DIETROLOGY
The Collateral Damage Of Everyday Conversation
Within academia there is a punishment/reward structure that heavily favours a language register that can be generalised in two ways: firstly, emphasis on the precise use of specialised lexis and labels (often of Latin/Greek origin, an historical hangover from the relationship between learning and the clergy); in other words lots of long words, which in turn has triggered a certain inverted snobbery from non-academics. And secondly, the language of detail is preferred to that of feelings and emotions.
This goes some way to explaining why so many lecturers, teachers, and postgraduates evolve programmed into such crashing bores. That said, it's pretty obvious when we are bored with someone: perhaps you lean your head on your hands, perhaps an impatient check of the watch or mobile phone, or perhaps a tactfully stifled yawn. My god, is that the time?
However, what is loosely, but not inaccurately, termed as the 'chemistry' between people is mostly happening imperceptibly - both in terms of the responses, and the specific triggers for such responses. For example, the arbitrary angles we might approach a person we wish to communicate with is a factor that we rarely consider, and yet, critically, a frontal 45 degree approach angle is experienced by the other party as friendly, whereas one from directly in front as hostile; or worse still from the side or behind. What if you passed or failed that job interview based on that fact alone? And without being aware of such a factor, it's easy to see how superstitious explanations for the outcomes of personal interaction predominate.
Academic overemphasis on content language is as ironic as it's misguided: it's from having an acuter awareness of the tiny, oft-ignored words, and the simple patterns to which they belong, that offer far more rhetorical expressiveness and control of desired responses, and therefore chemistry. When we like or dislike somebody, we may have all sorts of superstitious 'I think...' beliefs about what we like or dislike, but they are far more likely to be rationalisations for unconscious biological and chemical responses.
Some of the effects of language usage have been touched on in previous postings (cf. SIGNFICANCES, METASIGNIFICANCES). One of whose number which seems to exist in most languages is the extraordinarily common 'yes, but...' conversational pattern (variants being 'I agree (with you), but....', 'that's true, but....', and so on). This, invisibly, causes enormous collateral damage to rapport owing to its deadly subtext of 'what I'm about to say is more important than what you've said' - in fact, amazingly, outright disagreement causes less collateral damage than this murky use of 'but'. The negative effect can easily be repaired by substituting the word 'but' with 'and', the subtext then being one of friendly corroboration - even when going on to disagree with the original statement in otherwise exactly the same way.
This is a simple example of how the use of two tiny words in a language pattern can have, psycholinguistically speaking, contrasting polar responses of critical importance. Simple, but not easy. Schools and universities might reward your deployment of all kinds of polysyllabic goodliness and convoluted subordinate clauses within the discussion of various hypotheses, but thanks to an historically ingrained institutional ignorance, you won't find out about the really good stuff like 'and'. There's so much more to learn.
DIETROLOGY : The Nature Of Facebook/Twitter Updates
(text coming soon)
DIETROLOGY : What Are Movie Credits For?
(text coming soon)
DIETROLOGY: INTRODUCTION
Showing posts with label metasignificance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label metasignificance. Show all posts
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
METASIGNIFICANCES 9
#9: or
Many many years ago I found myself in the magic section of my local library. Upon opening an musty old volume on the dark arts of false card shuffles, a small strip of yellowing paper fluttered onto the carpeted floor which had been typewritten with a local telephone number and the words 'MAGIC CIRCLE'. My curiosity getting the better of me (as usual), I called the number and, in hushed tones, was sworn to secrecy while invited to the weekly meeting of their mysterious cabal. It took place in an appositely gothic building in Edinburgh, in a place that you wouldn't think existed unless you were shown it, and there I was introduced to the 'membership', an odd collection of mostly elderly unexceptionally looking gentlemen far removed from the Harry Potter paradigm.
The reason I mention this is that it was where I first embarked upon the journey in the active study and use of metalanguage, specifically after learning there of the use of the so-called Magician's Choice technique - alternatively known as equivocation - in effects (I also learnt at the Magic Circle that magicians dislike the term 'tricks') - and, by extension, the potential of deliberate use of language designed with dual reality (an overt conscious meaning, combined with a second covert, or implied, unconscious meaning).
