooted in a historical understanding of Being, one that has narrowed over centuries.

Heidegger would push back hard on your framing of “ontological reality” as existing independently of mind and language. He would argue that to claim Being exists independently would still be to treat Being like an object of metaphysical realism, another “thing” that is “out there” regardless of us.

Instead he would stress that Being is not a “thing” that “exists” alongside other entities. Our access to Being is always through our existence (Dasein), the being for whom Being is a question. Saying “exists independently” risks falling into the metaphysical opposition of “subject vs. object”, the very structure Heidegger wants to overcome. For Heidegger, Being is not in the mind, nor outside it; rather, it is the condition of intelligibility that makes both “mind” and “world” possible. Without language there is no Being, but language is not mere representation, it is unconcealment.