Part 1:
Sorry, I wasn’t clear enough.
Let me try to explain what was talking about.
Words aren’t thoughts. No, words aren’t anything but a specific way of mirroring our thoughts into the outside world. We can’t use English’s words, or for that matter those of any other language, for anything but either (1) communicating with other people, or (2) communicating with our future selves. They’re nothing but a particular method for showing somebody else, or one of your future selves, how to re-build a thought that you had. Well, at least that’s all that I’ve found so far. I’m not pretending that I unearthed anything a priori: No, I’m just saying that I’ve searched far and wide, but haven’t managed to discover anything else but that. But, you might be thinking, isn’t language important for thought? Isn’t it absolutely essential for at least certain kinds of thinking? Isn’t there more to it than just talking to yourself or other people? Well, yes to the first two questions; but no to the third one. Sure, it’s important to our thoughts, but then again only for the two reasons that I already gave. We converse with other people: We get new ideas. And we converse with ourselves: We use it as a memory device. But, before you object, let me interject: That’s not to downplay it. No, of course it’s very useful to get ideas from other people, and indeed it’s absolutely indispensible as a memory aid. I’m not trying to diminish it. Well, then what the hell’s my point? What am I attempting to get at here? Well, let me just spell it out: For clear thinking, it’s utterly essential to recognize that there just isn’t anything else to it but this, lest we mystify its powers, and inaugurate our journey into the unthinkable abyss.
But I still don’t think that I’ve managed to spell out the import of that yet. Really what the hell’s the big deal? Well, it’s simply this: English, and every other language, isn’t anything but a communication tool. It’s for conversing with yourself and other people. But who cares? Why am I pointing this out? Well, the implication is that anything that you can’t think is just nonsense. If language is for nothing but communicating your thoughts, a string of words must correspond to a thought to mean anything. So I want to know, what’s the word “immaterial” mean? What’s it mean to be immaterial? What thought, if any at all, does that word refer to? Can you show me how to think of something immaterial? Can you draw me a picture? Can you point to something in the outside world? Or can you show me how to build it in my imagination? Or is it an empty word about nothing? Well, you say, by what criterion? Let’s see. Think of a black horse. Can you do that? Well, either way, here’s an angle of one. Now think of fear. Isn’t that more difficult? Yes, but it’s still the same principle. What happens when you feel fear? Well, for me, I feel a ripple go through the side of my chest closest to the “danger”, and some other stuff. I almost believe that the matter in my chest is being shuffled around in the same way that the water in a pond would ripple if you drop a rock in it. Like this. Or this. That’s it. Now what thought does the word “immaterial” refer to? If you can’t think of one, maybe you should start questioning whether you’re really saying anything at all.
