Please consider my essay not as a terminus, a manner of final say that claims to be authoritative, but as a starting point toward a personal and original reflection. To each their own journey and destination in the vast landscape of possible ideas. 

 

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Note that I took the philosophical path while grappling with an existential crisis that bankrupted the meaning I gave to my life. A diving accident, accompanied by a grievous spinal cord injury, had reduced the teenage athlete that I was to a young quadriplegic, now unable to realize his dreams. I am therefore an autodidact for whom philosophy was initially a remedy against the feeling of absurdity and its morbid corollary: a potentially suicidal despair. This contrasts with a bona fide academic, motivated primarily by deep intellectual curiosity.

 

Also note that my philosophical career outside universities spans over 40 years, dedicated above all to meditation, study, and writing. The bibliography at the end of this essay pays tribute to the authors who have been my main sources of information and inspiration. These authors constitute, in a word, my cultural background. I invite anyone who wonders how my thoughts relate to this background to consult my bibliography, especially since I refrained from peppering my exposition with references to lighten its style.

 

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I venture the following idea, because nothing incites me to think the opposite: Reality, in its quality of being (that impresses itself on the mind through experience), is perfectly autonomous and constantly alternates, during its deployment, between the latent mode and the manifest mode. The past gives way to the present that gives way to the future, but the former and the latter are always present when they happen, versus when they are no longer or not yet happening. Why is it so? It just is, that’s all. Admittedly, this is a tautological explanation, which betrays the mystery of a fathomless ontological evidence (i.e., an eternal becoming whose existence is equally a question and an affirmation).

 

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The specter of a potentially dire future… is by definition uncertain and, consequently, does not legitimize a fatalistic and defeatist mindset, as opposed to a constructive and preventive one, within the confines of reality. We will have an eternity to play dead when everything is topsy-turvy and soil instead of air fills our nostrils. Until then, we are called to put our thoughts and affairs in order, and thereby show ourselves worthy of the life that still animates us.

 

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However, nothing in the brain deserves the qualifier human as much as the neocortex, since it is there that our concept of identity—in interaction with the world—takes shape. This concept is fluid in the image of life itself, at the confluence of our sensitivity, memory, thought and imagination that revolve around language. Not that the rest of the brain is less important (the neocortex cannot do without it any more than a ship captain can do without a crew to successfully navigate through the ocean), but this highly evolved part of the cerebral whole—which is the condition for our awakening to the reality of being—auspiciously lends itself to an effort of personal development and fulfillment.

 

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Finally, we further increase the temperature of the hot plate, albeit moderately to avoid causing turbulence that displays wild irregularities. This time, the liquid switches from a commonplace dissipative process to another that re-markably stands out with the appearance of convection cells, whose ordered, dynamic and stable configuration is similar to that of living cells…

 

This switch is highly significant in that it foreshadows the evolutionary development from the inert to the living. One may refer to this development as a change of tack, where the external source of heat, which was disrupting the liquid at rest, assumes a radically new and constructive meaning when this liquid harnesses it to achieve and maintain a lively mode of existence that integrates this source into its structure, of a relational and dependent nature. This closely resembles the adaptive strategy of a living organism, such as an ivy that transfigures a shading obstruction into an instrument of ascension in order to attain a higher level of exposure to the sun.

 

However, the adaptive strategy of a living organism can be less flexible. The organism then does not bow to circumstances because they are unchangeable; instead, it conforms them to its desires if, on the contrary, these circumstances are changeable. This is the case of an animal that overcomes an obstacle.

 

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Two questions arise. What justifies the locution universal nature, as though its referent were truly one and indivisible, and what explains the fact that universal nature can be at war with itself, if it is indeed one and indivisible?

 

The first question raises another, which is closely related. Is it justifiable to speak of human nature when referring to a person’s many varied and sometimes discrepant traits? More precisely, are we individually a simple accumulation of these traits, without cohesion nor coherence, or are we rather an integrated whole that functions as a living and thinking unit, however complex we may be, possibly torn between several conflicting desires and aspirations? A careful exercise of observation and introspection leads me to view the second term of this alternative as accurate.

