philosophy – Page 6 – Northcoast Antiquarian

Exploring Paul Klee’s Rosengarten and Emerson’s Philosophy

Paul Klee, *Rose Garden* (1920, 44, oil and pen on paper on cardboard, 49 cm x 42.5 cm), Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus and Kunstbau Munich, on permanent loan from the Gabriele Münter and Johannes Eichner Foundation, Munich, CC BY-NC-SA.

Periodically, I revisit the essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson. His writing style is sometimes jarring but just as often sublime (Henry James, in Partial Portraits (1888), observed that Emerson “never really mastered the art of composition” (p. 20) while also acknowledging that “he had frequently an exquisite eloquence” (p. 32)). The visit is always profitable.

While rereading Emerson’s perhaps most famous essay, Self-Reliance (1847), I found that after much of my recent reading focusing so heavily on things temporal, especially in the past month (e.g., Carlo Rovelli’s masterful works The Order of Time, Seven Brief Lessons on Physics, and Reality is Not What it Seems and Tom Siegfried’s lyrical The Number of the Heavens: A History of the Multiverse and the Quest to Understand the Cosmos), the following passage resonated in a manner it had not on previous readings of the essay:

“Man is timid and apologetic; he is no longer upright; he dares not say ‘I think,’ ‘I am,’ but quotes some saint or sage. He is ashamed before the blade of grass or the blowing rose. These roses under my window make no reference to former roses or to better ones; they are for what they are; they exist with God to-day. There is no time to them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence. Before a leaf-bud has burst, its whole life acts; in the full-blown flower there is no more; in the leafless root there is no less. Its nature is satisfied, and it satisfies nature, in all moments alike. But man postpones or remembers; he does not live in the present, but with reverted eye laments the past, or, heedless of the riches that surround him, stands on tiptoe to foresee the future. He cannot be happy and strong until he too lives with nature in the present, above time.”

Such an extraordinary observation and lesson—that there is no lamentation of the past, or anticipation of the future, only presence for the rose.

Lamentation, or regret more precisely, I have long regarded as the most useless of human endeavors, if it is more than rectification of error, amends to others, and lessons learned. Anticipation, or anxiety about the future, is also too often misplaced and misdirected energy. Yes, we can and should make plans, but when the energy and effort extend beyond the necessary such that the future becomes a thief of reason, serenity, and equanimity, we are perilously close to toppling over.

The image of the rose in the above essay also brought to mind, fortuitously or not, a wonderful piece of art, Rosengarten (1920) by Paul Klee, ensconced in Lenbachhaus, an art museum in Munich.

After reading Helmut Friedel and Annegret Hoberg’s words about Klee from Der Blaue Reiter im Lenbachhaus München (2007) at the Lenbachhaus website, I readily envision Rosengarten as exemplifying the same harmonious integration of presence and timelessness that Emerson attributes to the rose. Created in 1920, the painting merges organic and constructed forms into a rhythmic whole. Klee’s garden unfolds as a grid of irregular, red-tinged rectangles, delicately framed by black lines, with roses—symbols of growth and vitality—scattered like musical notes across the composition. These roses, like Emerson’s, embody the eternal present; their rounded, spiral blooms suggest continuous life and creation. For Klee, as for Emerson, nature’s rhythms transcend human constructs of time.

Interestingly, Klee drew inspiration from music, speaking of “cultural rhythms” in his Bauhaus writings and comparing his visual compositions to musical structures. In Rosengarten, he achieves a polyphony of visual forms, where the temporal becomes spatial, and each element contributes equally to the whole. Just as Emerson’s rose is “perfect in every moment of its existence,” Klee’s garden suggests an infinite unfolding—a melody extending endlessly beyond the canvas.

Both Emerson and Klee challenge us to inhabit the present, to find harmony in life’s rhythms, and to appreciate the completeness inherent in each moment. The rose, whether in prose or paint, invites us to rise above time.

The Past Is but a Map: A Poem for Embracing Lessons Learned

**The Sower (oil on canvas, 1888) by Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890). Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam.**

Note on the Origin of This Poem

This poem was inspired by a recent reflection on T.S. Eliot’s Burnt Norton, the first of his Four Quartets (with a nod to Augustine of Hippo’s Confessions, which I have also recently revisited). Eliot’s meditation on time has long intrigued me, particularly his exploration of the eternal present where past, present, and future are interwoven. His lines, “What might have been and what has been / Point to one end, which is always present,” reflect an awareness of unrealized possibilities lingering in memory, resonating with the tension between choice and fate.

