Today I'm going to talk about reality.
It has
layers. Each one contains the one below and is contained by the one above. For example, "housebuilding" contains "bricklaying" and "cement mixing," but is contained in "city planning" which is contained in "community organizing."
People seem to operate on a few levels--it's difficult to divide them up exactly and some people are probably on more than others, but more or less everyone is used to dealing with emotions, thoughts, socialization, and personal politics, and used to operating on all the innumerable levels involved with each of those. There are sciences that study levels below us, like biology, chemistry, physics, and the like, and lots more sciences that study the levels we live on: history, literature, politics, economics, and more or less all of the soft sciences.
An interesting thing to notice is that as you move into higher-level understandings of reality, descriptions get vaguer but meanings get clearer. For example, I can say that "this atom is exchanging electrons with that atom at this energy level" and that is very specific, but it doesn't mean very much. If I describe the same process by saying "chemical X is interacting with chemical Y to make chemical Z," that is less precise but it means more to us. If instead I say "this neuron is firing," it contains even less actual description but much more meaning, and when I say "I'm thinking," it bears almost no resemblance to the lower-level descriptions, contains very little detail, and means more to us than all the other descriptions combined. Again, I can say "I'm nailing this two-by-four to that two-by-four," and while it's more specific than "I'm building a house," it doesn't mean as much.
There are two main observations I want to make from this:
1) Anything that happens on any given level only takes on meaning when viewed from the level above it.
We might watch the individual movements of players on the field, but if we want to understand why their movements are interesting, we have to say "the Patriots are winning." The schematic for a machine doesn't mean anything until you realize it's a toaster: once you know that, you can look at how this particular toaster works, but until you realize what it
does the network of wires and resistors and springs doesn't mean very much. We can look at the prices of a bunch of individual stocks over time, but we only feel like we've understood it when we can say something about "the market."
2) It is almost impossible to describe the things happening on any given level only in terms of levels below it.
Any physicist could tell you you're wasting your time if you want to describe anything with more than a hundred particles or so atom-by-atom; that's why we invented Statistical Mechanics, which contains popular fields like Thermodynamics and Quantum Mechanics. If a contractor wants to tell you where he's putting the living room, he's not going to do it by describing the placement of boards. You would be hard pressed to explain that the Greeks fought the Trojans for ten years by listing the movements of individual men. And if you wanted to explain that war to someone who didn't have a concept of groups or nations? "It's like these guys were all one person, and these other guys were all one person, and those two people got in a fight." To someone who doesn't think of groups, it would sound like nonsense.
Bearing in mind that we operate on a narrow band of levels ourselves, we can now make a couple of predictions:
1) If there is a meaning to our lives, it will only be apparent on a level higher than the ones on which we exist.
You only know why the muscle is contracting if you know the person it belongs to is running, and you only know why they're running if you know about the soccer game they're playing, and you only know why they're playing soccer if you know about the scholarship they won. If there is a reason why they should become educated and make a living and all that, it is most likely on the next level up--a level we don't think on.
2) Anything that exists on levels above ours will be almost impossible to express in terms we can understand.
Even if you could explain a hockey game by listing the movements of each of the players, it won't
mean anything until you understand the teams, the rules, and the score--and if those things are beyond your understanding, how much sense will the game make?
In other words: Don't ask what the meaning of life is and then act surprised when you're answered with a bunch of incomprehensible gibberish. It ought to be incomprehensible: it's bigger than us, and it won't shrink easily.
A few practical rules can be derived from here
.
1) Be skeptical of anyone who offers a simple explanation of why we're here and what we're supposed to be doing. It's one thing to boil down complex things into essential rules, but to expect the actual workings of life to be easily comprehensible is nothing but wishful thinking. Simple answers are tempting, and lead most of us to a shallow understanding of our "beliefs;" but when taken as a basis for conversion, they can lead to a Chabad house, or a Richard Dawkins reading, an Objectivist newsletter or a Marxist rally; or sometimes, they can lead to Scientology.
2) Don't write things off because you can't see a reason why they should be true. If you
can see a reason why they
shouldn't be true, that's different, but don't be too quick to dismiss on a lack of explicit evidence. All of the things that matter should be nigh inexpressible, so it's a pretty good idea to leave lots of time for something to be expressed before deciding it doesn't matter.
3) Don't dwell on it. Assuming we're here for a reason, and that there are things we're supposed to be doing, it's probably impossible to ever really understand that reason or know those things for sure. So don't worry about it. At a certain point, you need to stop thinking and start living.