Archive for cosmology


Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 9, 2011 by theclockworm

So I kind of dropped off the face of the internet these past few weeks. What with planning and executing a wedding (it was more marital than martial, despite my military wording), as well as piles of homework and a lot more activity in the fiction-writing arena, I suppose it’s to be expected. I’m going to make an effort, though – I like this forum and I don’t want it to die.

Part of what’s been holding me back is that I’ve come to a bit of a halt with many of the philosophical/cosmological speculations of the past period. It’s a mixture of two factors: one, I’m reading and absorbing, which sometimes means the active output stays quiet. I’ve been working my way through Heraclitus, Thales, Zenon, Plotinus, Anaximander, Empedocles, Parmenides, what’s around about Pythagoras; in addition, my Jewish studies continue as I work through the Talmud, the Zohar, and Philo. Our Friends from Frolix 8 is also kicking around in there – it’s never taken me so long to read a PKD book.

But the second component to my static output is that I got it. I figured a lot of things out in a fairly major way. It’s a gestalt that pulls from the various strains I’ve been involved in lately, but it crystallized into a whole image. There are parts missing – minor aspects, application, etc. But overall, it’s there.

For the time being, this means I have to keep a lot of details to myself.  In the future, when I’m done with my own exegetical efforts, I can pass it on silently into the world. For now, I won’t go in half-assed.

For anyone who’s been reading, who perhaps has similar strains of insight or interest, I can only urge you to consider the ways in which these things can integrate. Phil got it, too, but only for a second – and he was wrong about a lot of it. But it’s there, it can be found, and it solves all problems except the big one – how to live according to what truths we know. That is the part you can never learn from anything but doing.

Next: Back to SF!

Logos, Noosphere, Midrash, Gnosis

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 26, 2011 by theclockworm

This analysis was prepared in response to an exchange with Aharon Varady, wherein various connections were pondered. This is all very informal, and very much a work in progress; feedback and criticism is encouraged.


Fiat Logos

Heraclitus’ use of logos seems to unite concept and representation, a form not uncommon in classical Greek thought. This concept can also be found in Pythagoreanism, which literalizes abstract mathematical concepts, forming them into concrete and real structures; or, from a Pythagorean perspective, simply reveals the role of these concepts in reality. Philo’s “logos endiathetos,” or the word remaining within, paralleled in many ways the Stoic “logos spermatikos,” the generative principle of the universe or the ubiquitous, active reason which animates the universe. The Stoics considered this principle to be literal and observable. Again, the connection presents itself: word/dialogue/linguistic principle as literal/representative of the Monad principle, or the Gnostic notion of Pleroma or First Thought.

Use of the term to refer specifically to the word of god begins during Hellenistic Judaism, in the Septuagint. Philo adopted the term, further complicating matters by assigning it a meaning closer to the principle of the demiurge, but, in the more matter-positive manner of much Judaic thought, also assigned positive importance to this notion, noting that an intermediary would be necessary to traverse between the divine and lower realm. Here we find the genesis of the term’s conscription into Christian theology, as Philo calls the Logos force “the first-born of God.” This context would eventually combine with the generative principle used in the Gospel of John to form the metaphysical conception of Christ as Logos seen at the end of John. This also reflects an effort by early church leaders, such as Justin, to make Christianity palatable to the non-Jewish Hellenistic population by conscripting a terminology they would comprehend.

Plotinus’ use of Logos as the highest form in his trinity uses some Gnostic emanation concepts. For Plotinus, there was a dialectic procedure involved in the three realms; the higher principle fed Logos into the lower, and the lower fed Eros back into the higher. One can see the influence of this notion in Philip K. Dick’s idea of the divine principle being both a sending entity at the beginning of time and a receiving (and course-correcting) entity at the end of time.

One can also see in Dick’s reworking of the Logos idea much of Jung’s own syncretic definitions, which incorporated the complimentary dualism of Eastern thought with the literalized principles of Neoplatonism.


