Monday 2 September 2013

Albert Camus, Rene Descartes, the Universe and Suicide

I've been thinking about the fundamentals of what we know to be true lately, about the things we know are fact and about the things we cannot doubt. It began when I returned to Albert Camus and considered his final words yet again; "The struggle to reach the heights is enough to fill a man's heart". And whilst an optimistic ending to an overall pessimistic book it left me asking, what are those heights?
If the strive towards "the heights" is enough to add meaning to life where there is no God. Then for sure those heights are fundamental to the humans races survival. Those are the very things that prevent the mass suicide of all those who do not believe or follow a God/s. So I pondered on what Albert Camus meant by those words, if the heights were enough, then what were they? Was there some ultimate goal we can reach, is there a height above all others. I think not. The conclusion I came to was that the heights that we strive towards, and which add meaning to our lives, are those set by ourselves. Influenced by every interaction, force and social concept we come in contact with; they are each personal and distinct. Furthermore I figured that once reached these heights we set ourselves become void. That one would either have to repeatedly set a new height or one impossible height to give meaning to his or her life, but just possible enough that it could be slowly chiselled away at.

Inevitably this lead me to question my own heights, my own meaning in life. If we are but a series of inexplicable accidents and coincidences spanning back though the ages; sentient live composed mostly of air, plus particles electro-magnetically charged together is there a meaning, is there a point? I don't think so, not that I thought my way into depression! But it did make me think about how insignificant I was, in terms of the country, the world, our solar system  and the universe as a whole. Even if our entire planet, or our entire solar system perished at this very moment. It would not make any lasting impact on the universe. Our whole solar system is as insignificant as me; as insignificant as the thoughts I write.
And this made me consider the futility of suicide (not that I was suicidal), it made me realise that my death would accomplish no more than my life. So I might as well keep living (as might we all) I might as well find the heights I wish to follow and strive to reach them.

Yet every height I looked at I couldn't follow. Everything I saw I began to question, and I saw futility in things I never used to. So sought out to find what I could know, that which I couldn't doubt. I wanted to find a truth that was true no matter what questions I asked my self. I wanted to find a fundamental fact that I could build my heights from. So logically I turned to Rene Descartes and his Discourse on Method and I cannot help but agree with his conclusion. I have tried to find flaws in his words, tried to find a foundation truer than the truth but I cannot.
"I think, therefore I am" Cogito ergo sum.
That I think proves that I exist, and that is the only thing we can know without a doubt. And whilst enlightening it was not helpful in the construction of a meaning for life.

But what it did do was make me think about the fundamentals of life, of our world and the universe. I did not question the truth of these facts I merely pondered on the implications were they false.
For instance, what if the colour green (which we know is green) was actually black, and that black was green. Imagine a world where that fact was false. Hair colour would be different, likely resulting in the population of the world being completely different. And those people who weren't born wouldn't invent the things they did. Would leave in the summer survive having absorbed all the suns ray, or would it be a world without leaves? Or a world in which leaves a fundamentally different? The gardens of the world would be different and the Statue of Liberty would be far more ominous.

Or consider a world where the value of 2 did not equal 2. What if 2 equalled 3 and 3 equalled 1. That would make 2+2=6 and would make the value of 11 equal 7, yet 7 would still equal 7.
It would change the way we measured everything from millimetres to the size of our galaxy. It would change Pi, Plank's Constant, architecture, primary school curriculum, and currency.

The point is the even if one were to change the slightest thing we consider fundamental, it would change everything. And then my mind finally turned to play; and try as I might I cannot question how fundamental it is. We have seen what happens when people do not play, that whilst they survive they are not whole. That is not to sound derogatory but would play exist is it weren't important? If it weren't innate, if that it is?
And on thinking of play I was reminding of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. That we can either know a particles velocity or it's location, but never both. That the very photons we use to view a particle move it. And like the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle I think we can never truly understand the fundamentals of play, the Cogito ergo sum of play, and enjoy it at the same time.

I think that on the day we truly define play, it shall die.
Play is beautiful even in it's flaws.

And finally, if "Play is the means by which we seek happiness" as I believe it is, then I think I have found a conclusion. As we all seek happiness (no single being is drawn to the pursuit of depression) as humans, we all want to be happy. And if we all want to be happy, then maybe I was wrong. Maybe there is a universal height we all strive towards, that is it just the means by which we strive towards this universal height that varies.
Perhaps I have found that height Albert Camus wrote of, which only leaves one question. What's my play?