"When Myth Incarnates in the Waking World"
Steppenwolf
Here is the passage on Steppenwolf I mentioned in another thread:
Returning to my previous statement that we define sanity by functionality, the question arises of how best to define insanity, when we're so open to all experiences. Dysfunctionality would be the obvious answer, but there is more than one kind of dysfunctionality, and insanity is a strong term. We have already ruled out hallucinations. In the case of a thing you have personally experienced, you cannot be justified in concluding that it does not exist, as that which exists is that which we experience, or that with which we have a relationship. The delusions of a psychotic, however, are not actually direct experiences; they are interpretations of direct experience.
Consider the case of a sleeping disorder, in which the sufferer sees the dream images of REM sleep, superimposed over waking reality. These images may be terrifying, such as venomous spiders or snakes, but the sufferer accepts their reality without question or criticism while he is having the experience. This is only a sleeping disorder (albeit a strange one) and is not considered a form of psychosis, because no lasting delusion flows from it. The sufferer believes he is seeing spiders or snakes, but the dream passes and the images disappear. They are not worked up into a story of any kind.
How does this relate to the classical three criteria for a thing's reality? These three are vivid perception and the feeling of real-ness, agreement between observers, and continuity across time. Vivid perception, of course, is simply perception, the phantasia catalyptica of the Stoic school. An experience of the kind I am discussing feels completely real, with every bit as much surface vividness as a waking experience. The spiders, on the other hand, don't inject their venom- a lack of consummation distinctly dream-like. Our view grants reality to all types of perception, to whatever degree the thing is perceived- and the level of reality here is just below true waking.
Agreement between observers is also perception, as any other observer in the situation would inevitably be an object of perception in his own right. It goes without saying that no other observer in this situation would be seeing spiders, but to the sufferer with the sleeping disorder this can disprove nothing, as both the spider and the other observer remain objects of perception. The only conclusion he could actually draw is that he is in a position to give direct assent to both perceptions, while the other observer can give direct assent to him alone, applying (at most) provisional assent to the presence of a venomous spider in the room.
As for continuity across time, the dream images disappear again after just a few minutes, along with the sense that they were ever real. So out of the three criteria for a thing's reality, the spiders possess none completely. They appear extremely vivid but they do not strike; they cannot be observed by anyone else; and they don't last for very long. They were only ever partially real; they were less real than waking reality. The language we use and the distinctions we draw may be a little unusual, but this conclusion isn't all that far from what the subject actually means, when he says to himself, "It was just a dream."
A true psychotic, on the other hand, does not just see things. He constructs and maintains a personal mythology, believing in it absolutely on an ongoing basis. Events and interactions are re-interpreted, fitting them into the overall story. What this is, in essence, is a one-man fundamentalism, an elaborate interpretation of reality rather than direct experience. It is not personal mythologies that are at all dysfunctional, but to accept such a mythology as an absolute truth. (This is not to suggest that the sufferer from a mental illness has any choice in the matter; that depends on the particular illness.)
The problem, in other words, is not direct experience, no matter how strange or unusual the experience may be. Nor is the problem belief as such, or personal mythology as such. A personal belief system may be quite bizarre, without being any more bizarre than the teachings of many mainstream religions. The problem is obsession.
My definition of insanity, therefore, is this: obsessive fixation on a particular interpretation of reality. To be obsessed with a particular worldview is to be insane, to a greater or lesser degree depending on the degree of obsession and not on the subjective strangeness of the worldview itself. To refuse to participate in any worldview is insipid in concept and impossible in practice, so that is not a viable alternative- although it is attempted by many. The world contains many people who don't really believe in anything. It also contains a fair number who believe obsessively, captivated by their own mythologies, and to various degrees insane. In the words of William Butler Yeats, "The best lack all conviction, while the worst are filled with a passionate intensity." Both the best and the worst here are a sorry lot.
Spiritual and mental health, then, lie in a different direction, the method we know as ringing the changes. The specific examples given above are not particularly important, they merely serve to illustrate the concept. Ringing the changes can be applied to everything, from personal interactions to metaphysical questions, and the decision to think in this expansive way is the decision to be sane.
The cliche of the blind men with the elephant is very much to the point here. Rather than arguing and creating rival orthodoxies, they should just have compared notes. If they had known anything about ringing the changes, they might not have ended up too far off the mark.
