Here, there, and everywhere

There's exactly one thing that we know cannot be an illusion: one thing, and one thing only -- consciousness. We can be fooled about everything else. We can see mirages, hear ringing in our ears, be tricked by magicians. We can take drugs that cause us to see things that violate all the laws of physics. But we can't be tricked into believing we are conscious: to be tricked we must first be conscious. We can be tricked into believing we are not conscious, but we can't be tricked into believing that we are.

So our own consciousness can't be an illusion. But everything can be an illusion. And indeed everything else must be an illusion. Stronger, or weaker, but still an illusion.

I'm not saying "might be an illusion." I'm saying "must be." And I'm not saying that there's no such thing as reality. I'm saying that what we see, hear, and otherwise perceive of reality must be an illusion. Because whatever we are, we have no way to directly contact reality.

Consider: when we point our cell phone cameras at real, three dimensional objects, light enters the lens, strikes a photosensor array, is processed by a combination of software and hardware and is rendered as a pattern of illumination on the flat screen of the phone. The patterns give us the illusion of seeing real objects. But we know it's just an illusion. The reality is just the flat, glowing screen.

When we point our eyes at real, three dimensional objects, light enters our eyes, strikes photosensitive cells, and is processed by a webs of neurons discharging electropotentials and emiting neurotransmitters. Somehow, the cascade of discharges and emissions gives us the illusion of seeing real objects. But that must also just  be an illusion.

Reality may exist, but what we see of it must be an illusion.

Reading Sam Harris' book "Waking Up" caused me to realize that my conventional self is also an illusion. I wrote about the experience here and again here and other places as well, because I keep waking up -- becoming conscious -- which can't be an illusion -- and aware of a self, which I rediscover is an illusion.

So here I am, a self is an illusion, perceiving a here and now that is an illusion.

So I imagine myself in a different place and a different time -- fin Italy, a year ago for Dana and Daniel's wedding. I can see the gardens. And I know it's an illusion.

So what's the difference?

The illusion of being here, now, in 2016, in my home in Maine, writing this, is stronger than the illusion of being Italy in 2015. But that doesn't change the fact that both are illusions.

And the idea that I have to choose between them? Maybe that's just another illusion. Maybe I can be both here alone now typing AND in Italy a year ago. Why choose? What does that gain me?

Nothing. I conclude. It's better for me to be in both places than to pick just one.

Being here and now AND in Italy a year ago, or here and now AND in Hong Kong at some undefined time in the past is vastly superior to just being here and now.

Italy is gorgeous. So is Hong Kong.

You can join me, if you want. Or you can travel through time and space to Maine, June 4, 2016, and sit with me as I write this.