005_Correspondence course
The only time available for action is “now”. One thing we do “now” can be illustrated using three simple characters that we have already seen: tree (木), eye (目), and heart (心). A tree is anything that we can perceive with our senses. The eye—which is to say, the mind’s eye—focuses on the tree. It relays incoming perceptions to the heart—the seat of our value judgments. Now we’re thinking!
Each of the three bits that are bound together to make up 想 (introduced here) is a character in its own right. This suggests that 想 was created after those three bits were already in use individually, as one-bit glyphs.
想 also contains a two-bit glyph—相—that, by Canjeez logic, must have been created later than the two individual bits it contains but earlier than the final three-bit character. 相 (eye bound to tree) is a picture of an object under observation—something we have “in our sights”. It’s an intermediate stage in Canjeez evolution toward 想.
相 is also an intermediate stage in how we do “now”: the tree (木) is no longer “out there” in the real world. Now it is being observed by our senses, represented by the eye (目). The process by which the mind’s eye gathers data about the tree is one of tallying. We compare our perceptions of the tree and its attributes with similar items stored in memory. Do they correspond?
Let’s visit a now of long ago. Take a trip back in time and look at the tree through the eyes of an ancestor in an age before the first human settlements came into existence. Walking through the world in our ancestor’s shoes (well, in their bare feet, actually), what might a tree mean to us? Safety, perhaps: a place to escape from a predator. Comfort: the tree might offer somewhere for us to rest, shielded from the blazing sun or pouring rain. Survival: a source of food.
Now we’re eyeing a specific tree. What functional value, if any, does this one have? Does it offer something we want or need?
Well, we are hungry, and this tree reminds us of another one we’ve encountered before that had edible fruit. The tallying process returns a match. But the heart needs more data before it can make a call. Is this tree concealing anything dangerous? The heart issues instructions: Look. Listen. Sniff the air. Visual, auditory, and olfactory signals are relayed to the mind’s eye. Provisionally, the heart is reassured. This object of attention corresponds with what the heart feels happy about, and the way ahead seems safe. We move closer.
Up there in the branches, is that thing fruit? How does it look? How does it feel? The heart prompts further action. Visual and tactile signals are relayed back.
We have now moved on to a second object of attention, the fruit, but we are using the same process of scrutiny: 相.
Once again, attributes recalled from memory are found to correspond with incoming sensory signals. The heart gives us the go-ahead. We pick the fruit. After another round of sensory probing, we get another green light. We eat the fruit. Positive gustatory feedback. The fruit is good. The heart attends to this valuable information. A new memory forms.
What I’ve written so far might describe the behaviour of various creatures, not just humans. But none of those animals would be able to produce a description of that behaviour. For that, we need language.
I’ve used quite a lot of language to explain my Canjeez take on the character 想. Tree, eye, heart: three bits of information bound together to encode how we think about the world around us.
As humans, we can take a step back from the tree to see our own mind’s eye engaging with the tree, transmitting data about the tree’s attributes to memory, and receiving relevant data back from memory. We can take a step back from eye-bound-to-tree (相) to see our own heart attending to this tree-eye engagement. The heart responds to matching attributes: data correspondences that prompt a positive or negative reaction.
By encoding this process, the Canjeez 想 offers evidence that in ancient China, they literally knew what they were doing—how they were interacting with “now”. 想 encodes key information about human behaviour. From three simple glyphs, the sages of antiquity minted a priceless, timeless insight into how we engage with an object of attention.
By stepping back and making our own behaviour the “tree”—the object of our attention—we can follow in their footsteps and start to think about what we’re doing. How might that insight make a difference when we take a step forward, towards something that we want in life?