The View from Everywhere

April 15th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Normal waking consciousness is a located phenomenon supported/created by sensory organs which orient the normal conscious mind as a point or body in 3-dimensional space. This is particularly evident when considering the visual sense, which transparently places the individual at the centre of space and arranges the furniture of the world in relation to that central location, (although it is likely that the proprioceptive sense is even more potent in this positioning of consciousness).

A common feature of the experience of ‘enlightenment’ is a weakening of this sense of a located consciousness such that one feels oneself distributed across, and in some cases in union with, a wider environment than a point or body.

A more everyday version of this extension of the located self, which gives a suggestion of the phenomenological changes which take place in moments of enlightenment, can be found in the experience of binocular vision. The distinct difference between a two dimensional image and a 3-D space parallels, in a small way, that between 3-D space and the expanded field of consciousness experienced by the enlightened mind.

Nagel writes about ‘the view from nowhere’ in his critique of empirical objectivity, seeming to indicate a visual metaphor in which knowledge which is assumed to have a viewpoint is accorded the unique distinction of seeing everywhere and everything, like a giant omniscient eye hovering over the otherwise horizontal plane of usual (viewpointed, perspectival) knowing.

Posted in Centre, Consciousness, Nagel, Thomas, Space, Up | No Comments »

Egocentricity and Performance

April 29th, 2006 Fred McVittie

It is a cliche that many, if not all successful actors, dancers, and performers of all stripes, are deeply self-centred. And whilst, like all cliches this is probably a sweeping generalisation it may have a germ of truth and necessary accuracy to it.

To be self-centred is to believe that one is standing at the centre of the universe, that the universe revolves around you, and that you are the most important thing, the focal point and raison d’etre, for the universe’s existence.

We all know that this isn’t literally true (except of course that it is literally true), but it may be that this positioning of the actor at the centre of the known universe is a contributing factor to their effectiveness as a performer. It may be that actors perform best when they harbour such beliefs about themselves and their position in the world. This paper will argue however, that there is a significant difference between the concepts of being ‘centred’, being ’self-centred’, and being ‘egocentric’.

Posted in Centre, Conference Abstract, Performance | No Comments »

Beautiful Cosmos

May 8th, 2006 Fred McVittie

You are the centre of your little world
And I am of mine
Now and again we meet for tea
We’re two of a kind
This is our universe
Cups of tea
We have a beautiful cosmos
You and me
We have a Beautiful cosmos

- Ivor Cutler

This is my favourite Ivor Cutler song.

Posted in Centre, Cutler, Ivor, Story | No Comments »

Language and Being: Centred

May 10th, 2006 Fred McVittie

An aim of much artistic, performative practice, as well as spiritual practices which promise ‘enlightenment’, is to go beyond (or before) conceptualisation and fully experience what the senses offer, with minimum filtration and organisation by the rational mind. Artists know this principle in the maxim ‘draw what you see, not what you know’, and in the field of theology, Rahner refers to this as ‘unthematic experience’ and associates it with a non-objective contact with the divine. An important aspect of realising this aim is to fully occupy the space and time that one is in; avoiding distributing one’s consciousness by thinking of the past or the future, or smearing that consciousness across space by imagining oneself to be anywhere else but exactly here, precisely now. The common term for this full occupation of personal space and time is presence, or being centred.

A significant obstacle to overcome in any attempt to be centred is the inevitable decentering of oneself that happens in much language use. We refer to ‘ourselves’, as if those ’selves’ were some object that we possessed and that was in some way outside of us. We nominate ourselves as an object in our sentences, even when we use ‘I’. This usage, and the conception that goes along with it, inevitably places us at a remove from the centre of our own experience. We talk, and think, of ourselves from a position that is eccentric. If our aim is to claim the centre with all of the sensual subjective power that comes with that claim, then we need to watch our language.

The following exercises are highly recommended.

  • Exercise One: Avoid using the following words. I, me, myself.
  • Exercise Two: Shut the fuck up.

Posted in Centre, Enlightenment, Exercises, Performance, Presence, Rahner, Karl, Spirituality, Training | No Comments »

Human Physics and Being at the Centre

May 13th, 2006 Fred McVittie

I have found some notes that I made at one of the workshops I got to, although I don’t honestly remember much about it (truth be told, I’m not absolutely sure I actually went to it, but I have the notes so I suppose I must have).

Stand in the middle of a field, or on a hilltop, and look around.
Forget for a moment everything that you have been taught about space, everything that you know about your place in the world, lose your hard won objectivity for a moment, and trust only in the evidence of your senses.

Where in the world are you?

If you are scrupulously honest you will have to agree that you are (whatever ‘you’ are) standing in the absolute centre of a disc, under a bowl of sky. The horizon line describes a circle, a wheel with your self at its axis, and the universe of heaven above you is equidistant from the point you alone occupy. You are surrounded by the world and the rest of the world retreats from you; the trees close by are larger than the trees in the distance. Those near the perimeter of the disc are the size of an eyelash. Hold out your hand and it is larger than the largest of those trees. You can hold the entire sun in your hand and extinguish its light by putting that hand in front of your eyes.

This centrality is an integral element of the folk physics of subjectivity. A first person account of being-in-the-world.

So there you are then.

Posted in Centre, Exercises, Space, Story | No Comments »

Still Centre - Subjective/Objective Overlap

June 26th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Although the realm of rational objectivity is often at a distinct remove from the subjective realm of the senses, there are some useful correspondences between subjective experience and scientifically determined objective knowledge. One of these areas of overlap is that of relativity. In relativity the understanding of all motion, and the forces which go along with that motion, is dependant upon the frame of reference. In Einstein’s famous example, the experience of being in an elevator in interstellar space and being accelerated at 9.8 ft per sec per sec is equivalent to being in that same elevator, stationary, on a planet with Earth-type gravity. If the frame of reference in each case is taken to be the elevator, then these different situations are identical in every way. There is no absolute measurement of the forces or motions, these measurements are relative to the frame of reference.

Relating this to subjectivity, I can apply this logic to support a claim that at all times, whilst I may appear to be in motion, I am actually motionless. I may appear (to an outsider, working with their own frame of reference) to be moving through a stationary landscape, but actually (the actuality of my frame of reference) I am centered and grounded, whilst the landscape moves around me and through me. It may be difficult for me to realise this understanding as I am so used to adopting the position of the outsider, so used to seeing myself and my relation to the world from an objective position, but if I make the effort to see through my own eyes, with the necessary naivity of human science, I can be the still centre of the turning world.

Posted in Centre, Naive, Objectivity, Subjective | No Comments »

The Centre of Time

August 22nd, 2006 Fred McVittie

Before the international time zero line was set at Greenwich there was considerable competition between nations for the honour of hosting that line. This desire is reflective of a basic human need to be ‘at the centre’, a cultural trope also found in the omphalos of Easter Island and the symbolism of the Totem pole. No-one wants to live in a place where the centre of time, the zero point of the now is elsewhere.

