How Do You Know?

How Do You Know?

Our modern times have brought us many great advancements. We find ourselves living longer, becoming more globally connected, and enjoying medical ingenuities, such as antibiotics, blood transfusions, and artificial organs. There are many amazing necessities and niceties that are enjoyed by the human race in varying degrees because of Science. Science has given us a lot to be thankful for. Or has it?

In recent years, there have been debates, and at times heated arguments, over the likes of genetically modified foods, vaccinations, and global warming. Even the effectivenessFlat Earth of Western medicine has cropped up in many personal conversations over the years. Ideas such as Flat Earth have come back to the scene in modern discussions and often with contention.

Once thought for certain by the general populace, many scientific concepts are met with skepticism. But before you believe this blog is about winning you over to one side or the other, I ask you read on, because it not. There is something greater underneath these debates, and it has everything to do with you.

When researching the Philosophy of Science the other day, I came upon a very intriguing
question: How do you know your knowledge is authentic?

What a wonderful question, and it has given me more than a pause. Now before we reduce this question to reducto adsurdum, and say how can we really ever know anything, let’s try to accept the question for what it is: an invitation to know ourselves a little bit better.

Knowledge. It is a formidable due to its ubiquitous nature. It is an invading species that finds life in the uninhabitable regions of our brain. It plants its roots and digs deep so it cannot be easily removed, often without our realizing it.

Thus, when we allow “knowledge” to pass our acceptance filters and impregnate itself in our world view, it becomes almost impossible to remove. Especially if it comes from an authority – like science, religion, or a person of a particular importance. But are these sources enough to make an idea become an organism of knowledge?

One of the greatest lessons science has taught me is that it is only at its best when it is being challenged, and I find that this true of human knowledge in general. Authenticity cannot exist if challenge is not present. Growth is a product of conflict, not peace. Knowledge that is real will survive and become stronger; the ideas that do not deserve to be uprooted and replaced with a more genuine concept.

How do you know your knowledge is real? We listen and we give the other side their due. This is a very Masonic and scientific principle. In doing so, the only danger we will face is the danger of becoming more authentic in what we know. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?

 

When Did We Stop?

When Did We Stop?

It is easy for life to sweep us away on the current of self-importance. I don’t think we mean to; it just happens to be the way our culture works. Fast and busy and “me” centered. This way of life isn’t just an adult thing. We have shown our children how to do it. They, too, are pounded with the every day commitments we give them and allow. This way of living is like a fierce version of the Tango but at a pace it was never intended to be danced at.

This is my life as well; I made the same choice you did, to be a part of this me-speed machine.

Two events recently occurred that has made me slow my dance steps down and see those around me better: the launch of Falcon Heavy and a philosophical discussion on whether we should migrate to Mars.

The only word that I can give to the launching of Falcon Heavy is wonder. Watching the launch left my mouth open but with no words. There was something eerie when the sideFalcon Heavy boosters landed on Earth again. This shouldn’t be happening, I told myself. Side boosters don’t come back, they just don’t. Again, the wonderment had me re-watching several times over until the busy day I had, had dragged my eye lids closed.

Two weeks later the philosophical debate on whether humans should migrate to Mars coincidently dove-tailed with the SpaceX’s launch. The discussion was an interesting juxtaposition to my earlier experience of watching the Falcon Heavy launch. I entered the discussion, as I do monthly, with great enthusiasm about the topic. How could I not with this particular idea? We were going to talk about the possible expansion of our kind. To me, the feeling I had could be analogous to what people must have felt when travel to the New World seemed impossibly possible. The feeling was akin to infectious hope sprinkled with reservation. The New World, that is Mars, seems so alien, so inhospitable, could we ever truly make a life there?

It was after this debate that I have felt my mouth go dry with disappointment and my inner Tango stumble with the memory of a statement made earlier in the discussion, “What did schlepping to the Moon ever get us?” I shouldn’t judge I know… but I did. This question has forced me to understand the alternative purpose that Elon Musk had when he sent his Tesla roadster into space. He didn’t use his car solely as payload… he used it to get our attention.

I have to ask; I have to know. When did we stop looking up? When did we stop finding continual inspiration in the stars and unimaginable possibilities in worlds that seem saturns_shadowunreachable? I cannot help but to understand Elon Musk’s strategy. He needed to pull our eyes off the ground by wowing us with his fancy car whizzing around Earth’s orbit because a rocket that brings us one step literally closer to Mars, wasn’t and isn’t enough.

My hope has been temporarily dampened, but it still remains because it is possible to change the rhythm by which we live to include the stars. Space exploration isn’t about man schlepping through the cosmos; it is about us making a bigger place for ourselves in that inky black sky. And the possibility that we are closer than ever to doing just this gives oxygen to that small flicker of hope.