Your criticisms and input as always are welcome. — MoK

P2) Experience is due to the existence of physical and the change in the state of physical is due to the existence of an experience

When the subconscious physical neurological analysis completes, consciousness experiences the result, which experience becomes an input to the physical neurological, updating (changing) its state, qualia-wise, as well as already having an updated state from producing a result, then more analysis happens, and so forth.

The physical also directly understands what goes into the experience, in its own terms, since it is what made it, which suffices, in case of there being no qualia experience global broadcast to it.

C1) Therefore, physical and experience cannot be the cause of their own change because of overdetermination (from P1 and P2)

Rather, each is the cause of the other, in turn, sequentially.

P3) The experience is not a substance so it cannot be the cause of physical

Conscious experience comes too late in the process to be causing anything directly, but, it seems that indirectly it could be used for future input to what subconscious analysis comes next, or it should simpler be that the subconscious analysis just keeps on going forward, for it depends on what the internal language of the brain is (such as if qualia are a kind of short-cut language).

In either case, all the happenings would seem to be physical, although there is still the Hard Problem to figure out, yet we still know that the physical is always followed by the experiential of it, as if information always exists in those two ways, and so it is already a feat accomplished by the brain.

When you are looking for the ontological status of time — Corvus

The Eterne’s motion dooms forms’ permanence;
But, the patient time til their expiration
Restrains for awhile the shapes’ destructance;
Thus they can slowly traverse life’s distance.

Energy is a beauty and a brilliance,
Flashing up in its destructance,
For everything isn’t here to stay its “best”;
It’s merely here to die in its sublimeness.

Like slow fires making their brands, it breeds,
Yet ever consumes and moves on, as more it feeds,
Then spreads forth anew, this unpurposed dispersion,
An inexorable emergence with little reversion,

Ever becoming of its glorious excursions,
Bearing the change that patient time restrains,
While feasting upon the glorious decayed remains
In its progressive march through losses for gains.

Not really. Plato is 4D, through and through. — Arcane Sandwich

Yes, you're right; I goofed.

From my 'Now Here; No-Where':

…but where did this block come from? From what quarry was it excavated?”

“It was built in what to us would be all at once in the 5th dimension, lest it take forever to be completed, again, just to us.”

“Well, even just building a never-ending determinate block that only has a specific past and a certain future is a tremendous accomplishment, what with the foreseeing of every eventuality on forward from the Big Bang unto forever, especially the finishing of it in time, which was done even in our shortest time.”

“I told you it was fantastic.”

“But all its paths are fixed—pre-determined.”

“What matters where, what, when, or even who? In life’s fill, any narrative will do.”

“Well, true, but we’ve only just seen the near future and the near past; can you zoom out into the next dimension and show me a larger view.”

“Sure.”

She enlarged our view point, which was really a kind of condensing. I felt an uneasy shift.

“Ugh, Holy Cripes, I see things like tube-worms that begin with a fetus and end with a corpse. Oh, horrors!”

“Those are the world lines of you and everyone.”

“Quick, get rid of it; take me through my own world line, such as like a home movie run on fast forward.”

“OK, here we go. It will be such as just before you die when your whole life flashes before you just ahead of your merging into the timelessness of the great block externe. It’s the 5th dimensional wonder of the Universe.”

“Wait; there’s life after death in this block?”

“Everything in it exists forever. Rejoice, but your goose was cooked long ago, your future eggs laid ‘fore you were aglow.”

And so I saw myself being conceived—yuck, and then as a baby, a toddler, a young boy, an adolescent, and so forth, unto laying on a beach in Tahiti, then the djinni appearing…”

“Wait, stop it; I don’t want to know my future that is carved as dogma into this gargantuan tablet, upon which I’ve already had a glimpse of my cadaver.”

durations, intervals, — Corvus

Time moves in steps, not flowing smooth and free,
Each Planck-length jump too small for eyes to see;
No infinite division saves the hare
From catching up with Zeno’s theory.

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.

(There is a blending)

If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.

(Block universe)

What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.

(Good for testing out possible scenarios, but what actually happens trumps 'could have')

What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.

(Same as the previous)

Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.

(Similar also)
— Corvus

Memory’s ideas recall the last heard tone,
Sensation savors what is presently known,
Imagination anticipates coming sounds—
The delight is such that none could produce alone.

