Smother my senses,
   quell my voices,
so I ask not from whence I came

so the ego is all I know,
   is all that I can trust
so the ego is the only thing,
   I can believe to be just

Smother my senses,
   quell my voices,
so I ask not from whence I came

Smother our senses,
   quell our voices,
so we know not what we are

that we are the powers that be,
   that we are worshipable
that we are the only ones,
   to save our eternal soul

Smother our senses,
   quell our voices
so we know not what we are

Smother its senses,
   quell its voices,
so it knows not that it’s GOD

so it sits and watches,
   watches the barrage,
so it sits alone, safe and sure,
   blind to the mirage

Smother its senses,
   quell its voices,
so it knows not that it’s GOD

It ain’t right,
   lost in flight,
no soul home tonight

Why did your write that?
Because I’m fed up!
Fed `up with what?
Fed up with everything!
What do you mean everything?
You know—everything!
No I don’t know—everything?
I’m fed up with the fact that its so hard to know what’s real!
For example?
For example, I can’t turn on the TV without coming to the
conclusion that the world is full of nothing but ignorant,
selfish, violent, untrustable people!!
So!
So!  What do you mean so?!  I don’t know any of these ignorant,
selfish, violent, untrustable people!  If they are out there, and
there are so many on them, why don’t I know any of them?
Probably because you don’t live in the inner city.
That’s a crock of shit!
OK then, why do you think you don’t meet them?
Because they’re not out there!
But people are robbed, and people are murdered.  Somebody is out
there doing it!
I know!  But if you look at the T.V, read the newspaper, or
listen to the radio, it seems as though everybody is doing such
things!
We all know that isn’t true.
Exactly!  That is exactly the problem!!  We all know that the
vast majority of us are fairly harmless, gentle, somewhat boring
individuals.  But if this is true, why isn’t this what we hear
and know about one another?
I don’t know, but if you know what is true, why would the deceit
presented by the media bother you so much?
Because in this country, in these United States, we have no
social truth, ethos, no culture, no agreed-upon way of thinking
about one another that guides us through those situations the law
does not cover.  The largest arena of social structure in which
we have culture is the family.  After that, we have very little
we share as a community.  What we have in common is the media. 
And when the only ethos provided by the media is a big lie, when
the way in which we know one another is dictated by those who are
trying to convince us that we are weak, unworthy, and ugly, and
thus, in dire need of the product they are trying to sell, when
this is the source of information we have in common, we are
doomed to be disgusted and disenfranchised.  We withdraw, stay
home, watch our big-screen TV, and play Nintendo.
So the nightly news is harmful because we know it’s not the
truth?
Yes.
But again, if we know the truth about who we are as a people, why
should it matter what is said in the media?
Becuase knowing what isn’t true and knowing what is true are not
the same thing.  200 years ago, when we immigrated across the
Atlantic, we traded in our freedom to participate in the the
ethos of a group larger than ourselves, for freedom from the
structure provided by that larger group.  One of the good things
to come out of this trade was the increase in economic
possibilities experienced by the individual.  A major downside,
however, was the loss of ethos.  To be sure, the ethos provided
by that larger group was not the truth.  Rather, it was an answer
to the truth of our need for ethos.  The ethos of the open market
does not qualify as social truth becuase we know that its
depiction of humans is wrong.  This doesn’t mean that we can
state which depeiction of humans is correct.  Rather, it simply
says that we know when a depition is wrong.
        “Neil, I’ve gotta go to work.”
And how do we know a particular depiction is wrong?
When it doesn’t satisfy our need for ethos.
And how do we develop this need for ethos?
        “Neil, I said I have to go to work!”
We don’t have to; feeling the need is an irreducible aspect of
the human condition.
And how do we know when this need for ethos is not being
satisfied?
        “Neil, I am leaving, and if you don’t say good-bye to me I
am going to be very upset!”
When we are not sure how we should go about cooperating with one
another.  Please wait.  I will be back.
        “I’m sorry honey,” said Neil as he turned from the computer,
stood up, and approached his wife.  When he reached her he
wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.  She did not
smile.
        “I said I was sorry,” he said in a pouty sort of voice as he
pulled her a little closer.
        “I know you did Neil,” she said in a way that indicated that
this was not the first time this had happened.  “But if you were
really sorry, I wouldn’t have to yell at you to get your
attention.”
        “You didn’t have to actually yell at me.” he said.  He ended
the sentence with a smile in the hope that such a gesture would
serve to lighten her mood.  It didn’t work.
        “Look Neil,” she said as he stood there with his arms around
her waist, and she stood there with her hands on her hips, “I
don’t mind the fact that you spend so much time talking to people
on that computer.  What really bugs me is that you don’t feel you
can talk to me about these things.”
        “Oh baby,” he returned,  “I don’t spend a lot of time
talking to you about these things because I really don’t think
you want to talk about them.  As a matter of fact, I don’t think
anybody really wants to talk about them.  There are a few people
out there, however, who cannot help themselves, who have to talk
to someone about these idiosyncratic little itches that they just
can’t seem to scratch.  And since there are so few such people,
the web is the perfect place for them to meet.”
        “So what were you talking about just now?”
        “The lack of culture in the United States, and the media’s
idiotic attempt to fill the void.”
        She looked him in the eye for a few moments.  While doing
so, a small look of pity spread across her face.
        “Neil, my dearest Neil, I love you like you’ll never know,”
and now she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him
close, “I love the way you are concerned about the whole, entire
world, and I love the way you try to solve the whole, entire
world’s problems.  But sweetheart, those problems have been here
ever since we crawled out of the swamps.  Those problems are part
of the human condition.  Your constant worrying about them is
going to do nothing but ensure that you die earlier than you
should.”  She kissed him gently on the lips and pulled away.  “I
have to go to work,” she said as she walked away.  “Wait up for
me.  I have a few of my own problems you can help me solve when I
get home, if you know what I mean.”
        He knew exactly what she meant.
        “I love you sweetheart,” he said as she walked out the door.
        “I love you too,” she called from the hallway.
        As he listened to her footsteps fade down the hallway, he
realized what a truly lucky guy he was.  He then thought about
how weird their relationship was.  The common denominator was
love; true, undeniable, genuine concern.  What was weird was how
that love expressed itself beyond themselves.  After him, she
seemed to be most in love with the other people in her life; her
sister, her brother, her parents, her friends, while he seemed to
be in love with the people of the world.  He thought about that
and laughed to himself; she was in love with people, while he was
in love with concepts.
        His computer beeped.
Are you there?
Are you there?
Are you there?
        Obviously the person he had been talking to was getting
tired of waiting.
Are you there?
Yeah, I’m here.  I didn’t think you would wait so long.
I’m not going anywhere.
Well, I am.  I don’t feel like talking about this anymore.  Sorry
to disappoint you.
No problem.
Talk to you later?
Yeah, talk to ya later.  Same bat-time, same bat-station.
Disconnect

