What Zwicky and Heidegger have in common is they both see truth as a revelation of that toward which the inattentive are oblivious. We may respond to these revelations in various ways. Language and conceptualization are among the responses available to us, but non-linguistic practical or moral responses are possible as well, and sometimes necessary.
The inattention that obliviates the unrevealed is often produced by language itself.
Incessant inner chatter compulsively talks over all intimations of the quiet voice of being.
The thick, callused fingers of spoken thought just grasp and grip and can no longer feel. The way most of us use words, we might as well have claws. — But language can do other things beyond grasping and gripping. Language can press, push, brush, trace, touch. Language can feel its own movements and gestures. But these involve a linguistic relation to being beyond what language can hold — faith in tacit, implicit, ineffable being.
What does language say about our wordless dealings with being? Language talks on and on about an underground of unknown words — secret words who control everything under the cover of darkness. This spiritual cabal of unheard words is known as The Unconscious. So says grasping, gripping language about whatever language is unable to comprehend.
Our belief in the unconscious dominates us utterly, because we are utterly dominated by explicit language — do dominated that we confuse ourselves with what we say and what is said of us.
This post was originally intended to pose a question. Does being reveal truth to us?
Or does being only reveal being, and it is with truth that we respond to being’s revelations?
I still lean toward the latter, but I’m warming to the former.
I’ve been questioning the scope of pluralism. Is all truth plural, or is there an absolute point of approach, a necessary, inevitable, inalterable point from which myriad truths may be known?
Is the truth of the human condition absolute, but that absolute truth entails instaurated truths?
I need to go ride my bike, now.