Applying the same method to the world that we live in, can we not create a more complete approximation of the world as a whole, independent of all orthodoxies whether scientific or religious?
Let's return to the example of a personal mythology, as dramatized by Hermann Hesse in the novel Steppenwolf. The protagonist of the novel, one Harry Haller, believes himself to contain two natures: the fierce and lonely "wolf of the steppes" and the cultured and civilized man of the intellect. Torn between his two natures, he lives in despair, unable to reconcile himself with human society and believing himself unfit for it, while at the same time holding himself aloof from it and in some sense superior. This character's private mythology has become destructive and dysfunctional, marked by obsession, a fixed idea. Not surprisingly, he considers suicide, but holds off when he reads a pamphlet, the Treatise of the Steppenwolf, which says exactly this:
The division into wolf and man, flesh and spirit, by means of which Harry tries to make his destiny more comprehensible to himself is a very great simplification... His life oscillates, as everyone's does, not merely between two poles, such as the body and the spirit, the saint and the sinner, but between thousands and thousands.
The conclusion of the Treatise is that what is needed is humor, for "humor alone (perhaps the most inborn and brilliant achievement of the spirit) attains to the impossible and brings every aspect of human existence within the rays of its prism."
Haller later visits the Magic Theater, a surreal wonderland of bizarre and conflicting realities, all designed to encourage the Steppenwolf to expand beyond the fixed ideas of his private mythology. The Magic Theater is virtually an allegory for ringing the changes, teaching that what is important is neither to accept a single reality nor divide life in two, but to live simultaneously in multiple worldviews and to play with them all.
The concept can be applied to any number of things, including every aspect of mundane existence. In one's personal interactions it is indispensable. Applying the art of magic to one's daily life is very much within this spirit, but I am not talking about any formal occultism. Most esoteric systems are both rigid and elaborate, possible objects of obsession rather than routes to freedom. They are things to ring the changes on, rather than with, although they can offer riches if approached wisely. My preference is to approach the source, the Realm of Myth of which all such systems are interpretations. I am talking about being magic and not just "working" it.
So how can this actually be done? How can ringing the changes be attained and lived? There's no easy answer, but I can provide an example. My father David Douglas Thompson, the creator of Relationship Theory, passed away several years ago. The term "ringing the changes" was his own invention, and he never explained why he used that term, although it puts me in mind of a number of different bells ringing at the same time to produce a resonance. He was also very skeptical of any formal system of occultism, and of dogmatic systems in general. The core ideas of Relationship Theory had appeared to him in a mysterious dream, and he spent the next few decades working out the implications, without any formal training in philosophy or metaphysics.
Considering the origins of the Theory in an unusual dream, it is perhaps not surprising that I dreamed of its creator, more than a year and a half after he passed away, as a bringer of gnosis from the land of the dead:
1
At the edge of the water, the mist comes in.
Sorrow brushes my neck, just as light as a dream.
There is a distant horn across the deep, flat bay-
It is only a warning to keep the boats away,
But I shudder, regardless, at the ebb and the flow,
For the things that must come
And the things that must go
For the things that dwell deep, on the ocean's floor,
And the hint of a message from the farthest shore.
2
And you stand there again, with a demon's mad eyes,
But as silent, and solemn, and fearful as me.
And the wind drops to nothing, as empty and still
As the depths of the ocean. And there, in the chill,
We are both of us haunted. The things we have done,
Either you as my father
Or me as your son-
Though we drown them as deep as the ocean's floor,
They cannot be erased or denied anymore.
3
It is I who speaks first. "After all, though," I say,
"I'm a demon as well. None has known me but you."
And the wind from the ocean moans out once again
Like the cold, subtle touch of this loss on my skin.
And you nod there, in silence, inclining your head.
"Let me tell, you then, son,
Of the things of the dead,
Of the song that I heard in the ocean's roar
And the secret knowledge of the other shore."
4
So you speak, for a time, and I hear, with respect
Of the burdens and wisdom and songs of the dead.
Then the horn cries again from across the dark bay
And you look in my eyes. "They have called me away."
I had no chance to speak- when I blinked, you were gone.
And of all of those words
I remember not one.
But I will have cause to recall them once more
When I stand at your side on the farthest shore.
