Let us then consider, for a moment, the world as described by the physicist. It consists of a number of fundamental particles which, if shot through their own space, appear as waves, and are thus (as in Chapter 11), of the same laminated structure as pearls or onions, and other wave forms called electromagnetic which it is convenient, by Occam's razor, to consider as travelling through space with a standard velocity. All these appear bound by certain natural laws which indicate the form of their relationship.
Now the physicist himself, who describes all this, is, in his own account, himself constructed of it. He is, in short, made of a conglomeration of the very particulars he describes, no more, no less, bound together by and obeying such general laws as he himself has managed to find and to record.
Thus we cannot escape the fact that the world we know is constructed in order (and thus in such a way as to be able) to see itself.
This is indeed amazing.
Not so much in view of what it sees, although this may appear fantastic enough, but in respect of the fact that it can see at all. But in order to do so, evidently it must first cut itself up into at least one state which sees, and at least one other state which is seen. In this severed and mutilated condition, whatever it sees is only partially itself. We may take it that the world undoubtedly is itself (i.e. is indistinct from itself), but, in any attempt to see itself as an object, it must, equally undoubtedly, act* so as to make itself distinct from, and therefore false to, itself. In this condition it will always partially elude itself. — CHAPTER 12
The world is composed of distinctions... — Moliere
Yeah but, no but...
I have a problem with putting it like this, because it seems to be making a distinction between what the world is composed of, and What it might have been composed of, or might have been thought to be composed of... But that cannot be. One could at least equally say that the world is decomposed of distinctions. "In the beginning was the Word."
There is a sense in which there cannot be a world unseen, and a sense in which there obviously can and must be before seeing can arise. There must be physics before there can be physicists, but physicists are nothing
other than that physics. But the first distinction is made by the first cell, and then the first re-entry of the first distinction into itself by the first language speakers, and then...
The Observer is the observed. — Krishnamurti
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world. — The Grateful Dead
I would not say that the world is
composed of eyes, but it
has eyes, and we are those eyes.
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There's one last bit that I would still like to get a more firm handle on, which is the second half of Ch.11, on memory, counting and imaginary values. The book is incredibly compressed at this stage, and a whole new notation introduced if not more than one. I have a half understanding of it, and my next post will attempt to convey as much as I can of that half.