Ohmygod! It worked! (I love you, Firefox.) Elliott Plumb True, but not Obvious Truth Paper We live in an infinite cosmos. I assert that this statement is neither true nor false. In a cosmic sense of infiniteness, all things are infinite. A truly infinite system is not just infinite in it’s size, mass, timeframe, density, scope, range of possibilities, and complexity of design. It is also infinite in all other descriptive terms. It is infinitely infinite. It is everything, every non-thing, nothing, and everything else. It is a concept (having no definable physical presence) in which we live in and interact with through thought and action. This, I take to be a fundamental truth to hold at the very core of my being. An interesting side effect of this belief system is that it can neither be proven nor disproved (something common to virtually all belief systems), but since it incorporates its own flaws as being part of it, it is completely untrue in addition to being true. And some would argue completely meaningless, but from my own perspective (as it is currently the only one I can exist in) it feels somehow pertinent. But I would say that it is nearly impossible to explain this concept in a way that invites understanding except possibly this: There are absolutely no absolutes. Take the action of showing a book to several very different people and getting their responses. An English major may describe the book as “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare,” a series of plays that describe the great human drama. A German factory worker may say, “Das ist ein Buch.” A philosophy student may say, “This is a series of ideas manifested by the mind of an English playwright and converted to a printed medium for ease of communication.” A physics professor could call it a collection of atoms and electromagnetic forces that comprise a “book.” (“Book” being the laymen’s term for this complex concept.) A semantic sociologist might say it was a collection of pages bound together and written upon so as to abstractly reflect the cultural mindset of the particular Elizabethan author who wrote it. But don’t stop there (I know it’s long. Please bear with me.) A redneck may call it a doorstop. A Kung Fu master may call it a potential weapon. A stoner may call it a portable rolling table. A conspiracy nut might call it a pistol stash. And a cat might not call it anything, but will simply ignore it as being nothing more than part of the scenery. But does what you call it or how you use it change what it is, or does it have an unerring and constant conceptual form? I say it is all and none of those things, because definition of truth (as with anything else) is totally subjective and relative. This is not to say that there is no such thing as absolute truth, for just like the example of the book, in this material plane in which we exist together the things that we see remain the same; it’s only in how we view and name them. So communication partially defines truth. It is only when we can get into two different peoples heads and telepathically communicate the concepts behind defining things that we will see exactly how mutable and subjective truth is. As long as we have to rely on something as inaccurate as anything other than thoughtto-thought communication, we may only speculate as to the true nature of truth. Even something thought to be so basic as good and evil is subjective. Killing is wrong, but killing a killer to prevent killing is seen as good. Hitler did wonderful things for the German economy. Jesus incited mass rebellion and inspired bloody religious wars. Premature death is considered a terrible thing, but who are we to say that a dying infant is not going to the great beyond at his specified time. (Or if there even is a specified time of someone’s death. If something happens, and you hold fate as being even somewhat true, than whatever happens is obviously supposed to happen, and vice versa; or else it would have gone some other way. But there is no other way for our specific consciousness, because we exist in linear time . . . at least I do.) However, regardless of what you call evil, and how you see evil, isn’t it still in the observer’s mind, evil? Is that concept absolute and, in fact, just seen differently? Is what I call truth what you call truth? Do our ideals of this abstract concept of truth hold as the same internal thing regardless of where and how we see truth, conceptualize truth, and speak truth? So where is one to make the distinction? Just how subjective is truth, and where is the line drawn between an absolute concept seen subjectively and a subjective concept? I pose that it is impossible to tell absolutely. A convincing argument can be made either way, but it is up to the individual to believe it. And a concept as basic as truth is something cannot just be given to someone; it must be experienced. Are hallucinations true? Are emotions true? Is love true? Is quantum theory? (If I can’t understand a mathematical proof or see the link between theory and experiment, why should I take that as true?) Is pure fiction, in some parallel universe, coincidentally true? How can we know? But more importantly, why should we care? Based on the apparent subjectivity of truth, and the intuitive infiniteness of the cosmos, there is no reason to. Make your own distinctions and be pleased to live in a system that we cannot possibly understand entirely. Regardless of how much of a genius you, I, or Einstien may be, the only thing that you can do is better understand things from your own personal perspective, and make your own judgments on the veracity of personal truths masquerading as universal ones. And the great thing about free will is that you and I can have totally opposite and contradicting viewpoints of truth, and we still see those viewpoints as truth. Making them the same thing! Nonsense! Absolute and utter fucking nonsense! That’s what the universe is all about.