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Full Attention (workshop)

August 23rd, 2006 Fred McVittie

Workshop Exercise:

One person was selected/volunteered to be the centre of attention and the rest were designated as ‘audience’ or ‘viewers’. The volunteer took up a position centre stage and the following instruction was given.
To the volunteer - your job is to look at each person in the audience. Make eye contact with everyone.
To the audience - keep looking at the ‘performer’. If you feel you have not been looked at for around 5 seconds put your hand in the air.
This went on for a little while with hands going up and the performer getting slightly better at looking around. Then part 2:
To the volunteer - look at each person in the audience, but this time really look. No mechanical methods of pointing your eyes in the general direction of people. You have to really look and really see.
To the audience - keep looking at the ‘performer’. If you feel you have been looked at but have not been ’seen’ put your hand in the air.
This produced a significantly different result, but pretty stressful. Exercise 3 involved the recuiting of another volunteer who stayed in the audience but who everyone, including the ‘performer’ were asked to look at. Volunteer number 2 looked at the ground. Continues:
“To the audience and volunteer 1 (the ‘performer’) - look at this person. Make sure they are exactly in the centre of your field of vision, right in the middle of what you can see. Relax. Just look. I want you to notice several things about this person. Firstly I want you to see where they are. They are right in the centre of their world and everthing in the whole world is around them. Above, below, to the left, to the right, they are central. See how clear they are, and how well they occupy that position. Look at them and keep looking at them, and notice how, a little way away from them, the world starts to blur and become indistinct, the colours fade and then there is nothing. They are the most important thing and they hold it all together. Secondly, I want you to notice how alone they look. They are at the centre of all experience, and there is nothing and no-one with them. They are doing it all on their own. See how alone they look. They are in the centre and they are alone. Lastly, keep looking at them and keep seeing how central they are, and keep seeing how alone they are, and also look, see how beautiful they are. Every line and mark and colour and small movement is exactly as it should be. There is nothing out of place and is perfect in every way. See how they are, at the absolute centre, totally alone, perfectly beautiful.”
To volunteer number 2 - look up and see volunteer number 1.
To volunteer number 1 - see this person, really see this person.

Repeat first exercise.

Posted in Attention, Centre, Exercises, Seeing | No Comments »

Being in Three Minds

September 14th, 2006 Fred McVittie

At any moment we are simultaneously in three mental ‘locations”

  1. The entire contents of our awareness comprises our ‘field’ of consciousness. We occupy the whole of this field simultaneously. Much of this may be pre-conscious.
  2. We occupy the contral point in this field. This point may be experienced as contentless; a place to stand; the axis around which experience moves; the core of the self.
  3. We are the focal point of our consciousness. The moving, streaming individual momentary content of consciousness; the place on which the spotlight of consciousness is trained.

These three modes/elements of being can be enhanced using different exercises.

Posted in Centre, Mind, Space | No Comments »

The Centre of Being

October 14th, 2006 Fred McVittie

The centre of being is a point so small as to be indivisible. This core, this heart, this true and authentic soul and self has no top or bottom, left or right, front or back. For an object to have any of these attributes it must have parts, or be conceived of having parts, and the centre of being has no parts. There is only one of us, and it is the smallest thing.

The smallness of the centre of our being is not an insignificant smallness. It is a smallness that signifies accuracy and exactitude; the smallness that is at the intersection of the cross-hairs in the telescopic sight of a high-powered rifle; the smallness that is the triangulated intersection of two lines on a map.

The centre of being is the centre of all being. At the core of ourselves, the point that is our true self is also the centre of the cosmos, the axis of creation, and the still centre of the turning world.

Posted in Centre, Cosmology, Self | No Comments »

The Centre(s) of All Being

October 16th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Writing after the acceptance of the Newtonian conception of space as infinite and boundless, and the location of Earth and of Man as nowhere in particular, Pascal described the universe or Cosmos is ‘an infinite sphere of which the centre is everywhere and the circumference nowhere’. This image was not comforting and did not reflect a positive embrace of Newtonian cosmology, but was rather, as Borges wrote, a ‘fearful’ proposition. However, a more positive spin to be placed on this observation is that, whilst the universe may not have a physical centre in the usual sense that one visualises the Earth as having a centre, or of an apple having a centre; a single specific point separate from other points, it nevertheless contains the important sense of centrality. Each point in the cosmos has equal claim to be central, and that claim is accurate in every case; and since all points in space are also the central point in space then all points in space are, in this sense, the same point. There is only one centre and it is everywhere.

This interpretation can be extended to the centre of being that marks a particular way of looking at the notion of the ’self’ or ‘consciousness’. We may imagine ourselves to be, beneath all of the layers of socialisation and acculturation, of genetics and biology, an infinitely minute point at the centre of our being. With a little imagination we can visualise our ‘essential’ self as existing not as some kind of substance, or as any kind of object at all, but rather as a point in space at the core of all that we are and all that is. Once we have mastered the imaginative leap that allows us to see ourselves as fundementally a point at the centre of the cosmos (and that is, after all, what a naive interpretation of the evidence of our senses tells us), then it is a comparatively small step to recognising the centrality of others and the inevitable sharing of centrality that we have with those others. All centres of being are ultimately the same centre of being. At heart, there is only one of us and we are everywhere.

Posted in Borges, Jorge Louis, Centre, Consciousness, Self | No Comments »

Attending to Attention

November 13th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Although attention can be visualise/conceived as an energy, for this exercise we are going to imagine it as corresponding with a spatial location, specifically the centre.

Select an object or person in the room.
Move your head and eyes such that that object is exactly in the centre of your field of vision.
Imagine that the object is at the centre of the world it occupies, just as it occupies the centre of your visual field.

The type of looking appropriate to this exercise is one of ‘attending’ or active waiting. Allow the object of your attention, the object occupying the centre of attention, to be pregnant with your waiting. Give attention to the object like a cat giving attention to a mousehole. Let nothing happen but the waiting.

Posted in Attention, Centre, Exercises, Seeing, Space | No Comments »

The View from the Centre of the Universe

November 18th, 2006 Fred McVittie

“History’s most powerful cosmological images are not just arbitrary inventions, they may be discoveries about human nature.”

Primack, Joel R. & Abrams, Nancy Ellen. The View from the Center of the Universe: Discovering Our Extraordinary Place in the Cosmos. Riverhead Books. 2006

Posted in Centre, Cosmology, Universe | No Comments »

Meditation, Measurement and Centre

November 20th, 2006 Fred McVittie

The term ‘meditation’ has its etymological origins in the concepts of measuring, of taking a sounding of the depth of an ocean, or of identifying the extent of a region of space. In meditation we place the mind in a state such that it becomes available for the possibility of such measurement. There is the mind. It has dimension available to mensuration. It is an object or area of study. It is ‘over there’. It is not ‘us’. The calming of the mind in meditation is also an objectification of the mind and allows for a separation of this objectified (or spatially extended) mind from the concept of the self. Inherent in the practice is a distinction between the contents and processes of the mind-thing, occupying mind-space, and the dimensionless, contentless observer of that mind; the measurer of all things.

I will suggest here an additional interpretation of the term ‘meditation’ derived from the same origins which gave us ‘Mediterranean’ and ‘Median’. Here the prefix ‘medi’ indicates centrality, but this is a centre without extension. It is a point on a map formed at the crossing of trajectories. The dimensionless location at the cross-hairs of a telescopic sight. Exact, specific, and totally empty. This vital centre is the axis around which experience turns and where balance is defined. Meditation, in this formulation, consists partly of an identification of one’s self with such a centre. A place from which the measuring might be made.

