Imagination and Reality
We tend to split imagination from reality, too neatly – just as we generally split existence from non-existence. “Surely, A cannot be ~A.” The atheist, especially, claims that certain things exist and certain things do not exist. The theist, who might be intuitively skeptical of such categorical absoluteness, nonetheless feels compelled to utilize his opponent’s conceptual framework when claiming “God exists”.
This God of the theists must not, for theists, be a product of the imagination. He cannot be an imaginary friend. He must be “real” in some way. For this God to at least loosely correlate with some theistic narrative, he must be an empirical possibility. Even if he doesn’t generally manifest in space and time, he can and necessarily at least once did manifest in space and time.
This God of the theists must, for atheists, be a product of the imagination. He is an imaginary friend, and is completely unreal. He is an empirical impossibility, or perhaps empirically nonsense or metaphor.
I’m currently dealing with the lingering symptoms of the common cold. Though I don’t cough at night while I’m very relaxed or asleep, I cough throughout my waking hours. Something about being awake and active agitates my lungs, causing me to regularly cough. Simplistically, one answer to the coughing problem is to completely relax, similarly to a inducing a state of near-sleep. This would in fact work, though I wouldn’t be able to function the way I need to in order to live and make a living. A trick I’ve discovered is to literally (but not out loud) “talk” to my lungs at certain times during the day. I say soothing things to my lungs, and in my imagination I picture them responding. Empirically, they do respond. And the response lasts beyond the exercise.
I tend to think of myself, vaguely, as an internally homogenous entity. But this is clearly not the case. What is this “self”? Is it the body? If so, which part of the body is it? I can certainly cut off my thumb or receive a transplant and I am still me. Am I my brain? But if so, which part of my brain am I? Am I not my body, but my immaterial thoughts? My will? But thoughts come and go, and my will is just as volatile.
Some years ago I took some yoga classes with my wife. I liked yoga, and the classes were pleasant and energizing. For some reason though, I always had a slight balance problem. And for some reason I don’t do yoga anymore. I prefer “old fashioned” workouts to stay in shape. But I still do a very short yoga routine after my workout, which is great for not tightening up too much. And I still have this slight balance problem. In yoga class, the woman who led the class would often go around helping us with various postures. She would use her hands to guide the body into its proper alignment. A trick I’ve discovered is to imagine her beside me, literally holding my body in its proper position – literally supporting me. This technique actually works.
I tend to think of myself, vaguely, as a singular entity, independent of any substantial context. The space around me is thin, not thick. I am like a billiard ball, bouncing back and forth between other billiard balls. But this is clearly not the case. I would not exist at all if it weren’t for innumerable others, and perfect supporting conditions.
If I know with certainty that “I” do not exist as such (as a single, independent, unchanging material or immaterial entity) how could I then believe that lungs, or yoga teachers, or God exists in that way? God cannot “exist”. But perhaps neither does he not “exist”. But what, then, is he?
When I was in my 20’s, I learned to be healthier. I learned how to eat better, get more exercise, and not abuse my body and mind. At the time I thought I had been healthy. I had no idea at the time that I hadn’t been. We cling to our ideas of what is sane, normal, and reasonable. We might even elevate these concepts, giving them quasi-religious status. We might even call it “The Middle Way”. But we need to continually pinch ourselves, lest we sink for good into this dream that we, with mistaken confidence, call “reality”.
These “tricks”, if we understand their import, are reminders of unbounded reality as it is. Myself, I know that without utilizing them, I tend to forget who and what I really am. It is an enormous misfortune in life to mistake convention for truth; normalcy for sanity, existence for health.