Equivocation uses language and misdirection to create the illusion that a muggle or spectator has in fact made a voluntary selection from a group of items, when in fact the magician forces a predetermined choice. For example, when asked if you would like to choose the envelope on the left or on the right, your 'choice' will either be the one picked up or the one discarded. In other words, not really a choice at all.
The more sophisticated performers may then follow this up with a question along the lines of, 'did you choose that one because it was nearer or because you just had a good feeling about it?' Through presupposition this reinforces in the spectator's mind the idea that a fair choice has been made through the use of an imperative (or question) that directs their conscious mind. Also, sleight of mouth can be employed through asking the spectator if they are sure of their 'choice', that they can still change their mind if they wish.
Then there's the classic double bind component, 'shall I come and pick you up at 8 or 8.30?' presupposing that the object of your desire wishes to even go out with you. Shrewd mothers pull this trick on their infants all the time, 'do you want peas or spinach with your chicken?'. A further example of the double bind is the notional one of whether you are a theist or an atheist, a believer or a non-believer, a liberal or a conservative, and so on.
This is all clearly an enormous area of interest, and it's the use of or that concerns me most here. Such a tiny little word that, even in written language, seems to transcend any particular emphasis, but in spoken language passes by so fast as to almost be imperceptible. You might have had entire lessons in schools, colleges, and universities about onomatopoeia or transgender - but that's easy stuff, and comparatively speaking, fairly useless knowledge.
I'll be brief while I still have your attention or your interest: to hear the word or is for me to question the presupposition, to question how genuine the choice is, and to determine what invisible domains inevitably exist beyond the double bind.
Many many years ago I found myself in the magic section of my local library. Upon opening an musty old volume on the dark arts of false card shuffles, a small strip of yellowing paper fluttered onto the carpeted floor which had been typewritten with a local telephone number and the words 'MAGIC CIRCLE'. My curiosity getting the better of me (as usual), I called the number and, in hushed tones, was sworn to secrecy while invited to the weekly meeting of their mysterious cabal. It took place in an appositely gothic building in Edinburgh, in a place that you wouldn't think existed unless you were shown it, and there I was introduced to the 'membership', an odd collection of mostly elderly unexceptionally looking gentlemen far removed from the Harry Potter paradigm.
The reason I mention this is that it was where I first embarked upon the journey in the active study and use of metalanguage, specifically after learning there of the use of the so-called Magician's Choice technique - alternatively known as equivocation - in effects (I also learnt at the Magic Circle that magicians dislike the term 'tricks') - and, by extension, the potential of deliberate use of language designed with dual reality (an overt conscious meaning, combined with a second covert, or implied, unconscious meaning).
Equivocation uses language and misdirection to create the illusion that a muggle or spectator has in fact made a voluntary selection from a group of items, when in fact the magician forces a predetermined choice. For example, when asked if you would like to choose the envelope on the left or on the right, your 'choice' will either be the one picked up or the one discarded. In other words, not really a choice at all.
The more sophisticated performers may then follow this up with a question along the lines of, 'did you choose that one because it was nearer or because you just had a good feeling about it?' Through presupposition this reinforces in the spectator's mind the idea that a fair choice has been made through the use of an imperative (or question) that directs their conscious mind. Also, sleight of mouth can be employed through asking the spectator if they are sure of their 'choice', that they can still change their mind if they wish.
Then there's the classic double bind component, 'shall I come and pick you up at 8 or 8.30?' presupposing that the object of your desire wishes to even go out with you. Shrewd mothers pull this trick on their infants all the time, 'do you want peas or spinach with your chicken?'. A further example of the double bind is the notional one of whether you are a theist or an atheist, a believer or a non-believer, a liberal or a conservative, and so on.
This is all clearly an enormous area of interest, and it's the use of or that concerns me most here. Such a tiny little word that, even in written language, seems to transcend any particular emphasis, but in spoken language passes by so fast as to almost be imperceptible. You might have had entire lessons in schools, colleges, and universities about onomatopoeia or transgender - but that's easy stuff, and comparatively speaking, fairly useless knowledge.