        Neil turned off his computer and walked around rubbing his
neck.  He hadn’t really finished saying what he had wanted to say
about reality, but Sandra had put him in such a good mood, he was
no longer able to contrentate on the topic.  He walked around the
apartment for a few more minutes, frustrated at his inability to
settle into a mood.  Finally the frustration reached a peak and
he picked up the phone and called John.
        “Hello.”
        “John, John is that you?”
        “Yeah, this is John.  How ya doin Neil.”
        “I’m doin fine.  What are you up to?”
        “Not much, just getting ready to watch the Bulls play the
Pistons.”
        “Wanna watch the game at Spike’s with me.  Sandra went to
work and I need to get out of the apartment.”
        “Sure,” said John.  “Meet ya there in 20 minutes?”
        “Cool,” said Neil.  “See ya there.”
        “Yeah, see ya there.

*************

        “John, that doesn’t make any sense!” exclaimed Neil.  
        The Bulls game had ended an hour ago and they were both on
about their fourth or fifth beer.  They had been arguing ever
since the game had ended, and it did not seem as though there was
an end in sight.
        “The hell it doesn’t!” exclaimed John.
        “The hell it does!” returned Neil.  “You are definitely
holding a glass in your hand!”
        “But how do you know I’m holding a glass in my hand?” asked
John, making sure to emphasize the word “know”.  His eyes locked
in on Neil’s as an impish smile spread across his face.  To
accentuate the gap he knew was developing between the Knower and
the Questioner; the Teacher and the Student, John took a sip of
beer from the glass who’s very existence he was challenging.  
        Neil’s face reacted violently.  He to was aware of the gap,
but could not for the life of him figure out why such gaps seemed
to develop during their conversations.  To be sure, John was no
dummy.  Nor was Neil.  But to Neil it seemed as though John was
always so sure, as if he really did KNOW the answers.  During
their usual conversations Neil could let such feelings roll off
of his back because he believed he knew a little something about
whatever it was they were discussing.  For example, when
discussing the war in Bosnia, the two friends had different
opinions about how the situation should be dealt with, but
neither was really able to gain the upper-hand in the discussion
because they both new the other’s proposal was neither completely
right nor completely wrong.  This little spark of faith had
always been enough to allow Neil to experience John’s arrogance
as medium rather than message.  But now Neil believed John’s
smugness both inappropriate and insulting.  How dare he question
that fact that there was a glass in his hand, and how dare he
pose this to John as a serious statement.  Neil felt himself
becoming more and more annoyed and felt he should just stop
talking.  However, he could not help himself.
        “John,” he said in the slow, somewhat deliberate voice one
uses while speaking to a foreigner with whom one is losing
patience.  “I know you are holding a glass in your hand-,” his
voice became louder and more deliberate as he worked his way
through the sentence, “because I can see you holding it in your
hand!”
        The idea seemed to float through the air on a bed of
conviction, as if daring someone to question its inherent
correctness.  Fortunately, the bar they were in was loud. 
Unfortunately, a lull in the background noise had developed just
as Neil’s conviction reached its peak.  Those close to the two of
them clearly heard Neil’s exasperated affirmation.  The looks in
their eyes clearly communicated their discomfort.  The looks Neil
refused to return clearly communicated his.  After a few such
moments, everyone went back to their own business and the
background noise returned.  Neil sat forward tensely, resting his
weight on his forearms which were firmly planted on the table. 
His questioning eyes were directed toward John’s, waiting for
some sort of response.  John sensed the tension in Neil’s posture
and looked away.  As he read the beer prices on the sign above
the bar he felt Neil lunge forward a couple of inches as if to
repeat the question he had never asked.
        “Damn Neil!” said John, who was now shifting his own posture
from side to side.  “Take it easy!”
        “Take is easy, my ass!” retorted Neil.  “You act as if you
know THE TRUTH while you sit there telling me there is no such
thing as truth!  That’s a crock of shit!”   
        Neil stabbed his finger in the air toward John to emphasize
the point.  His eyes chased John’s as if to lock them in place
and force him to deal with the issue.  John saw this and did not