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Defining ‘Centre’

November 27th, 2006 Fred McVittie

The term ‘centre’ is used extensively in a wide range of performance training and enhancement programmes including those associated with dance, theatre, business, spiritual practice, sport, martial arts, therapy, as well as in common parlance. In all cases it indicates a positive psychophysical state conducive to the achievement of particular goals in these different fields. However, as a term it tends to be under-defined and is often used in relatively casual ways, which lowers its potential value as part of a training agenda. To maximise the usefulness of the concept of ‘centre’ its use should be accompanied by the following:

  1. That all discussion which includes terms which relate to the mind are inherently metaphorical, including the language of psychophysical training.
  2. A recognition that, as a terms relating to the functioning of body and mind, it draws on a spatial metaphor the description of body, mind, and their relationships. The term ‘centre’ implies a particular point in an extended space and this cannot be disregarded.
  3. That the spatial metaphor of body and mind, which includes ‘centre’, also contains other elements and entailments which contribute toward the overall metaphor. These include concepts such as boundary, distance, level, etc.
  4. That the spatial metaphor for body and mind, as it is used in one area of practice, can be enriched by an interdisciplinary integration of the same metaphor use from another area of practice. So, for example, techniques and ideas from sports training might be integrated into theatre training where there is an overlapping of the spatial metaphor.
  5. That the spatial metaphor of body and mind may be integrated into a much larger picture of the relationships between body, mind, and world. In other words, a cosmology.

Posted in Centre, Performance, Theatre, Training | No Comments »

Physical centres

November 28th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Although the term ‘centre’ is used metaphorically to indicate a certain psychophysical state, (closely related to the concept of ‘essence’), it is only meaningful as a metaphor because of the fact that it is mapped from physical, embodied experience. The nature of the human physiology and sensorium creates an experience of centredness from which the more abstract uses of the term ‘centre’ take their meaning. This embodied experience of centre involves the following physical centres of experience:

  • Weight centre (in the abdomen/tan tien). This corresponds to the centre of gravity, the point of balance we routinely experiece (particularly as children) when moving, standing, sitting down, lying etc.
  • Base centre (in the feet). This is the feeling we have in our feet when we stand still, or almost still. Although this feeling is not usually brought to consciousness, it we attend to it we can feel the weight of our bodies registering as small shifts of weight around a central point beneath our feet.
  • Visual centre (look around. You are in the middle of the world. Where exactly is the centre of your visual world). The way the human visual system works orients each of us in such a way that, in whatever direction we look, we see the world as retreating from us. Distant objects are smaller than close objects and we are the centre of this retreat. Also, we often see a horizon line extending all the way around us, describing a circle with ourselves at the centre. We may even experience the sky above our heads as a bowl or sphere (as many cultures have in the past), and our self as occupying the exact centre of that sphere.
  • Auditory centre (close your eyes and listen. You are in the middle of what you can hear. Where exactly is the centre of your auditory world). As with the Visual Centre, we also experience the sounds we hear as being ‘around’ us, with the roundness having an axis in the centre of ourselves.

Posted in Centre, Embodiment, Sense, Space | No Comments »

The Magical Power of Enlightenment

December 16th, 2006 Fred McVittie

Sometimes, people seeking ‘enlightenment’ are responding to a sense of loss in their lives; a feeling of being marginalised, unimportant, not part of the great plan. They feel that gaining enlightenment will change all this and put them back in the picture. This is fine. These people are usually right. Having a sense of loss is right because we have lost something. To not feel part of the great plan is right, because we don’t really have a conception of what a great plan might be. Feeling marginalised is right if you really are on the margins. And sure, enlightenment can help to put these things in order and in perspective; give you a sense of what a plan might look like, and what your part in it might be. But some people have greater expectations than this. They believe that enlightenment will not only give them knowledge and wisdom, but will also give them limitless control; control over their own lives, control over their own passions and desires, even control over other people. They see themselves as like the Human Torch from the comic ‘The X-Men’, flaming with the power of their own illuminated consciousness, able to walk through wall and see into the heart of all things. These people are confusing self with ego.

Posted in Centre, Enlightenment, Self | No Comments »

Subjective and Objective Presences

January 6th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Being subjectively ‘present’, i.e. to experience ‘presence’, indicates a phenomenological feeling of locatedness, of being at a particular place and time, and is a feature of virtual reality and teleconferencing applications. In such applications, while one’s actual self (and one’s actual body) may be in one place the technology gives a compelling feeling that one’s self and body are in another place. A successful virtual reality experience is one in which one is ‘immersed’ in the illusion such that it becomes transparent and one can forget that one self is elsewhere.

Being objectively ‘present’ on the other hand is an attribute assigned to a person by someone else. To say a person has ‘presence’ is not only to indicate that their body is in the same room at ourselves, it also suggests that they are present in a way which is variable, and which may confer some power or attractiveness on the person. We also call this phenomena ‘charisma’.

Both these understandings of ‘presence’ ultimately depend on the intuitive dualism that we bring to any experience involving human being. To be subjectively (virtually) present we have to acknowledge a distinction between our body, which may be passive and sensorily deprived, and the consciousness of our sensory experience, which may be active. Successful immersive telepresence allows us to temporarily forget the body and place our consciousness at the centre of a sensory experience which is remote from that body. Similarly, when we say, objectively, that a person has ‘presence’ we are suggesting that not only their body is here but also some aspect of their being or self.

Posted in Centre, Presence, Telepresence | No Comments »

Egocentricity and Performance 2

January 10th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Excellence in performance is facilitated if the performer has a (non-conscious) belief in their own ‘centredness’. They need to feel that they (their most personal and vital self) are located at the centre and source of their own experience, and possibly of those around them. For professional performers, actors, athletes, politicians etc, this centredness of being is often accompanied by a centering not only of ’self’ but of ego. There is a tendency to include within this centre some of the desires, attributes, histories etc that they feel are uniquely necessary to the maintenance of their self-concept. This form of centredness or ego-centricity is effective in the sense that even a centre cluttered with personal baggage is better than no centre at all, but can be avoided by developing a self-concept which does not require these features.

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Good and Bad Centres

January 11th, 2007 Fred McVittie

The term ‘centred’ in popular parlance tend to either feature within the term ‘ego-centred’ signifying an attitude and behaviour of a person who places their own personality, with its needs, desires, likes and dislikes etc, at the centre of experience, often to irritating effect; or it may signify a way of being which emerges from another entailment of the ‘centre’ metaphor. This second understanding of ‘centred’ recognises that a centre is also usually a point of balance or midpoint between extremes. In a physical object the centre point is where you would place a fulcrum if you wanted to make a scale or a see-saw. It is where you put the stick when you want to spin a plate. This physical property of centredness explains why we often use the term ‘balanced’ as a synonym for ‘centred’. In addition, this development of the metaphor results in an image of centre which connects the centre point to solid ground, and so, in this formulation, ‘centred’ also becomes synonymous with ‘grounded’.

However, the ‘grounded’ concept imports into the metaphor certain additional entailments which modify the ‘centre’ concept significantly. When something is ‘grounded’ it is no longer independent, or even truly central. An object which is grounded is tied to the Earth through the fulcrum at its centre, and in finding balance it loses its centre to this Earth. Also, borrowing from the electrical entailment, to be ‘grounded’ is to be connected to a conduit for the safe dissipation of energy. Both these entailments of the term ‘grounded’, connection to Earth and energy conduit, may be counter-productive in the development of excellence in performance. For this reason, the term ‘centre’, when applied within a performance training context, should be carefully articulated, and is most usefully disconnected from the image of ‘ground’.

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Empty Yourself

January 14th, 2007 Fred McVittie

To become the still centre at the heart of creation (as we would ideally hope for) we must reduce our sense of self to the bare minimum, ideally a contentless point, a location at the cross-hairs of the psyche. To do this we must empty ourselves into the world.

