Then I’d say the most likely explanation is either (1) the infinite-realities hypothesis is wrong or (2) if there are infinite realities, man is not mentally or physically equipped to move between them, so we might as well forget it and go about our business in the reality we happen to find ourselves in.
#2 leaves room for the occasional person who does slip through, like the green children or, possibly, the man from Taured or the time-traveling teachers at Versailles. So it looks to me like #2 is the better explanation, until we hear from someone who has managed the switch and brought back a souvenir. I think the souvenir is important because it shows you didn’t just fall asleep and dream the whole excursion. Without the souvenir or a picture you snapped or SOMETHING, you have no way to know for sure.
Now on to a related question. Let’s say I think the Kirk-on-the -wall reality, the road not taken, would be a much more congenial place than the reality in which I now live. Unable to move to Kirkland, I decide to do the next best thing and act AS IF I live in Kirkland—I start drawing and painting more, enter whatever art shows I can get to, sell stuff on Etsy, and so forth. This is the approach used by Method actors to depict a guy who can only move his left foot, for example, and, if I understand JMG correctly, by discursive meditators. This approach will cause your life to change somewhat since you’re living it differently. Now the question is—if you live as Christy Brown, at what point, if any, does Day-Lewisland become Brownland, and can you return to Day-Lewisland? Daniel Day-Lewis returns to D-Lland when the director shouts “That’s a wrap!” But if he decided to stay in Brownland, at what point could Brownland be said to have achieved objective existence and how could Daniel, or anyone else, tell?
Okay. Perhaps Brownland achieves objective existence if Daniel D-L sits in the wheelchair so long his body actually forgets how to move anything but his left foot. It seems to me that at that point we can say he’s in Brownland, and thus, for him at least, and for anyone he meets who gives him a push to the elevator or some such, Brownland exists. What about a less drastic example? Say I think the Men of the West are so cool that I decide to live like one to the extent I can without being arrested, packing swords and arrows being illegal in many jurisdictions. When can we say I’ve become a Man of the West? This question is one I think we can answer! I’ve objectively become a Man of the West when, in moments of great emotional intensity, when the old lizard brain kicks in, I react as a Man of the West would rather than as an American or German, or whatever I used to be, would.
Now. Let’s say a whole bunch of people decide to be Men of the West, so that an Egregor of the West comes into existence. At what point can we say the West has an objective existence? How can we know?
Beats me. We are now into Joanne Greenberg territory. The prevailing theory nowadays is it’s impossible to talk someone out of schizophrenia, even though Frieda Fromm-Reichmann did exactly that for Joanne. Joanne built Iria (“Yr” in the novel) and Frieda tore it down, leaving Joanne with 20th-century America as the only reality. Whether this was a net improvement is, I suppose, a matter of taste; Joanne certainly thought it was.
And suppose a whole bunch of people start believing in Iria? Then what? This has implications for everybody—look what a big mess has resulted from huge numbers of people believing in Infinite-Supply-of-Energyland.
Whew. Now you know why I play silly computer games in the reading room; if I don’t, I start thinking about stuff like this, and it’s not safe to let me out of the potty.
no subject
#2 leaves room for the occasional person who does slip through, like the green children or, possibly, the man from Taured or the time-traveling teachers at Versailles. So it looks to me like #2 is the better explanation, until we hear from someone who has managed the switch and brought back a souvenir. I think the souvenir is important because it shows you didn’t just fall asleep and dream the whole excursion. Without the souvenir or a picture you snapped or SOMETHING, you have no way to know for sure.
Now on to a related question. Let’s say I think the Kirk-on-the -wall reality, the road not taken, would be a much more congenial place than the reality in which I now live. Unable to move to Kirkland, I decide to do the next best thing and act AS IF I live in Kirkland—I start drawing and painting more, enter whatever art shows I can get to, sell stuff on Etsy, and so forth. This is the approach used by Method actors to depict a guy who can only move his left foot, for example, and, if I understand JMG correctly, by discursive meditators. This approach will cause your life to change somewhat since you’re living it differently. Now the question is—if you live as Christy Brown, at what point, if any, does Day-Lewisland become Brownland, and can you return to Day-Lewisland? Daniel Day-Lewis returns to D-Lland when the director shouts “That’s a wrap!” But if he decided to stay in Brownland, at what point could Brownland be said to have achieved objective existence and how could Daniel, or anyone else, tell?
Okay. Perhaps Brownland achieves objective existence if Daniel D-L sits in the wheelchair so long his body actually forgets how to move anything but his left foot. It seems to me that at that point we can say he’s in Brownland, and thus, for him at least, and for anyone he meets who gives him a push to the elevator or some such, Brownland exists. What about a less drastic example? Say I think the Men of the West are so cool that I decide to live like one to the extent I can without being arrested, packing swords and arrows being illegal in many jurisdictions. When can we say I’ve become a Man of the West? This question is one I think we can answer! I’ve objectively become a Man of the West when, in moments of great emotional intensity, when the old lizard brain kicks in, I react as a Man of the West would rather than as an American or German, or whatever I used to be, would.
Now. Let’s say a whole bunch of people decide to be Men of the West, so that an Egregor of the West comes into existence. At what point can we say the West has an objective existence? How can we know?
Beats me. We are now into Joanne Greenberg territory. The prevailing theory nowadays is it’s impossible to talk someone out of schizophrenia, even though Frieda Fromm-Reichmann did exactly that for Joanne. Joanne built Iria (“Yr” in the novel) and Frieda tore it down, leaving Joanne with 20th-century America as the only reality. Whether this was a net improvement is, I suppose, a matter of taste; Joanne certainly thought it was.
And suppose a whole bunch of people start believing in Iria? Then what? This has implications for everybody—look what a big mess has resulted from huge numbers of people believing in Infinite-Supply-of-Energyland.
Whew. Now you know why I play silly computer games in the reading room; if I don’t, I start thinking about stuff like this, and it’s not safe to let me out of the potty.
—Lady Cutekitten