The reaction of a skeptical materialist to all this is very easy to imagine. We tell ourselves there's an afterlife because we're afraid of our mortality, and all heavens and hells are mere human creations, desperate attempts to appease our fears. Except I have no particular opinions about life after death. I don't know whether there's an afterlife or what form it might take; I don't know whether we reincarnate or whether death is the end. I am happy to play with the idea that that was really him, that my father actually brought me some mysterious knowledge "from the farthest shore" even though I can't remember any of it. I'm also willing to play with the idea that what I saw was not my father, but a symbolic manifestation from the Mythic Realm. And I'm willing to play with the idea that this was "just a dream."
The point is that all those options, if they're left open and alive, preserve intact a sense of wonder, a mysterious awe and joy. It isn't that, because I'm playing, I don't really believe in any of them. I believe in all of them at once, but in none of them obsessively.
According to a traditional proverb from the Scottish Highlands, "he who interprets his omens luckily will himself be lucky." Applying the mentality of ringing the changes, "he who interprets his life magically will himself be magic." To think this way and to live this way is to "incarnate myth in the waking world," producing a life filled with wonder and awe. This is a type of internal alchemy, like that described by the Chinese philosopher Hsuan-Tsang, in his Treatise on the Establishment of the Doctrine of Consciousness-Only:
Changing with the wisdom of one who is free and at ease. This means that he who has realized the freedom and the ease of mind can change and transform earth [into gold] and so forth without fail according to his desires.
The phrase that I use for this is "spontaneous fluidity," the state of complete mental and spiritual health. With freedom and ease of mind, earth can change into gold. Doctrines can change into magic gateways. Myths can change into truths. All of this is not gained through obsessive belief, but through a willingness to play with the possibilities, to be changed by them, and to incarnate them. The spirit of madness is the spirit of fixation. The spirit of sanity is the spirit of play.
Returning to my previous statement that we define sanity by functionality, the question arises of how best to define insanity, when we're so open to all experiences. Dysfunctionality would be the obvious answer, but there is more than one kind of dysfunctionality, and insanity is a strong term. We have already ruled out hallucinations. In the case of a thing you have personally experienced, you cannot be justified in concluding that it does not exist, as that which exists is that which we experience, or that with which we have a relationship. The delusions of a psychotic, however, are not actually direct experiences; they are interpretations of direct experience.
Consider the case of a sleeping disorder, in which the sufferer sees the dream images of REM sleep, superimposed over waking reality. These images may be terrifying, such as venomous spiders or snakes, but the sufferer accepts their reality without question or criticism while he is having the experience. This is only a sleeping disorder (albeit a strange one) and is not considered a form of psychosis, because no lasting delusion flows from it. The sufferer believes he is seeing spiders or snakes, but the dream passes and the images disappear. They are not worked up into a story of any kind.
How does this relate to the classical three criteria for a thing's reality? These three are vivid perception and the feeling of real-ness, agreement between observers, and continuity across time. Vivid perception, of course, is simply perception, the phantasia catalyptica of the Stoic school. An experience of the kind I am discussing feels completely real, with every bit as much surface vividness as a waking experience. The spiders, on the other hand, don't inject their venom- a lack of consummation distinctly dream-like. Our view grants reality to all types of perception, to whatever degree the thing is perceived- and the level of reality here is just below true waking.
Agreement between observers is also perception, as any other observer in the situation would inevitably be an object of perception in his own right. It goes without saying that no other observer in this situation would be seeing spiders, but to the sufferer with the sleeping disorder this can disprove nothing, as both the spider and the other observer remain objects of perception. The only conclusion he could actually draw is that he is in a position to give direct assent to both perceptions, while the other observer can give direct assent to him alone, applying (at most) provisional assent to the presence of a venomous spider in the room.
As for continuity across time, the dream images disappear again after just a few minutes, along with the sense that they were ever real. So out of the three criteria for a thing's reality, the spiders possess none completely. They appear extremely vivid but they do not strike; they cannot be observed by anyone else; and they don't last for very long. They were only ever partially real; they were less real than waking reality. The language we use and the distinctions we draw may be a little unusual, but this conclusion isn't all that far from what the subject actually means, when he says to himself, "It was just a dream."
