Chapter 1: Understanding Divine Love

This piece serves as a reply to a fellow author who challenged me to illustrate the notion that "God is love." The topic expanded significantly, evolving from a mere response into a comprehensive exploration of the barriers that prevent us from recognizing fundamental human intuitions. I hope you find this discourse enlightening; perhaps you might enjoy it with a cup of tea.

The following section discusses an intriguing evolutionary theory suggesting that rational thinking emerged to facilitate verbal debates, establishing social hierarchies without the need for physical confrontation. This theory, like many evolutionary ideas, is difficult to substantiate and remains largely speculative. Nonetheless, the pervasive ineffectiveness of arguments as a means to discover "truth" is evident in contemporary society—be it on Twitter, in comment sections, or during televised debates.

The notion that our minds have evolved sophisticated tools for understanding "truth" seems implausible unless these tools serve a clear evolutionary purpose. Our pursuit of knowledge can easily veer off course if it serves other interests, as evidenced by the ongoing "culture wars," which often manifest as strong affiliations with particular groups.

Nevertheless, possessing some form of knowledge, even if heuristic, is crucial. The mind appears to have evolved to acquire knowledge through two primary channels: practical tools and narrative myths.

This knowledge relates closely to the intriguing emergence of consciousness. Many animals exhibit profound forms of knowing; for example, swallows migrate from local lakes in Southern England to winter breeding grounds in sub-Saharan Africa, while sea turtles navigate across oceans using Earth's magnetic fields. However, we describe these behaviors as instinctual rather than as "knowledge," since they lack conscious self-representation and the capacity to question "how?" or "why?" Their knowledge flows seamlessly, much like a river or a blooming prairie.

Yet, a significant leap in evolution has led to what scholars term "behavioral modernity," characterized by specific tool use, music, dance, self-representation, abstract thought, and language—the foundations of self-consciousness.

This emergence of consciousness signifies a mind that seeks to know while simultaneously recognizing its own limitations. A part of the mind becomes separate, leading to a human experience that, in Heidegger's terms, is akin to being "thrown" into a reality where the knower arrives wide-eyed and questioning.

Naturally, this can be bewildering. Our current scientific understanding of consciousness remains far from grasping how it originated from evolutionary processes or even how to define it. However, our inner world of knowing and the ways we share that knowledge are primarily defined by representation—especially through language. Our collective epistemology is shaped by communal representation; to know, we must communicate, and that knowledge is preserved in a shared repository of ideas, which Richard Dawkins later dubbed "memes."

Practical tools and myths represent facets of language. Tool use correlates with descriptive language that requires minimal abstract thought, while every human society throughout history, except the uniquely modern West, has balanced this practical approach with a mythic, metaphorical knowledge encompassing stories, beliefs, deities, and spirits. Thus, the questions of "how?" and "why?" are addressed through different forms of language: the literal and the metaphorical.

This division may reflect a deeper bifurcation in our brains. While every creature with a brain exhibits some form of this division, the reasons for its deep-rooted nature remain unclear. It is increasingly evident that the differentiation between the brain's hemispheres holds significant importance. The left hemisphere is known for its role in language, whereas the right hemisphere is associated with metaphor and the emotional nuances of music. This division suggests that the right hemisphere presents the world, while the left re-presents it—creating a map versus the actual territory.

We often regard analytical or objective knowledge as the pinnacle of epistemological advancement, a belief supported by the technological advancements brought forth by science. Our society relies heavily on these developments, whether in healthcare, aviation, or computing. Yet, we also perceive the realms of practical tools and myths as being in direct competition. Science tends to subordinate all other forms of knowledge, rendering belief in myths almost inconceivable. While some stories may serve as parables or metaphors, they are often preceded by the dismissive term "just," contributing to a profoundly literalized worldview.

The question remains whether this epistemological shift, which has unfolded since the Enlightenment—largely along religious fault lines rather than the illumination of "reason"—is indeed the most effective means of discovering what is true or if this imbalance blinds us to deeper realities.

We can begin by examining not only the literal/metaphorical distinction but also the significance of the language distinction between vowels and consonants. Ancient sacred texts in languages such as Hebrew or Arabic were initially written using only consonants; vowels were added later. Experimenting with English reveals how removing vowels diminishes the emotional and temporal dimensions of text while retaining much of the meaning. Conversely, if consonants are removed, the meaning evaporates entirely.

