Epistemology: or how you know what you know.
Know what I mean?
Know what I mean?
It all started with the proverbial caveman, who had a physiologically modern brain, and the common sense that presumably went along with it. As he went about hunting mastodons and picking berries, he looked up and saw a big yellow ball that crossed the sky, and at night, a rotating swirl of stars. All of this had a bit of regularity to it, as the village shaman, who had an eye for such things, was quick to note. But the regularity could be put to quick use, and be used to predict the onset of the seasons and the optimal times for planting berries and hunting migratory game. Naturally, the caveman hadn’t the time or inclination to investigate the source of the shaman’s divination, so instead of knowing what the world was like he had to liken it to something else. And so the sun and starry sky moved as if the world lay on the back of a big turtle. Content with this knowledge, the caveman could now look at the sky with the satisfaction of understanding.
Ten thousand years later, a medieval peasant looked up into the heavens and wondered. All of this had a bit of regularity about it, as a monastic astronomer, who had an eye for such things, was quick to note. By charting and systematizing myriad observations of planets and stars, the astronomer could not only predict the motions of the heavens with greater accuracy, but also predict new events like the onset of tides and the eclipses of the moon and sun. Naturally, the peasant hadn’t the time or inclination to think it through, so instead of knowing what the world was like he had to liken it to something else. And so the sun and starry sky moved about the earth while attached to transparent crystal spheres. Content with this knowledge, the peasant could now look at the sky with the satisfaction of understanding.
It was the year 1856, and an American farmer looked up into the heavens and wondered. All of this had a bit of regularity about it, as an English astronomer, who had an eye for such things, was quick to note. The motions of the heavens could be mapped to simple Newtonian equations that could predict the wanderings of celestial objects with perfect accuracy, and provide the mechanical laws that explained the fall of apples and the dynamism of steam engines. Naturally, the farmer hadn’t the time or inclination to think it through, and so instead of knowing what the world was like he had to liken it to something else. And so the sun and stars, and the physical processes which impelled them to move were aspects of an eternal clockwork universe, set in motion by God, and as immutable as time and space. Content with this knowledge, the farmer could now look at the sky with the satisfaction of understanding.
It was the year 1926, and a high school teacher looked up into the heavens and wondered. All of this had a bit of regularity about it, as a German physicist, who had an eye for such things, was quick to note. The motions of the heavens were relative, not absolute, time was a dimension, and matter was energy and energy matter. And from the simple equation E=MC2, you can derive the mechanics of the planets, understand time, energy and matter, and atomic reactors and bombs. Naturally, the teacher hadn’t the time or inclination to think it through, and so instead of knowing what the world was like he had to liken it to something else. And so the cosmos was an entity embedded in relativistic dimensions of space and time, and reflected the determined mind of a God who never played dice. Content with this knowledge, the teacher could now contemplate the cosmos with the satisfaction of understanding.
It was the year 1996, and a college physicist looked up into the heavens and wondered. All of this had a bit of regularity about it, as an English computer scientist, who had an eye for such things, was quick to note. The world was indeterminate, a quantum flux, all spun out of nothingness. It was symphony of vibrations from an infinity of one dimensional strings. And from the simple equations that linked all the forces in the universe, one could create quantum computers that could spin universes out of universes, think an infinity of thoughts, and end in God. Naturally, the physicist hadn’t the time or inclination to think it through, and so instead of knowing what the world was like he had to liken it to something else. And so he envisioned a multiverse that was comprised of an infinity of coexisting universes, a unity of all knowledge, a resurrection after death, and a cosmos with meaning. Content with this knowledge, the teacher could now contemplate the cosmos with the satisfaction of understanding that for now at least would have to do.
Metaphor and Meaning
Life is endless calculation, a weighing of likely options, procedures, and paths to take. For our primitive ancestors, life was simple because knowledge was limited, technology was simple, and complex things were easily encapsulated in metaphors that explained the world in a phrase. The universe was simple because the questions were simple, since early man didn’t have the tools (e.g. advanced mathematics, the telescope) that would enlarge the number of events he could perceive, and thus the questions they would imply.
