Dear Organlearners,
Don Dwiggens d.l.dwiggins@computer.org writes:
>Fascinating; it seems that other people are necessary for you
>to perceive? You've written of your experiences alone in the
>desert; did you perceive anything during those experiences,
>or did your perceptions only complete when you returned to
>share them with others?
Greetings Dwig,
Yes, this insight came rather unobtrusively -- and in terms of my
desert experiences.
Consider a succulent plant, say XYZ., which has been collected only a
couple if times, say 100 years ago and 50 years later. It was
described after its first discovery. The description is in Latin. It
is based on the observations and subsequent perception of the person
who described it. Assume that no living exmaple of it in captivity is
available. Thus to perceive self how XYZ looks like, I have to read
that description so as to create a mental picture of XYZ in my mind. I
have to read it over and over again until every fact of observation
has been incorporated into the mental picture.
But as with all descriptions of botanical species, the description
applies merely to the morphological (structural) features. Very
little, if any, was noted about the habitat in which XYZ grew (soil,
associative vegetation, climate, conservation status, etc.).
Absolutely nothing has been noted on the phsyiological (processes)
features of the species. So my perception of XYZ is very skewed. What
I thus perceive of XYZ, is hopefully enough to identify it when
looking for it in habitat.
But where to look for it? Sometimes only the closest town (up to 100
miles away) has been mentioned. Thus when I happen to travel in the
vinvinity of that town, I begin to search for XYZ. I will usually
spend 2-3 days looking for it. By that time I will have stumled on
many other species, but not the one I am searching for. I will then
conclude that species XYZ must be very rare because it has been
collected only twice. When I arrive back at home, my search will now
be for locality data on XYZ. These data are pure observations -- no
percpetions are involved. I will go back to the herbarium exemplars,
trying to see if any minute note on the locality has been deposited
with it. I will contact other herbaria to enquire whether they have
any specimens of XYZ. I will describe (my perception) the plant to
other dessert roamers, asking them whether they have seen such a
plant. But all the time my focus will be on locality data -- a pure
observation already made by other people.
In about half the cases, I will get closer locality data. So next time
when I get to that region again, I will use the newly required
observations (from other people) to search for XYZ. I usually will
succeed if the plant is uncommon, but not rare. But when it is rare,
it becomes a personal endeavour to find XYZ again. In that case the
newly acquired locality data is usually useless. Because of the
rareness, plants will be few and far in between. Finding XYZ again now
depends on me and me alone. This is when the fun, passion and
expectation realy begin to pump through my veins. While walking mile
upon mile through all sorts of terrain, my mind rushes over all which
I know. To what other species are XYZ closely related? Where did I
find them? What can I learn from the physical properties of their
localiies which influences their physiology. Will I identify the most
likeable locality of XYZ in terms of this physical features. Must I
walk on the mountain ridges or the basins below? What can I learn from
their ecology like other plants and insects which will tell me more
baout XYZ? Thus, while searching for XYZ, much of the loose data in my
experiences with other species now become integrated into a whole.
Meanwhile, by doing this mental integration, a very important thing
happens. I must describe it to you because for me it has become very
valuable. My "powers of perception" as I call it, grows phenomenally.
I can spot a plant looking like XYZ (remember that I never have
actually seen XYZ myself) up to a mile away like an eagle. Normally I
would not even spot it 100 yards away from me. Usually I will scramble
like crazy to that possible XYZ, just to discover that it was not
really XYZ.
Often, when I do observe the real XYZ, I will get the gooseflesh and
shivers in the blasing sun in temperatures up to 50C. Usually, I will
then not scramble the plant. I will sit down, making a picture in my
mind there and then, even far away from the plant. I will then slowly
walk up to it, almost like a predator stalking its prey. When I reach
the plant, I will again stop, staring intently at the whole scene
(plant and surroundings) until I have in my mind a picture as rich as
the one I am seeing. This "forming of the whole picture" has become
very important to me. Why? Because it helps me to spot the second XYZ
even better.