I'll be brief while I still have your attention or your interest: to hear the word or is for me to question the presupposition, to question how genuine the choice is, and to determine what invisible domains inevitably exist beyond the double bind.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
METASIGNIFICANCES 8
#8: -ness
A definition of quality is that quality is a notion of expression that is only known and recognised by an unconscious non-thinking process, and therefore since definition is a conscious thinking process, quality cannot ever be defined.
(METASIGNIFICANES 3)
Naturally, another application of quality is as the aesthetic representation of one person to another, or of oneself. In conversation we'll employ devices such as 'he's/she's/I'm (not) nice, or (not) friendly, or (not) kind, or (not) funny, or (not) attractive, or (not) charming'. In fact, these are no more than superficial linguistic nods and winks to convey a shared sense of quality recognition with each other, and one with the also superficial presupposed subtext of 'it makes me feel good/bad'. In other words, the typical illusion of identity crap.
And, other than through good poetry, literature, music, and art, there's a lovely simple way you can at least feel personal quality through expression, and beyond the illusion of identity. It's with the wonderfully versatile suffix '-ness'. (Ignore the prescriptive grammarians who say it's only suppposed to be used with adjectives and participles - nouns are commonly used as adjectives, so it's fine.)
Your thingness is your name + '-ness'. It's the essence of you.
For me, it's my Williamness: I'm not a nothing thing and neither are you, and I want you and not some thing you have, people do things with me and not to me, any thing is possible and crossing the barriers in between is always exciting.
A definition of quality is that quality is a notion of expression that is only known and recognised by an unconscious non-thinking process, and therefore since definition is a conscious thinking process, quality cannot ever be defined.
(METASIGNIFICANES 3)
Naturally, another application of quality is as the aesthetic representation of one person to another, or of oneself. In conversation we'll employ devices such as 'he's/she's/I'm (not) nice, or (not) friendly, or (not) kind, or (not) funny, or (not) attractive, or (not) charming'. In fact, these are no more than superficial linguistic nods and winks to convey a shared sense of quality recognition with each other, and one with the also superficial presupposed subtext of 'it makes me feel good/bad'. In other words, the typical illusion of identity crap.
And, other than through good poetry, literature, music, and art, there's a lovely simple way you can at least feel personal quality through expression, and beyond the illusion of identity. It's with the wonderfully versatile suffix '-ness'. (Ignore the prescriptive grammarians who say it's only suppposed to be used with adjectives and participles - nouns are commonly used as adjectives, so it's fine.)
Your thingness is your name + '-ness'. It's the essence of you.
For me, it's my Williamness: I'm not a nothing thing and neither are you, and I want you and not some thing you have, people do things with me and not to me, any thing is possible and crossing the barriers in between is always exciting.
Friday, March 06, 2009
METASIGNIFICANCES 7
#7 belief
Sadly, it reaped such undistinguished reviews that, on my recent trip to Las Vegas, I was dissuaded from seeing Cirque du Soleil's much-touted production at the splendid Luxor featuring magician Criss Angel; though as scant consolation to Mr. Angel, I did much admire his ubiquitous publicity posters. What I found particularly cute, other than the decidedly fine-looking masked wench, is the typographic word play within BeLieve betraying, as it does, the metasignificance of the notion of belief.
People, and naturally I include myself within that grouping, all have complex belief systems regarding ourselves and the world around us, and this worldview tends to become pretty entrenched from adolescence onwards. Consistency and continuity of beliefs have been argued as a measure of a person's sanity - note for example how the accusation of flip-flopping, often levelled at politicians, is so hard to counter (is it really so wrong to change one's mind, or admit fault?). Thus, in addition to also forming an integral part of the illusion of identity, there's powerful social pressure to maintain and reinforce these beliefs whatever their configuration, rigidly and absolutely, much of which takes the form of ritual and ritualised behaviour.
I see belief as essentially superstition, something I already touched upon in a previous entry in this series (apologies for some repetition here) - and I mean superstition in the sense of being neither useful nor helpful. Upon hearing myself or others using expressions such as 'I (don't) think' and 'I believe' and so on, alarm bells inform me that a superstition is about to be communicated. Of course, it should also be said that many utterances may not utilise this languaging at all yet still contain the implicit notion of belief within.
