by David D. Horowitz.
I love and respect my senses. I delight in listening—and resonating—to one of my favorite poems, songs, or symphonies. And touch and sight? Sex! And taste and smell: my favorite veggie lasagna, freshly baked bread, a colorful fresh salad, chilled white wine… I could go on forever!
And I love how our senses call us back to ethical responsibility. Facts are not mere subjective fantasies. I earned bachelor’s degrees in philosophy and English from the University of Washington and a master’s degree in English from Vanderbilt University. I did not attend Baruch College. I was not a volleyball star. I did not receive $700,000 from a Russian oligarch and pretend I earned such money. Lying about such matters would not be minor because “everyone does it.” I would be lying, and such lies would likely cause a major breach of trust. And not everyone does it. Hold me accountable to evidence, to apparent sensory data, to the meanings of the words I speak and espouse. I do not want to get away with deliberate misrepresentation.
So, I tend to look askance at terms like “metaphysics” and “spirit.” I understand sensory limits and the danger of a naïve empiricism, but perform heart surgery or try a murder case in court or even cross the street without reliance on sense data? No, thank you.
And yet, mystery still inheres in the human situation. Why are we alive? Why are we on this particular planet? Why are there genders, and why is there love? Is gravity a form of love? Why do passions so often yield violence and destruction? Is there any force in nature that actually hears and responds to prayers? I doubt conclusive evidence soon, or ever, will emerge about these questions. Yes, I love my senses, but I must acknowledge senses alone don’t answer questions about the deepest and most remote mysteries. Senses inform and connect us to a physical world beyond ourselves, but spirit connects us to what we sense but cannot prove exists. It reminds us of our limitations and fallibility, and of our connection to a cosmos we can barely fathom. Spirit is a reminder that forces beyond the human, and possibly beyond the physical, deeply influence us.
Still, I love sex and salad, and I revel in my senses. And when I cross a busy street, I assume the speeding truck barreling toward me is made of matter, not spirit. Yet, then again, might there be spirit in matter? Ah… so the wondering never ends.