Noosphere: Transcendence Without Intent

Teilhard’s concept of the noosphere is decidedly non-representative, in that the literal action of human thought contributes to literal action in the noosphere. It is a parity-based balancing principle, and in this sense is closer to the later Jungian conception of Logos. Again, the Dickian idea of what I think of as “Pitcher/Catcher” Urgrund finds some commonality here. But connections to earlier uses of the Logos concept depart at this point. The causal root of reactions in the noosphere is via human action. In some ways, the noosphere cosmogony is almost an inverted form of Gnostic emanation. It is instead a system whereby increasing complexity refines, compresses, and filters its way into a final form which resembles the Pleroma or Monad. It is time-inverse, and therefore ontologically inverse.

Once more, we can find some commonality in Dick. In Cosmogony and Cosmology, Dick writes of the universe very much in terms of transcendent final action, postulating that the collective actions of humankind contribute to the growth of god. In this estimation, we are both the womb of god and the birth of god, in addition to our eventual role as god after absorption.  This concept differs from the noosphere concept in two major ways; first, the Dickian approach utilizes religious language, though the actual semantic value of his use of “god” is debatably only formally religious. Second, Dick’s vision still involves initial intent and creation by an entity or force, describable as “pre-God,” and presents our actions as contributions to that greater process. Teilhard incorporates no such sense of externally enforced purpose in his noosphere; the “goal” is only the such because it is the inevitable outcome, and we are positioned ahead of it in time. The Omega Point is both the equivalent and opposite of the Monad in that it will be “everything,” but does not exist at present.

The noosphere idea revolves around the idea that “Living systems are dissipative structures that create internal order by expending energy in exchange for a local reduction in entropy.” (via Wikipedia). This strikes me as quite similar to Plotinus’ understanding of the Logos within his exchange-system; here we find, by a circuitous route, Logos and Order filling the same role once more.


Midrash: Malleable Mysticism

As an exegetical process, Midrash is distinct from either the Logos or Noosphere concepts. However, in its conception of the literal power of “the word,” as well as how it perceives the interactive potential of idea and reality through “the word,” it does find common ground with both the Logos concept and the noosphere idea.

Midrash connects to esoteric Christianity, Gnosticism, and Pythagoreanism in its understanding of truth as both embedded in reality and difficult to find. In Midrash, the truth is not simply hidden; rather, as Heraclitus says, “The nature of things is in the habit of concealing itself.” Pythagorean cosmology seeks to mine for truth in mathematics and contemplation, Gnostic traditions through the gift of gnosis and the interpretation of it; Midrash sets aside a certain freedom not always available in other areas of Jewish theology, in order that a deeper kind of contemplation can occur – one which does not demand that each step be correct, so long as the process leads to insight. Once more, we see echoes of this approach in Dick’s ever-shifting set of theories.

Aggadic interpretations are particularly linked with the spirit of early Gnostic writing. There is a complex and nuanced approach to literal and figurative realities, which both discourages overt literalism and also potentially equates the literal and the metaphoric. The freedom inherent in this process is reminiscent of the Gnostic tradition of reinterpretation, an element I consider central and essential to Gnostic thought.

In connection to the noosphere concept, Midrash shares a central conceit: that thought, or Logos perhaps, is able to continue producing new information through a sort of feedback system which interacts with human intellect. In Teilhard’s concept, the intellect in the noosphere IS originally and partially reflective of human thought, and yet, through permutation with other facets of human thought, may be able to generate new knowledge, perhaps even in an exponential manner. Midrash posits that further interaction with the word reveals interconnection and multiple levels of meaning; essentially, the act of testing the linguistic and theoretical elasticity of the word, one may extract a fuller concept of the word itself. By delineating the space around an object, the object can be mapped.