To me, a person's attractiveness and likeability can be measured by their degree of unattachment to their own beliefs: the less attached, the more attractive, and vice versa. Personally, I don't believe in beliefs, especially my own - yes, I have all sorts of preposterous opinions and things to say about all sorts of things, yet I don't claim them to be true, nor do I seek anyone's agreement nor approval, nor disagreement nor disapproval. And I say that to remove the burden from you of that responsibility. My words merely function as a flimsy disposable rope-bridge leading to a domain where any thing is possible and permitted - they have no more meaningful purpose than that.
Sadly, it reaped such undistinguished reviews that, on my recent trip to Las Vegas, I was dissuaded from seeing Cirque du Soleil's much-touted production at the splendid Luxor featuring magician Criss Angel; though as scant consolation to Mr. Angel, I did much admire his ubiquitous publicity posters. What I found particularly cute, other than the decidedly fine-looking masked wench, is the typographic word play within BeLieve betraying, as it does, the metasignificance of the notion of belief.
People, and naturally I include myself within that grouping, all have complex belief systems regarding ourselves and the world around us, and this worldview tends to become pretty entrenched from adolescence onwards. Consistency and continuity of beliefs have been argued as a measure of a person's sanity - note for example how the accusation of flip-flopping, often levelled at politicians, is so hard to counter (is it really so wrong to change one's mind, or admit fault?). Thus, in addition to also forming an integral part of the illusion of identity, there's powerful social pressure to maintain and reinforce these beliefs whatever their configuration, rigidly and absolutely, much of which takes the form of ritual and ritualised behaviour.
I see belief as essentially superstition, something I already touched upon in a previous entry in this series (apologies for some repetition here) - and I mean superstition in the sense of being neither useful nor helpful. Upon hearing myself or others using expressions such as 'I (don't) think' and 'I believe' and so on, alarm bells inform me that a superstition is about to be communicated. Of course, it should also be said that many utterances may not utilise this languaging at all yet still contain the implicit notion of belief within.
To me, a person's attractiveness and likeability can be measured by their degree of unattachment to their own beliefs: the less attached, the more attractive, and vice versa. Personally, I don't believe in beliefs, especially my own - yes, I have all sorts of preposterous opinions and things to say about all sorts of things, yet I don't claim them to be true, nor do I seek anyone's agreement nor approval, nor disagreement nor disapproval. And I say that to remove the burden from you of that responsibility. My words merely function as a flimsy disposable rope-bridge leading to a domain where any thing is possible and permitted - they have no more meaningful purpose than that.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
METASIGNIFICANCES 6
#6 teach
As a youngster, I once recall being most impressed when a close relative uttered a few words in French to some tourists on Brighton beach. What amazing talent and ability! Similarly, the day I first turned up at a new dance class to see couples showing off their incredibly fancy free-flowing sylph-like moves. How elegant! However, not long after, when I myself had acquired some of these skills and was able to judge with the benefit of a little experience, it dawned on me, horribly, that these 'sylphs' were in fact clumsy clodhopping oafs each cursed with two left feet - and that also my relative's spoken French was in fact a living desecration to the tongue of Voltaire.
I've made this kind of mistake many times. One of the reasons that the human animal is so irredeemably stupid, beyond even the ingrained recidivism, is that so much of what constitutes our decision-making, our belief systems, and our world knowledge, comes not from any innate cognitive abilities, but from our utter fucking ignorance. I firmly believed those dancers were amazing, not because I knew things about dancing - on the contrary - because I knew absolutely nothing!
The teaching model is one based on this same model, i.e. one based on presumed ignorance. If ever there were an activity that required one's healthy disprespect, it's this one. Universities, schools, colleges, polytechnics, both private and public, one and all.
The basic model consists of having a room full of empty vessels ('students') and one large vessel (the omniscient one, the 'teacher') replete with 'information'. The latter pours tiny egotistically-laced drops of their precious liquid into each of the empty vessels for which much gratitude and respect is expected to be shown.
