THE FACE OF THE WORLD

One way to view the world is as shape and form. We are surrounded by a visual sphere, which can be geographically divided into 64,800 two dimensional tiles, nearly square at the equator and triangular around the poles. The full moon is of a size to fill an intermediate tile, which shows me that there is a lot of area to be covered. And the whole sphere is covered: by the blue or grey of sky, the black of night, and an endless array of articulated forms.

Usually we observe few of these forms. It is a subtly shocking exercise to look all around and only focus on the visual shapes, just flat out perceiving.

The shapes themselves are revealed by color and shade, but you can use these signals to determine shape while abstracting from emotive or aesthetic value, warmth and coolness, or other rhapsodies of color.

We can see either the flat realm of two dimensional shape or we can integrate that information into the recognition of objects. Furthermore, we can and usually do associate these objects with meaning: a window is to look out of and also to keep the dust and wind away. Reversing this direction, we can abstract from our usual visual, content filled, world to pure planar perception. It can be a restful thing to do.

It is not always easy to separate geometry from meaning. If you look at and through a crystal of fairly clear quality, layered worlds appear. There is the reflecting surface of the crystal, the inner imperfections of the crystal and the world behind the crystal. In the particular case of quartz, all of these are modulated by parallel surface striations; if you view an object near behind the crystal it may appear quite recognizable, but if you view the more distant world it is diffused by the striations into a pattern whose abstraction increases with distance.

When you view the world as geometric it is in a time set out of time. Most time is constrained by thought, emotion, intent, and necessity, but sometimes we can park out, just being, looking and knowing.

Dust is a form. Even though vision is proximately a surface, there are also surfaces themselves, in the usual sense.

Some forms move in the wind and some do not. This is the trivial sort of thing that there is no reason to express – to our contemporaries. But what about people living out beyond Pluto where there is no wind, except perhaps in an amusement park?

Is there some layer of the world independent of projection, or if not entirely without projection, of a thin or objective something that most of us can agree on?

Consider rectangles. Walk a while in the world, or just sit and notice rectangles. First of all, you will only see rectangles in a human made environment. Rectangles do not exist in nature, except as some rare crystal surface, even rarer than natural circles or triadic dualisms.

Windows, walls and books show many rectangles.

But what is it to see a rectangle? Is this perception projection free? Not entirely, because there is always an element of perspective. So it requires a projection or assumption to see a rectangle out of a sort of squarish or extended squarish shape.

But this is true for geometry as a whole.

In the face of the world we will call projected rectangles ‘rectangles’.

But what about projected circles which appear as ellipses? What if they really are ellipses? (The unwritten assumptions-projections in this sentence could inspire an essay.)

Beyond recognizing two dimensional forms such as rectangle and circles, it requires a further projection to see three dimensional objects. A building may be projected from a contiguous set of projected rectangles.

The world has a visual face. It is composed of forms and colors. Some of these forms are of simple geometry, some are complex, some are fractal, and some are triadic dualisms. All are subtle. There is unbounded subtlety of real form in every instance of form.

Somewhere between sense data and projections of meaning lies the face of the world. Unlike the abstract geometry of direction, the face is not planar, except in local approximation. The face is not all of the same depth of projection. The blue of a clear sky is a more immediate sense perception than the square of a window. Watching the sky, even cloudless, has a greater depth of projection than the window, if only because of the articulated circumvallation of the horizon.

Does the world have just one face? We could never give a closed answer; it is a matter of attitude. Even for one person, the face is almost always in motion.

Projection is hot and the face is cool. Our projective temperature fluctuates all of the time. Is dreaming hottest? Or should we make discrimination between projection and injection? But if so, is not the injection just an inward form of projection, and very hot?

Can one be aware of the level of projection in what one is seeing? It always varies in at least two ways: an inner mood and whatever particular object is in consciousness.

Mostly, one sees very little of ones environment, at least if we mean seeing as conscious perception. Ones body-mind defenses get one through traffic.

It is curious, as well as essential, that the fog of self enclosedness we surround ourselves with… each of us vague spheres in the mist, wandering about, sometimes intersecting, repulsing, letting be, attracting or conjugating, which rarely makes us evaporate, only time or hard objects do that.

Electromagnetic energy enters the eye and excites a rhodopsin molecule. The molecule initiates a nerve impulse, which carries on into the brain and, bundled with other impulses, appears in the mind as an image of a cloud.

What is the reality? Is it the perception of the cloud, or the light from the cloud, or the molecular flip, or all, or none of them? Perhaps it should include the knowledge of the observer about the thermodynamics of the cloud.

Suppose instead of a cloud we see a person’s face. We recognize the face and a pattern of the person takes place in our mind. We may have memories, emotions or expectations about the person. What is the connection between the face and the person?

There are groups of people with not only different but oppositional and even contradictory views of reality. The divergence between evolutionists and creationists comes to mind. There is little common ground and it seems unlikely to arise, if only because of the entirely different methods of verification practiced by the two groups. Although this disagreement has not led to bloodshed, many others of the deep dichotomies separating people have done so. And all of these differences provide cause for misunderstanding and alienation between groups and individuals.

The face of the world is much like photographs, but not like looking at a photograph.

The face of the world shimmers between surface and depth, between recognition and unknowing.

It takes effort to see the face of the world, to see the shapes and forms that are apparent. Most of the forms pass by us invisibly, although they (it is presumed) reflect photons toward our eyes just as well as the forms we see.

Commonly, the face of the world is extremely complex. It may be less so in a dark room or a jail cell, but those are exceptions.

One approach to seeing the face of the world is to rotate the objects in view. This is closer to how we usually see things; we see a book, then a cloud, then a tree. It is just one step of abstraction to see the face of the world, to see the visual forms which usually present themselves to us as objects.

Look with conscious recognition at the objects in your environment. Scan them one or several at a time; look all about as long as you can hold your interest. Then focus on one or a limited assemblage of objects. Look closely at their shapes, their colors, shadings and surface patterns. Keep looking; more and more will appear. After a while, your awareness can, if you try, see the face of the world.

Being subtler in grey, the face of the night world has simpler transformations than the day. Beside viewpoint, there are two dimensions of change. Coming in from the light, we see the dark as black, gradually revealing grey forms as our eyes adjust. Also, the dawn provides a similar sequence. Do you notice how even moderate greys appear illuminated against the shadows? These descriptions are for a room at night. There are other realities:

Watching for bears

In the absolute shadow

Of moonlight on the snowy forest

The tropical river

Of central thought

Freezes

Into an eerie fear

Not of bears

But of the knife edge contrast

Between bright and black.

Stepping into the shadowcast of pine

I too become invisible

Watching for bears

Crossing in the light