While Eliot does not dwell entirely on regret, his imagery—such as “the passage which we did not take / Towards the door we never opened”—evokes a sense of paths unchosen and moments lost, suggesting an undercurrent of melancholy and reflection on missed opportunities.

This contrasts with my own perspective, which views the past not as a source of sorrow or lamentation but as a guide—a map to navigate the future. For me, the past should instruct us, not torment us. I focus not on what might have been but on the lessons that can inform where we must go next. As I recently discussed with one of my sisters, I learned more from my past failures, whether on school exams, work situations, or personal circumstances, than I did from my successes.

In short, regret is the most useless emotion.

Inspired by this distinction, I sought to explore these ideas poetically, offering a reflection on time that emphasizes the instructive value of the past rather than its potential to weigh us down with regret.

The Past Is but a Map

The past is not a chain of sorrow,
Not the dust of what we might have been—
But a map unfolding,
Marked by lines of roads untaken.
The tests we failed are etched more deeply
Than triumphs where we passed unscarred.
The echo of footfalls is not regret’s whisper
But instruction pointing forward.
The door unopened is not lamented
But a path unseen,
Waiting to instruct.
Hard lessons carve deeper than easy ones;
Each misstep, a mark of progress.
The teacher we resisted
Becomes the guide we heed.
There is no torment in yesterday’s shadow,
Only the light of what we must now become.
Ever forward, we glance back—
Not for grief,
But for direction,
For the past keeps its own counsel
As we shape the days to come.

Exploring the Eternal Now: Past Present Future in Poetic Form

**Time Transfixed (La Durée poignardée)** is a 1938 oil on canvas by Belgian surrealist René Magritte (1898-1967), now part of the permanent collection of the Art Institute of Chicago. The title translates literally as *Ongoing Time Stabbed by a Dagger*. Magritte reportedly expressed dissatisfaction with the widely accepted English translation, *Time Transfixed*. The translation issue resonates with the theme of the poem ***Past Present Future? Which is Now?***

Inspired by Where is Am I? and viewing poetry as akin to musical composition, I felt it fitting to create a follow-up variation on a theme. In truth, it took only moments to pen the opening line/title: Past Present Future? Which is Now? How could this not spring readily to mind, given the intense reading, writing, and research I have been immersed in for so long—scientific and philosophical alike? The line is a distillation of a significant part of my existential quest, an attempt to more deeply explore what I have long referred to as the eternal now.

Past Present Future? Which is Now? captures the tension between how we subjectively experience time and the idea that all moments—past, present, and future—are fixed and unchanging. In this static view, consciousness perceives each moment as now, while in reality, every moment already exists. This concept aligns with the philosophical idea of the eternal now, where all of time is present within each instant, even if our perception fragments it. The poem seeks to capture this interaction: the way awareness encounters different moments in time, while time itself remains constant and unchanging. It reflects my broader philosophical inquiries into the nature of reality, consciousness, and time’s interconnectedness.

Where is Am I? and Past Present Future? Which is Now? function as variations on a shared theme, much like movements in a musical composition. While they differ in focus—one on the search for identity, the other on the nature of time—they resonate with one another through recurring imagery and ideas. Both explore existential uncertainty, employing motifs of light and shadow, echoes and breath, to reflect the fragmented nature of consciousness and experience.

Where is Am I? is an introspective meditation on the self’s disjointed sense of being, while Past Present Future? extends this reflection, asking whether time—past, present, and future—exists as distinct moments or as a continuous whole. In this way, the second poem builds on the first, expanding the inquiry into personal identity toward a larger philosophical investigation of time. Together, the two poems form a stylistic and thematic unity, with the second poem deepening the existential questions introduced in the first, offering a more expansive vision of the human experience or, at least, my experience.

Past Present Future? Which is now?

Past whispers in the corners of my mind,
its shadow folded into the fabric of now—
but is it gone, or does it still breathe,
echoing in the present’s fleeting pulse?

