Beginnings and Endings

I began this draft in March, during a brief philosophical sparring match, between John, Matt and myself on Matt's blog, ColonelLuftwaffe. It was Matt's inaugural blog, actually, describing himself and his views on religion. It quickly evolved/devolved into a pretty fierce and productive debate on the Prime Mover, though. The debate covered a lot of ground over a week or so, but ended in stalemate (as most discussions on religion do).

The point I was trying to make at the time was to discount the premise that an infinite sequence of causes, stretching backwards in time for infinity isn't necessarily an unacceptable solution. Discounting that possibility is the starting point for the debate on cosmology, which ends, of course in necessitating a Prime Mover, or First Cause (a cause which, itself, has no cause). I argued that has no experience, or understanding of either an infinite regression or an uncaused cause, so what makes one solution superior to another?

The idea has been rattling around in my head ever since, and it seems timely - considering the solstice and impending new year - to revisit.

Why can we not understand beginnings and ends?

Well... because we've never experienced them. What we've experienced are translations from one form to another. We've witnessed links in the chain of causality - that is how we think of beginnings and endings. The end of a movie leads to gathering outside to discuss, which ends by way of splitting up to our separate cars, which follows in a lovely dinner. The goat leads to a baby goat, which leads to an adult goat, which leads to my kebab, which leads to, etc etc. In our minds, it cannot be "turtles all the way down", but we also cannot conceive of a first turtle, floating just above nothingness.

So what? It's an interesting paradox, a stimulating academic discussion. No, it's more than that. Because at some point we're each going to stare it in the face, not in an academic setting, but in our lives, in the form of our own death. Someday, I'll witness my own end. The end of Me, and the end of Me-ness. I don't know if I will experience an afterlife, but every bit of scientific knowledge tells me that my Self is housed in my brain. And I know that my brain is going to fall apart. All of those little bits of memory, held together in networked synapses to make Me - will be worm food. That is very... final. It's a difficult notion to come to terms with.

My flesh is another link in the chain of causality. But the abstract notion of my Self will end, absolutely. What will a state of nothingness feel like? Well, there's nothing to feel, and nothing to be felt. I will be remembered, for a while, but those remembrances will be a shadow, an aspect reflected from other people's selves.

Where am I going with this? What am I doing? It's ironic that for a blog about beginnings and endings, I cannot think of an ending. Well, what better way to close the 2011 chapter of Dungy-blog than by quoting Dune:

"Arrakis teaches the attitude of the knife — chopping off what’s incomplete and saying: 'Now it’s complete because it’s ended here.'"

DONE

Postscript: I'm ending my "Hiatus", and I plan on blogging more frequently starting next month. Sometime in January I plan to do a "State of the Blog" blog, describing a vision for the next year, and I invite John and Matt to do the same. Naturally, coverage of the Primary will resume in earnest for the Iowa Caucus and onward. I hope I'm not alone in believing this has been a very good year. We've covered a lot of ground, and even though we have little viewership, and we're making no grandiose contribution to solving the world's woes, I still feel that we've hit a vein of good conversation. Something like that is both common yet rare - and definately uniquely good. Cheers to all, here's to an excellent 2012.