Posted in Centre, Self, Void | No Comments »

Copenhagen Interpretation of Performance

January 16th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Part of the successful implementation of the Copenhagen interpretation of Bohr and Heisenberg is an attitude toward the mechanisms of quantum theory, the ‘mechanics’ itself, which is best described as ‘agnostic’. For example, the famous ‘double slit’ experiment of Young describes an entity called a ‘probability wave’ which governs the path and location of specific photons of light which pass through the slits. However, according to Heisenberg, since this probability wave cannot itself be measured this wave is not to be regarded as an actual physical entity, but rather as a kind of mental scaffolding which helps us to interpret the results of the experiment. The (imaginary) wave does not exist in the (quantum) world, but functions as a tool to allow us to think of that world. This ‘model agnosticism’ extends to the theories, equations and formulae which are the effective descriptors of those aspects of the world which are beyond personal embodied experience. Such theories also do not describe the world but describe what kind of model we need to create in order to be able to think of the world, and such models are always, eventually, grounded in embodied sensory experience.

A parallel process may be in operation within some performer training systems which make extensive reference to entities which have no material reality. These include concepts of ‘centre’, ‘energy’, etc. Whilst such concepts may well have no physical existence they may function as components within a model of the world in which a certain sort of performance behaviour is optimally produced.

Posted in Centre, Copenhagen Interpretation, Energy, Performance | No Comments »

Humanist Centrality

February 1st, 2007 Fred McVittie

A Humanist (like myself) places the individual human being at the centre of experience, but this does not necessarily mean that they cannot recognise the inherent chauvinism of the viewpoint. It is more a recognition of the embodied nature of human being which requires a centrality, much of which is unconscious. This centrality is accompanied by both an accountability appropriate to the position, to be central is to be ultimately responsible; together with a humility that this ‘centrality’ is a product of human embodiment and its inherent limitations, not a mark of status. We are at the centre of creation because, at some level, we are incapable of conceiving ourselves to be anywhere else.

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Centre of the Universe

April 17th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Those of us who have read about ‘paradigm shifts’ or of the Copernican Revolution in astronomy will be familiar with the legend of how the model of the universe shifted sometime around the early 17th Century. Prior to that time, we are told, people believed that Earth was the centre of the universe and the planets and the Sun swung majestically around the fixed point of Terra. The publication of Galileo’s ‘On the Two World Systems’ and works by Copernicus, Bruno, Brahe etc changed all that and a ’shift’ is supposed to have occurred in our understanding, particularly our understanding of our place in the universe. The images of the universe reflecting this new understanding, the so-called Copernican universe, show the Sun as a fixed point at the centre of the map and the Earth and other bodies swinging endlessly around it. This image of ourselves, as miniscule lifeforms clinging to a flying rock three rocks out from the Sun, is supposed to be a more accurate representation of our position than the previous Earth-centred one. However, it is worth considering for a moment what these images actually mean, what function they serve, and what information they leave out as well as what they provide. Starting with the last point first, it should be noted from the outset that any image, or indeed animation, which shows any object as stationary is inevitably partial. There is no such thing as a fixed point in the universe, everything is in motion relative to everything else and the idea that the Sun (or previously the Earth) is stationary is a convenient convention used to indicate particular ideas. In the case of images of the Sun-centred universe, the point of such images is that give an accurate representation of the gravitational and centrifugal relationships between the various bodies illustrated. These images do not, and cannot, meaningfully suggest that the Sun is ‘central’, particularly since the whole system; planets, asteroids, and the Sun itself, is all hurtling at several thousand miles an hour toward Orion. The Copernican model of the Sun-centred universe is extremely useful for predicting the position of planets and the relative movement of these planets, but it’s ontology does not extend beyond these predictions and certainly does not reduce the status of the Earth as central to human experience. In an infinite (and expanding) universe, as Pascal observed, the centre is (conceptually) everywhere. From the point of view of the subjective human being, there is only one centre however, and that is wherever one happens to be standing.

Posted in Centre, Cosmology, History, Paradigm | No Comments »

From the Horizon to the Centre

May 17th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Look to a distant point on the horizon. Look straight at that point such that the point of focus is in the dead centre of your visual field. Give that point as much attention as possible. Bring your hands up and hold them out in front of you with arms extended forward. Place your palms together and hold the focus of your attention between the tips of your fingers. Keeping your attention central, move the point of your attention closer, away from the horizon and towards your self, moving your hands downward and keeping the point of focus between your fingers. You will trace a narrow line from the horizon to your feet. Take your time over this and give all your attention to the focal point. When you reach your feet (you will be looking down now, and you may be leaning over with your neck bent), place your attention at the tip of your toes. Gradually allow your attention to move up your body, taking in your feet, your ankles, your knees. As you move your attention upwards, let your hands separate so that they mark the limits of your body, the limits of your attention. Move slowly upwards past your thighs, hips, stomach and let your hands widen to mark the edges of your widening attentive gaze. Your body is occupying more and more of your visual field and it looms larger than almost anything else. As you give attention to the parts of your self that are above your chest try to mark the extent of that self with your hands. You will find your arms widening to their maximum extent, encompassing the entire visual field, as if your body was curving outward and upward. You may find that a strange reversal takes place at this point and the body/self which you have been measuring as an increasingly large object in the world suddenly becomes a frame which contains the world. The hands that have been marking the extent of your attention now mark the edges of the world and your attention, your self, is everywhere. The one point of attention on the horizon of your experience has seamlessly become the all of that experience.

It is significant that the all which you now attend to also contains the one that you began as. From one perspective you are clearly in the world, and central to it, yet from another perspective the world is also in you, totally and completely. This paradox can be resolved in the recognition that our consciousness is not characterised by the stasis of being this or that, here or there, somewhere or everywhere, but by its movement between one and the other, and its existence at every point between.

It is also significant that your journey began at a single arbitrary point on the horizon, and there are an infinity of such points. Each of these points, separate and distant, can be tracked back home to the everthing inside.

Posted in Centre, Exercises, Horizon | No Comments »

Centre and Periphery

May 28th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Centre and periphery are two aspects of the same reality. As one approaches the centre one finds oneself also embracing the totality. It is the point (sic) when the two ideas, that the self is in the world and the world is in the self, become synonymous. The separation necessitated by an image of one ‘containing’ the other, an image grounded in the logic of 3 dimensional space and the notion of containment which space articulates, disappears and when there is no separation there is no difference. A view of the essential self as a contentless empty point at the centre of experience, and a view of self as the greatest imaginable horizon of experience containing all, are unified. The snake devours its tail, the lights go on, and the waters break the walls of the dam.

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Centre of the Cosmos

May 29th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Stand still
Stand in the place where you live.
Imagine the centre of the Earth beneath your feet.
You are connected to that Centre.
Gravity pours through you toward that Centre.
Space flows down and around you toward that Centre.
All this is true
As you stand, imagine the Centre of the Earth, the Centre of Space
Moving upward through your feet and into your body.
Imagine the line connecting your centre to the Centre of the Earth contracting and shortening.
Place yourself at cosmic centre and draw cosmic centre into yourself.
Make yourself the Centre of the Cosmos.

Breathe.

Posted in Centre, Cosmology, Exercises, Space | No Comments »

Jungian Acting

May 29th, 2007 Fred McVittie

“An actor is most likely to excel at their craft if they are ’self-centred’. For many this is synoymous with ‘ego-centric’, a term and an attitude which is associated with largely negative behaviour and modes of being. However, their are many formulations of the self, from a range of psychological, philosophical and spiritual traditions which do not associate the ’self’ with the (usually Freudian) Ego, and which therefore do not place this Ego at the centre of attention and action. Such alternative models of self may allow for useful but more palatable versions of ’self-centredness’ to be constructed, which may also be more conducive to the physical and emotional health of the actor. This paper will consider a particular application of this idea, in which the Jungian concept of ’self’ is embedded with a program of actor training.”