Let me give you an example how my "power of perception" can grow. One
of the species which I have been searching for more than twnety years
now, is "Euphorbia albertensis" (E.a.). It has been discovered only
once early this century. I have spent many a day searching for it. Up
to this day I could never find it. But someone else did find it
without knowing it. His name is Johan Geldenhuys who lives at
Hartswater. Somebody told me about Johan and that he was also a desert
roamer. So I phoned him and arranged a meeting at the first
opportunity I had going into the direction of Hartswater. After some
small talk, he invited me to his aridarium. In his ardidarium he has
porbably close to 100 00 plants of several hundered different species
of several different families, 99.9% of them grown by seed. The novice
it would be one big mess.
As I entered his aridarium, I shifted my glance over his entire
collection. It took me about two seconds to do it. And there, amidst
the tens of thousands of plants, I spotted an E.a. (Euphorbia
albertensis, about the size of a medium onion), looking as big as an
elephant. We began to browse through his collection, talking about
each species as we moved on. After an hour I could not bear my
excitement any more. I asked him to move to the plant. When arriving
at it, he told me how he discovered it. It was kicked out of the rocks
by some animal. He looked for another one, but could not find another
one. He decided to take it back because it was in such a bad shape
that it would not have survived if he replanted it. He also said that
he never could identify the plant. (Unlike me he lives far from any
herbarium while I live close to the national herbarium.)
I told him that it was A.e. and how much I have been searching for it.
He did not even know the name. I told him that he was the second
person to collect it. Then, like a true desert roamer, he said to
me -- "then you must take this plant, it belongs to you."
Yes, he describe the locality to me, to the nearest ten meters. Yes, I
have been there afterwards, searching for it. Yes, I have covered tens
of square kilometers, but another one evades me. Yes, I have met an
old farmhand (85 years old) who lived all his life in that region.
Yes, I have described the plant to him. Yes, he have seen one plant
about 40 years ago. Yes I have taken him to that locality as close as
possible. He pointed it out to me and I serached for another one. No,
I did not find another plant.
Dwig, perhaps the above will give you something to think about.
When I was still a student, I noticed in my readings of people behind
their scientific literature that they often wrote about their
observations and perceptions going beyond the subject matter which
they have documented, but always relating in some way to it. Sometimes
I immmediately recognised that I have made similar observations or had
similar thoughts. But on other times I was utterly confused by what
they were writing, not understanding anything of it. When it concerned
a percpetion, it did not worry me too much. But when it was an
observation, I was perplexed. How could they observe something which I
could not observe and thus also found difficult to comprehend.
I think of Niels Bohr's "complementarity principle". Whereas I quickly
grasped his "corresponcence priciple" in terms of my own experiences,
easily perceiving it in terms of my won observations, his
"complementarity principle" remained an enigma for me. I had a
mechanical understanding of it in terms of my training in quantum
mechanics, but I lacked the deep insight of Bohr. My insight into the
"complementarity principle" grew ever so slowly that I began to wonder
why. Then about ten years ago I suddenly realised that my insight have
made a large leap. But I still did not know why it was so enigmatic
for such a long time. Only a couple of years ago I realised why.
We in South Africa have lived in a very fragmented society. Thus I
have lacked the experiences in wholeness and sureness to increase my
powers of observation and perception with respect to complementarity.
I was simply blind to it because of my immaturity. But, AND THIS IS
THE POINT OF THIS WHOLE DISCUSSION, were it not for Bohr, I would not
have been aware of my blindness. In terms of my long discussion above,
were it not for the first person who had observed and described XYZ
(say "Euphorbia albertensis"), I would have been blind to the
existence of it. I would not have spend days searching for it untill I
could see, touch and smell it myself.
This opening up of information is one of the key features of the
dialogue. We make each other aware of the things which some of us have
observed and perceived. In those things we often recognise our own
observations and perceptions. When it concerns our tacit knowledge,
such recognitions sometimes come with a shock. But most important are
those things in which we do not recognise our own observations and
perceptions, the things which perplex and confuse us. Sadly, when we
deem (judge) that those things are incomprehensible and have no value,
we fragment ourselves from our fellow humans, thus closing our own
understanding to merely our won observations. Worst of all, we will
not search for the unknown any more, but we will stagnate.
>From another perspective: does perception go on when
>exercising unconscious competence, e.g., riding a bicycle
(snip)
>And here I thought I understood perception...
I did not write about this bicycle example.
Best wishes
--At de Lange <amdelange@gold.up.ac.za> Snailmail: A M de Lange Gold Fields Computer Centre Faculty of Science - University of Pretoria Pretoria 0001 - Rep of South Africa
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