The Monolith and The Hammer
I climb the verdant hill. No one else is around. I climb the hill to the monolith, hammer in hand. I’ve been drawn here. I don’t know why, but I do know why. I’m here to tear down the monolith, and no one is here to stop me. On the monolith is engraved, “The Law of Non-Contradiction”.
With each step upwards, I wonder if I should do this. Wouldn’t reality surely crumble into dust if I dared to tear down this law? Wouldn’t my mind shatter like glass if one thing can both be and not be? How can something be both true and false? How can two mutually exclusive things both be true?
With each step, my foot on the earth affirms my mission. There is truth in everything. The hammer of plurality swings in my hand, in sync with the universe, in time with my steps. On the head of the hammer is engraved pragmatism and freedom. It is a heavy weight to carry up this hill.
I look around as I ascend. No one else is here. I am alone on the hill with the monolith. Many have been here before. Plato, Aristotle, Russell, and countless others were here once. They carved their names into the monolith along with their proofs and theorems. They’re not here anymore. Only their eroding carvings remain.
Surely there are others who have been here? Ones who didn’t care to carve their names, but yet wanted to bask in the knowledge and wisdom of the monolith? For here lies the ability to determine truth from falsehood! Here lies the instructions on how to discern fact from fiction! Certainly the Law of Non-Contradiction can guide us to a new utopia where all falsehood has been banished and all can live in the light of truth?! Where are the throngs of people living their lives by this law? Where are the worshipers, the advocates, the acolytes, the followers of the monolith of philosophy? None of them are here.
I arrive at the monolith. I hold the hammer in my right hand, letting hang along my side. I place my left hand on the monolith. I read the inscriptions and engravings. Some are so eroded they don’t even make sense anymore. I read the main engraving:
“The Law of Non-Contradiction —
Contradictory propositions cannot both be true at the same time and in the same sense “
It’s almost as if the meanings of the words have eroded along with their symbols and inscriptions. I still understand them. I still know them. I still love them. But I have lived long enough to know that they are not true. Perhaps that’s the point of no return. Once one has stumbled upon this truth, then one is destined to hurtle ever towards insanity…
That’s not true! The monolith is not true!
Swing. Crack!
The hammer sends shock-waves from the blow through my arm into my shoulder and directly into my heart. There are too many contradictions that all seem to be true. How can we believe all of the things that we believe? All of us have contradictory beliefs floating around in our heads. We don’t follow through with our beliefs into all of their particular implications. If we did we would surely see the contradictions. We would be conflicted. It hurts do that, so we don’t look into those dark corners. We sweep that dirt away underneath.
Swing. Crack!
The monolith seems undamaged from my blows. Jolts of pain shoot through me, though they are short-lived. My hammer looks ready for more. It burns a question into my soul. What if it’s all true?
Swing. Crack!
What if there is no God, one God, and many gods?
Swing. Crack!
What if Schroedinger’s cat is both alive and dead?
Swing. Crack!
What if I’m both alive and dead? What was I before I was born? What will I be after I’m dead? What am I now?
Swing. Crack!
Pieces begin to shatter and fall away from the monolith. My arm hurts. My hand throbs from the force of the blows. My heart feels it all and it feels alive.
What if there is no good or evil? What if something can be both good and evil? If something is evil for you, as in actually causing you pain and suffering, yet is good for me, as in actually fulfilling my life and making me happy and depriving me of it would cause me pain and suffering, then who is the judge and juror?
Swing. Crack!
What if time is both an arrow flying only in one direction and also an eternal now? What if the past and future don’t actually exist, never have and never will? What if they do exist and causation can flow in both directions? What if there are different times for different people and different things in different places at different times… and it’s all true?
Swing. Crack!
What if everything and nothing are the same thing? What if there is no way to tell the difference between everything and nothing? What if everything comes from nothing and fades back into nothing and there’s never really a definite moment when you can point at it and say “Yep! It’s definitely something right now!”? What if I am both this thing and that thing and everything and nothing all at the same time?
Swing. Crack!
Cracks form and go deeper into the monolith. A chunk begins to loosen. My hand and arm have grown numb. My heart still feels and my soul begins to notice.
What if I make the game, play the game, and then break the game? We’re all playing our own games and often making and breaking them. We’re often playing someone else’s game and never know the rules. What if the rules both exist and don’t exist at the same time? Who’s keeping track anyway?
Swing. Crack!
What if love and hate come from the same place in my heart? What if they’re both expressions of something that I care about? Why do I care anyway? What if they’re both expressions of something that I fear? What am I afraid of anyway? Can I both care about and fear the same thing at the same time?
Swing. Crack!
What is information and what is mis-information? What if it’s all information and we choose to believe or not believe based on other beliefs that are equally uncertain? What is certainty anyway?
Swing. Crack! Crumble.
Chunks fall to the ground. The monolith begins to topple. I can still read the engravings. I can still put it back together for someone else to see. My shoulder is on fire. My legs and feet are growing sore. My soul soars.
With each blow a loud and resounding thud has been broadcast from the hill. No one has answered or come to see what is happening. My wise teachers are not here to stop me. Not even the ghost of Aristotle has shown up to dissuade me from my course. No one is here to hear the sounds of the monolith crumbling, except me.
Who’s story do I believe? Did God create this world or was it an accident? Do I get my purpose from religion or from myself or from the state or from family or from money or from social status? What if my purpose is derived from all of it? How do I choose where to get my purpose from? What happens if I don’t choose?
Swing. Crack! Crumble.
What if I can know all things and yet never have the time to learn everything? What if some lessons are too painful to be learned? What if I’m too thickheaded to learn anything? How can I know that I know anything? How can I verify that what I know is the truth?
Swing. Crack! Crumble.
What if there is no truth to know?
Swing. Crack! Crumble.
What if all knowledge has some truth to it?
Swing. Crack! Crumble.
What if there is truth in everything?
Swing. Crack! Crumble.
What if it is all true?
Swing. Crack! Crumble.
The monolith lies in rubble. I am exhausted. I lie in the dust of the ghosts of the past. I lie in the ruins of minds who have tried to make sense of it all. I tore it all down. These weren’t my truths. They were their truths that they were narcissistic enough to believe to be true for all. For only they, the brightest and most intelligent and most righteous of our kind, could possibly read God’s handwriting on the world.
Could I or some other passerby put the pieces back together and read the law again? Probably. There won’t be any other passersby. No one comes here anymore.
I lie on the earth amid the rock and dust. I stare up at the stars. My soul seeps into the earth and stars. This universe is far more immense and consequential than I am intellectually and emotionally prepared to deal with. I hold the hammer of plurality in my hand. It’s not even really a hammer, but it hits like one. It’s a question, a possibility. What if?
Am I free now? Yeah, I’m free.
I carry the weight of responsibility of my freedom. I am creation and destruction. I know not what I destroy and I’m really bad at creating what I want to create, yet I am capable of both nonetheless. In fact I do both unconsciously, thoughtlessly, with every breath I take, with every swing of my arms and legs, with every word I write and say. How many lives have I ended under the crush of my boots?
It was dust before it was built, now it is dust again. I have torn down the monolith of the Law of Non-Contradiction. No one else is here. No one stopped me. And no one cares.
Maybe I’ll take this hammer and go build something, anything… Shape some other dust into a temple for a day.