The future calls, a distant tremor,
its promise threaded through each thought.
Yet does it truly wait, or is it here already,
quietly draped over the moment’s edge?

Past, present, future—are they separate streams,
or one river coursing through the self,
an unbroken thread of light,
where time is nothing but a veil? Which is now?
All and none—each breath dissolves the question,
as yesterday, tomorrow, and today
collapse into the eternal now.

Exploring Consciousness in the Block Universe (A query to ChatGPT, again)

Early on I warned that I would occasionally use this website as my sandbox to post my ramblings. My apologies for this rambling, as it is not a good story, scholarship, poetry, or even an interesting quote. Rather, it is just a post-it note in the ether, preserving a moment in time of an exploration of a thought that I found interesting.

The Block Universe and the Multiverse have increasingly become areas of scholarly inquiry for me. In recent months, I have been reading academic papers and books to deepen my understanding of both concepts. However, I must acknowledge that, while I find them fascinating, they lie largely outside my area of competency, except perhaps in a philosophical context. Despite this, I am undeniably drawn to both models, though many questions remain unanswered. To explore my ideas, I often turn to AI as a starting point for my inquiries, a way to clarify my inchoate thoughts and ideas.

This evening, I found myself particularly curious about the theoretical interaction between two individuals in the Block Universe model, specifically when they are not in “conscious alignment” but still interacting at the same point in time. Below is the inquiry I posed to ChatGPT and the response I received. I share this as yet another example of how ChatGPT can significantly enrich my exploration of ideas, particularly when I am surrounded by papers, books, and my computer without a similarly interested friend to discuss my ideas – and more importantly, my questions with – at length.

I will not burden you with the followup queries I made and the responses I received that refined the question below to include the Multiverse, migrating consciousnesses, etc., as factors. I will only note that the “discussion,” as it were, became rather heady.

My Inquiry to ChatGPT:

In the Block Universe model, where time is static and every moment exists simultaneously, if Individual A is conscious and interacting with Individual B at a particular point in time (let’s call it ABC on the time axis), can A’s conscious interaction with B be considered a “resurrection” of B, even if B’s consciousness has moved away from that moment? In other words, does A’s present consciousness revive B’s existence, or is B reduced to a mere memory? If time is static and both A and B exist at point ABC, how can we dismiss B’s presence as simply a memory? Wouldn’t A’s conscious perception of B bring B fully into the present, regardless of B’s own conscious awareness at that moment?

ChatGPT’s Response:

Your inquiry touches on a deeply philosophical and metaphysical problem: in a Block Universe, where time is static and every moment exists simultaneously, what happens to individual B if individual A is presently conscious and interacting with them, but B’s consciousness is not at the same point of present awareness? Does A’s conscious interaction with B “resurrect” B, making them fully present, or is B reduced to a mere memory?

1. The Nature of the Present in the Block Universe:

In the Block Universe model, all events—past, present, and future—are equally real and exist at once. Time, much like space, is laid out as a four-dimensional “block” where every point in time is a fixed coordinate. In this framework, “now” is relative—one individual’s present moment might not align with another’s, but both moments exist eternally within the same spacetime.

This leads to the question: if A’s consciousness is at a certain point on the time axis (let’s call it ABC), and B was at ABC at some point, can A’s current awareness bring B back into present existence, or is B simply an imprint of a past moment?

2. The Role of Perception and Consciousness:

Your suggestion, which draws on the nature of perception, implies that A’s perception of B in the present moment might “revive” or “resurrect” B in a meaningful way. In essence, the act of A’s awareness or consciousness interacting with B might not merely render B a memory, but instead fully re-engage B in the present moment. This raises a few key possibilities:

Relational Reality: The philosopher Martin Buber, in his work I and Thou, argued that the world is not made up of isolated individuals but of relationships. In the context of the Block Universe, this suggests that the relationship between A and B could make B fully real in A’s consciousness. Even if B is not consciously aware in that moment, A’s engagement could create a present relational reality where B exists in full presence within the scope of their interaction.
Revival through Observation: In quantum theory, the act of observation plays a crucial role in defining the state of particles (the observer effect). Although you are not suggesting quantum mechanics applies directly here, your analogy suggests that A’s conscious awareness might act as a kind of observer, bringing B’s reality into the present moment. This is not merely memory, but a revival of B’s full presence through A’s perception, even if B’s own consciousness is “elsewhere.”
Dynamic Engagement with Static Time: Although time in the Block Universe is static, conscious interaction with others might create dynamic pockets of reality within that framework. In this view, A’s consciousness “animates” the static reality of B at the point ABC, reviving B’s presence from the past and bringing it into the shared present. B’s full self, even if no longer conscious in that specific moment, becomes “resurrected” in the relational present through A’s engagement.