Posted in Acting, Attention, Centre, Jung, Carl G., Training | No Comments »

Middling

June 25th, 2007 Fred McVittie

We live at the centre of our own experience. We are reminded of this fact every time we stand in a field or on a beach and look around. Surrounding us is a disc of land and sea, with ourselves as the axis of this disc. Our earliest conscious memories, or rather, the memories which became part of our consciousness, and our earliest experiences which have left no trace in consciousness but nevertheless live on in our unconscious, contain the image of this disc. And in the longer and more ancient narrative of the human species, this experience of finding ourselves standing at the centre of a circle with the world laid our around us, diminishing with distance, has been felt by every single one of our ancestors, and lies at the heart of our consciousness and of our selves.

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Tideblind

June 26th, 2007 Fred McVittie

When we stand at the centre of our world we experience a few objects up close and personal: our loved ones, the walls and furniture our our houses, parts of our body, and these proximal objects, looming near to us, are large and significant, dwarfing those objects which recede into the distance. The hand in front of my face is larger than the tree at the bottom of the garden; the nail on my little finger can easily cover the moon.(As a child we may have played games of proximity and significance with our parents and teachers.Who among us hasn’t held up their thumb and forefinger and, squinting through the gap, said “Your head is this big!”).

What distant objects lose in size however, they make up in number. That book, held close to the face, is all you can see.In a forest you may be able to see more, but the trees are close together and therefore close by, those that you see may be large but they will be countable. On the savannah, or on the beach, as objects recede into the far distance, they rapidly exceed in quantity our ability to count them, and the further away they are the more numerous and indistinct they become, until at the absolute limit of our experience, at the furthest edge of the circle which surrounds us, the edge of the world, the number of objects approaches infinity and simultaneously blends into one.

You are back in your own garden looking at the tree. You move to the tree and put your hand on its bark but you find that its entirety is lost to you and you find you cannot see the tree for the wood. The moon is even more removed from your experiencing of it. You can see the moon, but only one side of it, and that only once every 28 days or so. Close your eyes and it might never have existed at all. (I wonder how a blind species of human might explain the tides?)

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The Fearless Circle of Pascal (exercise)

August 13th, 2007 Fred McVittie

  1. Place a person at the centre of your gaze.
  2. Imagine a circle around that person’s feet, as if they are standing on a large dinner plate.
  3. Make that circumference larger so they are standing at the centre of a circle that is the size of their outstretched arms, say 5 - 6 feet in diameter.
  4. Make the circumference larger still, and keep enlarging it until the perimeter of the circle reaches the point where you are standing.
  5. Imagine the circle around the person with yourself at a point on the periphery of that circle.
  6. Enlarge that circle even more so that it extends beyond you and you are completely enclosed within it.
  7. Widen the circle around the person until it extends beyond the room, beyond the local area you are in, right out to the horizon.
  8. See the person standing at the centre of their world, a world which stretches away in all directions to the horizon, and see yourself in that world. Notice how close you are to the person.
  9. Extend the circle around them beyond the horizon, and keep extending without end or boundary, concentrate on the action of extending the circle, not on any end point to this extension. Notice how close you are to the person.
  10. Never stop.
  11. Repeat this exercise with a thousand people.
  12. Repeat this exercise with a rock, an animal, a tree, a star.
  13. Repeat this exercise with the thing you love the most and the thing you most despise.
  14. Never stop.

Posted in Centre, Exercises, Horizon, Space | No Comments »

z View in. View out.

August 17th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Mind is the view out from the centre.
Body is the view in to the centre.
Mind is the experience of a place that We are looking from.
Body is the experience of a place that We are looking toward.

(D.E. Harding)

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This is how you remind me, (of what I really am)

August 17th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Descartes’ logic of embodiment and cognition as essentially separate is based on the metaphor KNOWING IS SEEING together with a number of folk theories relating to essences and ideas.

The so-called Cartesian Body/Mind Split is partly a product of the spatialising metaphors employed in articulating the philosophy and the apparently inevitable here/there binary logic of spatial organisation. Harding’s formulation of centrality and viewpoint overlay this Cartesian divide with a subjective/objective layer in which Res Cogitans is associated with directionality of vision from here to there, inside to outside, centre to periphery, while Res Extensa is associated with the complementary trajectory of visuality, from there to here, outside to inside, periphery to centre. When I look at you I see your body and experience myself as the location of mind, but this difference is a functionality of the direction of vision, from in to out, rather than of a particular quality of the fixed point at this end of the perceiving path. This is evidenced when the direction of travel is reversed; when you look at me along the very same line of sight I become a body travelling toward you at the speed of light, whilst your looking out from the place where you are becomes an experience of mind.

Because I have consciousness I am able to report on the state of mind that is the looking from here to there. I can say what I feel(s) like, or what you (all of you) look like. Yet even if I did not choose to use this reportability, this would not deny the presence of mind in the directionality of my looking. I can speculate about a set of circumstances in which such reportability was completely lost to me, and in which my consciousness was made radically different, perhaps through accident, illness, or education, but even in that reduced/enhanced state the directionality of ‘looking’ that is inherent in being somewhere somewhen, exactly here, precisely now, implies the existence of mind in that trajectory. (Of course mind is not ‘in’ that line of sight as a thumb might be in a pie, or a coin in a pocket; the trajectory is the mind, wherever I happen to be).

Without the burden of a responsible, self-reflective consciousness holding down my understanding of mind I can extend my definition of ‘that thing my brain does’ and bring back Descartes. For every view in there must always be a corresponding view out. This is the case even if the trajectory of mind embodies an inanimate object: a rock, a tree, a star, a corpse. The existence of a line of sight from here to there, from this centre to that centre, demands that the polarity of this line is dual, and has a complementary trajectory from there to here, from that centre to this centre. Within the logic of this line I am embodied by my status as view in and the object whose non-consciousness lies at the origin of that line is ‘reminded’ by being the source and centre of the view out. When I look at you, you look at me. as myself, at the centre of my little world, I look out into you and yours, and in doing so I embody you and you in turn remind me of what I really am. From you point of view the favour is returned and I am embodied and you are reminded. Hello friend, wherever you are.

Posted in Centre, Descartes, Rene, Harding, Douglas, Knowledge, Seeing | No Comments »

Self-centeredness – not a bad thing

August 28th, 2007 Fred McVittie

That we all have a ’self’ is an obviousness barely worth rehearsing, and presumably, the development of a self-concept was a valuable trait at some point in our evolutionary history. The self-concept may have evolved to allow us to feel positive and negative emotions beyond the simple pleasure/pain responses of the body. Even in the absence of complex reasoning skills or even of consciousness, feeling a sense of ownership or love for one’s body would allow the possessor of this trait to act in ways which supported the preservation and health of that body. It is not beyond the bounds of possibility that the common feeling that we are, or have, a ’self’, usually located within but definitely attached to, the body, finds its origins in such an adaptation.

If this (or something like it) is the case, then it is only by habit and history that our concept of self is identified with the skin you (and I) are in. The self-concept could, and possibly should, be a movable feast, capable of distribution and extension away from its corporeal birthplace, and it may be that such movement of the boundaries and location of the self is already taking place. Empathy, altruism, and compassion for others involve the recognition of (part of) one’s self in another person.

We are used to thinking of self-centeredness as a bad thing, and presumably it would be if the location of the self was fixed and bounded by the body. But if the self is motile, then placing my-self-that-is-you at the centre of the universe is no bad thing. An even grander ambition would be to place my-self-that-is-the-universe at the centre.

