Illusions

Everything in consciousness must be an illusion.

If that’s true (and I think it must be), then what is real?

In “Waking Up,” Sam Harris says: When you examine something carefully, and it changes, that’s a sign that it might be an illusion.

He encourages readers to examine “the self” to see if it’s an illusion or not.

I examined my idea of self, and I found it to be an illusion. YMMV.

But if the self is also an illusion, then what is real?

The way to find out—if there is a way—is the same. Examine an illusion carefully, and you may see the reality that lies behind it.

Magic tricks are well-crafted illusions. Magicians are properly called “illusionists.”

Excellent tricks remain illusions even when examined carefully by people who don’t know the trick. But once you know what to look for, the reality behind the illusion is often quickly revealed.

Seeing through an illusion may not make any difference.

Knowing how an illusion is created might take away the fun.

But it might also reveal new ways of interacting with the world.

Carefully examining the illusions present in conscious experience may reveal a useful underlying reality.

Or it may be a waste of time.

My money (and time) is on “useful.”

YMMV

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Consciousness

Here’s a paradox.

Consciousness is the only thing of which we can be certain.

Yet, everything that appears in consciousness is an illusion.

We categorize what arises in consciousness as “ideas” and “reality.”

But what we call “reality” cannot be real.

It must be the product of our nervous systems creating order from sense data.

What we call “reality” must be an illusion.

What we call “ideas” are abstractions based on the illusions that we call “reality.”

Ideas are not real, either.

So consciousness—the only thing we can be sure of—contains only illusions and abstractions of illusions.

That seems paradoxical.

Is there something more to consciousness than that?

I think that there might be.

I think, therefore I am.

I seek, and I might find.

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Being, doing, having

This is part of a series of posts. Come back when I’m finished and I’ll link them together.

(Well, it’s a series of two. And here’s the second one)

But for now

Being, Doing, Having

Being leads to doing leads to having.

Be a writer. Do writing. Do it long enough, and you’ll have a piece of writing as a result. Do it long enough, and you’ll have skilz.

Be. Do. Have.

But doing does not lead to being.

Forcing someone who is not a writer to do writing is a form of abuse. It leads to frustration.

I’ve written about this before..

So what do I do once I’m a writer?

What’s the answer?

Here’s something I’ve learned: If I look carefully at what I’m doing, and intend to find answers, I can find answers.

Right now, I am writing.

And looking.

And intending to find answers.

And what I discover is an illusion.

Illusions

After watching myself write, I start to consider that writing might be an illusion. This should not surprise me. Everything is an illusion. I’ve written about this before:

Waking up and the illusion of the self Simple illusions and multi-layered illusions. They’re all just illusions. The only thing I can be certain of Ideas are illusions — we’re only in trouble when we think they are real Here, there, and everywhere

Why should writing be different?

Here’s a test for illusions I learned from Sam Harris’ book “Waking up.” Look carefully. See what changes. If what you were looking at changes radically—or even disappears—then it was an illusion.

As I write, I look more carefully. Before long, I see through the illusion.

I’m not writing.

I’m not writing this sentence.

Even though I’ve decided that I’m a writer, I don’t write.

I sit. I intend. And writing appears.

How writing appears

I’ve written about this before. A lot, like here and here and here and here

Then, after the writing appears, I read what has appeared. And then I judge its quality.

Quality!

That’s what it is.

Find out why, here.

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