Allegory of Fish

[Bill Wiltrack]

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Allegory of Fish -


First off I want to say, it is extremely rewarding to see so many active members here at the Philosophy Now Forum participate in an earlier thread of mine that formed the basis and framework of this new related thread. That thread was; EVOLUTION OF CONSCIOUSNESS.

There were many GREAT questions that surfaced from that thread. ALL of which I will address here in this separate comprehensive thread.


I want to use an allegory to illustrate what happened to me now over 40 years ago.

Imagine a fish that lived very well in a lush pond. Everything was provided and plentiful. But this fish was not happy inside. An unknown reason or yearning encased the entire being of this particular fish.

The fish, in its misery, sunk to the bottom of the pond in despondency but it was there, at the bottom, this incredibly lucky fish found a buried treasure. A treasure, seemingly, from another world.

This treasure chest also contained a very worn and ragged map. Almost impossible to follow.

But this particular fish believed in the map and worked hard to understand it.

The young fish processed what it learned and unencumbered by tradition this very particular fish began swimming, with all it's might toward the surface of the pond.

This, still young, fish started swimming from the very bottom of the pond, and because of that distance; the distance between the bottom and the surface, and because it was young and strong, it was able to develop great speed and it quickly not only broke the surface of the pond but flew high into the air above.


Everything happened so fast yet at the same time it felt as if time not only stood still but found a new dimension, a whole new direction, into infinity of a new concept of direction.

As the fish looked around it could see things. Not only new things on a new solid surface, an extension of the bottom of the pond but this fish could see the water below. It could see its entire life and the vision of others as they are. Yet in a different way.

The fish hits the solid surface of the beach as it lands.

A moment in evolution. Of things to come.

But not for this particular fish at this particular time.

The fish, out of its natural habitat of water is almost immediately filled with fear.

I'm going out of my mind, an echo outside yet the last straw of inside estranged narration. The last tendon of the deepest fear that this particular fish could associate.

And it did. It could not overcome it's fear. Not this time. Not this time in evolution. Not this time.


It flopped-back into the water, its natural habitat. And the oxygen it felt that had over-saturated its gills from the outer-water experience brought the fish to the surface where it just lied there motionless upon the surface. Lied there for many minuets.

Lied there as the new found and unexpected burst of oxygen left it's swollen gills.

Eventually it snapped-to and began swimming around just like all the other fishes.

In a strange way it wanted to forget what just happened.

Then it wanted to remember.

Then it couldn't.

Then it was too old, to weak to once again break the surface of the water.

It tried to pump the refined oxygen into its gills once more.

Stuck its mouth onto the surface of the water, over and over and over again. But the fish's gills were always immersed into the thick denser mass of surrounding water.


And the fish became damaged from the heat of the sun's rays nearer the surface of the water.

Damage that could not be undone.

It died. And sank to the bottom of the pond. Where it's body transformed into the nothingness that we all live within.

Never knowing why.





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[uwot]

From Plato's Phaedo: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1658/1658-h/1658-h.htm

"Also I believe that the earth is very vast, and that we who dwell in the region extending from the river Phasis to the Pillars of Heracles inhabit a small portion only about the sea, like ants or frogs about a marsh, and that there are other inhabitants of many other like places; for everywhere on the face of the earth there are hollows of various forms and sizes, into which the water and the mist and the lower air collect. But the true earth is pure and situated in the pure heaven—there are the stars also; and it is the heaven which is commonly spoken of by us as the ether, and of which our own earth is the sediment gathering in the hollows beneath. But we who live in these hollows are deceived into the notion that we are dwelling above on the surface of the earth; which is just as if a creature who was at the bottom of the sea were to fancy that he was on the surface of the water, and that the sea was the heaven through which he saw the sun and the other stars, he having never come to the surface by reason of his feebleness and sluggishness, and having never lifted up his head and seen, nor ever heard from one who had seen, how much purer and fairer the world above is than his own. And such is exactly our case: for we are dwelling in a hollow of the earth, and fancy that we are on the surface; and the air we call the heaven, in which we imagine that the stars move. But the fact is, that owing to our feebleness and sluggishness we are prevented from reaching the surface of the air: for if any man could arrive at the exterior limit, or take the wings of a bird and come to the top, then like a fish who puts his head out of the water and sees this world, he would see a world beyond; and, if the nature of man could sustain the sight, he would acknowledge that this other world was the place of the true heaven and the true light and the true earth. For our earth, and the stones, and the entire region which surrounds us, are spoilt and corroded, as in the sea all things are corroded by the brine, neither is there any noble or perfect growth, but caverns only, and sand, and an endless slough of mud: and even the shore is not to be compared to the fairer sights of this world. And still less is this our world to be compared with the other. Of that upper earth which is under the heaven, I can tell you a charming tale, Simmias, which is well worth hearing."