Consonants thus provide semantic boundaries within the vast emotional landscape of vowels. This may closely mirror how we identify objects in the world, as the borders of an object lend it significance. A game like Pictionary exemplifies this, allowing for identification with minimal information—much like words without vowels.

Words evolve with inherent meanings that are not arbitrary symbols; their significance also lies in their sounds. The selection of words likely retains a sonic quality connected to their meaning, even if that connection has become faint over time.

Our comprehension of objects and how our brains delineate reality remains largely mysterious. What exactly defines a chair, and how does the brain extract objects from reality? These questions connect to the language divide mirrored in our bifurcated brains, where seamless, flowing reality encounters the necessary divisions we create to form our world of objects. Insights into this distinction can be gleaned from patients with brain injuries affecting specific hemispheres. Neuroscientist Jill Bolte Taylor, who experienced a stroke in her left hemisphere, described her experience as overwhelming and chaotic.

Taylor’s account illustrates the potential for profound love and connection that emerges from recognizing our shared humanity. It prompts us to consider how knowledge traverses the spectrum of perception. Objective and analytical language—predominant in science and certain philosophical discourse—engages with the consonants of reality, thus resulting in a reductionist worldview that struggles with the "hard problem" of consciousness. Language, in this sense, cannot easily revert to a non-objective reality.

Philosophy may navigate beyond the literal, framing ideas in sequences, yet it often falters in encompassing more holistic forms of knowing. Can language transcend its own limitations?

In his influential work, The Poem, poet Don Paterson suggests that poetry allows us to reconnect with the form of consciousness we experience in early childhood, prior to the acquisition of language. As language develops, the world is inevitably fragmented, and something essential slips from our grasp. Poetry permits us to push language to its limits, offering fleeting glimpses of unity and the universe as it truly is.

The language of poetry, like that of myth, song, and narrative, forms a cultural reservoir of understanding and orientation shared by all civilizations. Poetry, akin to religion, relies on the concept of "revelation."

In his essay A Defence of Poetry, Percy Bysshe Shelley contrasts "reason" and "imagination." He articulates that reason serves as an instrument for the agent, akin to the body in relation to the spirit.

How does he arrive at this conclusion? Shelley notes that imagination, or poetry in his broader interpretation, fosters a simultaneous relationship between our receptivity and reality's revelation.

He describes humanity as an instrument influenced by a series of external and internal impressions, akin to the variations of an ever-changing wind upon an Æolian lyre, producing melodies through their motion. Yet, a principle within humans engenders not merely melody but harmony, achieved through internal adjustments to the sounds inspired by external impressions.

Every individual in the early stages of artistic development observes an order that approximates the highest delight. Those who exhibit this faculty of approximation to beauty are the poets, whose expressions of social or natural influences resonate with others and amplify through community. Their language is inherently metaphorical, revealing previously unrecognized relationships between things, perpetuating their perception until the words embody mere symbols of thoughts rather than integral concepts. Without new poets to reinvigorate these associations, language risks becoming lifeless.

Two centuries later, modernist poet T.S. Eliot echoed similar sentiments regarding poetry's societal role and the implications of its decline.

If I am correct in my belief that poetry serves a "social function," then the continuity of poetry across cultures is essential for collective expression. The decline of poetic language in any one culture portends a broader malaise, potentially diminishing humanity's capacity to articulate and feel civilized emotions.

Here, we find ourselves at a juncture. The presumption that religion represents a pre-scientific endeavor, a primitive form of quasi-reason, is merely a modern myth. The mind does not solely comprehend reality through analytical reasoning or the objective processes of science. Much of what is genuinely worth knowing lies beyond this form of knowledge. Intuition, imagination, experience, metaphor, poetry, and myth all constitute essential aspects of our epistemology.

What, then, are virtue, love, patriotism, and friendship—elements of this beautiful universe we inhabit—if poetry does not illuminate truths that transcend reason?

Chapter 2: The Journey Through Experience

In contemplating the landscape of experience, we must address the profound implications of love as a fundamental cosmic reality. Aldous Huxley, after experimenting with psychedelics, remarked that these experiences led him to understand love as the primary cosmic truth.

Psychedelics evoke a range of experiences that can be utterly bewildering. Research involving psilocybin reveals that it alters the brain's attentional function, impacting the claustrum—an area that modulates various types of attention and reduces blood flow to the default mode network, inhibiting older brain regions.

Perhaps psychedelics offer a glimpse into Paterson's "atemporal and infinite connection," momentarily lifting the constraints of perceptual categories and language. One particularly poignant description of a psilocybin experience shared by a Reddit user illustrates this transformative potential.