let them be found.  After a few moments of such gaming, however,
John could no longer stand the tension and raised his hands in
mock surrender.
        “OK, OK man.  You’re right.  You’re absolutely right”
        “No way man!” exclaimed Neil.  “No way.  You know you don’t
believe that.  Don’t pull that condescending bullshit on me! 
Play your cards straight and tell what you really believe!”
        “I don’t want to,” said John as he took a slow, calm sip of
his beer.  “You’re taking all of this way to personally.  You’re
not allowing me to be wrong.”
        “You’re not allowing me to be wrong! You’re not allowing me
to be wrong!” wined Neil in a sarcastic, high-pitched voice. 
“What the hell does that mean?  You’re not allowing me to be
wrong!  Man, you always find a way to redirect the issue and
avoid the point!”
        He starred at John for a second without receiving a
response.  Frustrated beyond the point of communication, he threw
his hands up in the air and slumped into the booth.  After a few
moments of such slumping he looked at John with eyes full of
pity.
        “Man,” he said, “you have absolutely no clue what you’re
talking about!” and now it was Neil’s eyes that refused to be
found. 
        John lunged forward and rested his elbows on the table.
        “Fine asshole!” stated John.  “You want to know what I
believe?”  I’ll tell you what I believe!”  He hesitated just long
enough to lock eyes with Neil and make sure he would hold on to
the end.  “I believe there is no such thing as a glass in my hand
because I do not believe in things!”
        He checked.  Neil was struggling, but he was still with him.
        “The only reason we claim to know things exist is because
certain experiences are replicable.  This glass in my hand is a
replicable experience.”
        “A replicable experience!” responded Neil with a tinge of
sarcasm.
        “Yes Neil, a replicable experience.”
        “Why can’t you just say it’s a glass?”
        “I could, but once I’ve done so, all I’ve really done is
utilize a verbal symbol, the word glass, to refer to some
replicable experience.”
        “Again with the replicable experience!” stated Neil in a
manner indicating he was not buying John’s argument.
        “Look Neil, you claim you know things exist because you can
see them.  Can I get away with rephrasing your comment in the
following way:  We know things exist because we can experience
them.”
        “Yeah,” said Neil half-heartedly.  He hated to agree with
John.  He knew he was being set-up.
        “OK, so to state your claim more explicitly, we know that
objects exist because we detect them with our senses.”
        “Sure John,” agreed Neil.  “No problem.”
        “OK, so in other words, we know things are real, we know
things exist because of the impact they have upon our nervous
system.”
        “Well, I..., well,” stammered Neil.  He didn’t feel safe
using the phrase nervous system, but couldn’t see how it was
necessarily wrong.
        “So, due to the impact these things, these real things have
upon our senses, we know they exist?”
        Neil said nothing, so John continued.
        “The problem with this explanation of reality is as follows: 
If we know things by the impact they have upon our senses, what
we really know is not the thing in and of itself.  Rather, what
we really know is the state of our senses!”
        “Come again,” said Neil.
        “If we know things by the states they produce in our nervous
system, then what we know is the nervous system.
        “OK,” responded Neil.
        “OK!” exasperated John.  “It’s anything but OK.  If all we
know are the states that things produce in our nervous system,
then how can we know what is producing those states in our
nervous system?”
        “The thing!”  answered Neil, as if the question had been
absurd.
        “But how can we know that!” returned John.  “If all we know
are the states, it might be the case that those states are being
produced by some mad scientist pumping chemicals into our nervous
system!”
        “That’s absurd!” scoffed Neil.
        “Of course it is, but it’s no more absurd than claiming that
things reveal themselves to us by producing states in our nervous
system.”
        Neil’s eyes took on the sort of look that communicates both
confusion and dismay.  The friends simply sat their for a few
moments, neither being sure of the direction the conversation
should take.  Finally Neil found something to say.
        “John, I can’t tell you that you’re wrong, but I can tell
you that you don’t make any sense.  All, or almost all, of modern
science is based upon testing.  And all of the tests used by
scientists involve the senses; how something looks, how it