Time flies and so does fruit.
What flies? Fruit flies. — Arcane Sandwich

Time flies like a bird and fruit flies like a banana. (If you believe in 'time-flies' insects.)

That sounds like nonsense. — Arcane Sandwich

But it is analogous nonsense. Plato had 2D and 3D going on.


Back to the Biblical, which I like to write about, for it is epic:

NEWS FLASH - Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory have been found!

Original:

“Where in the Woe is Purgatory’s bane?”
Purgatory’s on Venus, where sulfurs rain.
“Where in the Heck is that deep Hell of pain?”
Hell’s found in the sun’s heart, oh hot burning pain!

“Where in the name of Heaven is Paradisea?”
 Of Heaven’s site no one has any idea—
“Really now, where’s Heaven, one and the same?”
It’s the world’s best kept secret: Earth is its name!

“Yes, that’s said, but truly, where is the stead…”
I must tell of them that they’re only read;
“…Of those places spent after we are dead?”
It’s written of words that language bred.

“‘Twas hope-word that invented All that was said?”
‘Twas these that were signed for anything Divine ‘said’.

Expanded:

The Word—The Leanings and The Gleanings

“Where in the Woe is Purgatory’s bane?”
Through stellar depths where ancient questions reign?
Purgatory’s found on Venus’ shore,
Where sulfuric clouds weep acid rain.

“Where in the Heck burns Hell’s eternal flame?”
What cosmic forge could bear that fearsome name?
Hell blazes in the Sun’s consuming heart,
Where plasma storms put demons to shame.

“Where floats fair Heaven in the cosmic sea?”
Where might that blessed realm of promise be?
Of Heaven’s true location in the stars,
No sage or saint has found the master key.

“But surely Paradise must have its place?”
Some garden hanging in ethereal space?
The answer lies beneath your weary feet:
Earth cradles Heaven in its green embrace.

“These mapped-out realms of blessing and of curse,
These spheres divine that prophets did rehearse—
Are they but metaphors in sacred text?”
They’re word-built worlds within our universe.

“When ancient eyes gazed at the starry night,
Did they see paths to realms of dark and light?”
They read the Cosmos like a sacred scroll,
Where human hopes could take celestial flight.

“The worlds above of torment and of grace,
Each carefully assigned its proper place—
Were these but dreams of what comes after death?”
They’re stories writ on Time’s eternal face.

“What power then invented Hell below
And Heaven’s heights where blessed souls might go?”
’Twas language spun these realms of aftermath,
These destinations every heart would know.

“Was hope the author of these Cosmic spheres,
These destinations for our joys and fears?”
The human word gave birth to divine worlds,
To chart the path beyond our mortal years.

“Do modern eyes, which map the cosmic deep,
Still find these realms where souls their vigil keep?”
We’ve found no golden gates or fiery pits,
But mystery still makes the Cosmos weep.

“Then what remains of all these ancient signs,
These carefully drawn theological lines?”
They live within the metaphors we speak,
Where human truth with cosmic truth combines.

“So are they real, these places of the soul?”
These destinations, are they true and whole?
They’re real as love, as hope, as human dreams—
In hearts they live, though space-time takes its toll.

“What final wisdom can these words impart
About the realms that tear the world apart?”
The universe within the human mind
May prove more vast than any stellar chart.

Time flies, in a figurative sense, when you're having a good time.
Time is slow, when you're going through some tough times. — Arcane Sandwich

Now you're a poet, too.

As when Einstein had sat next to a pretty girl and had noted the much quicker passage of time, over the slower passage of his instant of touching a hot stove.

Plato's cave allegory — Arcane Sandwich

More like that we are 3D shadows of the 4D Block universe.

Bring your favorite poets to this discussion, quote Emily D. for all I care. — Moliere

Emily is my third cousin, twice removed, but she kept coming back.

Greatest part from the series:

None of that is art. It may look like art, but it isn't art. — Arcane Sandwich

Real art:

An oxymoron. Machines are incapable of creating art, because they are art themselves. — Arcane Sandwich

more great AI art:

A.I. art is worthless, friend. — Arcane Sandwich

Great AI art:

the Elfin Queen — Arcane Sandwich

Eden's Queen?

God offered Adam a perfect version of woman,
One who would even paint ceilings, cut grass…
But this would have cost Adam an arm and a leg.
So Adam said, ‘What can I get for just a rib?’

