[DMB] Right. Marsha is making a wildly invalid inference, taking a giant leap. She takes the MOQ's claims about the limits of language to be a condemnation of language as such.
[Arlo] Yes, and this is also evident in Mark's words about words being a form of "imprisonment". I think she further confuses being "devoid language" with pursuing awareness "beyond language". For her, both the meditating Buddhist and the proto-human primate without language are in the same state of bliss, that is torn away when language enters. [DMB on Marsha] Its structure is not an evolved capacity, but a prison. It's not just that it is unable to say anything about the ultimate truth, whatever THAT is. No, it hides the truth, she says, and by this she must mean that ultimate truth. [Arlo] Right, its says the road is a prison because it "forces" us to drive in a certain direction, but is blind to what "freedoms" that road also brings. Marsha is trapped in a world where she still thinks in terms of existential reality, rather than being able to understands an empirical, experiential reality. All is not "no-thing", my motorcycle is very empirically real and valuable to me, and the activity it enables is as real as real can be. She is still back trying to argue that there is no "existential motorcycle", and doesn't see that everyone else here has moved beyond that a long time ago. She confuses the "homunculus" with the experiential self, and thinks that a MOQ denies the reality of both. Instead, a MOQ denies the reality of an existential self, but would say an experiential self is quite real. Better said, it does not deny "reality", it denies existential reality, and offers an experiential reality instead. "Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut you in, and the great ship, tense and anxious, groped her way toward the shore with plummet and sounding-line, and you waited with beating heart for something to happen? I was like that ship before my [assimilation of language] began, only I was without compass or sounding-line, and had no way of knowing how near the harbour was. "Light! give me light!" was the wordless cry of my soul, and the light of love shone on me in that very hour. " (Helen Keller, The Story of My Life) Moq_Discuss mailing list Listinfo, Unsubscribing etc. http://lists.moqtalk.org/listinfo.cgi/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org Archives: http://lists.moqtalk.org/pipermail/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org/ http://moq.org/md/archives.html
