On Reality Hacking and the Super Humanities

The great thing about having this new publication, TICKER TAPE, is being able to finally write about things that I was previously hesitant to associate with, for fear of diminishing my brand or status. TICKER TAPE is designed to be a Facebook and Twitter and Substack alternative, a place for me to throw thoughts into the wind, that aren’t necessarily compiled and edited in an overwritten essay format, that can then be discarded as needed.

It also lets me talk about strange things that sit just outside of what you might expect me to be interested in — that is, if you haven’t had a conversation with me after a few Yuenglings.

Today’s topic is Reality Hacking and the Super Humanities.

This topic and framing was presented in a recent conversation between Douglas Rushkoff (a media theorist and host of Team Human) and Jeffrey Kripal (an associate dean and professor at Rice University).

I’ve long been interested in the concept of retrocausality (the ability for future events to influence the past) if only because of my life-long trend toward collecting absurdities. It has always felt as though I’m moving toward something — not in a deterministic way (I’m a strong believer in free will and individual conscience/dignity) but view those through the lens of a kind of feedback loop: Do this, and that happens; that happens, and then this happens. With my memories in mind and goals mapped out, I move forward. Does that mean the future has, somehow, played a role in my present condition?

I was raised in-part by a German Catholic grandmother who, prior to my arrival, had spent over 40 years as a teacher. I’ve had the pleasure of reading a few of her college essays — both creative and academic. I can see her in those papers, in that writing, even though they were written 40 years before my arrival, and I didn’t read them until after her death.

Her writing from the 1950s has within it hints of the future and the past. It talks about dreams, angels, philosophies, and ancestry. It is so concise, so condensed, and somehow so understated; it’s plain simple, and yet complex. Still, obviously, her writing means more to me than it does almost any other person on Earth. No scientist could accurately capture the value I find within her writing in any meaningful way. Any explanation they have, in fact, actually diminishes the meaning — in its attempt to explain why and what I find so compelling, it layers an unnecessary abstraction over the original experience, the feeling that I have when I read her words, that she never could’ve imagined me holding.

The Humanities, on the other hand, can start to explain with some level of accuracy what I’m experiencing. Yes, these explanations will also involve abstractions — but they’re metaphorical rather than mathematical. 

Metaphors, not mathematics, are the best way to measure experiences and create new meaning. 

I suppose I should read some of Jeffrey Kripal’s books. At the very least, I appreciate that his Team Human conversation spurred me to think about this. And I’m glad a few weeks ago I started a project to create this new space, an alternative to Twitter and Facebook and Substack, where I felt comfortable sharing these pointless thoughts.