Discovering the World Within

By Jin-yeong Yi

“While I am clearly a creature who lives in a specific time and who occupies a particular place, I am not like the plants of the field or the beasts of the forest. I am not bound in the same way that they are bound by either time or space. With my mind I can move back into the past and forward into the future. I can even transport myself to places different from the one I presently occupy. So I experience something about my life that is both limitless and timeless.”

—John Shelby Spong, Eternal Life: A New Vision

“Each Star must go on its own orbit.”

—Aleister Crowley

In everyday life, I not infrequently step back from my current situation and surroundings and examine them. I am almost never satisfied with the picture I see. I find it natural to ask myself, Is this the only existence, the only world I will ever know?

I actually don’t think that I despise this world, even if it may look like I despise it. Besides giving me life, this world made my standards, and provided me with all of the inspiration I have.

That said, I consider this world to be a cradle. I don’t know about you, but I can imagine a richer and grander existence than that of grinding away as a cog in the machine of civilization, forever a slave to financial and social obligations. I can imagine a more sublime and poetic existence than that of long commutes through the concrete desert, of paying bills, of dealing with human dysfunction, of reading about the latest horrors in the news. Above all, I can imagine a freer existence than that of having my desires restrained and restricted by the laws of nature. I can imagine a bigger world, a more beautiful world. It’s not difficult to imagine how humankind came up with the idea of supernatural realms, of an afterlife.

I’m not calling for a revolution here. As I have stated before, I am of the opinion that no human efforts can redeem the prison of the real. If anything, I am suggesting the obvious: that we can make the best of our term of incarceration. We can’t redeem prison, but we can redeem our time in prison, or at least try. What that entails will differ for each individual, given the variation of predilections among us. However, there are certain methods that most of us can use, in similar ways, to our advantage.

One of these methods is creativity. To my mind, there are few greater ways to redeem the time than taking the imagination and translating it into something concrete, whether it be a painting, a song, or a poem.

If you aren’t content with this world but don’t believe that you’ll ever be given another, then consider creating your own. Let’s face it: how likely is it that the countless factors directing the course of history will swing in your favor? Will the world you desire eventually come about if you work hard enough, or just wait long enough? Probably not. It seems clear that you’re going to have to take matters into your own hands, in the here and now.

One of the greatest saving graces of being human, in my view, is the ability to dream up places other than the one we inhabit. Though these parallel universes don’t exist outside of our minds, they are real enough for us to live in, thanks to another saving grace of being human: the ability to mentally transport ourselves beyond the boundaries of space and time. That is why we can find so much value in the creations of a J. R. R. Tolkien, a Henry Darger, or an H. P. Lovecraft.

I encourage you to never fall into the trap of thinking that this mundane world is all you have. Recognize that you can fashion your own world and live in it–even in the midst of the daily grind. If you haven’t already, why not start today by answering this question for yourself: If you could, at this moment, leave this world for your own world, what would your world be like, and what would life there be like?

The Magic of Fiction

By Jin-yeong Yi

“A true story, or one taken as true, doesn’t need embellishment and it doesn’t need artistic interpretation. Its truth gives it an intrinsic interest, and that’s enough.
Fiction, on the other hand, is offered as an invention—a lie. The fiction writer’s task is not to tell the literal truth, but to lie artfully—to lie so well that the reader’s interest is engaged as if he were reading the truth.”

—Damon Knight, Creating Short Fiction

“Art is precisely the means by which man makes sense of, and transcends, his own limitations and flaws. Without art—or the arts—there is only flux.”

—Theodore Dalrymple, Our Culture, What’s Left Of It

“Science may set limits to knowledge, but should not set limits to imagination.”

—Bertrand Russell

“‘What is there?’ It can be answered, moreover, in a word—‘Everything’—and everyone will accept this answer as true.”

—W. V. Quine

The power of fiction continues to amaze me. While I’m aware of the brain’s propensity for misinterpreting data and generating illusions[1], I still can’t help but find it remarkable how one can have real emotions about imaginary people and events while being fully aware that they are not real. A fictional story is essentially one big lie from start to finish, and yet we often have no trouble swallowing one whole. Yes, there is a difference between facts and truths, and fiction can illustrate truths, but that’s beside the point. Again, what I find astonishing is that we treat imaginary people as if they are real, even when we know that they are not real. We can react to them in any number of ways. We can get angry with them. We can get annoyed by them. We can share their disappointments and elations, their joys and sorrows. We can fall in love with them. We can even envy them (yes, envy people who don’t exist!). And surely most of us can think of at least one fictional person that our world would be poorer without.

We treat the worlds of novels and movies as if they were parallel universes that actually exist. Of course, imaginary people can “exist” independently of novels and movies; they don’t need a world of their own in order for us to perceive them as “real.” (That’s why virtual pop singer Hatsune Miku has fans from around the world who go to her concerts when they get the chance.)

Also, I find that fiction makes the most sense when I view it as a dream. From this perspective, plotholes, as well as realism and plausibility in general, aren’t exactly of earth-shattering importance. It’s imaginative fiction. It’s a dream, not a documentary. Dreams are often logically inconsistent and are not infrequently downright absurd, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t be enjoyable or edifying, or even enlightening and life-changing. Why must fantasy be brought down to the level of reality? Is not the fundamental goal of fiction to convey an experience, which is something that can be appreciated with or without the element of realism?

When it comes to objective reality, probabilities trump possibilities. But when it comes to subjective fantasy, possibilities far and away trump probabilities.

Notes

[1] See You Are Not So Smart: Why You Have Too Many Friends on Facebook, Why Your Memory is Mostly Fiction, and 46 Other Ways You’re Deluding Yourself by David McRaney and Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman

The Sandbox of the Gods

By Jin-yeong Yi

“The brain is wider than the sky, / For, put them side by side, / The one the other will contain / With ease, and you beside.”

—Emily Dickinson

A Japanese translation of the title of American Unitarian Universalist writer Robert Fulghum’s widely parodied collection of essays, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, reads, “Jinsei ni Hitsuyou na Chie wa Subete Youchien no Sunaba de Mananda,” which may be translated as “All the wisdom I need in life I learned in the sandbox in kindergarten.” The key word here is the word that was added to the original: sandbox.

This sentence helped me to realize what I really want to do in life: play! Unlike most activities, play is not engaged in for the sake of something else, but for its own sake. Here the line between goal and accomplishment is blurred.

In some schools of Hindu thought, the cosmos and all events within it are said to be the product of creative play (lila) by Brahman, or God. I can think of no grander mode of existence. It’s as pure as it is unrestricted. And it turns out that a humble pastime of small children, and not the worldly ambitions of adults, bears the closest resemblance to life as a God.

Hence my near-obsession with the dream world–it is a limitless sandbox in which one can, in theory, do just about anything that one can imagine oneself doing. In the universe that exists within the depths of one’s mind, no barrier exists between imagination and realization. In the dream world, to imagine something is to make it real.