Day: September 8, 2017

When I Die, You Will Cease to Exist

Fandango26 Comments
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“Beyond Solipsism” ©2010 Casey Kotas

I am not a solipsist.

I am not a what? What the hell is a solipsist?

According to the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy, solipsism is a doctrine that says, in principle, my existence is only that which I experience — physical objects, other people, events, and processes — anything that would commonly be regarded as a constituent of the space and time in which I coexist with others and is necessarily construed by me as part of the content of my consciousness.

For the solipsist, it is not merely the case that he believes that his or her thoughts, experiences, and emotions are the only thoughts, experiences, and emotions. Rather, the solipsist can attach no meaning to the supposition that there could be thoughts, experiences, and emotions other than his or her own.

Another interesting way of looking at solipsism is the way the Urban Dictionary, of all places, defines it:

Solipsism is the belief that the person holding the belief is the only real thing in the universe. All other persons and things are merely ornaments or impediments to his or her happiness.

Solipsism versus Nihilism

Just to be clear, solipsism is not the same as nihilism. The solipsist believes that his or her own life has meaning and value, whereas the nihilist believes that life itself, including his or her own, has no intrinsic meaning or value. It’s the belief that a single human, or even the entire human species, is insignificant, without purpose, and unlikely to change in the totality of existence.

Now that I’ve cleared that up, let’s get back to solipsism.

René Descartes proved his existence by saying “cogito, ergo, sum,” or “I think, therefore I am.” The solipsist prefers “cogito, ergo, omnia sum,” or “I think, therefore, I am everything!”

Based upon these definitions and descriptions of solipsism, I again say that I am not a solipsist. But I may be close.

I don’t deny the existence of anything else in the universe outside of myself, or claim it to be non-existent or not real except in my own mind. I know that each and every one of you who may be reading this post exists. You are real. You have your own minds, your own lives, and your own very real experiences.

I know that the couch that I’m sitting on, the iPhone that I’m typing on, the screen I’m looking at, and the WordPress app on which this post is being published all exist. You and these items are not just figments of my imagination, not mere ornaments or impediments, not constructs of my mind.

That said, if I don’t exist, neither do you. If I don’t exist, nothing exists.

Wait. What?

Okay, let me put it another way. If I didn’t exist, nothing would exist — for me. So everything that exists for me is dependent upon my existence.

From my perspective, when I die, when I cease to exist, you will all cease to exist. This couch, my iPhone, and WordPress app will no longer exist — for me. My wife, my kids, my pets, my home, my city, my country, this planet will no longer exist — for me — because I will no longer exist.

Yes, you and everything else and everyone else will continue to exist to and for each other. The sun will continue to rise and set every day. The tides will continue to ebb and flow. People will continue to go about their business.

There will continue to be strife and violence across the globe. Hurricanes, floods, earthquakes, and forest fires will not cease. Congress will continue to be totally dysfunctional, Vladimir Putin will continue to be a total douchebag, Trump will continue to be an asshole, and people will continue to argue about whether or not God exists.

But not for me. Because I will not exist. So for me, nothing will exist.

Therefore, everything that exists is dependent upon my existence. For me. From my perspective.

Does that make me a solipsist?

Or just a little narcissistic?

Bridge Over Troubled Water

Fandango11 Comments

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Today’s one-word prompt, “crescendo,” immediately reminded me of a memory etched deep inside my mind. What memory is that, you ask? Great question. Let me tell you about it.

Back in the day, I had a certain routine I followed whenever I got a new album. I would bring it home from the record store, carefully remove the 33-1/3 LP platter out of its album cover, touching it by the edges only, gently place the vinyl record on the turntable, and lower the needle on the first track of the album.

Then I’d don my large headphones, plug the curly tether into the amplifier, and stretch the long, curly cord enough to enable me to lie down on my bed and be absorbed into the music.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that between the time I got back to my place from the record store and started my little routine, I would toke-up enough to get a buzz on. Hey, it was the late 60s and early 70s.

The first cut on the “Bridge Over Troubled Water” album is the title song. Now I’m not really an emotional guy. I’m generally very stoic, somewhat detached, and mostly unflappable. But as I was lying in bed, listening to the lyrics of that song and the way the music built up to an amazing crescendo, something unusual, for me, anyway, happened. Instead of maintaining my normally cool as a cucumber demeanor, my eyes were starting to tear up and then overflow until the tears streamed down my cheeks.

When the song ended, I was crying like a little girl. I threw off the headphones, went back to the album on my turntable, and placed the stylus back at the beginning of the first track. This time I sat cross-legged in front of my stereo system, and through the two huge speakers, listened to the song once again. And, once again, by the time it was over, tears were streaming down my face.

Never before had a song had such a strong emotional impact upon me. I was totally blown away. Of course, I was more than a little stoned at the time, and that may have intensified my response to the song. I eventually made it through the entire album, which, in my humble opinion, is one of the best albums ever.

Despite the passage of close to five decades since that first time, my eyes always mist up whenever I listen to that song. Listen carefully to this song. I dare you to tell me it doesn’t move you to tears.

Whatever Floats Your Boat

Fandango19 Comments

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“It sort of reminds me of a sphinx,” Dora said looking up at the cloud partially blocking the setting sun.

“To me it looks like a merry-go-round horse,” Alicia replied.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Dora said. Then wistfully, she said, “I don’t see how anyone can’t believe in God when they see something like this.”

“I don’t,” Alicia said in a matter of fact way.

Dora looked at Alicia with an expression of disbelief. “How can you look at that sky and tell me you don’t see God’s hand? The evidence of God is all around us.”

“I hear that all the time from people who believe in God,” Alicia said. “Evidence that God exists is everywhere you look, they tell me. Well, if that’s the case, why can’t I see it?

“Your walling yourself off from seeing such evidence,” Dora said. “It makes you blind to ‘The Truth’ of God’s existence.”

“I’m not walling myself off,” Alicia said. “If any definitive evidence were presented to me, I would be thrilled to change my mind about the existence of God.”

“But if God does not exist,” Dora said, “life is ultimately meaningless. If life ends in death, then it does not matter how you live.”

“You really believe that?” asked Alicia.

“I do,” said Dora. “If God does not exist, what is the point? Without God there is ultimately no hope for deliverance from the shortcomings of our finite existence.”

Alicia sighed. She looked back toward the slowly setting sun and the ever shifting shapes of the clouds. “Whatever floats your boat, Dora.”

Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt.