“From Argos she did chosen men convey,
Bound to fetch back the Golden Fleece, their prey;”
or those who have seen the straits of the ocean,
“Where the swift waves divide the neighboring shores
Of Europe, and of Africa;”
what kind of sight do you imagine that will be when the whole earth is laid open to our view? and that, too, not only in its position, form, and boundaries, nor those parts of it only which are habitable, but those also that lie uncultivated, through the extremities of heat and cold to which they are exposed.
For not even now is it with our eyes that we view what we see, for the body itself has no senses; but (as the naturalists, yes, and even the physicians assure us, who have opened our bodies, and examined them) there are certain perforated channels from the seat of the soul to the eyes, ears, and nose; so that frequently, when either prevented by meditation, or the force of some bodily disorder, we neither hear nor see, though our eyes and ears are open and in good condition; so that we may easily apprehend that it is the soul itself which sees and hears, and not those parts which are, as it were, but windows to the soul, by means of which, however, she can perceive nothing, unless she is on the spot, and exerts herself.
How shall we account for the fact that by the same power of thinking we comprehend the most different things—as color, taste, heat, smell, and sound—which the soul could never know by her five messengers, unless everything were referred to her, and she were the sole judge of all?
And we shall certainly discover these things in a more clear and perfect degree when the soul is disengaged from the body, and has arrived at that goal to which nature leads her; for at present, notwithstanding nature has contrived, with the greatest skill, those channels which lead from the body to the soul, yet are they, in some way or other, stopped up with earthy and concrete bodies; but when we shall be nothing but soul, then nothing will interfere to prevent our seeing everything in its real substance and in its true character.
“If you think this is impressive, you haven’t seen anything yet!”
I am too easily drawn to being cynical and bitter, and so I am deeply suspicious when anyone tells me that the best is yet to come. I should hardly be so small-minded, however, since if I do recognize the good in one thing, would I not also seek out what is even better in another?
A scene of great beauty in nature can take the breath away, and yet the inquiring mind can only wonder what stands behind it all, how this one little part fits into a perfect whole. To see the effect, I am drawn to understanding the cause. Instead of settling for the scraps, I wish to partake of the feast.
Yes, Cicero is showing his love of Plato here, and that encourages me, because it indicates a thinker who wants to get behind the appearances to the reality, move from the particulars to the universal, and measure the relative by the absolute. I am always at my best when I try to rise to such heights, always at my worst when I stare at my shoes.
Any attempt to engage in such a calling will take the mind where the senses alone can no longer go, and Cicero has been pointing to this peculiar quality of the intelligible as a sign that the soul would seem to be more than just an arrangement of matter. Since consciousness, therefore, is operating separately from the body, it must have some sort of existence independently of the body.
What Cicero says next may seem quite ridiculous at first, especially to a pure materialist, but it is prudent to ponder it slowly and carefully. How could it be that the eyes do not see, or that the ears do not hear, or that the body has no senses? Far from being a sloppy contradiction, it can be rather considered through a precise distinction. We are too quick to assume that any past thinking is clouded in ignorance.
The senses have the power to receive the impressions of things, but they do not, in and of themselves, perceive the nature of what those impressions represent. A likeness comes to the organ, whether by sight, hearing, taste, smell, or touch, and it remains merely an imprint. What is necessary to give it a significance, a context, a meaning by which it is judged? That would take an act of awareness.
The sense organs do not provide that, as they are like openings, or channels, or mediums. Hence the senses, narrowly speaking, do not sense, though a person employs the senses, broadly speaking, in order to experience.
Please forgive my poor analogies; they are the best that I can do:
A camera is used to take a photo, and whether the process is chemical or digital, an image is imprinted by means of light drawn through a lens. There that image remains, quite without any purpose at all, until someone bothers to gaze upon it, analyze it, interpret it.
Only a few months ago, I was handed a letter. I am not a popular fellow by any means, but I do receive a few every day in the department mailbox, even if they are just adverts. This one, however, had apparently gotten lost in the system somehow, and it had spent almost four years in limbo. I was not at all happy to receive it, as it contained a sad message.
Now that letter had been there all along, while I was completely unaware of it; the content was something that would have been helpful to know. The message had been sent, yet no one had received it.
So it is with the senses. They provide the mind with an opportunity to understand, while never providing any understanding.
“I saw it! It must be true!”
No, you saw it, and now is the time to judge it. You heard, and you forgot to listen.
Perhaps the body is not all that we are, but can actually end up being a limitation to all that we can be.
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