But of course, there was always some wise guy (or wise man, depending upon how you look at it), who saw an angle in the ability to fine-tune the simple events. And this self styled shaman (or depending upon the era: holy man, astrologer, astronomer, physicist, or pop psychologist) rose to the occasion (or business opportunity) by his ability to predict wondrous events, which in this case were the times for sunrise and sunset.
(more to come, when I figure out what I’m going to say next)
Ten thousand years later, a medieval peasant looked up into the heavens and wondered. All of this had a bit of regularity about it, as a monastic astronomer, who had an eye for such things, was quick to note. By charting and systematizing myriad observations of planets and stars, the astronomer could not only predict the motions of the heavens with greater accuracy, but also predict new events like the onset of tides and the eclipses of the moon and sun. Naturally, the peasant hadn’t the time or inclination to think it through, so instead of knowing what the world was like he had to liken it to something else. And so the sun and starry sky moved about the earth while attached to transparent crystal spheres. Content with this knowledge, the peasant could now look at the sky with the satisfaction of understanding.
It was the year 1856, and an American farmer looked up into the heavens and wondered. All of this had a bit of regularity about it, as an English astronomer, who had an eye for such things, was quick to note. The motions of the heavens could be mapped to simple Newtonian equations that could predict the wanderings of celestial objects with perfect accuracy, and provide the mechanical laws that explained the fall of apples and the dynamism of steam engines. Naturally, the farmer hadn’t the time or inclination to think it through, and so instead of knowing what the world was like he had to liken it to something else. And so the sun and stars, and the physical processes which impelled them to move were aspects of an eternal clockwork universe, set in motion by God, and as immutable as time and space. Content with this knowledge, the farmer could now look at the sky with the satisfaction of understanding.
It was the year 1926, and a high school teacher looked up into the heavens and wondered. All of this had a bit of regularity about it, as a German physicist, who had an eye for such things, was quick to note. The motions of the heavens were relative, not absolute, time was a dimension, and matter was energy and energy matter. And from the simple equation E=MC2, you can derive the mechanics of the planets, understand time, energy and matter, and atomic reactors and bombs. Naturally, the teacher hadn’t the time or inclination to think it through, and so instead of knowing what the world was like he had to liken it to something else. And so the cosmos was an entity embedded in relativistic dimensions of space and time, and reflected the determined mind of a God who never played dice. Content with this knowledge, the teacher could now contemplate the cosmos with the satisfaction of understanding.
It was the year 1996, and a college physicist looked up into the heavens and wondered. All of this had a bit of regularity about it, as an English computer scientist, who had an eye for such things, was quick to note. The world was indeterminate, a quantum flux, all spun out of nothingness. It was symphony of vibrations from an infinity of one dimensional strings. And from the simple equations that linked all the forces in the universe, one could create quantum computers that could spin universes out of universes, think an infinity of thoughts, and end in God. Naturally, the physicist hadn’t the time or inclination to think it through, and so instead of knowing what the world was like he had to liken it to something else. And so he envisioned a multiverse that was comprised of an infinity of coexisting universes, a unity of all knowledge, a resurrection after death, and a cosmos with meaning. Content with this knowledge, the teacher could now contemplate the cosmos with the satisfaction of understanding that for now at least would have to do.
Metaphor and Meaning
Life is endless calculation, a weighing of likely options, procedures, and paths to take. For our primitive ancestors, life was simple because knowledge was limited, technology was simple, and complex things were easily encapsulated in metaphors that explained the world in a phrase. The universe was simple because the questions were simple, since early man didn’t have the tools (e.g. advanced mathematics, the telescope) that would enlarge the number of events he could perceive, and thus the questions they would imply.
But of course, there was always some wise guy (or wise man, depending upon how you look at it), who saw an angle in the ability to fine-tune the simple events. And this self styled shaman (or depending upon the era: holy man, astrologer, astronomer, physicist, or pop psychologist) rose to the occasion (or business opportunity) by his ability to predict wondrous events, which in this case were the times for sunrise and sunset.
(more to come, when I figure out what I’m going to say next)
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