Of course, students are not empty vessels and the teacher's 'information' may well not be true, relevant, or useful - but success within the model tolerates only your submission to it and an implied acceptance of your ignorance. And, by and large, students do accept it, and submit; troublemakers and dissenters are quickly retired from the entreprise, either voluntarily or mandatorily.
To teach is to promote ignorance.
Teaching cannot stop people from learning.
What people learn is despite teachers not because of them.
As a youngster, I once recall being most impressed when a close relative uttered a few words in French to some tourists on Brighton beach. What amazing talent and ability! Similarly, the day I first turned up at a new dance class to see couples showing off their incredibly fancy free-flowing sylph-like moves. How elegant! However, not long after, when I myself had acquired some of these skills and was able to judge with the benefit of a little experience, it dawned on me, horribly, that these 'sylphs' were in fact clumsy clodhopping oafs each cursed with two left feet - and that also my relative's spoken French was in fact a living desecration to the tongue of Voltaire.
I've made this kind of mistake many times. One of the reasons that the human animal is so irredeemably stupid, beyond even the ingrained recidivism, is that so much of what constitutes our decision-making, our belief systems, and our world knowledge, comes not from any innate cognitive abilities, but from our utter fucking ignorance. I firmly believed those dancers were amazing, not because I knew things about dancing - on the contrary - because I knew absolutely nothing!
The teaching model is one based on this same model, i.e. one based on presumed ignorance. If ever there were an activity that required one's healthy disprespect, it's this one. Universities, schools, colleges, polytechnics, both private and public, one and all.
The basic model consists of having a room full of empty vessels ('students') and one large vessel (the omniscient one, the 'teacher') replete with 'information'. The latter pours tiny egotistically-laced drops of their precious liquid into each of the empty vessels for which much gratitude and respect is expected to be shown.
Of course, students are not empty vessels and the teacher's 'information' may well not be true, relevant, or useful - but success within the model tolerates only your submission to it and an implied acceptance of your ignorance. And, by and large, students do accept it, and submit; troublemakers and dissenters are quickly retired from the entreprise, either voluntarily or mandatorily.
To teach is to promote ignorance.
Teaching cannot stop people from learning.
What people learn is despite teachers not because of them.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
METASIGNIFICANCES 5
#5: question
My favourite episode of the cult TV series The Prisoner involved an omniscient computer (The General) that could answer anything, or at least until No. 6 fed it the simple question 'Why?' thereby causing it to overheat and implode spectacularly in a fit of seeming rage at its own impotence. Of course, upon quieter reflection the correct answer is, as any child will know when challenged to justify something, the simple and devastatingly effective 'Because!'.
My question is:
What is a question?
At first it appears to be a rather stupid thing to ask. It's perfectly obvious, isn't it? We have a perfectly good shared understanding of what a question is when we encounter one. But try defining it yourself and see if you avoid getting into the mess of contortions and confusion as Wikipedia have, or indeed virtually any dictionary. It just seems to have no definable set of exclusive properties or form. For example, we could call it 'an expression that invites a reply' - well, sometimes yes, sometimes no - and additionally there are expressions that invite replies that aren't questions. Therefore not good enough. How about we call it 'an expression of interrogation'? Cop-out. What does twankle mean? It means peltch. Er, OK, so what does peltch mean? It means twankle. Thanks for nothing.
It's as elusive as whether the light inside your refrigerator switches off when you close the door. How can the notion of a question, of which we seem to universally recognise, so readily elude precise linguistic explanation? It's something that's puzzled me for years, and I now have what I believe is an elegant definition. You see a question isn't at all what it appears to be. Excuse me while I place my miniature DV camera in the fridge and close the door.
My favourite episode of the cult TV series The Prisoner involved an omniscient computer (The General) that could answer anything, or at least until No. 6 fed it the simple question 'Why?' thereby causing it to overheat and implode spectacularly in a fit of seeming rage at its own impotence. Of course, upon quieter reflection the correct answer is, as any child will know when challenged to justify something, the simple and devastatingly effective 'Because!'.
