Lies

There are some things that, once broken, can be fixed. There are some things that should be fixed. There are some things that you want to be fixed. Of course, it follows that there are some things that can't, some that shouldn't, and some that you don't. It only gets complicated when the two sets of circumstances get mixed up. No no, there really is a very specific situation in which the entire affair becomes messy. When you want to fix it, but you can and shouldn't. After all, if you don't want to fix the thing, then you don't care. If you want to, but can't, then there is really is no issue either. What if you can fix it, and you want to fix it, but know you shouldn't? So which do you acquiesce to, the desire or the logic?

I'm pretty sure I've done this before, but I don't particularly care right now. A lot of Jack's tends to do that to you. The tension between desire and logic isn't really a tension at all. After all, logic is nothing more than an extension of desire. You have to want something before you can think about whether you should want it or not. Without the base desire, there is no logical issue at all. How much time do you spend puzzling over a thing you care nothing for? Every logical sequence begins at some point. There is always an initial assumption. In fact, there are always multiple assumptions. If there is only a single assumption, then you cannot proceed from there. You have to also assume a logical structure, a language in which you can deal with the initial assumption within the structure. After all, if a language contains only words, then it is no language at all, but only a collection of disparate things, with no way of assembling them into any coherent ideas.

Given that every logical sequence must start from assumptions, then we must consider what those assumptions are. Of course, the specific assumption is not of interest here, for we can hardly name every possible premise every logical sequence that has ever existed has been based on. So issue here is how these assumptions are formed. Without logic behind them, they can only be made based on some emotional response that cannot be explained by the subject's mind.

For example, let us consider the thought and act of taking a drink of water. I shall necessarily have to simplify it, but here is a brief description. First, I am thirsty, which prompts me to decide that my throat is dry due to a lack of moisture. This is an issue because I know that I will become more thirsty if I do not rehydrate my throat, and it will be extremely uncomfortable and potentially life-threatening. So I resolve to find a solution to the problem of a dry throat. Of the possible solutions, drinking something seems to be the easiest, as opposed to, say, injecting myself with fluid. Of the common fluids available to me, I filter out those I know to be poisonous and unpleasant. Eventually, I decide on water, since it is generally free, and I know that it is refreshing.

Considering the example above, ignoring the obvious discrepancies between individual decisions to drink water, it is clear that a great deal of prior knowledge is assumed. We can take these as premises upon which we create a language. The one assumption which is not part of the language is the first notion being thirsty. It is a feeling, a sensation that a normal person is unable to replicate simply by thinking about it. It is involuntary and requires no prior experience to be generated. In many ways, it is similar to an emotional response. There is no logical build-up to it, and it is impossible to really describe it other than as a sensation. Actually, I suppose you could boil it down a bit further to more basic sensations, such as pain. How would you describe pain to someone who has never experienced it before? I certainly wouldn't know how to.

Ok, so logical thought is based on emotional response, for lack of a better term. In that case, what if desire and logic clash? Since logic is based on desire, the conflict would be between two different desires. The resolution would then seem to be simple enough. The stronger of the two desires will win out. Unfortunately, the entire problem still resides with logic. As an expression of desire, logic is remarkably eloquent. It acts as an amplifier for its basic assumption. By generating such a huge complex of knowledge and structure about the initial assumption, the conclusion becomes very compelling. It is as if the mind is so impressed by its own efforts that it becomes confused.

Not quite, for the mind is not confused at all. There is simply a new input to the equation balancing off desires. There is a desire to use logic to articulate desire. Muddled as that may seem, it does appear to work. The mind wants to be logical. The logical language that the mind has built up is an effective, or at least appealing, way to order everything. After all, if we were to act on pure instinct, then why go to all the effort of building up knowledge and arranging them in such complicated ways? It is offensive to the mind that expends all its resources and time to creating and enhancing its language that a simple, uncomplicated desire can be more compelling than one spoken in the tongue of reason.

It is like a court in the older days. There is an established hierarchy and rules. Outsiders are regarded with suspicion, but usually tolerated if they adhere to the rules set by the existing courtiers. As time goes by, outsiders become part of the scene, assimilated into the fold and made to fit perfectly into the puzzle. Imagine one day, a barbarian stomped into the audience room, ignoring all protocol and demanding to have his way. Naturally, we must have a courtier who steps up and opposes the action demanded by the barbarian. Given a choice between heeding the barbarian, or the courtier, assuming both arguments are equally sound, it seems only reasonable that the decision-maker would choose the courtier. Being an insider obviously helps in influencing the decisions made.

So the mind finds comfort in its own counsel. Hardly ridiculous. There is an affinity for the processes of logic, which is why we are able to define what we should do, as opposed to what we want to do. Generally, the want to do only wins out if there is some way to rationalise it. In a sense, the only way the barbarian can persuade the ruler is by going through the proper procedures and protocol. Barging in and yelling a demand, no matter how loudly, is only liable to get you kicked out. Does it make sense? Well, yes, of course it must.

On another note, I absolutely hate it when I am lied to. It infuriates me, though it may not show. Worse it is when I am assumed to be unable to piece things together. I remember the things that are important to me. These may not be important to anyone else, but I remember them. And it tears at me to assemble these memories and current evidence to find a picture of deceit. I am honest with those whom I care anything for. It hardly seems unreasonable to ask the same. The truth, harsh as it may be, will always be more welcome than a lie from someone you are honest with.