A true psychotic, on the other hand, does not just see things. He constructs and maintains a personal mythology, believing in it absolutely on an ongoing basis. Events and interactions are re-interpreted, fitting them into the overall story. What this is, in essence, is a one-man fundamentalism, an elaborate interpretation of reality rather than direct experience. It is not personal mythologies that are at all dysfunctional, but to accept such a mythology as an absolute truth. (This is not to suggest that the sufferer from a mental illness has any choice in the matter; that depends on the particular illness.)
The problem, in other words, is not direct experience, no matter how strange or unusual the experience may be. Nor is the problem belief as such, or personal mythology as such. A personal belief system may be quite bizarre, without being any more bizarre than the teachings of many mainstream religions. The problem is obsession.
My definition of insanity, therefore, is this: obsessive fixation on a particular interpretation of reality. To be obsessed with a particular worldview is to be insane, to a greater or lesser degree depending on the degree of obsession and not on the subjective strangeness of the worldview itself. To refuse to participate in any worldview is insipid in concept and impossible in practice, so that is not a viable alternative- although it is attempted by many. The world contains many people who don't really believe in anything. It also contains a fair number who believe obsessively, captivated by their own mythologies, and to various degrees insane. In the words of William Butler Yeats, "The best lack all conviction, while the worst are filled with a passionate intensity." Both the best and the worst here are a sorry lot.
Spiritual and mental health, then, lie in a different direction, the method we know as ringing the changes. The specific examples given above are not particularly important, they merely serve to illustrate the concept. Ringing the changes can be applied to everything, from personal interactions to metaphysical questions, and the decision to think in this expansive way is the decision to be sane.
The cliche of the blind men with the elephant is very much to the point here. Rather than arguing and creating rival orthodoxies, they should just have compared notes. If they had known anything about ringing the changes, they might not have ended up too far off the mark.
Applying the same method to the world that we live in, can we not create a more complete approximation of the world as a whole, independent of all orthodoxies whether scientific or religious?
Let's return to the example of a personal mythology, as dramatized by Hermann Hesse in the novel Steppenwolf. The protagonist of the novel, one Harry Haller, believes himself to contain two natures: the fierce and lonely "wolf of the steppes" and the cultured and civilized man of the intellect. Torn between his two natures, he lives in despair, unable to reconcile himself with human society and believing himself unfit for it, while at the same time holding himself aloof from it and in some sense superior. This character's private mythology has become destructive and dysfunctional, marked by obsession, a fixed idea. Not surprisingly, he considers suicide, but holds off when he reads a pamphlet, the Treatise of the Steppenwolf, which says exactly this:
The division into wolf and man, flesh and spirit, by means of which Harry tries to make his destiny more comprehensible to himself is a very great simplification... His life oscillates, as everyone's does, not merely between two poles, such as the body and the spirit, the saint and the sinner, but between thousands and thousands.
The conclusion of the Treatise is that what is needed is humor, for "humor alone (perhaps the most inborn and brilliant achievement of the spirit) attains to the impossible and brings every aspect of human existence within the rays of its prism."
Haller later visits the Magic Theater, a surreal wonderland of bizarre and conflicting realities, all designed to encourage the Steppenwolf to expand beyond the fixed ideas of his private mythology. The Magic Theater is virtually an allegory for ringing the changes, teaching that what is important is neither to accept a single reality nor divide life in two, but to live simultaneously in multiple worldviews and to play with them all.
The concept can be applied to any number of things, including every aspect of mundane existence. In one's personal interactions it is indispensable. Applying the art of magic to one's daily life is very much within this spirit, but I am not talking about any formal occultism. Most esoteric systems are both rigid and elaborate, possible objects of obsession rather than routes to freedom. They are things to ring the changes on, rather than with, although they can offer riches if approached wisely. My preference is to approach the source, the Realm of Myth of which all such systems are interpretations. I am talking about being magic and not just "working" it.
So how can this actually be done? How can ringing the changes be attained and lived? There's no easy answer, but I can provide an example. My father David Douglas Thompson, the creator of Relationship Theory, passed away several years ago. The term "ringing the changes" was his own invention, and he never explained why he used that term, although it puts me in mind of a number of different bells ringing at the same time to produce a resonance. He was also very skeptical of any formal system of occultism, and of dogmatic systems in general. The core ideas of Relationship Theory had appeared to him in a mysterious dream, and he spent the next few decades working out the implications, without any formal training in philosophy or metaphysics.