 

Furthermore, it deductively convinces me of the fundamental unity of universal nature, although the latter is patently multitudinous and diverse, even disparate. Why is that? Firstly, because humans combine all the elements of the world into a functional unity of body and mind, and secondly, because the idea of ​​a plurality of discordant forces, without an overall direction, that would nevertheless be capable of converging toward such unity, is completely absurd.

 

However, this overall direction is presumably, at the outset, fragmented and uncertain before adopting, through chance discoveries, ways of being that are appropriate to its natural attractors, conditioned by circumstances.

 

In summary, the essential unity of human nature, as an advanced form of animal life, implies the fundamental unity of universal nature, as a generative force that manifests itself evolutionarily.

 

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Therefore, universal nature admits of two distinct orders of reality: 1) the potential order, which is latent, awaiting the occasion to manifest itself; it evokes a seed, buried in the soil, that escapes our gaze; and 2) the actual order (our empirical frame of reference), which is manifest owing to this occasion; it evokes a plant that grows in broad daylight. In fact, these two orders are complementary. A thing cannot be potential without having the power to actualize itself, in circumstances conducive to such actualization, just as an actual thing presupposes the potential to be so, at the suitable moment.

 

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Whoever speaks of universal nature also speaks of determinism. It then remains to be seen in what sense this term should be understood: strict determinism, bearing a resemblance to classical music, where we faithfully toe a melodic line without taking liberties, or soft determinism, in the image of jazz improvisation, where we find inspiration in a melody whose harmonic tolerance is stretched to the limit? This question is doomed to uncertainty, since knowledge is finite and hence incapable of exhausting it.

 

Consequently, any indetermination is susceptible of two opposite interpretations that exclude the possibility of deciding one way or the other categorically. The first suggests that the indetermination results from an in-complete measurement, due to partial ignorance. The second suggests that this indetermination reveals a mixed nature, combining chance and necessity. For my part, I lean toward this second interpretation.

 

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The contrast between measurement problem and fact of nature leads us to differentiate two opposite and complementary categories of thought, one epistemological (pertaining to the conditions of knowledge), and the other ontological (pertaining to the nature of reality, which is the object of knowledge). To what extent does this knowledge express this nature? The question is doomed to remain open, since the first term of the comparison (reality as it appears to our consciousness) is knowable, whereas the second (reality as it is, independently of our consciousness, assuming we take this abstraction seriously, from a realistic viewpoint) is unknowable.

 

However, the effectiveness of our vital behaviors and experimental protocols—effectiveness restricted to a measurement space—confirms our hypotheses about the workings of the world. In short, it points to a correspondence between what we know and what is. In this regard, the language of sensitivity, specific to perception, must faithfully translate the language of reality, enough to provide a credible basis for reflection.

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To confer on their discipline an aura of exhaustivity, a scientist may pretend that consciousness is an illusion. The problem with this expedient is that it conceals a confounding pitfall. Indeed, we cannot pretend that consciousness is an illusion without implicitly asserting that science—dependent on consciousness through experience and reflection—is illusory, which conjures up the image of someone being hoisted with their own petard. 

 

In conclusion, materialistic reductionism, which would have you believe that mental processes are pointless fictions, while casually spending the mind’s cognitive resources, does not hold water. Moreover, idealistic reductionism, which sits comfortably on matter, while telling anyone who will listen that physical things do not exist, similarly doesn’t add up.

 

We therefrom arrive at dualism, which does not necessarily boil down to an ontological divide where spirit and matter are absolutely distinct. We can very well see both as the opposite and complementary aspects of the same thing, in which case dualism changes into monism, akin to panpsychism. Spirit and matter are then reconciled, such that they represent the signified and signifier of a logos. I am referring to the language of reality that expresses the way things are formed or transformed (hence the concept of information, from the Latin verb informare, “to give form to”, and by extension, “to change the form of”). This way is what knowledge seeks to translate into laws and principles.

 

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The image of a fork pops into my mind to portray the ambivalent attractor of universal nature, sometimes content with a passive tranquility, when circumstances do not frustrate its taste for inertia, sometimes forced to renounce this indolent complacency and to pursue with great effort a dynamic peace that is all the hardier as it must constantly be reconquered, with the sad prospect of a total loss at the end. Well, almost total since nothing is not really nothing, to the extent that it contains the possibility of everything. Thus, all things start from it and return to it.