Posted in Boundary, Centre, Evolution, Self | No Comments »

Body in the Mind: Centre and Periphery

September 16th, 2007 Fred McVittie

We habitually identify ourselves with the body, presumably as part of an adaptive strategy within the evolutionary development of consciousness. The way we conceptualise that body may be in a number of different ways: as a machinic entity with a number of moving parts, as a kind of ‘node’ in a network of relations, as a container for the ‘self’ etc. Given that our cognition is structured according to the affordances of the body, these different body concepts will each facilitate a slightly different form of cognition. Furthermore, the transformations that different body concepts allow may suggest parallel transformations in the corresponding cognition.

One way that we may understand our bodies is as an entity having a centre and a periphery. We routinely understand our bodies this way, as revealed in essentialist folk theories, in the almost unavoidable sense that our ‘self’ stops at the skin, at the way we gesture toward the centre of our bodies when we indicate ourself, and in the host of philosophical, spiritual, and poetic metaphors which draw upon this understanding. We experience our bodies as having a boundary, the skin, and also having a region at its core, call it ‘the heart’.

In terms of simple human survival, the ontology of the centre and the periphery, heart and skin, are very different, and are also very different from other regions of the body. This ontological difference may provide an evolutionary account of the development of an embodied consciousness which understands itself in terms of a centre and a periphery.

The skin is the interface of the organism and the environment, and any physical exchange that takes places between these two domains happens across this interface. Since the environment is partly a source of threat, the skin is necessarily a protective layer and a vital organ of self-maintenance. Conversely, the environment is also a source of sustenance, so the boundary of the body, represented physically as the skin, must act not only as a barrier but also as a conduit for this sustenance. Lastly, it is through the outer layer of the body that new life is allowed to emerge, so the skin interface must also serve this vital end without compromising its other functions and the integrity of the organism which it sustains. In short, the transmission of objects or fluids through the surface of the skin is of extreme importance. In evolutionary terms, an organism which was equipped with particular sensitivity to events that took place on the skin would have a distinct survival advantage, and it is little wonder that most life-forms have some equivalent of pain and pleasure sensors, nerve endings, within this surface layer. This evolutionary history and the embodied advantage it confers persists in today’s complex social environment, and is culturally and psychologically represented in the way that traffic across the interface of the skin, the penetrations, transmissions, and emissions that punctuate our lives, are marked with particular attention and given a kind of ritualistic significance. The skin is also a surface on which we project the image that we wish to share with others, it is where we wear our public face.

The other component in this self-concept is the centre, possibly identified with, or referred to as, the heart. Again, in terms of simple biological survival, the centre of our body has particular significance. Whilst other parts of the body are often expendable, when the inner core of the body suffers harm it usually means the death of the organism. We see this in our instinctive behaviour when under threat, which is to curl into a ball, effectively wrapping ourselves around our core to protect it from harm. It is also evidenced in the autonomic processes of the body which privilege the core, and the core functions, over the more peripheral functions of those body parts which lie on or near the surface. In conditions of extreme cold the energy resources of the body are diverted to the core in order to maintain optimal functioning, even if this means depriving fingers and toes of blood supply and consequently allowing frostbite to develop. The logic of the body requires that fingers can be sacrificed in order for the heart to live. Again, both the physical and the cultural significance of the body’s centre can be, at least partially, ascribed to the logic of evolutionary processes; an organism (possibly even a single celled organism) which had some strategy for protecting its nucleus, through avoidance behaviour, through adopting a particular shape, through stiffening itself etc. would be more likely to survive and reproduce/divide that an organism who had no interest in what happened to its centre. Bringing the narrative up to date, in addition to the autonomic responses noted above that remind us of our instinctive regard for the inner core of our bodies, we also express our recognition of its significance culturally and psychologically, in our use of heart motifs etc.

These two components then, the heart and the skin, centre and periphery, are inordinately important in terms of self-preservation, with the regions of the body between these zones appearing far less critical as sites of possible threat or opportunity. The simple heuristic ‘watch the centre, watch the periphery’ has likely served as a survival strategy for much of our evolutionary history, and continues to feature significantly in the rituals, taboos, and cultural practices of the most ‘advanced’ human society. Whilst we know intellectually that our bodies are the complex meat machines described by anatomical science, we often behave as if they had only these two elements. In short, this purely functional reduction of the body to the two most mission-critical areas, a central heart and a peripheral skin, is a key way in which the body is understood and makes a major contribution to our body concept.

Given the close relationship between our concept of the body and our concept of ‘self’, it is likely that we will find this simplified map of the body duplicated in our understanding of our selves. We should find ourselves thinking and talking about our self (which we might call consciousness, mind, identity etc.) as if that self was structured in such a way that it consisted primarily of a centre and a periphery. We would think of our self as having a boundary at which our self stops, and a core, which is maximally distant from all points on that boundary. We might recognise the different components of this simplified body concept as different components of the self, mapping our self onto the centre and periphery and finding distinctions within our self that correspond to the differences in skin and heart. When we look at the evidence this does indeed seem to be what we find. Most models of the self, from the most vernacular and folk-psychological to those constructed by philosophy and the mind sciences, tend to appeal to this intuitive understanding of self in terms of centre and periphery. (A significant exception to this is literature which describes non-standard concepts of self, particularly metaphysical and transpersonal accounts. This will be picked up below).

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Hub of the I

September 16th, 2007 Fred McVittie

When you find the I, you may have arrived at the centre and thrown out everything that was not yourself into that vast region of everything else that was not yourself, but there is still somewhere else to go. You may have found the spindle of the world, the hub around which Everything turns, but until you abandon all claim to personal ownership of this axis there will still be an I. And here we are reminded that no truly enlightened One ever said ‘I am enlightened’; the sentence may be grammatically correct but is oxymoronically meaningless. There is no I in enlightenment, or at least no capital I, no miniature pedestal on which to place one’s self like the bust of a long-dead Emporer. The i that appears fourth from the front is a picture of modesty, placing itself humbly in line with its fellows and claiming no special privileges. We might also observe that this self-effacing i is notably decapitating itself, losing its head, and indeed its own eye, to the immensity of the wheel. If we are to join the dot of our own lower case i and become the i in Everything, we must do likewise and relinquish our personal claim to sole ownership of the centre.

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Centre to Centre: Olber’s Paradox

September 16th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Centre to Centre

The view ‘out’ from the centre of one universe is also the view ‘in’ to the centre of another.

Olber’s Paradox asks why, when we look up, we are not dazzled by the brilliant light of an all-encompassing radiance. In an infinite, (or nearly infinite) universe like ours, with an infinite (or nearly infinite) number of stars, every line of sight from our position here on Earth should end on the surface of a star, just as every line of sight in a forest ends, sooner or later, on the surface of a tree. The fact that the sky, particularly the night sky, is not a continuous blaze of intolerable light is because, from our individual perspective, the universe is not even close to infinite but is bounded by the limits of visibility, which are in turn set by the speed of light. Whilst we may (or may not) live in an infinite (or nearly infinite) universe, our local, visible, speed-of-light determined universe is finite, and not every line of sight ends in a star, only the billion or so lines we look along when we look up at night, or which populate the charts of Earth-bound astronomers.

An alien astronomer at the other side of the sky, assuming he/she had somewhat similar biological and technical equipment, would also see a limited universe, but not the same universe as we inhabit.