Considering the origins of the Theory in an unusual dream, it is perhaps not surprising that I dreamed of its creator, more than a year and a half after he passed away, as a bringer of gnosis from the land of the dead:
1
At the edge of the water, the mist comes in.
Sorrow brushes my neck, just as light as a dream.
There is a distant horn across the deep, flat bay-
It is only a warning to keep the boats away,
But I shudder, regardless, at the ebb and the flow,
For the things that must come
And the things that must go
For the things that dwell deep, on the ocean's floor,
And the hint of a message from the farthest shore.
2
And you stand there again, with a demon's mad eyes,
But as silent, and solemn, and fearful as me.
And the wind drops to nothing, as empty and still
As the depths of the ocean. And there, in the chill,
We are both of us haunted. The things we have done,
Either you as my father
Or me as your son-
Though we drown them as deep as the ocean's floor,
They cannot be erased or denied anymore.
3
It is I who speaks first. "After all, though," I say,
"I'm a demon as well. None has known me but you."
And the wind from the ocean moans out once again
Like the cold, subtle touch of this loss on my skin.
And you nod there, in silence, inclining your head.
"Let me tell, you then, son,
Of the things of the dead,
Of the song that I heard in the ocean's roar
And the secret knowledge of the other shore."
4
So you speak, for a time, and I hear, with respect
Of the burdens and wisdom and songs of the dead.
Then the horn cries again from across the dark bay
And you look in my eyes. "They have called me away."
I had no chance to speak- when I blinked, you were gone.
And of all of those words
I remember not one.
But I will have cause to recall them once more
When I stand at your side on the farthest shore.
The reaction of a skeptical materialist to all this is very easy to imagine. We tell ourselves there's an afterlife because we're afraid of our mortality, and all heavens and hells are mere human creations, desperate attempts to appease our fears. Except I have no particular opinions about life after death. I don't know whether there's an afterlife or what form it might take; I don't know whether we reincarnate or whether death is the end. I am happy to play with the idea that that was really him, that my father actually brought me some mysterious knowledge "from the farthest shore" even though I can't remember any of it. I'm also willing to play with the idea that what I saw was not my father, but a symbolic manifestation from the Mythic Realm. And I'm willing to play with the idea that this was "just a dream."
The point is that all those options, if they're left open and alive, preserve intact a sense of wonder, a mysterious awe and joy. It isn't that, because I'm playing, I don't really believe in any of them. I believe in all of them at once, but in none of them obsessively.
According to a traditional proverb from the Scottish Highlands, "he who interprets his omens luckily will himself be lucky." Applying the mentality of ringing the changes, "he who interprets his life magically will himself be magic." To think this way and to live this way is to "incarnate myth in the waking world," producing a life filled with wonder and awe. This is a type of internal alchemy, like that described by the Chinese philosopher Hsuan-Tsang, in his Treatise on the Establishment of the Doctrine of Consciousness-Only:
Changing with the wisdom of one who is free and at ease. This means that he who has realized the freedom and the ease of mind can change and transform earth [into gold] and so forth without fail according to his desires.
The phrase that I use for this is "spontaneous fluidity," the state of complete mental and spiritual health. With freedom and ease of mind, earth can change into gold. Doctrines can change into magic gateways. Myths can change into truths. All of this is not gained through obsessive belief, but through a willingness to play with the possibilities, to be changed by them, and to incarnate them. The spirit of madness is the spirit of fixation. The spirit of sanity is the spirit of play.
Replies to This Discussion
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Permalink Reply by alchemistra on -
This discussion more fully expands my understanding of "ringing the changes". I agree that fixation on a particular religion, personal mythology, or worldview is obsession and a type of insanity. It is clear from this discussion how adopting such could cause a person to be extremely dysfunctional if he refuses to "ring the changes" and allow for the integration of all possibilities from among them. But at the same time, if I understand correctly, neither is a person excluded from following such, and "ringing the changes" at the same time, if he be so wise. However, he is likely to be regarded with suspicion at the least, and possibly contempt by his fellows for doing so. A certain type of societal peer pressure comes into play (amongst the insane =) that would have us adopt a certain set of beliefs, worldview or whatever and stick with it. This is a function of the Ego in the sense that I become what I believe, I become what my environment/family/peer group teaches me to be, believe, uphold, and so on.
