Many scientific theories have survived through countless tests and remain theories, despite the insistence of the public that they are proven facts. Gravity and evolution, according to the scientists who study them, are theories, not facts. I subscribe to them, but in the full knowledge that they are not proven facts.
Anyway whats the use of theories that are left untested?
How can we know they are true?
Your question, though, is based on the assumption that we are working with untested and untestable theories. I would refer you to the conscientious labors of numerous mystics, all through history, who have put certain theories to the test, and provided convincing evidence of their effectiveness. No, we are not talking about so many of the dogmas and exoteric religious claims which most atheists and agnostic like to point at and mock. We're talking about something much deeper.
First of all, when the mystics speak, they are not usually attempting to put forward a host of facts and theories. They are providing a symbolic framework which has been found useful for centuries, for the purpose of generating the most immaculate virtues and the most ecstatic experiences. They repeatedly urge us not to take their words at face value, but with a grain of salt. It is not that what they are saying is untrue, but, rather, they are attempting to communicate truths which transcend our powers of articulation. If we focus on the words, the surface, then it is easy to mock. But, if we read them as they were intended to be read when they were written, and focus on what the words are indicating -- which is not themselves -- then we may begin to perceive realities which require no further proof.
Let me ask you,
Do you believe in kindness?
Is it a theory or a clear reality?
Is there merely evidence? Or proof?
Most people would say they believe, and that they have seen evidence. Many would say it is proven, if not by the acts of others, then by feelings they have personally experienced and acted upon for no other motive than to express what they were feeling; to express kindness; to be tender; to comfort and uplift, etc. Most scientists would label this "anecdotal evidence" and consign it to the scrapheap, if they hadn't experienced it themselves.
Next question:
Do you suppose kindness has limits, or do you believe a person can be so inspired and overwhelmed with kindness that they may be willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of expressing and imparting that kindness?
There are distinctions of degree, and distinctions of type, but, often, we give different names to things, seemingly distinguishing them by type, when only the degree has changed. When does a cluster become a pile, or a pile a mound? Or a mound a hill? Or a hill a mountain? At some point, maybe an arbitrary point, we say, "That's not a hill. That's a mountain." But, shave one inch from the top, and it is a hill once more.
Well, what about a mountain of kindness? Some would say, "That's not kindness. That's love." So maybe love is only a greater concentration of kindness? Still, there are many things we call love, despite the fact that they have considerable limits. At some point, we start to talk about "unconditional love". We don't change the word, we just add another one. But the distinction between some forms of love, and those forms which we call unconditional is at least as remarkable as the distinction between a mound and a mountain.
You step out of your house and are met with all sorts of advertisements and all sorts of expressions. You see a sign calling a hamburger "incredible". Somebody says to you, "Listen to this song. It's amazing." But, if the hamburger is incredible, and the song is amazing, then what words are left to describe experiences more wonderful than these? Can you use the same word to describe a peak experience that you used to describe a hamburger? I believe you will naturally reach for more grandiose terms. You will not think it an exaggeration to say that the moment was "mind-blowing", despite the fact that your head is firmly planted on your shoulders. You will say, "That was magical," even if you are a man loyal to the most cold-blooded scientific calculations. Even if you don't believe in magic, and are using the word metaphorically, nevertheless, you cannot imagine a more fitting expression.
It appears to be a fact of life, that people who believe strongly in goodness, -- and not merely goodness, but greatness, -- tend to be idealists. When they imagine love, they think mountains, not molehills. They experience feelings of expansiveness, and refuse to reduce those experiences to numbers, statistics, and manageable terms. They don't want to make things smaller which, to them, are larger than life. They find themselves, almost unconsciously, using metaphors in order to indicate the greatness, the overwhelming size, of what they are feeling. They become poets, who do not live in their imaginations, as lunatics do, but who allow their imaginations to impregnate reality with a level of significance which plain language cannot begin to express.
Even if you cannot bring your imagination to life,
you can still bring life to your imagination, --
and maybe, in the end, that is the finer thing.
The greatest poets tend to become mystics. I don't mean the most talented or intelligent, but the most idealistic. It's something of a paradox, since the mystic is really more practical than the poet. It's just that his dream is so big, it cannot possibly be channeled onto the page, -- it must be lived! Does it matter, whether the things he imagines are products of his own unbridled fancy, arising from the depths of his own ecstatic heart, or, if his imagination, like a sublime antennae, has taken hold of some transmission outside of himself? Even if we could prove one or the other, what difference would that make?
Not convinced? Sit tight. I ain't done yet.
One day, your girlfriend is telling you she "loves" you, but, then, the very next day, she breaks up with you. Did she stop loving you in a day? Of course not. She assures you that she still loves you, and maybe she does love you, but not the way she used to. You see older couples, still together, holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes, and you start to wonder, "Was that real love? If she really loved me, she would have been devoted to me. She never would have left."
Next question:
How powerful does love need to be, in order to be "real"?
And if you had an experience of love which utterly obliterated and put to shame everything else you had previously called "love", what would you call it? What word could you find, big enough to express that word? You might be the most skeptical man in the world, but I'll bet you anything you would not object to calling it "God"; metaphor or no metaphor. You might even start talking like these holy fools, speaking in grandiose terms, employing metaphors left and right. When love becomes so real to you, it seems to be present and alive. In spite of yourself, you may try speaking to it, or listening for it, as though it might have something to say. Have you ever listened for love? Or imagined what Love might say, if love were a person?
How many people do you meet in a day who seem unconscious or fake? They may not be literally sleeping, yet they are unconscious. They may not be made of plastic, yet they are fake. But, no, this is all metaphor! This is madness. We can't speak this way! Of course, they are real; they are people. You can almost touch them.
Perhaps the power and reality of love is only limited by the heart's capacity. Somewhere, someone may be transmitting songs more beautiful than any we can hear on our radios, since, if a frequency is high enough, no antennae can receive it. Does that mean it does not exist?
If the equipment is not fit to contain it, a powerful charge of electricity will fry it like a mosquito in a lightning storm. Is that level of voltage good for nothing, just because we have yet to build a capacitor which can harness it?
Edison made thousands of attempts to invent a lightbulb. He said, "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work." Eventually, he got it to work. Later, Nikola Tesla found a way to make it work in every home. Now, what about the millions of people who burn-out, trying to invent God, or trying to create in themselves a mind capable of harnessing the light of God? Are they failures? Or have they succeeded in showing us millions of ways not to make a "lightbulb"?
The truth is, history is full of enlightened people; people who got it done. It's not difficult to see and bask in their light. There's no need to reinvent the "lightbulb", only learn how it works, and build it for yourself. Build it out of yourself.
Jesus said, "Who has ears to hear, let him hear." He might also have said, "Who has words to speak, let him speak." Even if his words seem absurd to you, like the fancies of poets and madmen, or a pretty commercial, full of false advertising, he may really be giving expression to something more true than anything you have allowed yourself to imagine thus far. He may be transmitting on a frequency too high for you to hear. Raise your antennae! Lift your heart to God, and see what it picks up. It might just blow your mind.
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