One of the hardest, most profound, and most illuminating lessons that I’ve learned is that truth is hard to find. It is hard to be right about anything. It’s much harder than people think.
“One of the first tricks in Penn and Teller’s Las Vegas show begins when Teller—the short, quiet one—strolls onstage with a lit cigarette, inhales, drops it to the floor, and stamps it out. Then he takes another cigarette from his suit pocket and lights it.
No magic there, right? But then Teller pivots so the audience can see him from the other side. He goes through the same set of motions, except this time everything is different: Much of what just transpired, the audience now perceives, was a charade, a carefully orchestrated stack of lies. He doesn’t stamp out the first cigarette—he palms it, then puts it in his ear. There is no second cigarette; it’s a pencil stub. The smoke from the first butt is real, but the lighter used on the pencil is actually a flashlight. Yet the illusion is executed so perfectly that every step looks real, even when you’re shown that it is not.
The trick is called Looks Simple, and the point is that even a puff on a cigarette, closely examined, can disintegrate into smoke and mirrors. ‘People take reality for granted,’ Teller says shortly before stepping onstage. ‘Reality seems so simple. We just open our eyes and there it is. But that doesn’t mean it is simple.’
For Teller (that’s his full legal name), magic is more than entertainment. He wants his tricks to reveal the everyday fraud of perception so that people become aware of the tension between what is and what seems to be. Our brains don’t see everything—the world is too big, too full of stimuli. So the brain takes shortcuts, constructing a picture of reality with relatively simple algorithms for what things are supposed to look like… This may be why exposing the ’secret’ of a magic trick is so often deflating. Most of the time, the secret is that we’re gullible and our brains are riddled with blind spots.”
- Magic and the Brain: Teller Reveals the Neuroscience of Illusion, Wired Magazine, April 20, 2009.
In a strange way, I believe that this is what the techniques of the meditative traditions (e.g., mindfulness based-stress reduction, zazen, etc.) may really be about: our normal consciousness is cluttered by concepts of the world around us. We create conceptual categories so that we can analyze and understand the world and then predict what it will do. These concepts are necessary because our minds aren’t capable of seeing all of reality. Consequently, as Teller points out in the article, our attention functions as a spotlight in the dark which reveals its subject but which necessarily conceals everything else. Our concepts, while necessary at times, leave us open to biases, distorted thinking, and unexamined assumptions.
In meditation, by clearing your mind of distractions and focusing on the present moment, you are, with practice, hopefully, able to perceive the world with more immediacy.
“We each have three lives: the untouchable past, where our mistakes are stored; the immeasurable present, where we make them; and the impenetrable future, where they group and marshal. The present is the bottleneck: and the only reason most human pasts are not more untidy than they are is that we can only manage one mistake at a time. That bottleneck is the pinch in the hourglass, the restrictor which means events must pass us by one single grain at a time. We could take this as an opportunity to see things clearly, but it seems we’d rather not — most of us prefer to speculate hopelessly in the unfathomable scale of the future, or flounder hopelessly in the massive scale of the past. It’s an unfortunate distraction because, as we often tell each other, once the moment has passed we don’t get it back.
What this means is that those who can see the present clearly, and who do view the past and the future with the precision of good perspective, have a tremendous advantage over everybody else. They have a different relationship with fortune than the usual fumbling that the rest of us can muster. They can slip through the gaps between events that others do not even notice. They can make coins disappear.”
- Dave Whiteland, Planetarium, September 9, 1999.