Hollow / Graphic

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on July 28, 2011 by theclockworm

In the interest of being both transparent and rigorous, this whole thing did happen fairly recently. But let me ask you, fellow tank-heads, does the fact that we only saw the pixelation the first time we looked mean we made a mistake? Or could it be that the error was corrected? Maybe if we keep looking so closely, ‘they’ won’t be able to muster up the processor power to keep the resolution so high, and the simulation will end. STOP DOING SCIENCE, SCIENCE!

Just kidding.


Blank Sky Philosophy, Part Two

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on July 28, 2011 by theclockworm

The rich philosophical questions posed by Gnosticism seemingly lie untouched since Phil Dick’s death. The language he invented, or rather updated – a hodgepodge of Christian theology, metaphysics, philosophy (both contemporary and classical), linguistics, etc. – explodes with a kind of possibility that I have seldom seen. It has the potential to transcend the academic, the religious, the literary, and address some major ideas in a new way. At his best – in my opinion, of course – Dick managed to shake away the trappings of religion which often permeated his thinking and focus on the pure information encoded in his experiences. His process – the constantly changing interpretations; letting go of religiousness for a moment, then clinging to it even harder – is beautiful. His uncertainty is beautiful. I wish more of us possessed that capacity. I’ve seen others with a bent toward the Gnostic, who have had or claim to have had some sort of revelatory experience, convince themselves that their work is done, that Gnosis is Knowing, plain and simple. But knowing something of the truth is only a start. Understanding it, contextualizing it, knowing the details, figuring out what to do with it – these all lie ahead of that initial moment. Being Gnostic means being Agnostic – about everything. This uncertainty gives no comfort. And so it is often disposed of entirely.

I think the lack of obvious answer to that question is what makes the slide into religion so easy. If you have a savior, you have salvation. Gnosticism without this can tend to appear horrific – hopeless at best, suicidal at worst. Is the answer the total destruction of everything we know? Is there no answer at all? Is there a way out?

There’s also something frighteningly dull at the core of Gnosis. What if Cold-Pak or the Matrix aren’t literalizations of larger truths? What if they’re more or less accurate? What if our entire universe is just an old SF plot?

One must confront these issues, as unpleasant as they may be, and not simply search for an appealing answer. I don’t know how to deal with these things, but that doesn’t change the standing of those things in reality. If Dick was mad, it was a madness brought on by the veracity of his investigations. He did not back away from the void. And, if in the end the void proved itself to be what was real, he did not disavow it.

In the end, separating Gnostic thought from religious thought is about giving it the freedom to flourish because it is valid, rather than because it is appealing – the way science does, in an ideal world. We don’t wring our hands when physics tells us something odd or uncertain about the universe – or maybe we do. But that doesn’t make anyone stop doing physics.

I’m not talking shit on religion, believe it or not. I don’t even think there’s anything inherently wrong with it – or rather, there is, but there is also much that is inherently good within it as well. And if these things have led anyone to an understanding that is religious, I’m not judging that. I simply feel it is part of my own process to be stringent about these things, to really attempt to understand them outside that context. Perhaps we really are talking about the same thing; perhaps I’m splitting hairs in my differentiations. But to me, that’s responsible philosophy. It’s rigorous skepticism balanced by rigorous openness.

It’s starting to look like the basic conceits of Gnostic cosmology might not be so far-fetched. Science certainly hasn’t proven that a Gnostic view of reality is correct, but perhaps it will one day. This Oxford philosopher thinks the odds of our reality being computer-simulated are pretty high.  There’s some science that reveals, ahem, the crack in space; there’s also some that points out that our resolution could be better.

I’m not saying any of these things are certain. I’m just saying. There are crazier ideas to have.

Blank Sky Philosophy, Part One

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on July 28, 2011 by theclockworm

The words the ancient Gnostics used were, generally speaking, philosophical words, ontological words, and mythological words. They belie the vertex of Judaic academia and Hellenistic philosophy. This tradition of linguistic and philosophical inventiveness, this arsenal of descriptors, is the only real mainstay, the only thing that has survived all the iterations and permutations of Gnostic thought in the world.