Posted in Centre, Olber's Paradox, Seeing, Universe | No Comments »

Paradoxical Object

October 4th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Here is a paradoxical object. We can stand at the centre of this object, such that its centre is our centre, and when looked at from within it has a solid, resilient, immovable core, and an increasing evanescent exterior. From this viewpoint it has something of the quality of a Gas Giant, the core of which is frozen with the dazzling weight of compressed energy. There is no surface to such a planet, but rather its substance becomes more and more rarified as we move away from the core into the reaches of space.

Let us imagine that by an act of imaginative will we can move ourselves away from the centre of this object and take a place at some remove, in the immensity of outer space. Here where we now stand, weightless and vacuous, the substantiality of this object is reversed. When seen from the outside it appears solid, its outermost regions forming a solid carapace around contents which constantly threaten to boil off into the vacuum. From this view point its core is invisible, transcendent, eldritch, the subject of speculation and disbelief. Its outer skin, on the other hand, is comfortingly visible, presenting itself to the touch of the eye like the knee of a lover, or the cheek of one’s own face.

Posted in Art, Boundary, Centre, Object | No Comments »

Heart of Stone, Feet of Clay

October 5th, 2007 Fred McVittie

You are standing on the shore of an ocean, possibly a beach in some Northern English seaside town: Whitley Bay maybe, or Tynemouth, and since we are in the North of England and it is Midsummer, there is a persistent drizzle and a pale grey mist hangs heavily over a slightly darker grey sea. The horizon is indistinct, and there is no clear division between water and air, and because of the thickness of the fog there is scarcely any line between sea and sand.

Beneath your feet you feel the firmness of the Earth. Solid as Earth can be, which is only less presently certain in its permanence that the feet which stand upon it. These feet are, in turn, assured of their place in the temporal order of objects by the feltness of the body for which they act as pedestal. Here is solidity, this body, this rock, this anchor for the world. A heart of living eternal stone and guarantor of all the verities. If we can simply say ‘here is my heart’ then all else follows.

From heart to body to feet firmly planted on the sands of Whitley Bay is a small journey, but we may feel in the making of it a small softening, a catching of the time of the world in which the body at its Southernmost extremity slips slightly away. The feet are less certain than the heart, and may stumble or slip where the heart remains still.

And under the toes, the sand, shifting with the wind and taking imprint from every foot that passes. The sea, oceanic beyond the sand, and above it, and below it, and washing over and through it, has little resistance, even the stupidest fish can pass between. A rock thrown against the water encounters no resolve. It is there and it is not there, moving and waving like disappearing dancers boarding a train.

Sky above, grey as remembered sleep. There is nothing to say about the sky. There is just nothing to say.

Posted in Boundary, Centre, Imagination, Liquid, Substance | No Comments »

Existential Zugzwang

October 5th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Borges writes about the infinite library of Babel, in which all possible volumes are contained All combinations of characters are combined in the books of this library, so all arguments are made, all thoughts expressed, all narratives told and retold. This universal library, which seems at first fist to be pregnant with promise, is a dystopian vision however. The sheer number of books is so vast and the overwhelming preponderance of books which contain only gibberish, or untranslatable cryptographs, or which are written in dead languages, means that the chances of locating a text which is even readable, let alone useful, approaches zero. The librarians of this hellish repository have long since lost faith in ever finding meaning in their universe of books; they are a dying breed, prone to suicide and existential angst.

There is no evidence that such conditions afflict artists in this world, at least notyet. And this is despite the fact that creative practices have been compared to the wanderings one might make within a space similar to the library of Babel, as indeed has the natural creative processes of evolution and adaptation. Dawkins notes that ’searching for something within a sufficiently large conceptual space is indistinguishable from creation’. By inference, artistic creation is a kind of searching through the conceptual space of all possible artworks, with the work of the artist being akin to that of an explorer or colonist; each innovation a beachhead, each artwork a landmark, each genre a new found land.

A significant difference between the aimless wanderings of the librarians of Babel and the evolutionary perigrinations of the natural world is that whilst the former are cursed to go without map and compass, the evolutionary journey of exploration is significantly guided. Every step that life has taken has been accompanied by the ‘warmer, warmer’ whispering of the environment, such that these steps never lead to random and meaningless places, which is the curse of Babel. Evolution never lets any creature evolve to a location in conceptual space where it makes no sense; there are no existential zugzwangs in the natural library of possibilities. This is not to say, of course, that individual beings are not doomed to die, possibly alone and unloved. Not is it suggested that evolution has any kind of ultimate goal, there is no equivalent in evolution of the divine book at the centre of the library of Babel that Borges describes as ‘a great circular book, whose spine is continuous and which follows the complete circle of the walls.’ Each step in evolutionary history falls on the spot which is appropriate at that moment. The journey is always at an end, each point is the centre and the end of creation as it exists at that moment.

The travels of the artist through conceptual space does not fall neatly into either of these schema. The individual artist is neither doomed to a lifetime of unguided search, which would entail the relentless production of random artifacts. nor is there an environmental voice calling forth these artifacts by winnowing each step and thought.

‘From a computational point of view, evolution is simply a special kind of search algorithm. Some argue that for evolution to be considered creative, it must traverse its search spaces in a creative manner, i.e. it must be innovative or efficient in its search. Exhaustive search and random search are examples of noncreative techniques. Evolutionary algorithms are good examples of creative search.’
http://www.cs.ucl.ac.uk/staff/P.Bentley/BEC6.pdf

Posted in Art, Borges, Jorge Louis, Centre, Creativity, Evolution, Space, Writing | No Comments »

Empty Yourself – continued (exercise)

October 18th, 2007 Fred McVittie

With eyes closed, feel yourself standing at a moment in time, in the stream of your passage through time. Behind you the road diminishes with distance into the darkness of the past and ahead of you it stretches into the future. Behind you is the moment you have just left, and you can feel each passing moment at it falls away behind, and looking further back you can make out all the moments of yesterday, last week, last year, right back to far distance of your childhood. See how the road behind narrows with perspective to a point at the far horizon behind you marking your first steps on this road. Extend you glance around this point if you can, into all of the cells and chemicals and patterns and love affairs and adaptive histories of all creation that have gone into the making of that first step. See the road behind you. This is your history as a great and glorious ribbon flowing like the tail of a kite, and without it you would not be flying as you are now. But know also that you are not the tail of that kite, and you are not that road, and you are not that history. Where you are is here and now, and as long as you can see the road behind you you can be sure that it is not you. Cherish it if you like, or at the very least learn from it, but also recognise that its place is out there, in the world, with everything else that is not you, not here inside the boundaries of your self.

Now turn your attention to the front. Your eyes are closed and in your mind the road continues ahead of you, into the blinding mirage of the future. Dazzling and welcoming, these are the days and years you will step into when you move forward on the way. Even now, as you stand or sit, you feel yourself gently drifting toward that light; each breath you take waits for you a moment ahead of you on the road and as you breath you can feel yourself moving forward to catch your breath. If you look carefully you may be able to anticipate each beat of your heart punctuating the road ahead like cat’s eyes glinting through tarmac. Lifting your gaze to take in more and more of the future, the details are lost in the heat haze but you have the sense that great and marvellous things are up ahead, as well as terrible things that could break your heart; some of these you will be able to avoid and some you will choose not to. There will be changes, and in the far distance, just beyond the horizon, nothing remains of this world and everything over there is fantastically new and unimaginably interesting. You are a willing pilgrim on this journey and cherish the future that you are falling toward as the gravity of time pushes you on. But even as you welcome the road ahead, know that the road is not you and is not part of you. The space that you are about to move through is not contained within you any more than the space behind. You are here and now and the boundaries of yourself are drawn on this side of the future.

