BIP: Further Explorations of the Black Iron Prison

[LMNO]

Further Explorations of the Black Iron Prison:

We,Äôre mostly blind.  But this isn,Äôt really your fault; it,Äôs because of the shell of meat we happening to live in right now.  Think, for just a moment, at the nearly infinite amount of things happening right now all around us.  I,Äôm sure you can think of quite a few things.  Now, let,Äôs talk about them.

You can,Äôt see any of the infrared or ultraviolet light spectrum.  Unfortunately, this cuts out quite a lot of things your eyes were built to see.  Sorry about that.

You can,Äôt hear anything below 20 Hz, or above 20 KHz . You can definitely feel about 12 Hz, if you play it really loudly.  Go on, give it a try.

With just those two examples, if you hadn,Äôt before, now you can really start to understand all the stuff you simply can,Äôt perceive.  I,Äôm sure you can think of five more examples of an immense class of Things that you can,Äôt notice are right in front of you.

But it gets worse.

Stop for a moment, and try to notice as many possible things in your environment that you can, simultaneously.  Notice that, as you start to identify more and more objects, sounds, smells, and tactile sensations, you can,Äôt keep them in your head all at once.  When you notice, for example, the pressure of your shoe against the ball of your foot, that distant bird chirping seems to fade from your attention.

And let,Äôs not forget about how much stuff you weren,Äôt paying attention to when you started reading this.  Let,Äôs face it: We all live our lives with blinders on.  We only allow ourselves to pay attention to 1% of what we physically can perceive, which is an infinitesimally small percentage of all the stuff in the Universe.

And that fraction of a fraction of a percent is what we usually call ,ÄúReality,Äù.  We call it ,ÄúReal,Äù, as if it,Äôs an unshaking firmament of solid Truth, that what we see is all that,Äôs really ,Äúout there,Äù.  But you,Äôre not even paying attention to the 99% of stuff that you can even sense. 

And this ,ÄúReality,Äù is what we base our judgments on how the Universe ,Äúworks,Äù and what ,Äúshould,Äù be Out There.  We construct our actions and reaction to this 1% of available information, and reject everything else in the Universe.  And then some Authority comes along, and tells you that they know what,Äôs really real, and that you should do as they do.  Talk about the blind being led by the blind,Ķ or in this case, the blind being led by the incredibly stupid.

So, what,Äôs the answer?  Would it be best to try our best to see everything, all at once?  Is the solution to try and tear down all the filters, to let your brain accept, acknowledge, and perceive every bit of information that comes your way?  Would that help?

Are you kidding?  It would completely shut down your brain.  Trying to identify, recognize, and notice every single thing happening, all at once, all the time, would completely incapacitate you.  And let,Äôs not forget that, due to physiology, it,Äôs still impossible to perceive a great deal of the Universe, anyway.  And because it,Äôs totally impractical to try and simultaneously perceive what little bits of the Universe our senses can pick up, in order for us to function in our lives, we are forced to shut out certain things.  But who, or what, is choosing the things we do perceive at any given moment?  That, my friends, is the question.

Was it your parents?  Was it the years you spent in school? Was it the TV?  Was it a band?  Was it a book you read?  Was it a preacher you heard?  Was it the kid who pushed you down when you were five?  All of the above.  The way you see the world, my friend, is a patchwork quilt of individual experiences, shaping the way your mind works.  ,ÄòRound these parts, we call these things the ,Äúbars and walls of your Black Iron Prison,Äù. 

Now, before you go on with the idea that all this is somehow Negative and Depressing, let,Äôs break down the phrase.  We,Äôre not saying it,Äôs an Iron Prison that is Black (Bleak) that you,Äôre in because you,Äôre being punished for some sort of Karmic wrongdoing. 