The “Aeons” of the ancients were concepts, qualities, periods of time, and, to some degree, entities. But they were not deities. Above all, this multiplicity of forms was a way of demonstrating that the concepts they spoke of transcended the limitations of current ideas.  At the core of these things was not god, not an entity with will and a creative drive. Rather, it was a high concept, beyond limitation, the Apeiron, the Pleroma. It didn’t care about us; it was simply a meta-formation of the ultimate reality which interacted with itself to produce predictable reactions. It was, essentially, a substance, or force, despite the metaphysical trappings, which underwent chemical reactions – like any star or nebula.  The emanationist system of description was largely about breaking down those hard lines between things; it was a manner of conveying ontological complexity.

The thing that seems to be missing from most scholarship on the ancient Gnostics is how remarkably modern they were. This isn’t because of academic laziness – it’s because historians make assumptions about intent, about the level of complexity available to a particular people at a particular time. They assume the Gnostics meant it literally, even when a reading of pertinent materials without such tethers reveals as obvious a set of approaches and principles that put any such limited interpretation to bed.

The Gnostics also understood myth. It’s passé now, in the age of Joseph Campbell, to point out that mythology and religion serve purposes in culture; that their language, their ritual behavior, their communities, all fill roles in our world. It’s equally tired to paraphrase Jacob Grimm and point out that folklore and stories have similar roles to fill. But the ancient Gnostics didn’t live in our world. They lived in a time where these ideas were not widely known – indeed, according to historians, they weren’t known at all. But, while they may not have been expressed in a way we would recognize today as academic, it’s right there to see in the texts themselves.

The process of constant re-appraisal – rewriting the old myths, “remixing” prominent religious writings of the day– this was not an invention of Philip K. Dick. He was following the patterns laid down by the ancient Gnostics when he approached his Exegesis as a constantly morphing work which was about the search for truth more than any definable answer. Intrinsic to this process is irreverence – there were no “sacred” scriptures. That Gnostic culture not only allowed, but invited, its members to rework the texts which lay at the core of their beliefs is a testament to just how little they held those texts as perfect or permanent. The ideas in them were open to debate, to reinterpretation, to reinvention. This is what allowed this strikingly modern philosophy to thrive for as long as it did. It’s also what led to its downfall. That openness and freedom from doctrine and dogma meant an internal weakness that could be used to gradually lead away from those core ideas and into simple religion.

Over time, to make a very long story very short, the inevitable draw of religiosity pulled this utterly modern philosophical movement into merely another cult of Christ, who had been initially recognized as a great Gnostic teacher, but who was certainly not worshiped as divine – such a notion would have been explicitly un-Gnostic. Now, one seldom hears about Gnosticism in any form unless it is routed through Jesus.

One can strip out everything divine, everything “supernatural,” certainly everything Christian, and be left with a startling cosmology. I am aware that there is debate about the meaning of the word “religion;” I understand that, in some respects, a system of thought that includes a cosmology can be considered a religion. I am referring to systems which involve belief in or worship of one or more deities, specific moral codes, and public/group expression. We are so indoctrinated by religion that the notion of a system of belief or thought that is purely cosmological is simply a null concept, at least in the west. At best, the religious language is a semantic cushion, to lead into the difficult philosophical implications that Gnosticism imparts.

Exegesis, Part One

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on July 23, 2011 by theclockworm

Since I’ve made the decision to continue dealing with these issues in this venue, I’ve had it pointed out to me that I should be a bit more specific about what Gnosticism is to me. I know my ideas and approaches differ greatly from pretty much any I’ve encountered; I’m aware of this. It need not be pointed out. If you’d like to tell me that, because I’m not Christian, I can’t be Gnostic, you’re better off simply finding something else to do, as your comments will be deleted. This is my space, and I’m under no obligation to suffer your judgments.