Now that you have emptied the past and the future out of yourself, turn you attention to where you are standing right now. Arrayed around you are all those things that are not in the past or the future. These are the things that you have with you right now. The dark secrets that you keep hidden are with you, perhaps just beneath your feet, the habits and hopes and skills that you have, along with the pride you have in those skills; maybe these are tucked under your arm or wrapped around your waist like a carpenter’s belt. The ambitions for peace and enlightenment that you carry with you, and which maybe motivated you to begin this exercise, you maybe wear on your forehead. All these things are with you and serve you well, but know that they are not you. You were yourself before you had those skills and hopes and ambitions and you will still be you when they are gone. Your self will not vanish if your secrets become common knowledge and you will still be you whether you are in the most Stygian darkness or are flooded with the most divine light. Each of these attributes and possessions do not belong inside the boundary of your self, and you can throw them out of your self and into the embrace of the Everything where they belong.

You can allow Everything to move its boundaries closer, taking in your past and our future, absorbing your hopes and fears, dreams and nightmares, the thoughts in your head and the words in your mouth, and when the only thing that is left is the finest, most central core of your being you can say once again, this core is not me. You can give over final permission for Everything to take the core of yourself into its arms. You, and I, and We, are infinitely small. We are a point. Around us spins the whole of Everything with nothing left out. We are consumed. We are nothing. Everything.

Posted in All, Centre, Exercises, Time | No Comments »

Selfishness and Altruism

November 5th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Although it would probably be ideal if we could strive for enlightenment with no thought for the benefits it might bring such as pleasant bodily feelings, better mental and physical health etc. it would be a rare human indeed who could avoid the lure of such motivations. Our ancient biology and habitual self-centredness cannot fail to seek out the personal advantages that may be gained from any action, and the path of enlightenment is no different. However worthy and impersonal the goal, it is written in the fabric of our psyche that such evidently altruistic acts as, for example, training to be a doctor or social worker, entering divine ministry, even martyrdom for the most noble cause, makes us imagine how we ourselves might benefit individually from these career choices. Fame, wealth, and the promise of eternity in paradise are just some of the gains to be had, and it is the presence of these possible gains within our motivation which make us waver. It is a natural human tendency to find such ’selfish’ reasons to go there. ‘What’s in it for me’ is the knee-jerk response of a part of the brain which served us well in the evolutionary past and still calls to us when we are considering any course of action. So when such thoughts arise we may worry if we are doing this altruistic act not for its own sake but for the wrong reasons of personal gain.

We may feel that for an act to be truly selfless there should be no possibility of personal gain to be had from it and no trace of selfishness in out minds, and if there is then we should not proceed. It would be a great tragedy if all the great and good of history, Ghandhi, Mandela, Jesus, Mohammed etc. had come to this conclusion, since each and every one of them must unavoidably have felt the stirrings of personal profit and saw the possibility of their own elevation, if not in this world then in the next.

This feeling of impropriety also arises when pursuing enlightenment, however much we tell ourselves rationally that there is a ‘higher’ purpose to the quest, inexpressible in the language of the fallen. And no matter how we tell ourselves that any personal benefits that may accrue are transitory and not the thing itself (and there is no guarantee that any such benefits will actually emerge) we can still sense the persistent eye of our ego looking out of our being, an eye firmly fixed on the main chance and looking after number one. Since such self-centredness is inevitable and unavoidable we should not see it as a contamination of our pure motives, or as a reason not to continue on the road. Instead we should perhaps acknowledge the existence of this eye. After all, it served us well in our evolutionary past and without it looking after our bodies when danger was behind every bush we would not be here today thinking about ‘higher’ things at all. When we were at our most mortal, it was there for us and kept us safe, and it would be churlish and ungrateful for us to disown it now, like a soldier from an unpopular war. When we needed it, it was there, and the least we can do is to look upon it kindly and with the compassion and understanding it deserves. It no longer stands alone at the vanguard of our existence, and when we hear its voice in our head we do not have to answer its call.

Look after your old self like an elderly relative; sometimes it says wise things and sometimes it calls your Senegalese neighbours ‘darkies’. Without it you would not exist. You are an adult. Make up your own mind.

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Religion as Folk Cosmology

November 27th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Cosmology is the study of the Universe and the place of humanity within it, although ’study’ is perhaps too objective a word for it. It seems to be a universal human tendency to derive, construct, or imagine a structure for the Universe, a ‘big picture’ if you will, in which the human being is somehow represented, but the means of arriving at this big picture are not necessarily coterminous with what we tend to think of as ’study’. Study implies a dispassionate, rational, distanced investigation of the matter under scrutiny, whereas the majority of cosmologies in which the human is present as anything other than pond-life could scarcely be regarded as distanced. Typically such cosmologies place the human firmly at the centre of the universe, a universe populated by spirits, gods, ethers, panpsychic forces and otherworldly energies that would not stand up to the most rudimentary rational assault.

The beliefs inherent in most religious practices, represented in their commonality in the form of the Perennial Philosophy, can be regarded as a form of institutionalised Folk Physics, or more specifically, a Folk Cosmology.

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Binding Religiosity

November 30th, 2007 Fred McVittie

Imagine a traditional monotheistic religion, perhaps a little like one of the big three Earth-based religions we know so much about: Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. This religion has its holy scriptures, its administrative architecture of clerics, prophets, and priests. Its buildings and sacred burial grounds. This religion is totally embedded within the fabric of the society and the people who live in this land, and references to its axioms, its characters, and its creed appear, unbidden and unconscious, on the lips of the people many times a day. When they wish to assert the truth of a claim they say it in the name of the deity, and this holy name is the most common last word of those unfortunate pilots who fly their planes into the ground.

The people of this society find great solace in their religion, and it explains many things that would otherwise be inexplicable to them; the source of good and evil, the creation of the world, why their loved ones die and why they themselves will die. Their religion provides an answer for all of these questions, and these answers all come from a single source, an idea that is at once so powerful, economical, so intuitively satisfying, that not only does it account for the wildness of the world, but it can be held in its entirety between the fingers of the mind like a pearl. It is at once the single, infinitesimally small unity at the heart of everything, and also the infinitely large, inexpressibly all-embracing totality of that everything.

Posted in All, Binding, Centre, One, Religion | No Comments »

An Imagined Universe

April 7th, 2008 Fred McVittie

“In your heart you know it’s flat”.

Primack and Adams begin their book ‘The View from the Centre of the Universe’ with the following line.

“In their hearts, most people are still living in an imagined universe, where space is simply emptiness, stars are scattered randomly, and common sense is a reliable guide. In this imagined universe, we humans have no special place and often feel insignificant.” (Primack 2006, 3)

They then go on to construct a convincing argument that one of the possible causes of the ills which plague contemporary societies is the lack of an imagined universe which does have a special place for humans, and in which we might not feel this insignificance. However, I suspect that hiding in this quotation is a conflict between different ways in which we actually imagine the universe and our place in it, and a possibly ideosyncratic use of the term ‘common sense’.

The universe which they refer to, the one which causes such anomie and existential angst, is, I would argue, not the universe of common sense at all, nor is it the one that lives in our hearts. Rather it is one which has only been brought into existence through the finding of science within the last 400 years. The universe of endless de-centred, inhuman emptiness is not one in which we routinely live, and to the extent that we have ‘internalised’ it at all then it lives as an objective fact in our minds and our libraries, not as felt experience at the core or heart of our being.

Posted in Centre, Cosmology, Imagination, Science, Space, Universe | 3 Comments »