Pluto wrote: I was looking at the painting 'Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?' by Paul Gauguin. Great title, and we still can't answer convincingly.
Pluto, do you believe that the value of philosophy and religion, if you are a believer, comes from experiencing questions or providing answers based on opinion? Gauguin offers a question. How are we to ponder it? Society as a whole seem to have discarded this ancient practice as useless and getting in the way of arguing more important superficial opinions. Suppose what we ARE cannot be defined by expressions of the external life process we all go through. It may be what we are by societal standards but surely not by objective standards since the cycle of life is always in change. What we ARE as I understand it, if it does exist is what lies behind the life cycle so the cycle is really an expression of our origin. We normally live attached to the life cycle. What we hold as important and the center of life is different at twenty than and forty, at sixty, and at eighty. The quality of consciousness connecting them doesn’t exist for us. This is what is meant by experiencing our nothingness.
Shakespeare presents the same question. It is easy to ridicule as is often done on philosophy sites as religious nonsense and since there is no proof, why bother? Yet there are some who respect the question even though there is no scientific proof of what we are behind the life cycle. How should we respect people who contemplate, open to, these questions without immediately believing or denying what has already been said? How do we respect those who contemplate philosophical and religious questions which art worthy of the name intensifies within us? Maybe we should just concentrate on what can be measured by science such as the dimensions of Kim Kardashian’s behind? Who knows at this point? Perhaps Hillary is right to say “what difference at this point does it make?" I may be in the minority but I’ll stick with the value of art for our emotional intelligence. It’s not that I have anything against Kim Kardashian’s behind but there is a time and place for everything.
As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII [All the world’s a stage]
William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616
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Jaques to Duke Senior
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.