tastes, how it smells, feels, and sounds.  All of these tests are
tests of the senses.  If we refuse to believe in the senses, and
refuse to believe that we use them to figure out what’s real and
what isn’t,.....”
        “What?” asked John.
        “What do you mean What!” responded Neil.  “Every one of us
believes that glass is in your hand.  Even you do!”
        “Well....,” stammered John.
        “Don’t give me that well crap!  You know you believe that
glass is there!  Now how does that jive with your claim that it
isn’t?”  Neil felt somewhat victorious, for it was a rare moment
when John was not able to immediately respond with some clever
quip or quote.
        “You’re right.  I do believe there is a glass in my hand. 
But that’s not the same as saying I know there is a glass in my
hand.  When we say the word know, we mean to imply that the
belief we are expressing is absolutely and undeniably true, as if
GOD himself had for one reason or another determined that this
particular belief should and will, forever and ever, qualify as
THE TRUTH.  And even though I experience this sort of absolute
certainty when I hold this glass, I refuse to say I know. 
Rather, I prefer to say I believe.  There are many reasons why I
do so, but for now I’ll just cover those which are most
important.”
        John looked at Neil, who was now completely involved.  Neil
was John’s best friend.  Actually, he was John’s only real
friend.  No one else really cared about John’s silly ideas, and
John never really saw their ideas as worthy of conversation. 
Neil, however, was special, for he was able to carry-on what
people refer to as a normal life, as well as give John better
arguments than most of his professors.  John’s eyes must have
betrayed his emotional thoughts, for a smile spread across Neil’s
face.
        “Trying to find a way to school me that will allow me to
save face?” asked Neil with a laugh.
        “No,” returned John, also with a laugh.  “Just feeling a
little grateful that you tolerate my bouts with life.”
        “So why do you choose to believe instead of know?”  Both
took a sip of beer in a way that indicated the conversation had
taken on a new tone.
        “I do so,” said John with a smile as he tipped his glass
toward Neil, “because reality is not a physical thing that can be
known.  Reality is a process, an interaction between my nervous
system and the structures beyond that nervous system.”
        “But why can’t you just say things instead of structures?”
        “Because things implies a structure that exists independent
of my nervous system.”
        “Most things do exist independently of your nervous system,
or even mine for that matter.”
        “There are many other ways to see this structure other than
as a glass.”
        “For example?”
        “For example, the physicist would claim that this glass is
actually a whirling dervish of electrons, protons, and neutrons.”
        “So!”
        “So how is it possible for this structure to be a collection
of atomic particles and a device for consuming good beer, all at
the same time?  It is possible because both descriptions are
correct.  Are they correct because they are correct according to
GOD’s law?  No.  Both descriptions are correct because both are
replicable.”
        “I still don’t get this thing you call replicable.  What is
replicable about a glass or atoms.”
        “What is replicable is the experience.  Anytime you direct
your eyes towards this structure you will see what we call a
glass.  Further, even if you look at this structure from a
different perspective, there will be enough similarities in those
two different perspectives to allow you to experience this
structure as the same glass.  The same rules apply to science. 
Only those experiences that are replaceable across perspectives
are considered to be true experiences.  Only those results that
can be produced by any scientist having the correct equipment are
considered true results!  However, the truthfulness is found not
in the object.  Rather, it is found in the replicalbity of the
experience.”
        “What you’re saying then, is that science does not tell us
the truth!”
        “Exactly!  To tell you the truth, no pun intended, what
science really does is reveal those levels of structure that are
not available to use in experience!”
        “What?!”
        “Atoms and molecules are not truths in the sense that they
are pre-determined to be true.  Atoms are molecules are true
because they are highly replicable experiences.  That is, the
experiences we can produce by assuming that atoms and molecules
exist are extremely reliable.  If tomorrow, however, we are not
able to produce those replicable experiences, we will have to
