Fist and Faith wrote:Sorry for the length of this post, folks. But I have all of this stuff on a website, so it's real easy to copy & paste it for such occasions.
I'm gonna throw a whole lot of stuff into this.
(quotes Matrixman)
You're right. But the conversation took a turn, as they often do here. Yes, I'll argue against Darth's (former) pessimism. In the final analysis, my argument is that our lives are as important as anything else is. Here's my definition of the universe:
Me, you, the sun, Pluto, Jupiter and its moons, the Milky Way galaxy, the star Rigel, the solar winds, the free hydrogen atoms everywhere between the stars, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc.
Notice that you are part of the definition of the universe. In other words, if you never existed, the universe would be defined differently! You are just as much a part of this universe as any galaxy is. Sure, it might exist without any of us, or any star or galaxy or black hole. But it would not be the universe that we know. We are all part of the definition.
Nor is the universe defined only by this moment. You are not defined by the single instant that you are experiencing right now. Every moment of your entire lifespan must be considered as part of the definition of you. Should your entire childhood be ignored when saying who you are? Same goes for the universe. In 1,000,000,000,000,000 years, you are still a part of the definition of the universe.
And what's more, in the eyes of the unimaginably gigantic universe, the Andromeda galaxy is not much bigger than you are. Basically, you are equal to a galaxy. Not bad.
In A Wizard of Earthsea, Urlula K. Le Guin puts it this way. After Ged, the wizard, explains to a girl that light is a great power, she asks, if it is not a secret, what other great powers there are.
"It is no secret. All power is one in source and end, I think. Years and distances, stars and candles, water and wind and wizardry, the craft in a man's hand and the wisdom in a tree's root: they all arise together. My name, and yours, and the true name of the sun, or a spring of water, or an unborn child, all are syllables of the great word that is very slowly spoken by the shining of the stars. There is no other power. No other name."
Remember the legend of ak-Haru Kenaustin Ardenol?
"It is said that he has mastered all skill and prowess that we desire, all restraint and calm, and has become perfection. Passion and mastery like unto the poised grandeur of mountains."
This goes to the beauty of the person, because of the dedication and purity he gave toward his goals. His dedication and purity are as admirable as a mountain's beauty. It also goes to the fact that a person is no smaller, in the grand scheme of things, than a mountain.
Darth's pessimism said (note the past-tense ) that we are not important in the grand scheme of things. I say that we are as important as anything else, and I'm glad to see Darth beginning to come around. I do not think people can be as happy feeling the way he was. And I've yet to hear a convincing reason to reject happiness. So rather than look at it the one way, try the other. It's just as Bernard said in Northern Exposure:
"Your existence has no meaning. None at all. And if you don’t come to grips with that, you’re gonna continue to lead a incomplete, unfulfilled, totally neurotic life. Now normally, I’m loathe to give advice, but, if I were you, I’d learn how to sit still; to face the abyss; to embrace it; to do nothing."
Now, does any of all that address Murrin's question at all? It does for me. I also find the thought of oblivion to be, shall we say, a bit unsettling at times. But I sidestep the issue by concentrating on the stuff in this post. There's SO much out there - and in us - stuff that folks like SRD, Le Guin, and Zindell have expressed brilliantly. And the thrill of it all is enough to drown out the oblivion problem.
OK, one final quote. This is the pessimistic view, said better than I've ever heard it. Ya want dark? I've posted it before, and here it is again! Arguably, the best thing that the world of comic books has ever produced is a twelve-issue series called Watchmen, written by Alan Moore. In it is a character named Rorschach. We learn his origin in issue #6. He was trying to rescue a little girl who had been kidnapped. When he found the kidnapper’s house, he found out that the girl had been killed, butchered, and fed to the dogs. Rorschach handcuffed the man to a pipe, and set the house on fire. He left a saw with the man, but told him that he’d never be able to cut through the cuffs in time. Implying that, if he wanted to live, he’d have to cut his own hand off. Then he went outside to watch the scene. Here's how he describes that moment:
Stood in firelight, sweltering. Blood stain on chest like map of violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night. Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever, and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion, bear children, hellbound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else. Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us. Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world. Was Rorschach.
...
One of my excellent responses to Darth's points is not there! 