 

This hardy dynamism defines life, of which convection cells are a first sketch. And it turns out that humans are apt to understand it, if they regularly make it an object of attentive and thoughtful observation. Only through the door of experience can we penetrate the mystery of existence. This experience is an ever-renewed present, forever invested with easy or laborious tasks that require our commitment and involve us, willy-nilly, in a paradoxical relationship—both harmonious and conflictual—with our natural and social environment.

 

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Admittedly, unhealthy but palatable foods providing instant gratification, possibly to compensate underlying issues instead of resolving them, are omnipresent temptations. We live in a decadent era where democracies have degenerated into plutocracies and largely abdicate their role as people’s representatives, in favor of large commercial corporations, which often enrich themselves at our expense by shamelessly pandering to our most unwholesome appetites.

 

However, we would be well advised to ponder this inescapable fact: The overindulgence in unhealthy but palatable foods portends health problems in the long run, bound to become reasons for lament. Above all, these problems are never strictly physical, as everything is interconnected. A body debilitated by illness imperceptibly corrupts the mind, which ends up adopting an attitude consistent with its lack of vitality. It spontaneously grows pessimistic and nihilistic, or even suicidal, and any prospect of physical and moral fulfillment closes shut like an armored door.

 

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Note also that such a diet (besides other components of a wholesome lifestyle, e.g., regular exercise) is an extension of the vital process, which constantly renews the physiological conditions of its existence, through tissue re-generation and sexual reproduction, thanks to an adequate intake of energy and matter from the environment. To sum up, life is an end in itself that can be defined as a feedback loop whose effect supports the cause.

 

This summary has far-reaching implications. Indeed, who-ever explicitly says end in itself, regarding the human subject, living and conscious, who has an instinctive desire to live, also implicitly says good in itself, insofar as life is considered desirable, because it warrants the hope for well-being.

 

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I propose the following thesis that is profoundly unifying, despite its uncertainty regarding the animated aspects of the world that appear alien to us: Far from a “static” equilibrium (maxentropy), universal nature spontaneously tends toward a good of formidable inventiveness that provides a dynamic solution (negentropy) to the problem of disequilibrium.

 

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For each evolutionary point, I imagine an hourglass, formed of two superimposed pyramids, one upside down, above, and the other right side up, below, joined by the vertices, precisely at the point where time keeps pace with changes. The pyramid below symbolizes the creative potential of universal nature, whose punctual and variable actualization is concentrated at the top in this point. The latter also marks the vertex of the pyramid above, which symbolizes the birth of a developing entity, either dissipative or living.

 

This entity is one with the universal nature that founds it, equally in terms of the dissipative or living end it pursues and in terms of the means it employs to achieve this end. Therefore, each entity is born and dies, at the level of its phenomenal, temporal reality, but also transcends this cycle of birth and death, at the level of its fundamental, timeless reality. Likewise, a wave appears then disappears, while the ocean from which it emerges before immerging back into the watery depths, beneath the surface of appearances, remains infinitely.

 

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It should be emphasized that science (in the strict sense of knowledge based on the observation of outer reality and calculation) has accustomed us to spectacular results in its description, prediction and manipulation of the formal relationships that prevail between the structural and functional elements of the world, so spectacular, in fact, that we have developed toward it excessive expectations, out of proportion to its area of ​​expertise. Indeed, its descriptive formalism, of great practical and technological value, conceals a restrictive methodological choice at the core of the scientific project—a choice that dates back to the Age of Enlightenment and condemns this project to incompleteness, with all due respect to those who claim the opposite by limiting the world to its material aspect, in order to save face.

 

As of the 17th century, the scientific method was first applied to the so-called exact sciences, such as astronomy, physics and biology, which are separate from psychology (outside behaviorism), sociology and philosophy, among other fields of human knowledge that nevertheless aspire to a certain form of experimental rigor.mm

 

In short, this method restricts the scope of its investigation to things as objects (versus things as subjects), which excludes consciousness, irreducible to the brain, whose activity can be observed using functional magnetic resonance imaging. 

