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Refuting the External World Page 4
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"Exactly," I say.
We’re both enjoying the silence for a few moments before I revert back to space again. "So, again, if we’re claiming, or even thinking about, the possibility of an independent physical space, we must first envision it. In other words, we must form a representation in our minds of what we think is out there."
"That makes sense."
"So, the representation of space is sort of an image of what we think exist beyond our perceptions. But from where did we obtain this representation of space?"
"From our experience?" Walt suggests.
"Yes, of course!" I say. "But now, what if our representation of space is just like every other representation we can conceive of – what if space is simply an element of our own subjectivity? What if space is just like color? That it’s not something that is experienced, but that its sole nature is that of experiencing itself? What would that entail?"
Walt’s thinking hard. "I’m not sure," he says.
"Let’s revisit that question later, and instead now look at exactly what this representation of space comes from, shall we?"
"Yes," Walt replies.
***
I pause to gather my thoughts. This isn’t the easiest thing to convey and I need a minute to figure out how to tackle it best. A few moments pass before I clear my throat and begin to explain.
"No one can help but notice how phenomena, or what appears in our experience, are spatially extended – that is, stretched out throughout our field of awareness in three directions," I say to Walt.
"Sure," he says.
"But here’s the thing – we can know in advance that phenomena will be extended, even before we see it."
"How so?" Walt says, clearly curious as to where I’m going.
"Well," I say, "how can anything be said to appear unless it’s extended?"
He thinks for a while. "Hmm, I guess it can’t," he says.
"Which must mean that being extended is part and parcel of what it means to appear, right?"
He thinks some more. "I guess that’s true."
"So, our experience must appear in some way in order for it to be said to appear at all – and the way in which it appears is being extended in three directions constituting volume or ‘space.’"
"Which means?"
"—that the coffee mug in front of you doesn’t appear in space – but it’s from the directions along which it is extended that we have abstracted our concept of ‘space.’"
Walt’s taking his time, carefully examining the mug on the table in front of him. "So, you are saying that there isn’t ‘space’ and stuff appearing in ‘it’ - but it’s the extension of phenomena that constitutes ‘space’ as such?" he asks.
"That’s right."
We sit for a few moments before Walt speaks again. "Are you saying that the coffee mug is space?" he asks.
I deliver the punch line. "That’s exactly what I’m saying."
***
"‘Space’ doesn’t exist independently from phenomena any more than a woman’s figure exists independently of her body," I explain to Walt. "The duality between space and things in space is purely conceptual. Space and appearances are never found apart—they are not two things—but being spatially extended is constitutive of an appearance as such and must characterize it if it is to be an appearance at all. For how can anything be said to appear unless it’s extended? Being extended is essential to what it means to appear in the first place."
I let that sink in before I continue. "And space is never found alone, absent phenomena. We cannot even conceive of space without imagining something to be extended in it, even if that something is just blackness. When we try to imagine an absolute empty space, what we’re really thinking about is some piece of phenomena, usually a patch of blackness, which, naturally, is extended – since it otherwise wouldn’t be phenomena in the first place."
A few seconds goes by before Walt puts the pieces together. "And it’s from the extension of phenomena that we have abstracted our representation of space?" he asks.
My smile says it all. Good boy.
***
"So, now we can begin to see the logic here," I say. "Since appearances and their extension are inseparable—their extension being fundamental to their being ‘appearances’ to begin with—and moreover, appearances being nothing but their perceiving, we can now reveal the only reality ‘space’ has."
"Which is?" Walt asks.
"It’s merely an element of perceiving itself," I say.
Walt looks perplexed. "I’m not sure that I get it," he says.
That doesn’t really surprise me. I don’t expect him to grasp this right away. No one does the first time around.
"Do you want to go over it again?"
"Yes, please."
"Alright," I say. "I’ve shown before that phenomena—colors, sounds, sensations, etc.—are not ‘something’ that is experienced; but what they are is nothing but experiencing, remember?"
"Right, there’s isn’t seeing and seen," Walt replies, "but there’s only seeing, only feeling, only hearing and so on."
I nod. "Good. Now, we don’t see ‘space’ any more than we see ‘color’. Space isn’t something that we perceive – but it’s the form by which experiencing takes place; the very form that constitutes what experiencing is to begin with."
Walt seems confused still. "Let me state this in another way," I say, taking a few moments before I begin to explain again. "The way in which it’s extended is not something that experiencing could do without, but is such an intrinsic element to what it is to be experiencing in the first place, that without it experiencing could no longer be regarded as such. Without that spatial aspect, experiencing would no longer be experiencing."
Walt seems to get it now. "In other words," he says, "the way in which it’s extended in three directions is what makes experiencing what it is to begin with."
"That’s right. That way in which feeling is extended constitutes what it is for feeling to be feeling in the first place. And it’s because of the way in which it’s extended that seeing is what it is – for in no way could we ever envision seeing without picturing the way in which it was extended – and still regard it as seeing."
"So you’re saying that space and experiencing is basically the same thing?" Walt asks.
"Yes! The fact that ‘space’ is simply the form our experiencing happens to take, and that experiencing as such depends on that very form in order for it to even be considered experiencing at all, reveals that space and experiencing are one and the same thing. Any division between them is purely conceptual, and furthermore, runs the risk of us forgetting that they are not separate. But if we still insist on dividing them in language, let’s at least acknowledge that ‘space’ can at best be nothing other than the way in which experiencing manifests."
I let those words hang in the air for a few moments before delivering the moral of the story.