alter what we think about atoms and molecules.”
        “So.”
        “So, the fact that we have to change what we think about
atoms and molecules when those ways of thinking no longer produce
replicable experiences, indicates that those ways of thinking
were never correct!  It further demonstrates that those ways of
thinking were never really anything more than ways of thinking
about experiences, or what scientists refer to as models.”
        “You mean to say that the theories and models developed by
scientists are really just made up!”
        “Exactly.  However, to be fair, we have to admit that they
are pretty strong models.  Imagine how many replicable
experiences can be produced by thinking of the world as being
composed of elements.  By thinking of the world this way we can
produce what we call plastics, metals, and all sorts of
substances.  The model of substances provided by the periodic
table is an extremely powerful model.  It is not, however, the
absolute truth.  It is not God’s law.  It is a model of the
world, developed by man, based upon millions of experiences.  If
for some reason tomorrow, this model no longer leads to
replicable experiences, it will have to be scrapped.”
        Neil sort of sat back in the both and sipped his beer.  He
was no longer upset.  John’s arguments, as usual, seemed to make
sense.  However, something just didn’t feel right.  Neil did not
even have to think about whether or not the glass was in front of
him.  He knew that glass was there!  He had to say something
more.
        “John, I seem to have followed your notion about replicable
experiences, but I still cannot bring myself to believe that the
glass is nothing more than a replicable experience.  That makes
it sound as if the glass is in my head!”
        John laughed and almost choked on his beer.  This loss of
control on John’s part made Neil laugh.  He too almost choked on
his beer.  Now both friends got caught up in the laugh, which
swelled in robustness and continued for a few moments.
        “Look Neil, I gotta get going soon, so I’ll answer that
question real quick.  The glass is neither in your head nor in my
hand.”
        Neil’s brow furrowed as he questioned John’s sanity.
        “Seriously Neil, the glass is neither in your head nor in my
hand.”
        “Pray tell dear friend,” laughed Neil as his head swayed
back and forth in disbelief at how far out on the edge John
seemed to be willing to go this evening, “where exactly is the
glass?”
        “The glass, dear friend, is in neither your head nor in my
hand, for the glass is not a thing.  It is a process.  And that
process is the interaction between the structure of your nervous
system and the structure of the light energy reflected by this
structure in my hand.  I also experience what we call a glass
when I look at this structure, not because we are looking at the
same glass, but because we have similar nervous systems that
interact in the same way with the light energy reflected by this
structure.  The glass is simultaneously in your head as well as
in my hand.  If we focus on the structure in my hand, we refer to
it as a thing, a physical object, that is, a glass.  If we focus
on what’s going on in my head when I look at this structure, we
refer to that activity as mental, cognitive, or psychological. 
The point is that the glass is neither physical nor mental; the
glass is both, what some have referred to psychophysical!
        “OK man, OK man,” said Neil as he finished his beer.  “I 
think we’ve done enough for tonight.  And since I just finished
my beer that really wasn’t there, I think I’ll go out to my car,
which really isn’t there, and go home to my wife, who really
isn’t there.”
        John laughed out loud and Neil joined in.  Both contributed
to the tip and headed out.  As they walked out into the stillness
of the night, they turned to one another and shook hands.
        “Buddy, as always, it was a pleasure.”
        “Yes, I would agree,” returned John.  “Our discussions truly
are one of my more enjoyable replicable experiences.”
        Neil just laughed and continued to laugh as he walked to his
car.  As he drove home he thought about the things he and John
had discussed.  He also thought about his earlier web
conversation about reality and the media, as well as Sandra and
the comments she had made before leaving for work.  As he drove,
he turned all of these ideas over and over in his head, trying to
determine the common thread.  It just wouldn’t come.  He searched
a while longer.  Nothing happened, so he turned up the stereo and
let Stevy Ray Vaughn’s version of Voodoo Child smother his senses
and quell his voices, all the way home.