My question is:
What is a question?
At first it appears to be a rather stupid thing to ask. It's perfectly obvious, isn't it? We have a perfectly good shared understanding of what a question is when we encounter one. But try defining it yourself and see if you avoid getting into the mess of contortions and confusion as Wikipedia have, or indeed virtually any dictionary. It just seems to have no definable set of exclusive properties or form. For example, we could call it 'an expression that invites a reply' - well, sometimes yes, sometimes no - and additionally there are expressions that invite replies that aren't questions. Therefore not good enough. How about we call it 'an expression of interrogation'? Cop-out. What does twankle mean? It means peltch. Er, OK, so what does peltch mean? It means twankle. Thanks for nothing.
It's as elusive as whether the light inside your refrigerator switches off when you close the door. How can the notion of a question, of which we seem to universally recognise, so readily elude precise linguistic explanation? It's something that's puzzled me for years, and I now have what I believe is an elegant definition. You see a question isn't at all what it appears to be. Excuse me while I place my miniature DV camera in the fridge and close the door.
Monday, October 20, 2008
METASIGNIFICANCES 4
#4: concerns
What we consider as the difference between the concerns want and need is one of the classic questions in determining our own personal values. And while it's a fascinating apposition of opposites that would undoubtedly merit a long post in its own right, instead I want to take a look at responses.
The wonderful dark grey furry cat whom I grew up with as a child had concerns, just like any cat - and one of Smoggy's most important concerns was getting fed (and very particular she was too!), and a second important concern for her was getting regularly scratched around the side of her neck just behind her cute feline ears, and then lovingly stroked around her head or under the chin.
Now, if that adorable puss were able to talk to us, and my grandmother contested that indeed she could, I'm sure she would use the miaow for want to express these concerns. Not 'I would like some cream please', neither 'could I possibly have some Whiskas please?', nor 'I need a good stroke please'; just 'please I want some cream', 'please I want some Whiskas', 'please I want a stroke'. Smoggy wanted things, she didn't need them, and we adored her even more for it.
We all have concerns too, just like cats and dogs. How do you express them? I know I want people who are polite, and I also know I want people who want things, not need things - and not because they're selfish but because they're much more attractive. Just like Smoggy.
What we consider as the difference between the concerns want and need is one of the classic questions in determining our own personal values. And while it's a fascinating apposition of opposites that would undoubtedly merit a long post in its own right, instead I want to take a look at responses.
The wonderful dark grey furry cat whom I grew up with as a child had concerns, just like any cat - and one of Smoggy's most important concerns was getting fed (and very particular she was too!), and a second important concern for her was getting regularly scratched around the side of her neck just behind her cute feline ears, and then lovingly stroked around her head or under the chin.
Now, if that adorable puss were able to talk to us, and my grandmother contested that indeed she could, I'm sure she would use the miaow for want to express these concerns. Not 'I would like some cream please', neither 'could I possibly have some Whiskas please?', nor 'I need a good stroke please'; just 'please I want some cream', 'please I want some Whiskas', 'please I want a stroke'. Smoggy wanted things, she didn't need them, and we adored her even more for it.
We all have concerns too, just like cats and dogs. How do you express them? I know I want people who are polite, and I also know I want people who want things, not need things - and not because they're selfish but because they're much more attractive. Just like Smoggy.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
METASIGNIFICANCES 3
#3: quality
Here's a question for you: how do you define quality? In particular, quality of thought and expression. When you stop and wonder about it, it seems simple enough because we all clearly know what it is, and what it isn't, when it is and when it isn't, whether it is and whether it isn't, and yet - and yet - it somehow seems to defy serious explanation. In fact, the more you attempt to define it, the harder you try to make sense of it, the more infuriating and tantalising and elusive it becomes.
As I see it, quality in fact belongs within the fourth level in my model of consciousness, the ocean of possibility, the vast infinity within us where there are no rules and any thing can happen and any thing is possible. And where the third level is the illusion of identity, it's the ocean of possibility where a person's identity is in fact hiding. It's a place which cannot be seen or accessed by our conscious thinking mind (what are you not thinking about right now?). And furthermore, it is an infinity that does have boundaries and limits, just as the irrational number pi is larger than 3 and smaller than 4.