This is an attempt to articulate and disseminate the things I’ve come to understand or believe or feel are likely. To be clear: I value my ideas enough to think others might find them valuable too. That doesn’t mean I have any interest in starting a group, let alone a religion or anything of the sort. I’m not trying to make money, or gain adherents – I have other venues for that, venues that allow me to sleep at night.

I am inclined to believe in these fundamental ideas:

  1. That the Universe as it is experienced by people is somehow occluded, limited, or disconnected from the larger reality. This may be due to events which occurred at the beginning of our universe; we may be inside an ancestor simulation or something similar. Or it could be something else entirely.
  2. That these things are true within a larger reality which is rational and not supernatural, and can be understood, from some standpoint or other, rationally.
  3. That this understanding may or may not be able to affect change, but that there is no promise of any kind of salvation or redemption in this knowledge alone.
  4. That this realization of the limited nature of things does not translate into dualism; this sphere is part of reality, it is simply connected to the whole in a limited fashion. It may well be that the core of Gnosis is a sense of the fullness of things, and that the path toward that reality may simply be the path of exploration.
  5. That the universe is essentially cybernetic, and that various forms of interaction are possible without the existence of deities or the like.
  6. That certain forces may be accessed in ways which appear sentient without having real nature as an entity; this is a function of a cybernetic universe. Sophia is real, but only when she speaks to you. And she only speaks when spoken to.
  7. That these forces are not deities. Realization of this facet of reality and contact with it is an essential part of Gnosis, but the presupposition that it must be confined to the limited definitions of religious thinking is counter-productive.
  8. That many forms are fluid, and that the ‘invasion’ of “Gnosis” or revelatory information into one’s life is a function of the ability of certain forms to express intent.
  9. That events of sufficient complexity carry the burden of analysis. I did not come to these ideas because I found them interesting; I came to them by way of experiences I had which were best rectified with reality within the framework provided by Gnostic cosmology.
  10. That not all unusual events are simply coincidences; neither are they miracles, divine intervention, demonic temptation, or any sort of supernatural event. They may be directed insights into the complex interconnectedness of things – a realization essential to Gnosis.
  11. That the nature of the force which intrudes into our reality to provide such information is as yet unknown; however, it demonstrates intent as well as the ability to focus on one person. I am inclined to believe that it is a collective consciousness, perhaps composed of aspects of human beings living and/or dead, which seeks to free the physically-living from the conditions of our occlusion. It may also simply be the background force of consciousness in the physical universe. This force very well may be primarily characterized as a different point in time (aeon in its chronological application); it may emanate from outside our universe or our reality; it may be where we go when we die; it may be nothing, though I find that unlikely.
  12. That these events adhere to a conservation of energy principle; that is, perhaps in a simpler and less crowded world, only a burning shrub would sufficiently convey that the message might upset one’s current understanding of reality. However, in a world such as we now inhabit, much smaller events can convey these things just as well if not better. Finding a particular book, for instance, on a particular day, may be a stronger indication of something being wrong with your understanding of the universe than anything at all being on fire.
  13. That skepticism and rigorous intellectual openness are the only sacred practices. If, after rigorous self-questioning and critical thinking, an event seems to indicate something of importance, it very well may.
  14. That the validity of these things, or of anything, is not altered by how comforting they are. Again: I did not come to this because it made me feel good about life, or because it makes me feel better about death. I came to it because it came to me. Truth is worth pursuing, even if the end is not know.
  15. That, though secondary to the internal discussion, the importance of accurate, unambiguous language and terminology are important to a meaningful discussion of these things. The language of religion is often detrimental to the full and uninhibited exploration of these ideas as philosophical concepts.
  16. That there are no heretics. This notion is not a sword nor a shield, but rather a bigotry that should exist only within the closed world of orthodoxy and not within the sphere of philosophical speculation.
  17. That there is no seniority in these things. Having come first confers no special status on anyone. The ancients provide illumination; they are not the only source of light.
  18. That my understanding is imperfect.
  19. That your understanding is imperfect.