The sun rises, the sun sets. That is what we say. It rises in the east, flies around us to the west where it sets, then magically finds its way back to the east again while we sleep, ostensibly circling the earth. Then the whole process repeats.
This is what we once thought, until, in 1543, Copernicus convicted us of our ignorance with his irrefutable mathematics. Now we can be certain that it is instead the earth that goes round the sun, and it was merely the earth’s rotation — and perhaps a bit of arrogance — that provided us with our first impression.
But what significance do we assign to impressions? Is it wrong to believe in them? Believing them does not make them right, but neither does disbelieving them make them wrong. But how can we know which of our impressions, our perspectives, are contained within the set of things that comprise reality?
Perhaps this is the wrong question; perhaps the issue is one of need, rather than reality. Until a certain point in history, man had no need to believe anything other than that the sun went round the earth. This perspective created a more than sufficient reality. And for over two hundred years we had the impression that Newton’s laws of motion were absolute, perfect in every way. Then a man named Einstein came along and made us take another look at these laws.
Let us look again at the sun. The earth scribes a circle around it with a radius we call an astronomical unit — well, not quite. The path is more of an ellipse. But look closer. The sun is moving through our galaxy, The Milky Way, dragging the earth along with it. Now the earth’s path begins to resemble the loops a child makes when first learning to write in script. Still, this perspective — and bear in mind that it is only just that — confines us to a mere two dimensions. The galaxy is also moving, so our journey through space may more resemble a distorted spring.
Looking still closer, myriad gravitational forces, pulling on both the sun and the earth, further complicate our path. Given sufficient gravity, the very fabric of space itself comes into play, adding yet more complexity.
How do we arrive at our impressions? From what we see? Our eyes register all the rainbow colors of light from red to violet. But the colors of light we see comprise only a small part of the electromagnetic spectrum. How small? What would be your guess? Three percent, perhaps? Think smaller. Try one hundredth of one millionth of one millionth of three percent. A mere drop in the ocean.
From this are we to conclude that we may be perceiving only an infinitesimal part of reality? We hear, taste, smell, and feel, as well as see. These additional senses should compensate — right?
Now I offer you this question: Is reality defined by our capacity to perceive it?