As they found themselves immersed in a vibrant moment, they felt a profound connection to existence, experiencing life in a way they had never before encountered. The experience transcended ego, merging with the cosmos and illuminating the essence of love and connection.

Yet, from an evolutionary standpoint, the capacity for such experiences raises questions. Why do our brains possess this ability? Philosopher Sam Harris, reflecting on his experiences with psilocybin, expressed disbelief at the vast landscapes of mind that can be accessed, likening it to reaching into a pocket and pulling out the Andromeda galaxy.

While it may be unjustifiable to base our understanding of the universe solely on psychedelic experiences, we can draw significant implications from them. These peak experiences, deeply transformative and imbued with moral significance, hint at a profound aspect of our brain's receptivity to reality.

Psychopharmacologist Roland Griffiths led pioneering research on psilocybin, describing how volunteers report feelings of unity, a sense of interconnectedness, and encounters with ultimate reality—experiences that participants deem more real than ordinary consciousness. He posits that these experiences are not aberrations but biologically normal occurrences, prompting the question of why we are predisposed to such sacred encounters.

However, the contemporary framing of these experiences often reduces them to individualistic therapeutic contexts, stripping them of their deeper meanings. Psychedelics might possess therapeutic value, yet they do not answer the fundamental question: Why are we wired for these experiences?

This inquiry extends beyond psychedelic trips. Taylor's description of a world filled with "beautiful, peaceful, compassionate, loving people" resonates with similar experiences found in everyday life. Mindfulness practices, derived from introspective traditions, emphasize directing attention toward the quality of experience.

Harris articulates that merely witnessing experience reveals consciousness's intrinsic well-being, suggesting a self-transcending love and happiness that can arise from this awareness. Philosopher Thomas Nagel notes that experience itself carries inherent positivity, enriching life beyond mere neutrality.

Our desire for unity and connection can be interpreted as essential to our moral landscape. Yet, some argue that we are insignificant specks in an indifferent universe.

Lawrence Krauss asserts that our existence is trivial within the vast cosmos, rendering us irrelevant. However, relevance is inherently relative. As the only conscious beings we know of, our responses to the cosmos reflect our significance.

We face a choice: to adhere to a worldview that denies value judgments in favor of objective truths, or to recognize that beauty and meaning must be valued as integral to reality itself. The scientific method, while powerful, risks reducing reality to mere structural elements devoid of emotional resonance.

The implications of these divisions pervade contemporary society, where simplistic concepts become battlegrounds for polarized debates.

Chapter 3: Morality and Metaphysics

We cannot exist without moral beliefs; morality defines our collective and individual existence. To avoid descending into relativism, we must acknowledge that moral claims are, in essence, metaphysical claims.

Yuval Noah Harari argues that human rights are mere fictional narratives, lacking biological reality. Yet, the absence of rights does not equate to the absence of consciousness. This critique exposes the "hard problem" of consciousness and the shortcomings of a purely objective epistemology.

Moral claims are inherently metaphysical. While customs may govern our actions, the moral worldview in the West often includes the belief in universal moral truths. When we protest against injustice, we cannot simultaneously dismiss the underlying belief in a shared moral framework.

What if we consider the reverse? The question of whether we can uphold Christian morality without believing in its truths may be misguided. We have internalized these truths, yet our understanding of them has become severed from the stories and traditions that once anchored them.

The "tropes" Harari describes are not merely stories; they are symbols and metaphors that shape our worldview. We cannot dissect the meaning of a gift without recognizing its emotional significance. The stories we tell are not arbitrary; they hold causal power and conscious reality.

Our perception of reality may be as much about reception as it is about creation. The brain should be seen not merely as a source of consciousness but as a receiver of reality, acknowledging that our experiences are qualitative and not purely quantitative.

At last, we arrive at the core of our existence: ὁ Θεὸς ἀγάπη ἐστίν. God is love.

In conclusion, this exploration of God's love invites us to reconsider the significance of our experiences, our moral intuitions, and the transformative power of love. History has shown that, despite the failings of its adherents, the message of Jesus continues to resonate through time, shaping our values and aspirations.

As we reflect upon our existence, we are reminded that love is not a mere platitude but the very foundation of our being. Julian of Norwich, the first known female writer in English, articulated this truth beautifully: "Know well that love was what he meant. Who showed you this? Love. What did he show? Love. Why did he show it to you? For love."

Thank you for journeying through these reflections on love, consciousness, and the quest for meaning in a world full of complexities.