The really interesting part of that quote is: what am I?
Modern culture would have us define ourselves as a lonely and isolated centres of awareness trapped inside a human body. But if I must define my environment to define myself as an organism (e.g. I don’t exist in a vacuum of suspended emptiness) then the definition of ‘l’ includes the environment.
What’s missing in modern culture is a definition of ‘I’ that’s all encompassing and all inclusive. I am me because you are you and the two are inter-dependant.
I’m not religious but I do have an interest in theology and philosophy. When Jesus said “I and the Father are one”, he meant literally, only the Catholic church would have you believe he’s a special edge case and the good word, that we’re are all one, never got out.
I challenge anyone reading this to put disbelief aside for a day and temporarily accept that everyone you meet is another version of you in disguise. That you all share the same source of consciousness that has been differentiated by your genetic container (your body) and unique experience/perspective, and see how your attitude towards others changes. Or in other words, take the philosophy of ‘Treat others the way you would want others to treat you’ literally.
Personally, I define ‘l’ as the whole cosmos. I don’t know how I do it but neither do I know how my stomach digests. A doctor could explain how digestion works but that doesn’t help them digest any better than me. It just happens.
In general I agree, but I have one suggestion re: communication strategy.
I’ve thought similarly regarding the shared nature of the human condition and what that means for how we consider one another. But I’ve puzzled over how to properly share the idea, or rather the feeling, and experimented with different approaches.
So far, I’ve learned that once you start changing basic definitions of fundamental concepts, such as the self, you quickly lose others’ attention. This might be due in part to the prominence of that rhetorical pattern in a long history of mystic and gnostic traditions, for which it often seems confusion is the point, and “don’t ask me how i do it” is the answer (unless there is a “donation” for the instruction). For example, imagining “I as the cosmos” is fairly inaccessible to anyone who hasn’t spent the last few weeks stripping away layers of the self (or isn’t on at least some ayahuasca).
Martin Buber’s I and Thou spends a few hundred pages describing your idea, which boils down to (1) our notion of others (“thou,” the intimate version of “you”) being animated by an outward projection of self, and (2) our notion of self being constructed from inward reflections of ourselves in others’ eyes. Anthropomorphism, ascribing human personalities to animals, is an (otherwise curious) side effect of this distinctively human behavior.
As a social mechanic, it begets empathy and requires trust. Its antithesis is othering which always requires fear. It lends credence to the idea that the more you understand someone — their experiences, their motivations, their dreams — the harder it is to hate and the easier it is to love.
So if you’re looking for a way to communicate this notion of humanistic atonement (at-one-ment) to others, in a way they can use, consider how one might dispel fear and learn to trust.
The really interesting part of that quote is: what am I?
Modern culture would have us define ourselves as a lonely and isolated centres of awareness trapped inside a human body. But if I must define my environment to define myself as an organism (e.g. I don’t exist in a vacuum of suspended emptiness) then the definition of ‘l’ includes the environment.
What’s missing in modern culture is a definition of ‘I’ that’s all encompassing and all inclusive. I am me because you are you and the two are inter-dependant. I’m not religious but I do have an interest in theology and philosophy. When Jesus said “I and the Father are one”, he meant literally, only the Catholic church would have you believe he’s a special edge case and the good word, that we’re are all one, never got out.
I challenge anyone reading this to put disbelief aside for a day and temporarily accept that everyone you meet is another version of you in disguise. That you all share the same source of consciousness that has been differentiated by your genetic container (your body) and unique experience/perspective, and see how your attitude towards others changes. Or in other words, take the philosophy of ‘Treat others the way you would want others to treat you’ literally.
Personally, I define ‘l’ as the whole cosmos. I don’t know how I do it but neither do I know how my stomach digests. A doctor could explain how digestion works but that doesn’t help them digest any better than me. It just happens.
Which, interestingly, is also in the Pirkei Avot! The old rabbis were definitely onto something.
In general I agree, but I have one suggestion re: communication strategy.
I’ve thought similarly regarding the shared nature of the human condition and what that means for how we consider one another. But I’ve puzzled over how to properly share the idea, or rather the feeling, and experimented with different approaches.
So far, I’ve learned that once you start changing basic definitions of fundamental concepts, such as the self, you quickly lose others’ attention. This might be due in part to the prominence of that rhetorical pattern in a long history of mystic and gnostic traditions, for which it often seems confusion is the point, and “don’t ask me how i do it” is the answer (unless there is a “donation” for the instruction). For example, imagining “I as the cosmos” is fairly inaccessible to anyone who hasn’t spent the last few weeks stripping away layers of the self (or isn’t on at least some ayahuasca).
Martin Buber’s I and Thou spends a few hundred pages describing your idea, which boils down to (1) our notion of others (“thou,” the intimate version of “you”) being animated by an outward projection of self, and (2) our notion of self being constructed from inward reflections of ourselves in others’ eyes. Anthropomorphism, ascribing human personalities to animals, is an (otherwise curious) side effect of this distinctively human behavior.
As a social mechanic, it begets empathy and requires trust. Its antithesis is othering which always requires fear. It lends credence to the idea that the more you understand someone — their experiences, their motivations, their dreams — the harder it is to hate and the easier it is to love.
So if you’re looking for a way to communicate this notion of humanistic atonement (at-one-ment) to others, in a way they can use, consider how one might dispel fear and learn to trust.