This past post on the subject of the "known" isn't totally about the known . . . hopefully it serves as a good bridge to disucssing further aspects of the spiritual side of things.
I was reminded today of a "song" by the performance artist Laurie Anderson. "Language is a Virus." (I assume she got the gist of the idea from the writings of William Burroughs, who wrote about language being "a virus from outer space.")
Anyway, in Anderson's piece there is the line:
"paradise is exactly like where you are right now only much much better."
Now, that's . . . supposed to be an ironic joke, I suppose. But it encapsualtes the very difficulty or writing about this subject . . . namely, the tautological, reflexive nature of language, and more insidiously, thought, since we think mostly in words.
Since we reinforce the shell by talking to ourselves, and at the same time, get all this wonderful (and not so wonderful) feedback from the shell, also expressed in words (even if not spoken), it's nearly imposisble to examine the shell for what it is without getting wrapped up in the reflexive nature of the examination process.
Put more simply, since the shell is convinced that is it "real" and "everything," it's extraordinarily difficult to even conceive of the notion that the shell is actually an agreed-upon interpretation of reality, not reality in and of iteself.
So, to steal a phrase, "Knowedge is independent of language." Language really is, in some ways, a virus. Although calling it a virus disregards the useful and necessary aspects of language. A "mutation" perhaps is a better term.
But I digress (another trap the "virus" sucks us into). If knowledge truly can be independent of language . . . what can we do with that?
The short answer is "precious little." At least at first.
The long answer is the beginning of the unknown.
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