Furthermore, I can understand what you mean when you say, "most esoteric systems are both rigid and elaborate, possible objects of obsession rather than routes to freedom". However, I am almost led to believe that at least a passing familiarity with the esoteric traditions may be necessary in order to fully utilize the capacity to "ring the changes". At the very least it deserves mention as a backdrop to the concepts presented here. Almost inherent to the philosophy presented here is an understanding of the magical nature of life itself. Most people, including atheists, form a worldview based around some kind of concept of God. For the atheist, the worldview is one that does not include God, but that is still the frame work of his beliefs, a non-belief in God, that is. Therfore, I must conclude that some treatment of the understanding that there is a fine thread of truth underlying all religious beliefs and doctrines may be neccessary to appeal to a wider audience.
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Permalink Reply by CS Thompson on -
That is correct. You can hold a single worldview- in fact, you pretty much have to- while ringing the changes on all other equally functional worldviews.
As for esoteric systems- I agree that having a passing familiarity with them is useful. Indeed, one could have a deep familiarity with them and still ring the changes. But many occultists will speak of the astral plane or the chakra system with the same rigid certainty as a fundamentalist. That's what I find problematic about them.
My brother tells me that something similar to ringing the changes is actually taught at higher levels in some esoteric lodges.
Gotta go for now- baby is complaining!
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Permalink Reply by Accelerator on -
alchemistra said:Therfore, I must conclude that some treatment of the understanding that there is a fine thread of truth underlying all religious beliefs and doctrines may be neccessary to appeal to a wider audience.
This is a belief that both religious folk.. and atheists.. could share in common..
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If you believe in this.. then you’re a Buddhist…
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"There is especially the rule of doing to others what you would have others do to you, and refraining from doing to others what you would not have others do to you.
You will say to yourselves: "Here I am, fond of life and not wanting to die, fond of pleasure and averse to pain. If anyone should attempt to take my life from me, or inflict pain upon me, that would not be pleasing to me, and if I were to rob someone else of life, or inflict pain, that likewise would not be pleasing to him."
The Buddha
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If you believe in this.. then you’re a Jew..
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"You must not take vengeance nor have a grudge against the sons of your people; and you must love your fellow as yourself."
Moses - Leviticus 19:18
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If you believe in this.. you’re a Christian..
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"All things, therefore, that you want men to do to you, you also must likewise do to them; this, in fact, is what the Law and the Prophets mean."
Matthew 7:12
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And if you believe in this.. you’re an atheist..
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"An Atheist loves himself and his fellow man instead of a god. An Atheist accepts that heaven is something for which we should work now -- here on earth -- for all men together to enjoy."
www.atheists.org
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It is an idea that can - potentially - unite us all..
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"My words are easy to understand and easy to perform.
Yet no man under heaven either knows or practices them.
My words have ancient beginnings.
My actions are disciplined.
Because men do not understand they have no knowledge of me.
Those that know me are few.
Those that abuse me are honoured.
Therefore the Sage wears rough clothing...
and holds the Jewel in his Heart."
"Love the world as your own self; then you can truly care for all things."
Lao Tzu
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Permalink Reply by alchemistra on
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Concerning the atheists point of view, it would seem to me that the only way to get the benefit of "ringing the changes" is if you were able to view the myths of religions, not simple as fairy tales, but to really recognize and understand the deeper aspects of the myths, and what they say about the human experience. I don't know if a belief in a higher power would be necessary, but I suspect it does.
Of course, myths have a way of doing just that, whether we are conscious of it or not. Conscious participation in that would be of great benefit though.
Perhaps I am equating the atheist with the skeptical materialist, but if you simply don't believe anything is there to be apprehended, well...
The Tao Te Ching is straight forward and direct, it does not rely on mythic presentation to get its point across. The overall feel of it though is a magical one. However, with the Bible, the Baghavad Gita, the Upanishads, the Koran, Alchemical literature, and the Edda, for example, there are multiple levels of understanding that require deep penetration on the mythic level in order to grasp what is being presented.
