where am I?
#61
(02-14-2012, 02:44 PM)drummerboy Wrote:   I haven't tried the mirror thing for long, but once and a rare while, I get the weirdest, strangest feeling that the person I am talking to is a person.  I mean, they're not just someone who talk to, but a person who has an existence even when you're not talking to them, with thoughts and all.  Its really hard to describe.

Whoah.. I almost always feel that way. And looking into mirrors doesn't freak me out (well, not in the way you're describing. Being nigh to 50 and looking into a mirror isn't as pleasant as it was when I was 25, I assure you LOL) 

NOW, it's your guys's thoughts that most people, when looking into mirrors, freak themselves out and feel sort of "existentially lost," dissociated or something?? I believe I understand the feeling you're describing (I know from "dissociation" anyway), and HAVE experienced that when looking into a mirror, but that isn't typical of me to have that feeling when doing so. But you're saying it's TYPICAL of others? And you're saying that when most people talk to other folks they don't see them as "other"??? For realz, is that how most people are? I have to know! Am I THAT weird? When you're talking to other people, what is it you're "feeling" that they are? Objects to entertain you? Projections of yourselves? People who -- in a subjective sense, an emotional sense -- only "exist" when they're with you?

This conversation is freaking me out! Explain yourselves!
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#62
I've always felt like this existence is a test for me.
Since I control my movements, vision, etc, I've always questioned: Who controls those other people? Who controls my parents, my siblings, my neighbors, peers?
Are they all in on this? Is this a test on how I live my life? My existence? Am I the only mouse in this maze?
Kind of like being in the Holodeck in Star trek or the Truman show.

I get this feeling very frequently.





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#63
(02-18-2012, 03:19 PM)GottmitunsAlex Wrote: I've always felt like this existence is a test for me.
Since I control my movements, vision, etc, I've always questioned: Who controls those other people? Who controls my parents, my siblings, my neighbors, peers?
Are they all in on this? Is this a test on how I live my life? My existence? Am I the only mouse in this maze?
Kind of like being in the Holodeck in Star trek or the Truman show.

I get this feeling very frequently.

Solipsism?
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#64
(02-18-2012, 05:50 PM)newyorkcatholic Wrote:
(02-18-2012, 03:19 PM)GottmitunsAlex Wrote: I've always felt like this existence is a test for me.
Since I control my movements, vision, etc, I've always questioned: Who controls those other people? Who controls my parents, my siblings, my neighbors, peers?
Are they all in on this? Is this a test on how I live my life? My existence? Am I the only mouse in this maze?
Kind of like being in the Holodeck in Star trek or the Truman show.

I get this feeling very frequently.

Solipsism?
Something like that. Only with God watching my every move.

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#65
(02-18-2012, 05:50 PM)newyorkcatholic Wrote: Solipsism?

I was thinking of creating a cult...the Cult of the Solipsist.

Would you like to join?
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#66
Fisheaters is a strange place.
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#67
Life is a strange place.

But it is real, it is good, God placed us here for Himself.

Some philosophers (e.g. George Berkeley) toss common sense to the wind to say that things aren't real, they are only our imaginings.  But common sense is the underpinning of our faith.  If we think creation is all in our head, then are we God?  It is absurd. We must stay on our feet.
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#68
(02-20-2012, 04:36 PM)Doce Me Wrote: Life is a strange place.

But it is real, it is good, God placed us here for Himself.

Some philosophers (e.g. George Berkeley) toss common sense to the wind to say that things aren't real, they are only our imaginings.  But common sense is the underpinning of our faith.  If we think creation is all in our head, then are we God?  It is absurd. We must stay on our feet.

I agree, because:

[Image: nihilism1.jpg]
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#69
(02-18-2012, 06:46 AM)Vox Clamantis Wrote: Whoah.. I almost always feel that way. And looking into mirrors doesn't freak me out (well, not in the way you're describing. Being nigh to 50 and looking into a mirror isn't as pleasant as it was when I was 25, I assure you LOL) 

NOW, it's your guys's thoughts that most people, when looking into mirrors, freak themselves out and feel sort of "existentially lost," dissociated or something?? I believe I understand the feeling you're describing (I know from "dissociation" anyway), and HAVE experienced that when looking into a mirror, but that isn't typical of me to have that feeling when doing so. But you're saying it's TYPICAL of others? And you're saying that when most people talk to other folks they don't see them as "other"??? For realz, is that how most people are? I have to know! Am I THAT weird? When you're talking to other people, what is it you're "feeling" that they are? Objects to entertain you? Projections of yourselves? People who -- in a subjective sense, an emotional sense -- only "exist" when they're with you?

This conversation is freaking me out! Explain yourselves!

It’s knowing that what other people appear to us to be is only a small fraction of what they are. It’s a ‘disinterested’ appreciation for their existence and their talents, virtues, vices, joys and crosses, most of which are unknown to us. It’s in some cases a real desire to learn about them. And finally I would say it’s something akin to the birth of charity. (The Birth of Charity would be a good name for an apologetic book.) I first recall feeling it at around age 16, and with respect to my mother. I looked at a mess I’d made in the kitchen, and was about to just leave it and go out, but was arrested by the thought that my mum (who was at work) would actually have to clean my mess up when she came home. And I realized how annoying and hurtful that must be for her, to always be cleaning up my messes and never be appreciated for it. It felt like a minor revelation. Ever since then I’ve been a somewhat more dutiful son, though I still don’t call as often as I should.

