Thinking

I get great pleasure out of thinking. Concentrating on the meaning of life is as satisfying to me as, I presume, it is for a golfer to concentrate on an important putt. I don’t place any greater or lesser importance on my pleasure than on the golfer’s pleasure. I write these thoughts largely for myself though it is quite possible that if I were the only person in the world, I would not bother.
Would I still think if I were alone? One of the things I have found when I am alone is that I frequently think in the past tense. “As I walked up the road toward Mt. Vesuvius from where the bus had dropped me …” I was 27 when I was having that thought in those words while climbing Mt. Vesuvius. I wrote them down in my diary along with the thought “If there was only one person left on earth, and he was I; He would die. Why?”
Why? Because the thought in my head seemed to indicate that I was not climbing through a flowering orchard on a spring day with the cone of Vesuvius ahead of me for my current pleasure but rather for an experience that I could relate to others. Otherwise, why were not my thoughts in the present tense?
Deep breath. “Ahhh. The air is so sweet. God! I love this.” I breathe the air again. I look toward a sound and see a bird. As I emerge from the orchard and start up the cone I can feel my body carrying me upward smoothly. I pause and turn to look out over the bay of Naples. No words in my head about what I am doing. I’m just doing it. No recording necessary.
Would my mind be blank, blank of worded thoughts that is? I shouldn’t think so. The bird might call to mind something I know of birds that could be added to. The fragrance of the air might recall a spring day somewhere in my past. The pull of gravity on my body might bring thoughts of pride at my fitness or a resolve to become more fit. But I’m glad my thoughts weren’t in the present tense. Realizing that brought the philosophical thought, that I was not doing this for myself alone. It is those somehow larger thoughts that I enjoy most, larger and ever so debatable.
There are many things I would not do were there not other people to tell but that is a different thing from thinking. If all other people on the planet suddenly disappeared, would I stop thinking? First I would probably think that was strange. Then I might think it a bit frightening. My life would clearly be different with no one to talk to. I would have to sort out my needs and figure out how to meet them. There would be no one to generate electricity or make matches. How would I cook food? Where would I find food? There would be a lot to think about, at least at first.
At age 27 I thought that I would die if I were the last person on earth. Now, I’m not so sure. Of course I would die eventually but I’m not sure that I would just curl up and die because the only reason for living was to communicate with others. I think I would want to solve the important questions like food and shelter and then I think I would be able to amuse myself with thoughts about the meaning of it all. What was going on? What was I supposed to be doing? The thoughts might not be global or cosmic so much as “What is over the horizon?” “Am I truly alone in the world or are there people that I can find somewhere?” “How did this happen?” Ah, the thoughts seem to progress toward the more philosophical fairly soon.
It is difficult to try to understand thinking before there was language. One model would be animals, I suppose. What does the woodchuck think when it’s nose touches my electric fence for the first time? How do animals learn to be fearful of predators? Are they fearful or merely cautious? What did the early hominid think before language? Can there be thoughts before language?
If I try to think without using words, I think I can have thoughts. Are they thoughts or emotions? Certainly they would be extremely limited absent thoughts from others through written and spoken words. Hunger, shelter, sex are processed through the brain. Those are the “thoughts” I can imagine without words as I sit here half a million or so years later. It was clearly thoughts that brought about the development of tools. It has only been within the past 3,000 years that we have been thinking philosophically. Most of our thought up until then, I suspect, was focused on survival and on improving the quality of life.
What is my dog thinking when she huddles close to me during a thunder storm? What is she thinking when, alone in the house during a thunder storm, she gets into the bathtub? If dogs could communicate about things like thunder, would they exchange ideas on how to cope, try out each others ideas, and come to a general agreement on which strategy worked best?
Before language did hominids wonder what thunder was all about? Did they try to figure out a reason behind it? Once they developed language how did they come to the conclusion that thunder was caused by a god driving his chariot across the sky? As I try to think myself into the skin of people living under those conditions it seems a pretty logical explanation for something that was inexplicable at that time.

What Would Your Wish be?

 

A genie materializes before me and says: “Thomas.”

“What?! You scared the crap outa me.”

“Thomas, I am here to grant you one wish.”

“One, I thought I was supposed to get three?”

“No, that’s in mythology. In reality you don’t get any but I’m making an exception in your case.”

“OK. I wish that everyone loved everyone like Jesus said we should.”

“Eh, sorry, I can’t grant that wish.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you. Wish again.”

“I wish that everyone understood the difference between belief and knowledge.”

“Can’t they just look it up in the dictionary? Or Google it?”

“I think I’m asking for more than that. I want all of us to be able to say about our faith, our belief in God, heaven, hell, etc. to say ‘this is what I believe but I don’t know.’”

“You want atheists to say I believe there is no god, but I don’t know?”

“Right.”

“And Christians to say I believe in God but I don’t know?”

“Yes, and Jews and Muslims and everybody who holds a belief in something that cannot be proven to be true.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because if all of us recognized that our belief was ours and we respected everyone’s belief as being as valid as ours it might be a big step toward loving each other.”

Belif is not knowledge

Whether you believe there is one god, no god or many gods, your belief is no better than any of the others. You may believe in a compassionate god while others believe in a vengeful god. You are no closer to the truth than the others. No one knows there is or isn’t a god.
Perhaps the greatest good, certainly a great goal, for the future would be to have all people come to an understanding of the difference between knowledge and belief. Every belief is valid. I can make a case for there being four hermaphrodite Gods with purple hair who created the universe through a monster collision which is how they mate. The collision, of course, was a big bang and you can take it from there. Should I go a little farther? One of the purple haired Gods is my conscience, another plays with my conscience, testing it, another provides the world through which I pass, my perceptions, and the fourth is in charge of my interaction with other people.
Understanding the difference between belief and knowledge doesn’t diminish anyone’s belief. It might actually strengthen it because others would not be putting down your belief as being inferior to theirs. Imagine a world without religious conflict. Wow!
Whether you believe in a single god, several, many or none only makes a difference in how that belief affects the way you live your life. Those who feel others should believe as they do feel that way simply because in their heart of hearts they know they don’t know—if everyone believed as they did, they could feel totally comfortable with their belief. Since that isn’t going to happen, wouldn’t it be better to accept the simple fact that belief is not knowledge.