"So, anything suggesting that space could exist independently of experiencing must be downright contradictory – for ‘space’ and experiencing are inseparable sides of the same coin. There is no ‘space’ that can exist out there, because ‘space’ is just the form our experiencing happens to take. In other words, anyone claiming that space could be out there is effectively saying that ‘the spatial aspect of our experiencing’ could somehow exist independently of experiencing – which is an obvious contradiction."
I look over to Walt. To him it’s not obvious, but that’s okay. This isn’t stuff we’re used to thinking about. Sometimes it’s nice to have somebody just spell it out for you. "Look," I say, "no aspect of experiencing could ever exist independently of experiencing, because it’s its aspects that make up what experiencing is to begin with. That is, all elements of experiencing are nothing but experiencing as such," I say to Walt.
He looks a little pale. He’s struggling. I decide that I’m just going to plow on until the penny drops. "Think about it! How it appears, being extended in three directions, is simply the way in which the world, or the manifestation, is rendered apparent – and the way in which it is rendered apparent must necessarily inhere with and be exclusive to the process of rendering itself and can in no conceivable way exist independently of it."
"It can’t?" he manages to ask.
"Saying that it could involves the absurdity of claiming that the way in which experiencing manifests can exist independently of experiencing – a nonsense proposition, palpably contradictory, not much different from saying that the way music sounds can exist independently of music. The way it sounds is the music."
"So what does it all mean?"
"It means that what remains of an independent physical space is a mere inconceivable notion. Nothing but an empty word."
A few moments pass before Walt surrenders. "A square circle?" he whispers.
Again my smile says it all.
***
"Okay, let’s recap. Let’s go over what we’ve talked about so we can put all the pieces together," I say to Walt.
"Sure."
"First, the notion of an objective reality relies on the premise that space exist independently of us, that is, independently of our experience."
"Yes."
"Second, that there’s a reality beyond our experiencing is by no means evident – all we’re ever in contact with is experiencing as such, and the idea that there’s anything beyond that is just that; an idea."
"Sure."
"Third, in order to conceive of that idea, even if we’re just entertaining the possibility of it—that there may be a world beyond experiencing—we must represent to ourselves what it is we think could be out there."
"Stop."
"What’s wrong?" I ask.
"I don’t see how what I can or
can’t conceive of has anything to do with what’s out there," he says. "Whatever is out there can’t possibly depend on what I think. There could very well exist stuff out there that are inconceivable to us; things we have yet to discover, or things that our limited cognitive abilities are unable to comprehend."
A good question and a common one.
"To assert an ‘out there’ where things can exist or not, is the very same thing as to assume an independent physical space," I reply. "We can’t invoke the notion of an ‘out there’, of objectivity, without first imagining space to exist independently of experiencing. The notion of objectivity itself depends on the existence of an independent physical space."
"It does?"
"To say that something exists ‘objectively’ is to conceive of it in a space context, that is, to believe it to exist in an independent physical space. In other words, we cannot talk of an out there without assuming an independent physical space; that is, to conceive of it as such."
"Fair enough," Walt says.
"But since we have now recognized ‘space’ for what it is, namely the form of our experiencing, we are now obliged by logic to no longer conceive of it as existing apart from that – as that would involve us imagining that the way in which experiencing manifests can somehow exist independently of experiencing."
"—which is contradictory," Walt says.
"And which leaves the notion of an independent physical space—"
"Inconceivable." Walt finishes the sentence.
"Just like the square circle."
"Jesus," he says.
"And since an independent physical space never was any more than an idea to begin with, its existence is now altogether abolished with the inability to conceive of it."
"Jesus," he repeats.
***
"So, nothing exists?" Walt asks.
"Just this," I hold out my hands, revealing the grandeur.
"We don’t exist either?"
"Of course not. We’re merely appearances."
"But appearances exist?"
"Not objectively, which is the only way anything can. To ‘exist’ means to exist objectively, which is now revealed to be a mere fantasy. Existence is not."
Walt shakes his head. "But there’s obviously something!" he says, pointing around. "What is all this?"
I bask in its magnificence for a few delightful moments before I finally answer: "It has been called many names, but I think that ‘Tao’ is the oldest."
Appendix
Even if we find ourselves unable to accept the fictitious nature of objective reality, we may at least understand that our experience must ultimately be a product of our apparatus for experiencing. And if we do, we may also recognize that the elements of three-dimensionality must also be a product of that apparatus. That is, the capacity for displaying phenomena in terms of length, breadth, and depth must be a functional aspect of our apparatus itself – for there’s no conceivable way in which the space out there somehow makes its way in here, only to then be filled with the objects of our experience.
But since the existence of the apparatus itself depends on space being an independent thing and not merely an output of its own, the whole idea collapses under its own weight when we realize the above. In other words, when we really think things through, we are left with the realization that the assumption of an objective reality entails the absurdity that our apparatus for experiencing exists within its own output.
"But," You might object, "what if there’s another space that also exists out there? What if there’s something out there that’s ‘like’ the space of our experience?"
The answer is simple. There can’t be another ‘space’ out there, because ‘space’ is merely the way phenomena is displayed in terms of length, breadth and depth – and asking ourselves whether that can exist independently of our apparatus for displaying, is just as nonsensical as asking whether anything can be ‘like’ it.
Anyone claiming that ‘space’ could be out there has simply misunderstood what it is: It’s not some independent thing, but simply the way in which all of this is rendered apparent.
A final few words
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Goran Backlund, Refuting the External World
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