Mysterious Universe
Jen and I have been discussing whether or not not believing in God represents a rejection of the belief that the universe is essentially beyond a purely rational explanation. Anyway, that’s how I’m interpreting it.
To me, the universe is too marvelous and mysterious to have a Creator. As soon as I look for an first cause, as soon as I try to postulate something that made all this possible, then all this becomes less extraordinary. So my inclination is simply to postulate all this and leave its reason for being here as something internal, rather than external to it. In this regard, I’m certainly influenced by Spinoza who always referred, IIRC, to “God or Nature.”
But this still leaves open the question of what happens after we’re gone or the degree to which consciousness persists or exists in the absence of the body. Here I guess I’m equally unsure of whether rejecting the soul represents a repudiation of the essentially mysterious nature of existence.
I can’t see how my consciousness will be around after my body’s gone; on the other hand, I sort of like the idea that my mom and dad are hanging about.
The metaphor that’s always made the most sense to me is the cup of water drawn from the ocean. When you’re born, it’s as if your particular consciousness is scooped from a vast sea of undivided potential. While you live, your self-aware consciousness is that little bit in the cup. When you die, the cup is poured back into the sea, so it’s not as if what you were is completely gone, but it’s no longer embodied in any way that preserves the consciousness that existed while you were alive.
None of this is particularly profound, I realize, but keep in mind that I’m writing this by the pool at Harrah’s Reno; I’ve had two quick beers, and on the sound system Frank Sinatra is singing “My Way.”
Oh my god.
To me, the universe is too marvelous and mysterious to have a Creator. As soon as I look for an first cause, as soon as I try to postulate something that made all this possible, then all this becomes less extraordinary. So my inclination is simply to postulate all this and leave its reason for being here as something internal, rather than external to it. In this regard, I’m certainly influenced by Spinoza who always referred, IIRC, to “God or Nature.”
But this still leaves open the question of what happens after we’re gone or the degree to which consciousness persists or exists in the absence of the body. Here I guess I’m equally unsure of whether rejecting the soul represents a repudiation of the essentially mysterious nature of existence.
I can’t see how my consciousness will be around after my body’s gone; on the other hand, I sort of like the idea that my mom and dad are hanging about.
The metaphor that’s always made the most sense to me is the cup of water drawn from the ocean. When you’re born, it’s as if your particular consciousness is scooped from a vast sea of undivided potential. While you live, your self-aware consciousness is that little bit in the cup. When you die, the cup is poured back into the sea, so it’s not as if what you were is completely gone, but it’s no longer embodied in any way that preserves the consciousness that existed while you were alive.
None of this is particularly profound, I realize, but keep in mind that I’m writing this by the pool at Harrah’s Reno; I’ve had two quick beers, and on the sound system Frank Sinatra is singing “My Way.”
Oh my god.
posted by Professor Dave at 7:23 PM
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