Its Own Falsity

I want to reassure you, my friend of so much desire, that I engage in no intended polemic against science. I have respect for the discipline, though its arrogance seems impractical. There are, though, many ways to think. And it is gratifying that in our age of decay science must acknowledge some of the elements of metaphysics, or at least science must ask questions that most scientists seemed previously unwilling to acknowledge as important.

It is with that qualification that I feel compelled to talk about facts, these things done. Facts explain to us what has transpired and what will transpire. They are the patterns that we see when we look to constant experience and these figures of happenstance give us the ability to tell the future, they allow us to control what will take place because we can predict, with our mighty probability, what will happen. They ae concrete in the figurative sense. We can rely on them in ordinary experience, and yet they are not ultimately reliable. When we look to the tiniest portions of reality, these particles that we see only when we smash bits of reality together, we see ever more uncertainty and that much more possibility. We do not know where they are if we know their trajectory; we do not know their trajectory if we know where they are. It ought to come as no surprise to any thinking person that at some more fundamental level there is a more pure possibility to what may happen. These are the particles of the physicist. They are form as opposed to matter; in truth they have no matter; their matter is only form, form as in a kind of structure attainable by the mind. Form makes matter such that matter is form. Another way to express this truth is that there is no matter.

Yet, these facts, remember them, are regular happenstance. We are able to rely on them for our thought and for our lives. Facts are regular occurrences, but they are not truth. It is this point that occupies me. Truth is more fundamental; truth is some synthesis of what is with what it becomes, what part of is that is-not. Martin shows how what is reveals itself as it conceals its act, an act that is what it is. Facts are the reliable portions of these particles. They are one stratum of the strata. What lies in the what of any thing is that it mates with a species of nothing. Pieces of not occupy predication, as well as truncation; as well as the movement of some what into another, or the separation of what is into another what.

My point in all of this is that facts are not truth; they simply happen. They are part of truth in the sense that every happenstance comes into and from truth, but mere repetition does not indicate truth. Mere prediction of what will take place is not an indication of truth. Truth is more fundamental. Truth comes from and with its own falsity.