Truth Seeker

Tiny Stature

I seem to be an insignificant speck of carbon–based chemicals that are saturated with water. I am one of billions of my kind who live on a small planet in a small solar system. This solar system is an insignificant speck in what is estimated to be a galaxy with one hundred to four hundred billion stars and at least one hundred billion planets.[1] Our galaxy is an insignificant speck among the billions of galaxies that we have observed to date. Estimates of the number of galaxies in the universe continue to grow dramatically. Recently, the number was increased ten-fold to one to two trillion.[2] My life span is less than one hundred years, which severely limits my ability to experience this life. My senses define my experience, but they only extend to my immediate surroundings. Therefore, I live in a bubble world that is a small fraction of reality on planet earth. (Even though television and radio enable me to experience at a greater distance, these media are surreal to me as I am not immersed in what they depict.)

In order to understand who I am I must seek to understand my place in the universe. However, the complexity and scale of just my immediate surroundings quickly overwhelm my mental capacity. Indeed, even though the human brain is remarkable, its computing or processing capacity is very limited. For example, it takes about half of our brain power just to listen and process what one person is saying to us. Right now, I am looking out my window and I see a pine tree. But do I really see it? I notice that it appears as I expect it to be, based on my experience of looking out this window in the past. I quickly note its height and its general shape. This surface view registers as what I expect, so I move on to perform a similar scan of what I can see of my neighbors’ house and our yards. Within a few seconds, I am satisfied and move on to look at other things. However, I have not even begun to understand or appreciate the complexity of what I am looking at. For example, I have no idea of how many needles there are on the pine tree (nor do I have the desire or ability to count them). When I look at one pine needle under a magnifying glass, I see innumerable plant cells. If I increase the magnification, I can see the nucleus and other components inside a limited number of cells. At even higher magnifications, I see the double helix of the DNA inside one cell as well as proteins and cellulose of the cell wall. Going further, I would eventually see molecules, atoms, and sub-atomic particles. Although my brain accepts that I have seen the pine tree, I have clearly not seen it in the sense of coming anywhere near to understanding or appreciating the complexity before me. Therefore, my concept of my surroundings is superficial.

Human experience of reality is reduced to general images that lack detail. We “see,” but we do not understand. I have driven the same route to work for over thirty years and know what intersections and major features to expect to see, such as ponds, rivers, buildings, and landfills. However, I could not tell you anything about how many trees there are or what they look like unless there was something striking about them. This becomes even more problematic when I consider smaller and more numerous plants, such as shrubs, flowers, and grasses.

This limitation is compounded by the fact that my knowledge is largely limited by my experience. What I “know” is mainly based on sleep, work, and recreation routines. While it is true that I can learn indirectly by reading and watching television, these methods are generally less influential than my life experiences. My life experiences are largely limited to routines that shape my thinking and behavior patterns or habits.

Therefore, there is a massive amount of reality in this world that is constantly beyond my experience. Indeed, even if I could somehow extend my sensory abilities, I am limited in how much my brain can capture, process, and retain so that I experience and learn more. This is why humans selectively retain and forget many of our experiences. Even if every moment of my life is somewhere recorded in my brain, I can only access a very small amount.

Given these limitations, it is no wonder that humans seek immediate gratification or, at best, short term goals. I am one of a race of creatures that tend to seek pleasure, security, and purpose in events that seem shallow and are transient. Ultimately, what difference will my life make? Am I here just to reproduce and then pass into oblivion within a few generations? Perhaps this explains why humans tend to focus on the next sporting event, vacation, work assignment, etc. Perhaps this is why many turn to alcohol, drugs, and anti depressants. Could drug use be a means of escape or coping with an existence that seems insignificant and meaningless or an existence where there is anxiety over the future?

^[1] “Milky Way,” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milky_Way (November 22, 2018).

^[2] “NASA,” “Observable Universe contains ten times more galaxies than previously thought,” Hubble Space Telescope News, https://www.spacetelescope.org/news/heic1620/ (October 13, 2016).