Recreating (and advancing) pk’s censored domains:
Knatz.com / Teaching / Society / Social Epistemology /
2004 08 01 I’ve got a bunch of things in mind here. But maybe that’s OK. Let’s spill a handful of junk see what kind of patterns we see. Since I’m writing this, I get to construct the kaleidoscope, so I’ll say at the top what kind of pairings I have in mind: wave, particle … continuous, discontinuous … predictable, unpredictable … time1, time2 … convergent, divergent …
The kid gets caught with his pants down; his parents crack the door while he’s kneeling in prayer …
Lincoln gets shot while in office: so he’s a martyr; Jesus got tortured after being railroaded: so he’s God.
Teilhard de Chardin writes some smart theology, cosmology: so he’s a saint, or genius, or some damn thing; that “same” de Chardin gets caught faking “science”: so he’s just another fraudulent priest.
The strobe light catches the pretty blond smiling like Keira Knightley; another strobe catches her with a powder mustache and blood running out of her nose (or with blood or some goo running down her leg).
The Greeks said (Oedipus, final chorus) count no man happy till he’s dead: meaning that all future strobes will catch him nothing but dead: fixed: our judgment can be permanent.
Judeo-Christian theism puts a big kleptocrat in the sky and then imagines that his judgments will be “right”; Hindu imagination has patterns making patterns, some lasting, some evaporating: none of it real, all of it real.
Left-brained men see things linearly, time has an “arrow”: right-brained women see things circularly, time cycles.
Westerners see “things” as things: concrete; they hold still: an individual is an individual, a country is a country; science for a century has been pissing every body off by seeing different things as particulate, discrete, discontinuous: light comes in quanta: Sometimes we “see” it as particles, sometimes it manifests as waves: depends on how you’re looking at it.
My original Judgment Day story imagines divine judgment coming right in the middle of a late afternoon; first God looks young, merciful; then God looks old, wrathful; then God froths at the mouth and grows horns, not just a devil, The Devil; then we sense a ageless god, more benign, but also more remote. (Quite naturally, neither churches nor the marketplace (in the person of those level-brained guardians of culture and profit, publishers) wanted you to see it: so it’s still unpublished: except for a snippet here at Knatz.com, published by me.)