The irony therein is that experience and reflection, on which science is entirely based, depend on consciousness. We never step out of our heads, as subjects, and nothing is sure except the act of perceiving and conceiving, whereas the objects of our perceptions and conceptions—that are external to them from a realistic perspective—always pose a problem of fidelity of these to those, hence a problem of truth.

 

However, since these objects only exist in principle, outside our subjectivity, we are in no position to compare our perceptions and conceptions to them. Consequently, the only criterion of truth available to us is a measure of effectiveness. I assume that our mental representations would lead to maladaptation if they were inconsistent with reality. For example, if I cross a metropolitan boulevard during rush hour, convinced that I am roaming a field of daisies, where a few butterflies are peacefully fluttering, the prognosis promises to be unpleasant.

 

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Only after eons of evolution does human life appear, the most advanced form of dynamic equilibrium, which displays intelligence in devising a vital strategy adapted to its situation. This intelligence is possible owing to a highly developed cerebral apparatus, without pathological lesions, as brain research amply demonstrates.

 

In summary, the will instructed by knowledge is not the starting point of universal nature, however prodigious this nature may be, but its endpoint. Beforehand, a turbulent evolution had to unfold, in the wake of a determining trend and a groping process of discovery, spanning billions of years.

 

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Personally, I seek a happy medium between open-mindedness and critical thinking—firmly relying on the achieve-ments of science, without turning a blind eye to what we can see when we point our gaze inward. 

 

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Human life, among other forms of life, is one of the dynamic solutions (local negentropy + surrounding entropy linked to the consumption/degradation of energy and matter). As such, it constitutes a good, a pole of attraction—versus a bad, a pole of repulsion—toward which universal nature tends irresistibly.

 

That is, universal nature instinctively invests therein its creative resources, which are patently immense, hence the possibility of good to an appreciable extent, and yet limited, hence the risk of bad in a detestable measure. It reveals this mix of power and powerlessness in its dynamic solutions to the problem of disequilibrium, among which human life is an advanced example, not only capable of survival and happiness, but also susceptible to suffering and death. Perhaps we are called to be grateful and understanding toward universal nature, as toward a mother whose means are lacking in certain areas, despite her unfailing love.

 

The fact is that the universe shows no sign of omnipotence or omniscience, outside religious myths that all delight in hyperbole. This complacency is not without its drawbacks. A benevolent God that is also omnipotent and omniscient unnecessarily complicates the problem of suffering and death. The lesson is simple: Anyone who dreams of a fairytale castle, hoping that this dream will become a reality, relegates their home to the rank of a shanty. All in all, neither miracles nor prophecies have until now been more than improbable anomalies, awaiting ordinary expla-nations.

 

Universal nature does not have the luster of this God, glamorized with superlatives, but we would have to be blind to portray it as dull, since the deployment of its creative genius is enough to dazzle us. This dazzling is therefore contingent on an awakened mind, where human nature contributes to the brilliance of universal nature, of which it is the product.

 

This change of focus point, from universal nature to human nature and vice versa, is both misleading and revealing. Our nature remains human, finite in space and time, whereas the universal nature acting as its creator is ubiquitous and ageless. For this creator, our human nature is a good among others, except that it has a superior receptivity to truth, notwithstanding its susceptibility to error. Obviously, we feel a special love toward this nature.

 

Even so, this special love should not overshadow the general love that we ought to show toward the entire universe. The latter represents, for universal nature, a multitude of local and transient solutions to the problem of disequilibrium—conditional goods to which this nature is instinctively attracted. It is primarily in this sense that universal nature loves them, while our status as Homo sapiens (from the Latin homo, human being, and sapiens, wise) destines us to love them knowingly, thanks to an elevation of spirit that springs from our identification with universal nature: the creative foundation of our human form.

 

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Complementarily, there is another way of elevating our spirit to a moral height, leading us to transcend the necessary but insufficient love of self-love. We are nothing individually apart from the relationships of interdependence that link us intimately to our social and natural surroundings, as to their universal conditions. Thus, the human family and Mother Earth are not empty words, for they constitute our nurturing environment, despite the rigors to which they expose us. And the same goes for the cosmos, which is the cradle of our planet, comparable to a puzzle piece that only makes sense relative to the whole.