3. Memory vs. Resurrection of Existence:

The distinction between memory and resurrection is crucial here. If we think of B’s past presence at point ABC as a fixed event in spacetime, it is tempting to reduce B to a memory once their consciousness moves away from that moment. However, the idea that A’s conscious interaction with B resurrects B goes beyond mere memory. In this sense:

Memory involves a one-sided recollection of B’s past existence, a mental reconstruction.
Resurrection (in your context) implies a re-engagement of B’s full presence at point ABC, facilitated by A’s perception. Even though B is not consciously aware at that moment, their existence in spacetime is reactivated through A’s perception, making B as fully present as when their consciousness was originally at that moment.

4. Perception and Shared Realities:

This idea also ties into theories of shared reality, where the perception of one individual shapes the reality of another. In phenomenology, especially in the work of Edmund Husserl, the experience of the “other” plays a key role in how reality is constructed. When A interacts with B, A’s perception of B might revive B’s presence in a way that transcends mere memory. In this sense, even if B’s consciousness has moved on to a different moment in spacetime, their presence in that specific interaction is made “alive” again through A’s experience.

5. Implications for Consciousness and Existence:

Philosophically, this raises profound questions about the nature of existence:

Does existence depend on consciousness, or is it enough for consciousness to engage with an event to resurrect it?
Can we exist fully in the minds of others, even if our consciousness is not directly present in a given moment?

In a Multiverse Block Universe model, the potential for repeated instances of engagement between A and B across different versions of reality might amplify this effect, allowing for multiple points of resurrection or engagement in different universes.

Conclusion:

In the Block Universe, where time is static and every moment is fixed, A’s conscious perception of B in a present moment might indeed revive B’s existence, making B fully present again within the framework of that specific interaction. This is more than memory; it is a resurrection of B’s presence in a meaningful, relational way. The interaction creates a shared reality, where B’s existence at point ABC is reanimated by A’s conscious engagement, even if B’s consciousness is no longer at that same point.

Demonstrating Ethical Research with ChatGPT: Exploring Memory and Entropy

Because of my ongoing work on an essay tentatively titled Endless Horizons: Theories of the End of Time in a Multiverse of Block Universes, I woke early this morning with a question about the nature of memory and whether it, like physical systems, is subject to entropy. To deepen my understanding of this topic, I decided to engage ChatGPT in a research query. This also presented an opportunity to demonstrate how I ethically use ChatGPT as a research tool.

The experiment was straightforward: I formulated a fairly simple (complex?) philosophical and scientific question and asked ChatGPT for a response. ChatGPT, as previously instructed, provided authoritative sources to accompany its answer. This approach allowed me to gain immediate, well-rounded insights while ensuring I had reliable sources for further book research, should I choose to explore the topic more deeply. In addition to my own well-stocked library, I have access to resources through the local city and county libraries, as well as one of the local universities, where I am an alumnus. I also have access to other libraries associated with organizations of which I am a longstanding member. Moreover, through these libraries and their subscription databases, I have online access to a wide range of books and scholarly materials.

This process reflects my commitment to using AI as a tool to aid my scholarly inquiries—never as a replacement for rigorous research, but rather as a way to generate new questions, gather preliminary information, and identify potential sources for more thorough study.

Below is the question I posed and the response ChatGPT provided. It provides ample information for me to reflect upon and good sources for follow-up if I wanted to pursue the topic further.

My Question To ChatGPT:

Is memory merely the present attempting to retrieve the past, albeit fragmentally? This retrieval process, often redundant and incomplete, may not capture the same fragments of the past on each attempt. Alarmingly, the mind can create new memory fragments to bridge gaps, make sense of discontinuities, or even improve or alter alienating memories. However, might the past itself—the objective past we are striving to retrieve—be subject to its own form of deterioration or entropy over time, making it inherently more difficult to access as time flows forward?