God smiled and said, “Well, for economy class,
You’ll get someone who might occasionally pass
The remote, share some pizza, but won’t clean the cave—
And good luck getting her to mow any grass.”

“How about throwing in some basic repairs?”
Adam haggled. “Someone who at least cares
If the fig leaves need mending?” God shook his head:
“That’s the deluxe package—costs way more shares.”

“Could I perhaps get a trial period?”
Asked Adam, while God’s patience slightly showed.
“Three days to test?” “No returns,” God replied,
“And no exchanges once the rib has flowed.”

“But will she at least help tend Eden’s flowers?’
‘She’ll critique your technique for endless hours,
Then plant her own garden exactly her way.”
Adam sighed, watching his bargaining powers.

“Fine,” said Adam, ‘I’ll take what I can get.”
God grinned and said, “You won’t live to regret
This bargain basement deal—for that one rib,
You’ll get more than you know, my safe bet.”

The surgery done, Eve opened her eyes,
Looked at Adam’s bachelor paradise,
Said “This place needs a woman’s touch, my dear.”
And Paradise was never quite as nice.

You sound angry now. — Arcane Sandwich

I don't do anger; anger has no brains.

more:

The Echo

That Oxford day still echoes now,
Through halls where science makes its bow,
Reminding us how truth must fight
Through prejudice to show us how

Our origins, though humble found,
Need not our dignity confound—
For honest search for nature’s ways
Makes human wisdom more profound.

The Legacy

So let us mark that summer day
When wit met wit in verbal fray,
When Huxley faced the Bishop down
And evolution had its say.

For in that clash of old and new,
Of faith and fact, false views and true,
We see reflected still today
How progress must its path pursue.

And who stood up to wave that Book?
FitzRoy, who gave Darwin his first look
At nature’s laboratory vast—
The captain whom fate overtook.

For history’s threads weave strange designs
When paradigms cross boundary lines,
And those who help new truth emerge
May later wish for older signs.

Speaking of Divinity, we have it that Divine Inspiration is the source for the writing of the two foundational chapters of the Bible, Genesis 1 and Genesis 2, among other of the myriad claims layered upon the hoped-for Supernatural…

As evolution obliterates Eden's immutable human formation, 'Divine Inspiration's claim falls flat.

The Victorians and the rest of the world were shocked when the 'On the Origin of the Species' came out in 1859, quickly followed by the 'Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam'. 'Denial' was the best course of action for the wishers and the believers, as it still is today, somewhat, for church attendance is dropping, even in the once stable northeast.

The June 30, 1860 Showdown:
The Oxford Evolution Debate

The Setting

“Were we descended from some ape-like form?”
The question raised a scientific storm.
A thousand gathered in Oxford’s hall
To watch two worldviews wage their war.

The summer air hung thick with thought
As notables filled every spot,
Some seeking truth, some seeking sport,
In this debate so dearly bought.

The Opening

The Bishop of Oxford took the floor;
Samuel Wilberforce, skilled in verbal war,
His reputation built on wit
That often left opponents sore.

With eloquence he built his case
Against the notion of our race
Descending from some simian stock—
A thought he deemed a deep disgrace.

Then, turning with a practiced smile,
His rhetorical weapons honed with guile,
He fixed young Huxley in his sight
And launched his question, rank with bile:

“Pray tell us, sir, with candor true:
Which side of your family tree grew
The ape connection you so prize—
Grandmother’s branch, or grandfather’s view?”

The Response

Young Huxley, Darwin’s bulldog fierce,
Felt joy to hear attack so pierce—
To neighbor whispered, triumph-blessed,
“The Lord delivers, none can pierce!”

Then rising slow, with measured grace,
He turned to meet the Bishop’s face,
And launched a counterattack so sharp
It left eternal verbal trace:

“I’d rather claim an ape as kin,
Than one who’d use high office’s din
To mock scientific discourse thus—
Such rhetoric’s original sin!

“For truth cares not for social rank,
Nor holy office, purse or bank,
But follows evidence alone
Through paths both beautiful and frank!”

(Actually called it 'twaddle')

The Aftermath

The hall erupted, shock and rage
Competed on this Oxford stage,
As centuries of certain faith
Met Darwin’s revolutionary page.

Some ladies fainted, so they say,
While scholars shouted their dismay,
And through it all, one figure rose
To add more drama to the fray:

The Captain’s Moment

Admiral FitzRoy, who years before
Had captained Darwin ’round each shore,
Now raised his Bible overhead
And cried out from the chamber floor:

“The Book! The Book!” his voice rang clear,
As if to banish every fear
That evolution’s tide might bring—
The very tide he’d helped to steer.