The same probably holds true for those little syncronicities in life that make you pay attention and give them more relevance then the atheist would. Would the atheist chalk it up to coincidence? Whereas for the non-atheist (ie a person who believes in a higher power, but not necessarily an anthropomorphic one) it may hold greater significance and so change his consciousness to receive even more. I almost feel like a magical belief is necessary, and this is not the hallmark of the atheist.
Where CS describes his experience of the dream of his father and the multiple ways in which he could view it, it has nonetheless impacted his consciousness. Precisely because he is not fixed in any particular interpretation, but sees many possible interpretations, and has absorbed into his consciousness all of the possible meanings of the experience.
The same must be done with the various religious myths, so that the story behind the story emerges. One may read the myths, but completely lack the understanding of the mythic components that are designed to impact the consciousness in a particular way.
I tend to believe that the atheist will have experiences like CS's, but how will he view them? In all probability the same way the skeptical materialist would, as so much nonsense and without any deeper meaning.
I recall many, many experiences like CS's dream experience. Experiences with dreams, strange happenings, syncronicities, astrological events that occured exactly as predicted even. The skeptic would think that kind of belief is delusional, wouldn't he? Tell them to a person who believes in a higher power and their ears perk right up, because they know.
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Permalink Reply by CS Thompson on
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A true atheist would not be able to apply the "ringing the changes" mindset any more than a fundamentalist would. Atheism and fundamentalism are both ideologies based on picking one model of reality and treating it as absolute truth. An agnostic could potentially experience to the deep mythic relevance of an experience, but an atheist would not let himself.
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Permalink Reply by alchemistra on
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I would have to agree with this. The atheist may well love his fellow man and live a noble life, continuously improving the quality of his character through better understanding of himself and others, but he will continue to suffer as all do until they are open to receiving All things...
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Permalink Reply by CS Thompson on
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I've known happy and unhappy people in all walks of life- far more unhappy than happy- but I've yet to meet an atheist who even claimed to be happy. I'm sure they're out there somewhere!
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Permalink Reply by alchemistra on
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One thing that I've noticed about atheists...their atheism always seems to be founded on a need to oppose every philosophic endeavor at reconcilliation of all available sources of discovery, and is usually based on the direct refutation of the literature which deals with God. (oh man, did that make sense?) If there were nothing written about what we think God is, would we still seek him? I think so.
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Permalink Reply by CS Thompson on
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Well said. Although the recent spread of "humanism" is at least an attempt to create something positive rather than merely naysaying.
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Permalink Reply by StevenErnest on -
CS Thompson said:I've known happy and unhappy people in all walks of life- far more unhappy than happy- but I've yet to meet an atheist who even claimed to be happy. I'm sure they're out there somewhere!
With all due respect, you are stating subjective, anecdotal evidence. Either "happy atheists" have simply not crossed your path, or your being interested in a different subject matter has filtered them from your experience. Of course there are happy atheists out there! Off the top of my head I might site the skeptic, Michael Shermer.
You haven't even defined "happy."...Self esteem, wealth, the bliss of ignorance? There are just as many people -- possibly more -- who profess a religious faith who are miserable souls.
You state, "I've known happy and unhappy people in all walks of life- far more unhappy than happy."
Who are you to so summarize a person's entire life? Have you walked in their shoes? Are you psychic? I can allow that perhaps you are an intuitive person, but imho, it reeks of elitism to state that you can so discern others' subjective feelings of "happiness."
I am not an atheist, although I essentially am when it comes to the three Abrahamic religions.
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Permalink Reply by StevenErnest on
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Permalink Reply by CS Thompson on
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It's not really evidence of any kind, just a broad impression. I agree with you that you cannot really assess an individual person's life from the outside and say what their true internal state is. But my broad impression is that "most people lead lives of quiet desperation" as Thoreau said, and I have also known people who struck me as being quite desperate, yet referred to themselves as "happy". I'm not trying to be a mind reader, but what I could see didn't seem to match what they were saying. On the other hand, many people will come right out and tell you they're unhappy.
Specifically, the atheists that I have known have expressed a pessimistic and grim attitude to the world, have tended to refer to life as meaningless and boring, etc. I'm sure you're right that there are happy atheists out there, and that many religious people are not happy. The reason I consider the atheists I've known to be unhappy is that they told me they were.
StevenErnest said:X
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