some people see the dots…some people see the spaces between the dots…with practice we can see the spaces and the dots…ambrose … connect the dots…
we are the spaces and the dots
Quote:
some people see the dots…some people see the spaces between the dots…with practice we can see the spaces and the dots…ambrose … connect the dots…
we are the spaces and the dots
and… humans like putting lines between the dots ?
[that way , you’re either on ‘my side’ of the dots, or ‘their side’ ]
I’ve known people to space out licking dots!
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" I’ve known people to space out licking dots! "
oh yeeeaaahhhh…ME too !!
"… DON’T do drugs, kiddies , or THIS could happen to YOU…
ben
the trick is, are they dots…or are they part of a larger pattern? Is there a pattern, or is it just the human trait that leans us towards pattern recognition that makes us think that there is a pattern?
Like pixels on the screen or stars in a constellation, it’s all in what ya make it…
doc…
hey doc… there’s always a pattern… they are important… pay attention to them…
wayulll… maybe. but, maybe not. Like constellations, what is which, is there a pattern or is it a construct?
All depends on your point of view…
two different things… a pattern repeats, a construct does not… can’t predict anything from a single point, takes two or more to draw a line…into the future.
Well…now we’re wandering off into metaphysics and semantics, but…
( insert evil laughter here I did a degree in philosophy, so this is my sick idea of fun )
… ain’t all patterns a human-recognised thing, something ‘we’ pick out of the world of the senses? ? Thus, a construct rather than a ‘truth’ or whatever ya wanna call it ? We see an apparent pattern, though it may be non-repeating ( for instance: odd numbers, even numbers, prime numbers, Fibonacchi series, that sort of thing) - but is it ‘truly’ there?
Or…
…
is there a pattern there? Can you see it?
Well… therein lies the fun of it all. Which is why I took the degree in philosophy
doc…
Hang on a sec …
somewhere… between the dots , the spaces, the lines , the patterns , the constellations, metaphysics, and semantics …
a lonely light bulb just blew out…
quick !
… send two hundred swaylockians to fix it !
ben
yes grasshopper…it appears that patterns are apparent…an overlay of mind on matter = pattern discernment, thus the lightbulb goes on (or off, for Chip)… pattern discerned and applied to more matter = design… there could be no decent surfboards without pattern recognition, synthesis and application, could there?
(geez I had to make this fit on Swaylocks somehow didn’t I?)
we are the mortar that makes sense of the chaos without us the whole pattern will just compost on its own… send us out on a poor day of waves at our respective spots and watch closely as we have trained to become this mortar and our every move falls into lockstep with the elements and Viola there is order not imposed but peercieved and revealed…ambrose …who wouldn’t love this place as much as we do
x-zackley… like ambrose sez, "we are the mortar that makes sense of the chaos without us the whole pattern will just compost on its own… "
Meanwhile… think on this one: every one of these little snowflakes has a unique structure…maybe. But who is gonna check all of 'em?
. http://jfmill.home.comcast.net/newstuff/jan232005.html
doc… the shovelling begins at sunrise
Putting any subjective experience into words dilutes it and alters its meaning. But we still try. And, if my vision is poorer than someone else’s, I may not see all the stars in a given constellation, so I will probably miss some of the dots and therefore some of the spaces. Communion is the mortar. Dialogue matters. But there is no way I could have understood how surfing feels by listening to someone else describe how it felt to them.
Part of respect is accepting that no two people construct the universe in quite the same way.
You so funny mista…
The guys who sleep under the pier waiting for that first light, ocean swell - you really missed it - hahaha suburban surf cowboy… they know that WE are the chaos in the mortar.
Like a fragile flower that pokes out of a crack in a city sidewalk, maybe to be trampled by the particle stream of flowing workforce humanity, or be spied and nurtured by a child/bum who sees the truth=beauty revelation that shared water from an old coffee cup or beer can is life force bonding for eternity, so next life, or next wave for that matter, “my wave” shouted out proudly isn’t such a hollow boast to the community of dots.
At the pier, Sunday, “Excuse me, did you make the art on your surfboard?” I said to a couple of young, oh say around 15 year old girls, who were having way too much fun learning to surf. “No, I had the flowers painted on, custom!” A huge smile cracked my face, that matched the one on my hound dog, who had been enjoying the morning all along anyway…
“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog…” Sing it loud sing it proud. Every morning and evening to and from my new abode I am greeted by five smiling hound dogs, poochers, moochers, skoochers, in spinning orbiting chaos disarray, but who never bump or thump or off balance my fragile old man’s center legs in any way. That’s respect. They do not know how to philosophize. It ain’t bad bein’ nothing but a hound dog.
Dots? How old school. I see everything in pixels.
Pragmatic.
Perception is reality.
Subjective, certainly.
Indisputably real.
Frustration is inherent in all other philosophies.
Ha ha!!!