Monthly Archives: June 2021

The Illusion of Consciousness

What follows is a conjecture, my conjecture, not someone else’s peer-reviewed fact-checked observation or theory, although some other person may very well have come up with some or all of the ideas I am presenting.

Consciousness itself is not an illusion. Consciousness exists. It is a phenomenon. But what is this phenomenon? It is not a presentation of reality, but a presentation of an illusion of reality. The illusion seems correlated to the limited segments of reality we can perceive.

We seem to be able to “see through” the illusion if we think about it rationally, but we are unequipped to perceive the actual reality on the other side of our consciousness.

I am not just talking about the physical limitations of our senses of sight, sound, touch, smell, or taste, although they are the root cause of our limitations. We build instruments of measurement that extend our perceptions, but they will probably never be good enough to present to us raw reality such as it really is.

We walk on the ground, thinking it is solid unless there is an earthquake, but neither the ground nor we are solid. The particles that make up the ground and our bodies are separated from each other like the stars and planets in the night sky but at much smaller scales.

The sea or lake in which we swim is also an illusion. The particles making up the water are separated from each other.

On the other hand, it could very well be that those elementary particles are not solid, but probability waves or energetic perturbations in a field extending throughout the universe or virtual particles and anti-particles popping into and out of existence in the vacuum of space.

You look at a red apple. You give it to your girlfriend, Eve. She sees it’s red too. At least she says so. But there is no such thing as red or any other color. We see certain colors because that’s how the rods in our eyes respond to certain electromagnetic radiation wavelengths in the light reflected off the things we look at. We can’t see infrared or ultraviolet, but we have built instruments that can “see” IR or UV and present it to us as some color we can see.

We go to concerts to listen to music, which is made up of tones, beats, and rests. But there are no such things as tones, beats, or rests. We hear tones and beats because that is how the tympanic membrane and the cilia in our inner ear respond to vibrations in the air, water, or solid. The rests are just the absence of auditory sensations for a certain duration of time.

You taste a juicy steak or smell something lemony. You touch another person, flesh to flesh. I have no intention of deflating these experiences for you, but you get the idea. You can see through the illusion, but we have no desire to do so.

What about space and time, or spacetime? Are there discrete chunks of it or is it continuous? Scientists currently believe the smallest thing that can be measured is a Planck Length, which is equal to the diameter of a proton divided by 10 followed by 20 zeroes. The smallest moment that can be measured is a Planck Time, which is the length of time it takes to travel a Planck Length at the speed of light. According to quantum theory, anything smaller would be impossible to measure and meaningless.

For what it’s worth, I’d put my dollar on space and time being infinitely divisible or, in other words, continuous. My reasoning is that if you posit that spacetime or space and time are discrete and chunky, then there must be something beneath spacetime, to which space and time are “pinned”. Call it whatever you want. Call it reality, unless of course, reality is pinned to some other underlying medium.

We could regress like this ad infinitum and all that we know of reality through our consciousness is an elaborate illusion.

Mike Stone

June 23, 2021


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In the Valley of Elah & More — Mike Stone

Posted on  by The BeZine Editors

Variants - Digital Work - Miroslava Panayotova
Variants – Digital Work – Miroslava Panayotova

The Irony of Plowshares

In the Middle East
If you want to prepare for peace
You must first prepare for war
Because peace must be waged
With the same seriousness of intent as war
And there are as many obstacles and pitfalls
On the path to peace as there are along the path to war.
A weak man cannot forge peace because
His weakness tempts his enemies to attack
And weak are the sabre rattlers
Hoping to frighten their enemies
With simulations of disproportionate force.
Their fears and uncertainties blind them
To the path of peace.
Only a strong man is confident and sees clearly.
He walks calmly along the path
Narrow as the razor's edge.
The path to peace meanders through Gaza
Where we've been eyeless and
Our plow shares will be made out of swords,
Neither flowers
Nor gentle breezes.

		September 28, 2016

Ode to the Common Man

This is not a tale that Homer’d tell of
Achilles, hero of the Achaean army,
Paris, jack of hearts and Troy’s downfall,
Or Odysseus, errant lord of Ithaca,
No, this is an ode to common men
On whose backs history marches
But of whom little or nothing is recorded,
Who follow heroes to untimely deaths,
Who mimic their brave gestures and rousing phrases
Until a roar rises up from countless throats
To cow those who would think more rationally,
Common men who stand against uncommon men,
Common men who march stridently in endless waves
Toward the future facing backward,
Common men who’d be their heroes
If only they were common too.

			December 30, 2019

In the Valley of Elah

In the Valley of Elah, not far from Gat
A young Philistine puts a smooth stone
In the pouch of his sling with one hand, 
Pulls the leather thongs taut with his other hand,
And swings the stone over his head,
Releasing its lethal trajectory
At a squad of helmeted shielded soldiers
Patrolling the rocky hills.
It is always the same play –
Sometimes we are David and
Sometimes we are Goliath.

			February 12, 2021

©2021 Mike Stone
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It’s out!

Poetry! Read it. Write it. There’s nothing quite like it. Although it’s not provable in a court of law and it won’t get us to Mars and back on a single tank of gas, poetry has an unfair advantage over every other form of writing when it’s good. When it is inspired, it leaps high in the sky over every obstacle.

Inspiration is what we demand from the poetry we read, neither rhyme nor meter will suffice. Inspiration cannot be cranked out or forced. Like the ancient Greek Muses of the arts and sciences, she will come when she comes, if she comes at all. All a poet can do is to make himself (or herself) worthy of the Muse, and perhaps she will find him (or her).

My seventh book of poetry, “What’s a Nice Muse like You Doing in a Place like This?” is hot off the Amazonian presses today. It’s available in paperback for the more physically inclined readers. For the more spiritually inclined, it’s also available in Kindle (digital download) format.

Mike Stone

June 13, 2021

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