Artistically speaking, one strives to bypass the first three levels and communicate directly with the fourth - it touches that part of us that most wants to be touched in a way that we wish to be touched. It's perfectness and it's the image of nothingness. And it's where our understanding of quality resides.
A definition of quality is that quality is a notion of expression that is only known and recognised by an unconscious non-thinking process, and therefore since definition is a conscious thinking process, quality cannot ever be defined.
Here's a question for you: how do you define quality? In particular, quality of thought and expression. When you stop and wonder about it, it seems simple enough because we all clearly know what it is, and what it isn't, when it is and when it isn't, whether it is and whether it isn't, and yet - and yet - it somehow seems to defy serious explanation. In fact, the more you attempt to define it, the harder you try to make sense of it, the more infuriating and tantalising and elusive it becomes.
As I see it, quality in fact belongs within the fourth level in my model of consciousness, the ocean of possibility, the vast infinity within us where there are no rules and any thing can happen and any thing is possible. And where the third level is the illusion of identity, it's the ocean of possibility where a person's identity is in fact hiding. It's a place which cannot be seen or accessed by our conscious thinking mind (what are you not thinking about right now?). And furthermore, it is an infinity that does have boundaries and limits, just as the irrational number pi is larger than 3 and smaller than 4.
Artistically speaking, one strives to bypass the first three levels and communicate directly with the fourth - it touches that part of us that most wants to be touched in a way that we wish to be touched. It's perfectness and it's the image of nothingness. And it's where our understanding of quality resides.
A definition of quality is that quality is a notion of expression that is only known and recognised by an unconscious non-thinking process, and therefore since definition is a conscious thinking process, quality cannot ever be defined.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
METASIGNIFICANCES 2
#2: I think - I believe - I feel
There are things that we know, and there are things that we know that we don't know - this is about the things that we don't know that we don't know. We are all surely aware of people who always have something to say about every single thing there is.
And what I'm going to say most certainly isn't an opinion, nor is it even necessarily the truth or something I believe in or am right about - it's a free invitation through words to take my hand and join me up on a ledge where there's an interesting view. Once you're up here, you can even push me off, or do anything else you like - and I say that to relieve you of all responsibility of response.
We often talk about superstitions like black cats, and broken mirrors, lucky charms - or even refer to religion as being based upon superstitions. Actually, as soon as we begin to refer to something as a superstition, it already implies that it's a belief that's lost its force because, using the word (as I like to do) in the wider meaning of 'a belief that's harmful or not useful', it's clear that a superstition is most harmful when it just is (e.g. 'sinners will go to hell'), and not merely a superstition ('it's a superstition that sinners will go to hell').
We love to rationalise outcomes. A friend recently said that he didn't think he could get a girlfriend because his cock wasn't big enough, another woman friend mentioned that she felt she was too old and not attractive enough to get the job she wanted, and of course the list is just endless. They are essentially carrying around superstitions, but as we see, worse because they are not identified as such.
If you try to stop thinking about anything, what happens? You carry on thinking - in fact you can't not think because it's not really you thinking at all, it's an it (referred to as the you in several songs of mine) and it's what gives us all the illusion of identity. Neither will you stop believing or feeling.
So let me finally haul you up here onto this precarious ledge. I think - I believe - I feel are superstitions, always.
There are things that we know, and there are things that we know that we don't know - this is about the things that we don't know that we don't know. We are all surely aware of people who always have something to say about every single thing there is.
And what I'm going to say most certainly isn't an opinion, nor is it even necessarily the truth or something I believe in or am right about - it's a free invitation through words to take my hand and join me up on a ledge where there's an interesting view. Once you're up here, you can even push me off, or do anything else you like - and I say that to relieve you of all responsibility of response.
We often talk about superstitions like black cats, and broken mirrors, lucky charms - or even refer to religion as being based upon superstitions. Actually, as soon as we begin to refer to something as a superstition, it already implies that it's a belief that's lost its force because, using the word (as I like to do) in the wider meaning of 'a belief that's harmful or not useful', it's clear that a superstition is most harmful when it just is (e.g. 'sinners will go to hell'), and not merely a superstition ('it's a superstition that sinners will go to hell').
