“Metaphysics penetrates all science," claims Émile Meyerson, "for the very simple reason that it is contained in its point of departure.” The unknown and the impossible are preconditions for scientific investigation just as Gertrude Stein said they are for the genuinely artistic (universally). Hypologic involves the intercession of a governing axiomatic that imposes its arbitrary regulatory authority, not unlike how the month of January begins our year because a powerful Roman who dug Janus once insisted this be so. Because physics has increasingly dealt with principles not available to direct empirical scrutiny, it has become, according to Bjørn Ekeberg in his crucial book Metaphysical Experiments: Physics and the Invention of the Universe, “the only science in which theoretical laws are treated as more fundamental than phenomenological ones.”
The James Webb Space Telescope, a massively over-budget tool for brining back images of a kind, is not in any traditional sense an actual telescope. The JWSP is more than a little like the famous Large Hadron Collider near Geneva. Both work by translating data into computerized renderings on large digital monitors. What a particle accelerator tells you in data, the events it prioritizes, is based on the vast majority of information being filtered out; that’s what the tech has been told to do. This is experimentation as largely predetermined fishing expedition. Ekeberg: “Here, as in all scientific ventures, theory and experiment mutually determine each other,” meaning that even if all the complicated tech performs satisfactorily, there is still “the risk of paradigm failure.” However, from my standpoint, I believe it must be insisted that the paradigms will not fail ultimately, though the ride may remain hair-raising. The imagination is home of both God and Paradise. Things do not and cannot all fall apart, because we'll need them when we've gathered ourselves together sufficient as to go and get back up, pontificating our overzealous pontifications at the sun or whomsoever.
"I have made an effort to save myself from drugs," writes Antonin Artuad to a Parisian friend in May of 1937, "I have been completely off drugs for 33 days even if I have despaired of ever recovering without them, I feel everyday that I am getting better and that a mysterious and terrible being has been born inside me that I have never known, since I have never been free of drugs. Everything around me was supernatural until the stubbornness of the destiny of trials."
Whatever your heartfelt or not-so-heartfelt feelings with respect to the human faculty of imagination, it will forever carry tons more ready-at-hand ammunition than either logic or reason. Reason is especially bad, it's grounding principles meaning that it commences with its questionable thinking in service to one would-be hypological precept or another. For most of us at one time or another a strong enough emotion has allowed us to deny the irrevocable truth in front of our eye. In the kernel of the psychotic patient's delusion-formation is the corrosion of the casing that formerly kept the myriad populations in their proper appointed chambers.
Imagination is always on the warpath. You need to roll over on your back and expose your belly.
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