RaT Mind Again!
Tuesday 13:15 p.m.
This is RaBlissBlog coming to you martians and Masai Warriors (and you too, Jack!) from Mawson's peak, the highest point on the Unheard of Island. It's a beautiful night as I gaze up at the starry, starry southern skies outside the cave and ponder where my mind might be. I think I lost it a while back.
Obviously, you can't think without your own brain, which is definitely between your ears. So at least it seems that your brain is a pre-condition for thoughts arising. If you cut off your hand, you can still think. If you cut off your head, it looks a bit unlikely that any thoughts are arising.
But is your mind in your brain?
This next bit is really for folk who have religious convictions, christians primarily.
Say your head got chopped off. Charles I had his head chopped off and some very strange Christian people count him as a martyr. So he went to heaven. To be with God. The question is: did he know he was there? Well, how could he be in heaven if he didn't know he was there? At one point he must have thought: I'm in heaven. Yippee!
Thoughts and minds go together. You can't be in heaven and not know you're there. This knowing thing and this thinking thing is a mind thing.
Christians, of course, have souls. Your soul goes to heaven. But it must know it's in heaven or it can't be heavenly. So your soul can think? Is your soul your mind then? Or can you tell the difference?
Of course, if you're a straightforward materialistic flatheid, your mind is connected to your brain and when your brain dies, you die. The self you cherish and think is somehow permanent isn't permanent after that, is it, Jack?
I agree with the last in that it's your sense of self that dies, but that's just one idea of self and the least comfortable one to have. If you want to keep this sense of self... well, you're a braver man than I am, Gunga Din!
This is 9,000 feet up. I've lost my mind and I'm not sure where it is. I think I'd better have a firm resolution to this problem before my stay on the Unheard of Island has to come to an end. But I've still got nearly two weeks of my six weeks holiday to go. Hurrah!
23:54 p.m.
Has the mind got a body, or has the body got a mind? Interesting idea once you've been given the black spot. So the joe was terminal with the bad cough and thinks he'd like to go to Switzerland to do the voluntary euthanasia. That's all very well, I says, but it depends if you think that the mind has a body, or the body has a mind.
Even neanderthals had rituals. When someone dies, you do something ... and it should somehow be comforting.
I was brought up a catholic. At least, the tims know how to do funerals.
If you remember that nothing is really true, and that you don't believe anything, you should get away from this idea that the body has a mind. Frankly, only sad basturns think like that.
Felt a bit disturbed today, Jack. But that's really because I haven't properly settled in. On top of this massif in the middle of the southern ocean with my supplies of spinach, well, Jack, the anxieties will go. I've done everything else, Jack. I might as well do calm and peaceful.
The whaleskin flapping but strong, and the warmth from the volcano at my back, well, what a fortunate, fortunate creature I am!
]
This is RaBlissBlog coming to you martians and Masai Warriors (and you too, Jack!) from Mawson's peak, the highest point on the Unheard of Island. It's a beautiful night as I gaze up at the starry, starry southern skies outside the cave and ponder where my mind might be. I think I lost it a while back.
Obviously, you can't think without your own brain, which is definitely between your ears. So at least it seems that your brain is a pre-condition for thoughts arising. If you cut off your hand, you can still think. If you cut off your head, it looks a bit unlikely that any thoughts are arising.
But is your mind in your brain?
This next bit is really for folk who have religious convictions, christians primarily.
Say your head got chopped off. Charles I had his head chopped off and some very strange Christian people count him as a martyr. So he went to heaven. To be with God. The question is: did he know he was there? Well, how could he be in heaven if he didn't know he was there? At one point he must have thought: I'm in heaven. Yippee!
Thoughts and minds go together. You can't be in heaven and not know you're there. This knowing thing and this thinking thing is a mind thing.
Christians, of course, have souls. Your soul goes to heaven. But it must know it's in heaven or it can't be heavenly. So your soul can think? Is your soul your mind then? Or can you tell the difference?
Of course, if you're a straightforward materialistic flatheid, your mind is connected to your brain and when your brain dies, you die. The self you cherish and think is somehow permanent isn't permanent after that, is it, Jack?
I agree with the last in that it's your sense of self that dies, but that's just one idea of self and the least comfortable one to have. If you want to keep this sense of self... well, you're a braver man than I am, Gunga Din!
This is 9,000 feet up. I've lost my mind and I'm not sure where it is. I think I'd better have a firm resolution to this problem before my stay on the Unheard of Island has to come to an end. But I've still got nearly two weeks of my six weeks holiday to go. Hurrah!
23:54 p.m.
Has the mind got a body, or has the body got a mind? Interesting idea once you've been given the black spot. So the joe was terminal with the bad cough and thinks he'd like to go to Switzerland to do the voluntary euthanasia. That's all very well, I says, but it depends if you think that the mind has a body, or the body has a mind.
Even neanderthals had rituals. When someone dies, you do something ... and it should somehow be comforting.
I was brought up a catholic. At least, the tims know how to do funerals.
If you remember that nothing is really true, and that you don't believe anything, you should get away from this idea that the body has a mind. Frankly, only sad basturns think like that.
Felt a bit disturbed today, Jack. But that's really because I haven't properly settled in. On top of this massif in the middle of the southern ocean with my supplies of spinach, well, Jack, the anxieties will go. I've done everything else, Jack. I might as well do calm and peaceful.
The whaleskin flapping but strong, and the warmth from the volcano at my back, well, what a fortunate, fortunate creature I am!
]
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man
I'm strong to the finich
Cause I eats me spinach
I'm Popeye the Sailor Man
Too right!
posted by Hotboy at 1:22 PM
7 Comments:
It's 7° here at sea level, you must be well freezing at 9000 feet. I have several spare panatclavas, old but still serviceable, just say the word and I'll drop them off.
Adolf! Zeig! It's quite cozy up here. Firstly, there is the not very talented raising of inner heat, and, more importantly the cave wall backs onto a volcano, so I've got a warm wall. My only problem is the two hours of an evening when I'm normally a bit out of it in some way or other. I'm not used to being normal then. Could you send your doggie up the hill with some of the good stuff? That wouldn't help, but I'm a weak vessel, let's face it! Hotboy
Eric!: Indubitably! At least, they've got the right idea!Hotboy
You must be a great comfort to your cancerous friend. I have fallen down on my pledge to my wee woman. D'you want to try another trans-hemispheric meditation, this time for your mate?
Adolf! Heil! The boy who didn't know if his mind had a body or if his body had a mind knows now alright. He's bee n pushing up the daisies for the last couple of years. BTW Some meditator you turned out to be! I'd do twice as much for Betty as you. In fact, just let me know and I'll treble it. Fancy not doing any for her! Luckily, you probably don't have a conscience! Right now that wouldn't help! Hotboy
My conscience doesn't exist except in my mind.
Some guy called Martin Amis seems to have filched your writing and published it as Money. It's good.
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