We love to rationalise outcomes. A friend recently said that he didn't think he could get a girlfriend because his cock wasn't big enough, another woman friend mentioned that she felt she was too old and not attractive enough to get the job she wanted, and of course the list is just endless. They are essentially carrying around superstitions, but as we see, worse because they are not identified as such.
If you try to stop thinking about anything, what happens? You carry on thinking - in fact you can't not think because it's not really you thinking at all, it's an it (referred to as the you in several songs of mine) and it's what gives us all the illusion of identity. Neither will you stop believing or feeling.
So let me finally haul you up here onto this precarious ledge. I think - I believe - I feel are superstitions, always.
Monday, May 26, 2008
METASIGNIFICANCES
#1: get it
It's perhaps used a bit lazily at times, but when I recently stated that 'Tietchens (but in fact could be referring to anything) doesn't get it' in a recent comment I meant that in a quite nuanced sense. It isn't that he misinterprets it or misunderstands it even though the phrase is commonly used in that way. It is revealing of a deeper unspoken undercurrent of disharmony. These deep disharmonies exist between people and either manifest themselves in often rather small seemingly petty ways which act to hide the deeper issue, or in other cases our prevailing desire to get along with one another makes them elusive to the point of invisibility.
The it is a very small, seemingly insignificant, yet highly potent word that all of us use with casual abandon (as with many others I've previously discussed in the SIGNIFICANCES series). Of course often a very simple pronoun along the lines of 'what colour is your car? it's red'; and in contrast, a word that can encompass vast ineffable belief systems, for example, 'I really want to get away from it all'.
We'll tend to accept this latter statement without asking for clarification to what 'it' or 'it all' represents through a real-time application of our own unique contextual it domain. Arrogant perhaps, but the nevertheless fundamental nature of most discourse. In this same way, and going back to the original example, you can see that there's no direct way of explaining get it, so what follows is my indirect way that will really leave your head spinning and is the nearest thing I'll get to ever explaining my music. Don't continue reading to avoid that, even though it'd be a good sign.
Artistically speaking, if you hear it then you get it, if you don't understand it then you get it, if you understand it then you get it, if you misinterpret it then you get it, but if you want not to understand or interpret or hear then you don't get it. But you can't have the arrogance to experience it as if there wasn't something not to know, the knowing of which would make a difference, absolutely.
It's perhaps used a bit lazily at times, but when I recently stated that 'Tietchens (but in fact could be referring to anything) doesn't get it' in a recent comment I meant that in a quite nuanced sense. It isn't that he misinterprets it or misunderstands it even though the phrase is commonly used in that way. It is revealing of a deeper unspoken undercurrent of disharmony. These deep disharmonies exist between people and either manifest themselves in often rather small seemingly petty ways which act to hide the deeper issue, or in other cases our prevailing desire to get along with one another makes them elusive to the point of invisibility.
The it is a very small, seemingly insignificant, yet highly potent word that all of us use with casual abandon (as with many others I've previously discussed in the SIGNIFICANCES series). Of course often a very simple pronoun along the lines of 'what colour is your car? it's red'; and in contrast, a word that can encompass vast ineffable belief systems, for example, 'I really want to get away from it all'.
We'll tend to accept this latter statement without asking for clarification to what 'it' or 'it all' represents through a real-time application of our own unique contextual it domain. Arrogant perhaps, but the nevertheless fundamental nature of most discourse. In this same way, and going back to the original example, you can see that there's no direct way of explaining get it, so what follows is my indirect way that will really leave your head spinning and is the nearest thing I'll get to ever explaining my music. Don't continue reading to avoid that, even though it'd be a good sign.
Artistically speaking, if you hear it then you get it, if you don't understand it then you get it, if you understand it then you get it, if you misinterpret it then you get it, but if you want not to understand or interpret or hear then you don't get it. But you can't have the arrogance to experience it as if there wasn't something not to know, the knowing of which would make a difference, absolutely.
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