Oh irony of fate’s design!
The man who’d sailed those seas so fine,
Who’d watched young Darwin gather proof,
Now stood against his grand design.

(The ship was named the Beagle)

Could anyone have made a different choice in the past than the ones they made? — Truth Seeker

Simply, there is no 'if' or 'different'; What actually happened trumps 'could have'.

My take on the Book of Revelation:

I would argue that no atheist book can be as good as a theist book, be it polytheist, monotheist, or pantheist. That, is Ibn Arabi's point. And that, is why such a book must be gifted. — Arcane Sandwich

It's anti-religious in parts, but that makes it to have a Biblical flavor, too, plus it has the Theory of Everything in it, as surpassing the Biblical.

Impressive task. Clearly, Omar Khayyam is to you what Mario Bunge is to me. — Arcane Sandwich

Yes, it will be a gift, a the greatest book ever made; 6400 pages of art and words, one set in 11x8.5 and one in 14x11, both on coated glossy paper. There are videos, too, but they need to be updated somewhat, although they are basically OK.

Are you familiar with this website? — Arcane Sandwich

Yes, it's mine. I'm almost done with an 8 volume set on the Rubaiyat and my extensions to it; then I guess I'll put PDFs of it there, or elsewhere, since no one could afford to buy it.

At some point we're going to need to talk about the Holy Spirit in this Thread. — Arcane Sandwich

“Bless your soul with tongues of fire; Holy Spirit burn;
Leave no trace of man’s desire; Holy Spirit turn.”

I've had religious experiences under the influence of psychoactive drugs — Arcane Sandwich

OK, time for some serious Bible study classes that I have given and written up, ha, ha:

So what does that have to do with the thesis that either Jesus is God or Jesus is not God? — Arcane Sandwich

Well, first you have to show God, or else Jesus won't have the possibility of being God.

Why would I want to show that? — Arcane Sandwich

Since the buck has to stop somewhere, there is an Eternal Basis of All, as like the Tao.

The Eternal is timeless and so it can't have any specific design going into it because it has no 'before' or 'outside'; therefore it has to be Everything possible, either all at once, as in Eternalism, or linearly, as in Presentism. (We don't know the mode of time.)

Our universe is one of its paths that was workable, since it kept on going forward.

A block universe is formed in an instant, everything actually happening once, but in a flash. Then it plays out in slo-mo, linearly, or we traverse through the already complete block of events, not being able to tell the difference.

Why would I do that? — Arcane Sandwich

Show that God is the Block Universe and we are inside God.

I have offered one such proof in the OP of this Thread, and I have done so without even being a Christian philosopher. Sure, it's a rather humble proof, but it's still a proof. — Arcane Sandwich

Try using the Block Universe to prove it.

throughout the centuries, Christian philosophers have been solely preoccupied with proving that God exists, without being equally preoccupied with proving that God is Jesus Christ. — Arcane Sandwich

It can't be proved; they need to get a life!

Of course there are changes, motions and movements — Corvus

But they are not instant, happening all at once, so, their process takes time, as maybe the Planck time and/or the speed of light.

Perhaps try getting rid of space instead…

It may that our brains spatialize the sequence of ‘nows’ so we can better navigate our way through the series of discrete nows.

How is this related to the thread? — Darkneos

I give up for now.

Not really, the subconscious isn’t what you think it is. — Darkneos

Then I wonder what the trillions of neurons and their billions of connections are silently doing to come up with the results displayed in consciousness…

No it does not. Consciousness doesn’t DO anything. — Darkneos

True! The brain does it.

You got one right.

Alan Watts — punos

I didn't watch it but he probably wisely said that all that goes on is the one big effect of the Big Bang.

I note that we impose artificial boundaries to estimate local cause and effect as best can do.

I'll leave this to you and all to read — PoeticUniverse

Which is:

The Nature of Consciousness Part 1
(Some gleaned from Gsin)

Within the Brain's vast Palace, deep and strange,
Consciousness flows, yet cannot free-range;
Like Sun or Tree, a Process, not a Thing—
A river bound within its banks of change.

(It, as a brain process can’t float around)

What fills our Minds arrives not instant-new,
But late, some half-millisecond past its due;
The Brain's swift voting finished ere we know,
Our conscious thoughts already past and through.

