Time Part Six
The answer I have come up with may not be correct, but it is the only answer I have. It has to do with time. My theory is this: In some certain important sense, time is not real. Or perhaps it is real, but not as we experience it to be or imagine it to be. I had the acute, overwhelming certitude (and still have) that despite all the change we see, a specific permanent landscape underlies the world of change: and that this invisible underlying landscape is that of the Bible; it, specifically, is the period immediately following the death and resurrection of Christ; it is, in other words, the time period of the Book of Acts.
Parmenides would be proud of me. I have gazed at a constantly changing world and declared that underneath it lies the eternal, the unchanging, the absolutely real. but how has this come about? If the real time is circa A.D. 50, then why do we see A.D. 1978? And if we are really living in the Roman Empire, somewhere in Syria, why do we see the United States?
During the Middle Ages, a curious theory arose, which I will now present to you for what it is worth. It is the theory that the Evil One—Satan—is the "Ape of God." That he creates spurious imitations of creation, of God's authentic creation, and then interpolates them for that authentic creation. Does this odd theory help explain my experience? Are we to believe that we are occluded, that we are deceived, that it is not 1978 but A.D. 50... and Satan has spun a counterfeit reality to wither our faith in the return of Christ?
I can just picture myself being examined by a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist says, "What year is it?" And I reply, "A.D. 50." The psychiatrist blinks and then asks, "And where are you?" I reply, "In Judaea." "Where the heck is that?" the psychiatrist asks. "It's part of the Roman Empire," I would have to answer. "Do you know who is President?" the psychiatrist would ask, and I would answer, "The Procurator Felix." "You're pretty sure about this?" the psychiatrist would ask, meanwhile giving a covert signal to two very large psych techs. "Yep," I'd replay. "Unless Felix has stepped down and had been replaced by the Procurator Festus. You see, Saint Paul was held by Felix for—" "Who told you all this?" the psychiatrist would break in, irritably, and I would reply, "The Holy Spirit." And after that I'd be in the rubber room, inside gazing out, and knowing exactly how come I was there.
Everything in that conversation would be true, in a sense, although palpably not true in another. I know perfectly well that the date is 1978 and that Jimmy Carter is President and that I live in Santa Ana, California, in the United States. I even know how to get from my apartment to Disneyland, a fact I can't seem to forget. And surely no Disneyland existed back at the time of Saint Paul.
So, if I force myself to be very rational and reasonable, and all those other good things, I must admit that the existence of Disneyland (which I know is real) proves that we are not living in Judaea in A.D. 50. The idea of Saint Paul whirling around in the giant teacups while composing First Corinthians, as Paris TV films him with a telephoto lens—that just can't be. Saint Paul would never go near Disneyland. Only children, tourists, and visiting Soviet high officials ever go to Disneyland. Saints do not.
From How to Build a Universe That Doesn't Fall Apart by Philip K Dick. 1978
hmmm...I wonder if there's anymore Philip K Dick on the web?
The Official Site
The Religious Experience of Philip K Dick by R Crumb
WWDT What Would Dick Think?
8 Comments:
That's not you, your 2 faces are much rounder and your teeth are very, very yellow.
not nearly as yellow as your mom's false ones though....I mean, I appreciate she takes 'em out before the *ahem* act...but couldn't she soak 'em in something else besides a fifth of Old Grandad?
*zing*
Sad Matthew, chubby boys took a lot of flack growing larger, er: up, didn't they?
Leave mothers out of this, I mean, you might even have one yourself.
I'm sorry....I couldn't hear you...I was too busy kicking the crap out of a phony Hungarian cancer patient...
Pardon? what are you yapping about
'uknow' what I'm talking about...hows the weather? is it snowing there? how are the maple leafs doing?
actually y'know what...email me....I'd rather carry this on in private in order not to bore everyone else...
Actually, I don't know what you are talking about, sorry, I was trying to have a little fun with you, but you yap about a Hungarian cancer patient and maple leaves and I don't know what the heck you're on about.
Judging by what you are saying here that even if I had your email from the Stair days, I don't think I'd be inclined to bother. You seem to believe that I'm someone you know, sorry, I was just havin ya on. If ya think ya know me then send me an email Stacky
See ya around
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