Schumacher and assumptions

In Guide for the Perplexed, Schumacher quotes scientist G.N.M. Tyrrell's book Grades of Significance (1931):

A book, we will suppose, has fallen into the hands of intelligent beings who know nothing of what writing and printing mean, but they are accustomed to dealing with the external relationships of things. They try to find out the "laws" of the book, which for them mean the principles governing the order in which the letters are arranged. . . . They will think they have discovered the laws of the book when they have formulated certain rules governing the external relationships of the letters. That each word and each sentence expresses a meaning will never dawn [what interesting choice of word, dawn--as in the light of recognition] on them because their background of thought is made up of concepts which deal only with external relationships, and explanation to them means solving the puzzle of these external relationships. . . . Their methods will never reach the grade [of significance] which contains the idea of meanings.

(What interesting choice of word, "dawn"--as in the light of recognition)

Schumacher's comments:

The intelligent beings of Tyrrell’s allegory lacked adaequatio with regard to the book because they based themselves on the assumption that the ‘external relationships of the letters’ were all that mattered. They were what we should call scientific materialists, whose faith is that objective reality [i.e. anything that can be an object of knowledge] is limited to that which can be actually observed and who are ruled by a methodical aversion to the recognition of higher levels or grades of significance.

Important here, the role of assumption. Assumptions create walls or boundaries, or foundations, which can be useful in apprehending knowledge, but these boundaries can also clog, as it were, certain organs or parts of organs, limiting the capability of reception. It as if one put in earplugs and tried to listen to music—the experience, the reception, would be diminished. Certain assumptions can accomplish this limitation, such as the one Schumacher discusses here, the assumption of the scientific materialists.

I have experienced this emotionally. First recognizing and then removing certain assumptions about experience has altered my ability to receive certain experiences, and often the power and force with which the experience can enter me. And I have changed destructive emotional habits by recognizing and altering their underlying assumptions. Assumptions, beliefs, presuppositions can also be likened to the contraction or relaxation of muscles—whether it is the esophagus or the anus, the state of muscle tension can determine the receptivity of the cavity, and the receptivity to experience. Of course, the matter is rarely as simple as this "tube" analogy--our beliefs and assumptions contort and structure our subjective worlds in quite complex ways. But an example: if I assume that I am somehow intellectually superior than someone speaking to me, an assumption I have made many times in my life, than I am not going to receive what they have to say nearly as openly or fully as if I assumed that we are on the same level.

But still, life often forces itself down our throats. We each have a degree of control over what we “eat,” but we will all face things that we don’t want to swallow, but are forced down. In these situations, we may try to spit it back up (denial). But we can open our throats (often through removing certain assumptions), and let the experience run its course. This is an inward process, in reaction to an outward experience.

In hardly be taken as an unreasonable act of faith when people accept the testimony of prophets, sages, and saints who, in different languages but with virtually one voice, declare that the book of this world is not merely a colored shape but an expression of meaning; that there are Levels of Being above that of humanity; and that man can reach these higher levels provided he allows his reason to be guided by faith.

P.D. Ouspensky, in his Tertium Organum, gives an example of a candle and a coin. To a two-dimensional creature (and I recognize the possibility that as a human, there are higher dimensions than the one I routinely move around in), a candle and a coin both appear as circles. The creature cannot see the three-dimensional extension, cannot see the different appearance of these two objects, and further cannot deduce the meaning of these two objects, as it is defined by humans.

The physical senses are designed to accomplish certain tasks, but there are aspects of reality that they are not designed to apprehend. In a similar way, ordinary waking consciousness is designed to accomplish certain tasks, but not others. This is a fundamental law—the more refined and sophisticated an instrument is, the more narrow its focus.

The physical senses are designed to distinguish—that is, to recognize differences, to classify. The evolutionary advantage is obvious. In order to move around successfully in the world, to survive, we need to be able to distinguish between helps and harms, safeties and dangers. Science as we know it today is a technique born from the observations provided by the senses and takes as its fundamental assumption the distinctness of everything in the physical world. It deals, essentially, with surfaces. And on the surface, everything appears distinct. And nothing possesses meaning at this level, because meaning accompanies the recognition of relationship, and the inner dimensions of the world. Meaning is provided by the interior of the organism, from the most basic level of recognizing a plant as food, to seeing the face of God. For example, just because we have ears does not mean we can hear music. Our ears are designed to hear, or distinguish, sound. But music is composed of a complex web of relationships, and our ears alone cannot hear relationships. Most of us possess some capacity to hear music when we are born, and this capacity can be cultivated and developed.