(A forced delay, unconscious analysis taking time )

The Map we see becomes our Territory,
While neural states write out out second story;
The basement toils unseen beneath our feet,
As upstairs dwells our conscious inventory.

(The ‘basement’ is the first storey of one’s self)

Thus Consciousness arrives too late to cause,
Though seeming master of all nature's laws;
A broadcast tape-delayed, yet feeling live—
The director speaks once action draws!

(Enjoy the play)

And when one thought has flickered through the mind,
More brain-realms answer, leaving none behind;
Thus contemplation's thread unwinds its spool,
Each moment to the next forever twined.

(The Great Stitcher; no seams)

Behold its nature's aspects five unfold:
Compositional structures manifold,
Intrinsic as our own, Informing clear,
Integrated, Exclusive in its hold.

(The whole operation)

United feels this field of conscious thought,
Though scattered be the brain-realms where it's wrought;
The qualia of sense-experience shine,
While seamless flows the change that time has brought.

(Perfect Unity!)

How can this ghost of thought move flesh and bone,
When neural deed is done and verdict known
Before awareness breaks upon our shore?
The answer in time's sequence lies alone.

(The brain does it)

Yet Consciousness brings gifts beyond mere scheme
Of reflex-action's automatic stream:
Flexibility to shape reaction's course,
And Focus sharp on what we vital deem.

(Exclusion)

It grants Evaluation's weighted scale,
Where logic, feeling, neither can quite fail;
For Survival it opens pathways new,
Where Complex choices might yet prevail.

(Evaluation)

Through Learning's endless combinations bright,
We weave perception's threads in fresh delight;
Discrimination's finest differences show
Which fruits bring health, which hold destruction's bite.

(The will is dynamic)

In Evolution's grand unfolding play,
It spurred the Cambrian dawn of nature's way;
Made predators grow keen in cunning's art,
While prey found newer paths from day to day.

(The explosion)

See Beauty bloom in flower's painted face,
As plants evolved their pollinator's grace;
While minds could ponder action's consequence
Before commitment to time's embrace.

(Actionizing)

Reality stands firm beyond our sight,
Our senses taking in its waves of light;
The Brain paints useful faces on these waves—
Makes color from mere frequency's delight.

(Just three proteins in the eye rotating according to the amount of the three primary colors)

When drugs or sleep or trauma's sudden blow
Disturb the brain, consciousness sinks below;
Change neural paths, and mind must follow suit—
For only from the brain can awareness flow.

(Consciousness is a brain process reflected)

We often miss the sea in which we swim,
Mistaking thought-stream's contents, fleeting-dim,
For consciousness itself that bears them all,
Like water bearing leaves on ocean's rim.

(The Sea in which we See)

What does that mean? — Darkneos

Hey, you finally went to sleep after all day on the forum, so I'll leave this to you and all to read the next day.

Choice is an illusion. — Darkneos

Hey, that's good! It takes the subconscious brain about a third of a second to do its analysis, and only when it finishes does consciousness get the result.

What does that mean? — Darkneos

It doesn't explain the 'voting' process of the neurological.

Also I saw the show but don't see how it related to this or what you said. — Darkneos

It only pertains to you. The show is a lot of fun, as well as being serious about the law, and they have to figure out the process behind the incident to help defend the client.

Is Jesus God? — Arcane Sandwich

First of all, there cannot be God, for a mind/brain in a system and that is composite, and in this case, very complex, which thus cannot be Fundamental and First, making the question of the Divinity of Jesus to be moot,

Secondly, to sink into the blah, blah, blah, about it, the nations around at the time didn't go for it and still don't, like the Greek Orthodox and the Jewish, even though he was one of their own, at least until he converted to Christianity (ha, ha), and of course the Romans crucified him.

the evidence consciousness does make "referral" to the brain states. — Darkneos

It provides the result of the subconscious brain process, but not the analysis.

Netflix has a great series about a new female attorney with autism spectrum disorder 'The Extraordinary Attorney Woo', filmed in Korea.

If it's just an event then it has no feelings or emotions and cannot love or feel pain. Only individuals do that. — Darkneos

"Individuals do that" because it seems that way, which is the second story, but consciousness makes no referral to the brain state processes in the basement of the first storey.

We are discovering that we are as 'robots', but hate to think of it that way.