The pre-Socratic philosopher Parmenides would appear to be a crown witness for the emergence of philosophy out of contemplative practices (which I described as an important feature of philosophy in this previous post).

He opens his philosophical work with a description of a chariot ride – guided by goddesses – to the abode of the goddess Justice. She teaches him “both the steady heart of well-rounded truth, and the beliefs of mortals in which there is no trust.”

Some see this as a genuine description of Parmenides’ approach to gaining insight. A shamanic journey to the underworld where he is instructed by divine inspiration.

Others see it as merely a standard literary device: the invocation of muses and gods that is standard in poetic works of his time. (And why should a philosopher write in a poetic format? Possibly just because didactic works were written in that way.)

Here is some of what the goddess teaches Parmenides:

“There is the way ‘that it is and it cannot not be:’ This is the path of Trust, for Truth attends it. Then there is the way ‘that it is not and that it must not be:’ This, as I show you, is an altogether misguided route.”

So again, as with Heraclitus’ journey into the soul, the philosophical teaching is presented as a journey. There is a fork in the road, a choice of two directions. The two paths have ontological names, but as the image of the crossroads often suggests, the choice is also an ethical one: to go down the path of what is, or to chose the path of what isn’t. The (shamanic-)philosophical project of finding the truth is also the project of choosing to live in accordance with truth, of leading a good righteous life. Those who go down the path of “what is not:”

“stray two-headed; for confusion in their breasts leads astray their thinking. On this way they journey deaf and blind, bewildered indecisive herds, in whose thinking being and not being are the same and yet not the same. For all of them the path turns back on itself.”

The right path, the path of “what is,” leads Parmenides to the kind of non-dualism which we have also seen in Heraclitus: He rejects opposites such as dark and light, hot and cold, heavy and light:

“Mortal beliefs, listening to words which, though composed, will be lies. For they proposed in their minds to name two forms, one of which should not be named; this is where they went wrong. They selected things oppositely configured and attributed to them features distinct from one another—to the one form the bright fire of flame, Which is gentle, very light, and in every way the same as itself, But not the same as the other. This too is self-consistent in the opposite manner, as impenetrable night, a dense and heavy body.”

And it is the exclusive existence of “what is,” uninterrupted, unvaried and unchanging, that leads to this rejection of dualism and the view of a single coherent and sphere-like reality:

“For apart from ‘what is’ nothing else either is or will be, since ‘what is’ is what Fate bound to be entire and changeless. Therefore all those things which mortal men, trusting in their true reality, have proposed, are no more than names – both birth and perishing, both being and not being, change of place, and alteration of bright colouring. Now, since there is a last limit, ‘what is’ is complete, from every side like the body of a well-rounded sphere, everywhere of equal intensity from the centre. For it must not be somewhat greater in one part and somewhat smaller in another. For, first, there is no such thing as ‘what is not,’ to stop ‘what is’ from joining up with itself; and, second, it is impossible for ‘what is’ to be more here and less there than ‘what is’, since it all inviolably is. For from every direction it is equal to itself, and meets with limits.”

Parmenides argues for these conclusions about “what is” based on insights into the completeness and uninterrupted nature of existence. He argues that things must be different from the way the appear to the eye based on reasoning.

Given the strength of the vision though, it is possible that Parmenides’ well-rounded sphere of being is something seen, or experienced, more through contemplative practice than through logical reasoning alone. How can Parmenides so categorically deny the realities of growth and perishing, of change in the world all around us? That denial rests on the idea that there is a different way of perceiving what is: One based not just on sense perceptions but on contemplation of truths. And this way allows us to live more in accordance with truth.

That was surely a key moment in the history of human thought, when someone or a small number of people first had the insight that things could be different from the way they appear to us and that we should engage the mind and thought to work out a better view of reality. I can’t help wondering what kind of mental process first led them to this kind of insight, how they would have been received by their contemporaries. We know some of these early philosophers had difficult relationships with the communities they were in. They were thought to be obscure, arrogant, impractical.

Parmenides’ suggestion reminds me of a thought experiment I once read in a book about the geometry and mathematics of the dimensions: Imagine creatures of two dimensions who live on a plane and perceive objects in two dimensions. Now imagine what a sphere looks like that moves through their plane. It will be a dot, then a growing circle, then a shrinking circle, then a dot, then nothing.

The 2D creatures would therefore see it as a circle that comes into being, grows, the at some point starts to shrink again and finally perishes. Now imagine though one slightly special 2D creature, call it Parmenides, who works out a whole new way of “seeing.” It is based on some idea that what is cannot just not be, and vice versa. Through an astonishing mental effort he combines the two-dimensional slices of growing and shrinking circles and suggests that instead of concepts like the birth and perishing, growth and shrinking of a circle, there is merely a sphere that stays the same as it travels through the experience world of 2D creatures, despite appearances. How would other 2D creatures react? First of all it might still require a huge mental effort for 2D creatures to “see” what Parmenides “saw.” Some might react against it and argue that there’s no point in assuming anything that is not part of the world as it’s experienced. Some might just ignore Parmenides. They might tolerate what he says but simply think that it doesn’t affect them. They want to navigate the “real world” of growing and shrinking circles. Some might “get it.” and feel enriched by the insight. Some of them might develop new theories about the eternal life of shapes against the background of the appearance of birth, growth, shrinking and death. Who knows.

The existence of a “sphere” in real Parmenides’ philosophy and his 2D namesake is coincidental. I don’t mean to suggest that this exact thought experiment was what Parmenides had in mind. But what is relevant, is the radical nature of the insight based on mental process other than pure sense perception. The sheer mental effort of gaining such and insight. And the difficulty of communicating it, let alone persuading others that there is truth and relevance in it. How do human beings do that kind of thing? That is the job of contemplation and philosophy.

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