********
        “How was work?” he asked as she entered the bedroom.
        “Same-old same-old,” she responded.
        “What did you do all night?” she asked as she began to
undress.
        “Went to Spike’s and watched the Bull’s game with John.”
        “Watched the Bull’s game with John, huh”
        “Yeah.”
        “More like you and John got into another one of your
arguments about the problems of the world.”
        “Yeah, something like that.”  They both laughed.  She walked
by him and kissed him.  She then went to the closet and hung-up
the blouse she had just removed.
        “How is John?”
        “He’s fine.  I don’t know if he and Beth are going to be
getting back together or not, but he seems to be holding his
own.”
        “Are you in a better mood than you were earlier?” she asked
as she slipped on her night gown and sat on the bed next to him.
        “Yeah, I guess so,” he responded half-heartedly.
        “OK, what’s still bugging you?” she asked as she began to
unbutton his shirt and kiss his chest.
        “I don’t know if anything is really bugging me babe, it’s
just that,” and now he held her by the shoulders and pulled her
face up to his, “how can you be such a happy, loving person when
the world seems to provide so little to believe in?  The media
lies to me and tells me the world is full of horrible, greedy
people, and my best friend tells me that a glass really isn’t a
glass!  What on earth is real?”
        With that she stood up and put here hands on his cheeks.  As
she looked down into his eyes she saw the despair and
unsatisfiable quest for absolutes that she had fallen in love
with all those years ago.
        “Honey,” she said gently as she starred deeply into his
eyes, “do you have faith that the world is not full of horrible
people?”
        “Yes, yes I do.” he answered.
        “Do you have faith that a glass is a glass?”

        “Yes I do.”
        “And do you have faith in me?”
        He sat there staring deeply into her eyes and saw the hope,
love and faith he had fallen in love with all those years ago.
        “Yes I do.”
        “Then my dearest,” she said as she bent down and began to
kiss his face.  “What else do you need?”  And with that she
pushed him onto the bed.  He could not argue.  He did not want to
argue.  Rather, he let nature takes its course.  As they made
love, all of the earlier questions seemed to disappear and he
lost himself in the sureness of their passion.
        Later than night, as he lay awake thinking about the strange
events of the day, he suddenly felt the need to go to the
computer.  He tried to resist, but could not.  He turned on the
PC and initiated the word processor.  When the computer was
ready, he wrote the following:

There was a time in life,
   when everything was crystal clear to me
      like the smile of a child
Now it seems like everything
   goes round and round and round and
      round and round and round and round and round
Like a big whirlpool that is drowning me,
  Never bringing me to choice
Like an unknown verse that is haunting me,
  Never taking form nor voice

As I take the time
   to find the things that keep it all in place
      it comes as a surprise
That the only thing
   to survive the analysis is the process itself
      and the look of love in your eyes