You really should read more, Poor Bill; philosophy is about sharing our experiences and sometimes fighting for ideas; it is about being alive. I don't think I would have liked Plato as a man, I don't much care for you, but I respect anyone with the humility to listen to other people.

[Bill Wiltrack]

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............................People listen to other people for two - and only two reasons: First to steal, second to attack.


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[uwot]

People listen to other people for two - and only two reasons: First to steal, second to attack.

If you believe that, Poor Bill, why expose yourself to theft and attack?

[Bill Wiltrack]

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Bravado. It's like a lion roaring.

A call to assemble?


A show of strength or misdirected invincibility.

Ego.




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[uwot]

What do you think of the similarities between your allegory of fish and the feelings expressed by Socrates in the Phaedo, Poor Bill?

[Bill Wiltrack]

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I don't know. I did not read Phaedo in its entirety.


I didn't even read the quote that was submitted here upon this thread by one of those two.

I did skim-it though and lit upon the similar focus words like fish & water and whatnot.


Those two are dead. We can't ask them anything.




I really enjoyed and respected the writing of Socrates that I have been exposed to.


I can't say enough good things about that man...if he really existed.





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One thing that is emerging through my mind is that - why are you so concerned about the writings of Socrates instead of asking me about my allegory or relating to my thread in agreement?

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[hammock]

One thing that is emerging through my mind is that - why are you so concerned about the writings of Socrates instead of asking me about my allegory or relating to my thread in agreement?

Sounds like you're detecting a fishy odor in here, Bill. What do you suspect? Is it time for us to break out some cider vinegar, tea tree oil, and yogurt?

[Blaggard]

I'd pay to see the allegory of the cave fish.

[uwot]

I don't know. I did not read Phaedo in its entirety.
I didn't even read the quote that was submitted here upon this thread by one of those two.
I did skim-it though and lit upon the similar focus words like fish & water and whatnot.

You are a profoundly incurious creature, aren't you, Poor Bill?

Those two are dead. We can't ask them anything.

Where does one start? Galileo: dead. Newton: dead. Einstein: dead. Adam Smith: dead. Karl Marx: dead. Jesus Christ: dead. The founding fathers of the US: dead. Elvis Presley: dead. Jimi Hendrix: dead. Michelangelo: dead. Shakespeare: dead. There are lot of dead people who we can't ask, but if you dismiss them because of that, you are woefully ignorant of your how the modern world came to be and works.

I really enjoyed and respected the writing of Socrates that I have been exposed to.

Socrates didn't actually write anything, but by your own admission you enjoyed at most four words of your latest exposure to Plato. It must be blissful to be so easily pleased.

I can't say enough good things about that man[/b]...if he really existed.

What reason have you to doubt it?

One thing that is emerging through my mind is that - why are you so concerned about the writings of Socrates instead of asking me about my allegory

My previous post did exactly that.

or relating to my thread in agreement?

What an absurd thing to say. Your allegory is about your own personal experience, I think there are parallels with Socrates' description, but it is silly to ask whether I agree with it. I had a toasted muffin for breakfast: do you agree?