It still is not an everyday realization for me. This has something to do with my introspective and daydreaming personality, and also with something akin to a basic narcissism. People often seem like things that interrupt my world of thought, sometimes in agreeable and sometimes in unpleasant ways. I don’t mean to say that I treat people as I would treat a dog or a notebook – of course not, I try to treat people kindly – but the sense that I described above, of charity towards their real existence, is often lacking.

If this realization is normal for you, that’s good. I know some people who I suspect may never have felt it at all but who think I’m stupid to speak of it as a ‘minor revelation’ that other people exist.
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#70
(02-21-2012, 02:28 PM)Graham Wrote: It’s knowing that what other people appear to us to be is only a small fraction of what they are. It’s a ‘disinterested’ appreciation for their existence and their talents, virtues, vices, joys and crosses, most of which are unknown to us. It’s in some cases a real desire to learn about them. And finally I would say it’s something akin to the birth of charity. (The Birth of Charity would be a good name for an apologetic book.) I first recall feeling it at around age 16, and with respect to my mother. I looked at a mess I’d made in the kitchen, and was about to just leave it and go out, but was arrested by the thought that my mum (who was at work) would actually have to clean my mess up when she came home. And I realized how annoying and hurtful that must be for her, to always be cleaning up my messes and never be appreciated for it. It felt like a minor revelation. Ever since then I’ve been a somewhat more dutiful son, though I still don’t call as often as I should.

It still is not an everyday realization for me. This has something to do with my introspective and daydreaming personality, and also with something akin to a basic narcissism. People often seem like things that interrupt my world of thought, sometimes in agreeable and sometimes in unpleasant ways. I don’t mean to say that I treat people as I would treat a dog or a notebook – of course not, I try to treat people kindly – but the sense that I described above, of charity towards their real existence, is often lacking.

If this realization is normal for you, that’s good. I know some people who I suspect may never have felt it at all but who think I’m stupid to speak of it as a ‘minor revelation’ that other people exist.

OooooK -- whew! Now I understand your meaning -- which is rather the opposite of how I'd first understood you. Your realization about the messes you left remind me of Ste. Therese's awakening:

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Quote: I was far from meriting all the graces which Our Lord showered on me. I had a constant and ardent desire to advance in virtue, but often my actions were spoilt by imperfections. My extreme sensitiveness made me almost unbearable. All arguments were useless. I simply could not correct myself of this miserable fault. How, then, could I hope soon to be admitted to the Carmel? A miracle on a small scale was needed to give me strength of character all at once, and God worked this long-desired miracle on Christmas Day, 1886.

On that blessed night the sweet Infant Jesus, scarce an hour old, filled the darkness of my soul with floods of light. By becoming weak and little, for love of me, He made me strong and brave; He put His own weapons into my hands, so that I went from victory to victory, beginning, if I may say so, "to run as a giant."[1] The fountain of my tears was dried up, and from that time they flowed neither easily nor often.

Now I will tell you, dear Mother, how I received this inestimable grace of complete conversion. I knew that when we reached home after Midnight Mass I should find my shoes in the chimney-corner, filled with presents, just as when I was a little child, which proves that my sisters still treated me as a baby. Papa, too, liked to watch my enjoyment and hear my cries of delight at each fresh surprise that came from the magic shoes, and his pleasure added to mine. But the time had come when Our Lord wished to free me from childhood's failings, and even withdraw me from its innocent pleasures. On this occasion, instead of indulging me as he generally did, Papa seemed vexed, and on my way upstairs I heard him say: "Really all this is too babyish for a big girl like Thérèse, and I hope it is the last year it will happen." His words cut me to the quick. Céline, knowing how sensitive I was, whispered: "Don't go downstairs just yet—wait a little, you would cry too much if you looked at your presents before Papa." But Thérèse was no longer the same—Jesus had changed her heart.

Choking back my tears, I ran down to the dining-room, and, though my heart beat fast, I picked up my shoes, and gaily pulled out all the things, looking as happy as a queen. Papa laughed, and did not show any trace of displeasure, and Céline thought she must be dreaming. But happily it was a reality; little Thérèse had regained, once for all, the strength of mind which she had lost at the age of four and a half.

On this night of grace, the third period of my life began—the most beautiful of all, the one most filled with heavenly favours. In an instant Our Lord, satisfied with my good will, accomplished the work I had not been able to do during all these years. Like the Apostle I could say: "Master, we have laboured all night, and have taken nothing."[2]

More merciful to me even than to His beloved disciples, Our Lord Himself took the net, cast it, and drew it out full of fishes. He made me a fisher of men. Love and a spirit of self-forgetfulness took possession of me, and from that time I was perfectly happy.
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Beautiful :)
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