ChatGPT’s Response:

The notion that memory is a fragmented, partial reconstruction of the past has long been recognized in cognitive science and philosophy. Memory, by its nature, is fallible, prone to alteration with each retrieval, and influenced by present emotions and experiences. As you rightly point out, the process of memory retrieval is often redundant, incomplete, and subject to creative interpolations by the mind to make sense of what is forgotten or unclear. This invites the deeper inquiry: Is the “objective past” itself subject to entropy, rendering it less retrievable over time?

To explore this question, we must examine both subjective memory—the internal representation of past events—and the objective past—the events themselves as they occurred in time.

Memory and Reconstruction:

Cognitive science has demonstrated that human memory is reconstructive rather than reproductive. Each retrieval is a dynamic process, during which the brain reassembles fragments of stored information to form a coherent narrative of the past. This phenomenon is supported by work from Elizabeth Loftus, a pioneer in the study of false memories, who demonstrated how suggestibility and the passage of time can alter or create new memories. Her research suggests that memory is not merely a passive storage but an active process subject to distortion (Loftus, 1997).

The brain’s capacity to fill gaps in memory, to “improve” or distort unpleasant recollections, can be seen as a kind of psychological entropy, where the once-clear memory of an event becomes increasingly disordered with each retrieval. As you suggest, this process can indeed make it difficult to capture the same fragment of the past with each attempt.

The Objective Past and Entropy:

Your inquiry into whether the “objective past” itself is subject to entropy requires an exploration of philosophical and scientific thought. In one sense, the past, as it existed in time, is immutable. It has occurred and is fixed in the timeline of the universe. This perspective aligns with the Block Universe theory in physics, where all points in time—past, present, and future—exist simultaneously in a four-dimensional spacetime continuum. Under this model, the past is not subject to degradation; it simply is (Callender, 2010).

However, while the objective past may remain fixed, our access to it is mediated by subjective memory, which is indeed subject to entropy. Neurological studies, such as those by Karl Lashley in his research on engrams, suggest that memory retrieval is dependent on the integrity of neural circuits. Over time, these circuits degrade due to aging, injury, or disease, making it more difficult to retrieve specific memories (Lashley, 1950).

This entropic degradation in the brain mirrors the second law of thermodynamics, which states that systems naturally progress toward disorder. Just as physical systems decay, so too do the biological systems that support memory, causing retrieval to become more fragmented, incomplete, and distorted over time.

Philosophical Considerations on Memory and Entropy:

Philosophically, the question of whether the past itself is subject to entropy touches on deep metaphysical issues. The philosopher Henri Bergson proposed that memory is not a simple retrieval of static information but an active synthesis of the past and present. Bergson argued that our experience of time is fluid, and memory plays an essential role in shaping that experience. As such, memory’s entropic decay may reflect our subjective relationship with time rather than any inherent deterioration in the past itself (Bergson, 1896).

In cognitive psychology, Daniel Schacter explored the “seven sins of memory,” one of which is transience—the natural decay of memory over time. Schacter’s work highlights how memories fade and distort as they become more distant from the present. While the events of the past remain fixed, our mental representation of them becomes increasingly subject to entropy, making retrieval more challenging as time passes (Schacter, 2001).

Conclusion:

In conclusion, while the objective past may remain untouched by time’s passage, existing as a fixed point in the spacetime continuum, our access to it through memory is undeniably subject to entropy. Neurological and cognitive processes that support memory deteriorate over time, rendering our recollections increasingly fragmentary, incomplete, and prone to distortion. Memory’s entropic nature reflects the broader theme of disorder and decay that governs all physical systems. Thus, while the past itself remains fixed, our ability to access it diminishes with time—a poignant reminder of the impermanence of human cognition.

References:

Bergson, H. (1896). Matter and Memory. Swan Sonnenschein & Co.

Callender, C. (2010). The Oxford Handbook of Philosophy of Time. Oxford University Press.

Lashley, K. (1950). In Search of the Engram. Cold Spring Harbor Symposia on Quantitative Biology, 15, 1-24.

Loftus, E. (1997). Creating False Memories. Scientific American, 277(3), 70-75.

Schacter, D. L. (2001). The Seven Sins of Memory: How the Mind Forgets and Remembers. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.