Rather, what,Äôs being said is that in order to function in your day-to-day life, there are necessary limitations your body and mind impose on your perceptions.  That,Äôs the Prison.  The phrase ,ÄúBlack Iron,Äù refers to cold wrought iron, which is strong, usually shaped by hand, and often beautiful.*

But back to the main question, then, and the issue of who chooses your perceptions.  Of course, the Large Answer is, ,Äúyour entire life up to this point,,Äù the patchwork quilt referred to above, stitched panels of the things you have learned, whether they were imprinted, conditioned, or learned, either consciously or subconsciously.  But that,Äôs a bit too large.  What it comes down to, is that you are the one in charge of your Prison.  It,Äôs you that have shaped the Black Iron bars that let you see the small parts of the Universe that you base your decisions upon.  Sure, you can say that it,Äôs not your fault that your parents raised you as a racist redneck (for example).  But it is your fault if you take that as a given, as if that bar in your cell is a permanent thing, something that,Äôs been there since before you were born.

But wait.  There,Äôs more.  The guy sitting next to you, they,Äôre focusing on completely different things than you are.  Their entire upbringing has pretty much determined what they,Äôre going to pay attention to, just as your entire life up to this point has shaped what you,Äôre looking at right now.  You know what this means, right?  This means that everyone is living in a different Idea of the Universe than everyone else.  It,Äôs a miracle that we can agree on anything.  Just imagine, billions of people, all looking out at a different Universe from between the bars of their own personal Prison.

,ÄúOkay, big guy,,Äù you say, ,ÄúSo what,Äôs really out there, if you,Äôre so smart?,Äù  I have to tell you,Ķ

I don,Äôt know.  I have the same blinders that you do.  I live in the same kind of box.

But I will say one thing.  My saying ,ÄúI don,Äôt know,Äù doesn,Äôt mean, ,ÄúI don,Äôt know, and I don,Äôt care, because there,Äôs no way to escape the biology of my sense.,Äù  I say, ,ÄúI don,Äôt know, but I want to find out. I want to try and see and feel as much as I can, I don,Äôt want to take somebody,Äôs word for it, I want to keep exploring, and figuring shit out.  I want to walk out of my Prison Cell, even if I just end up in another one.  I,Äôm not content only seeing a fraction of what,Äôs out there.

Because hey, who knows what kind of fun I,Äôm missing?








*There are other connotations of wrought iron one may find in a book of folklore, but we shall leave such things for another time.

[Cramulus]

mittans to you LMNO. I think this cleans up the previous essay quite nicely. It also clarifies what we mean here about reality. I like how it explains the metaphor concretely without beating around the bush.

As a side anecdote... for space reasons I was thinking of truncating the title to Further explorations, and then I recalled that the Ken Kesey's bus had a sign on the front which read Further. Or maybe it was Fuurther, with two Us like that. So I googled that phrase to find a clarification and got the following book:

http://poethical.com/fuurther/fuurther.doc

maybe it's because I'm only skimming, and the Law of Fives, but some of this stuff fits our project with a note of synchronicity. Check it out:

Code Select Expand

Delusion 1

Calamity sounds.

Trust lies sweetly in a phantom of recognition.

Wayward souls & death-house tolls,

      lost innocence out of control.

Bastards name the hopes of game,

      leaving nameless faces to place the blame.

Wander still & be happy, ,Äòcause spring is different than winter, & a corner holds your dream,

      & dangles your hope to fall & splinter.

Don,Äôt care & waste space,

      but take happiness, love, bliss & beatitude,

            & wrap them into soft beds

                  & lie in luxury.

Pimerreals, bustomens, words that don,Äôt exist.

      The print of life that binds you

            dried up in the mist.

Faintful accuracy aimed at the good guys of the universe.

Another humorous anecdote disguised as a housewarming mitten.

anyway, don't mean to derail, but I thought that was cute.



This revision of the essay added a bit in length, so I've shrunk it down a font step to fit on two pages.  anyhow, I think it's sound.

[LMNO]

I always thought it was "furthur".

I remember something in The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test abut that.

[Cramulus]

IIRC The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test printed it as Fuurther, but I've seen a photograph of the bus with just "Further"

I do like Fuurther though. It's sort of like pushing even further than further. like typing you as yuo, draws attention to the word without being obscure.

[LMNO]

I was gonna use "furthur", but since BIP is a PKD ripoff, I didn't want anyone thinking this was a Kesey ripoff, too.

[Discord]

I love that lmno, no matter how often i read it.

[LMNO]

Why, thank you very much.