Part 1: On the Rejection of God
The Fruition of Knowing
Having now found ourselves upon the shaky grounds of human experience, where in which no knowledge can be built, at least not without worry, we must ask seriously of ourselves what to do. Do we indeed allow our beliefs of the world to remain in shamble and ruinous heap, to never be stood upwardly again; or, do we try to know of the world by some other means, do we try to re-establish our foundations?
If we reject the attempt to rebuild our ability to know, to accept the impossibility of knowledge, we fall into the isolating depths of the cave created by our uncertainness subjective experience; we shall ruminate in the eternal damnation of absolute skepticism. It would be as though on the most beautiful of days, when the sun shines brightly, the birds chirp loudly, and the flowers smell lovely, we have not a sense of warmth or joy; we would instead be much like a person living in an ill-lighted depth, surrounded by an icy tundra and a bitter chill. To know of beauty requires least of us an ability to know. So treacherous a fate sufficiently motivates my faculties to consider further the issue of epistemic circularity, as I most enjoy the delight bestowed upon one from the strain of learning: knowledge is a beauty worth our pursuit.
For us to return to our rightful mount of knowing, to sit atop a library filled with the wealth of the world, written in the language of experience, we need deal with the issue of subjectivity. As we cannot know whether our senses maliciously deceive or reliably present as the current state of the world is, we cannot, therefore, be certain. And it is when we lack such a certainty that we likewise lack all forms of knowing. But there might be, like water for a man of thirst, and despite our seemingly inescapable imprisonment of subjectivity, a method which can return to us our knowledge of the world: the books of experience.
If we sought a foundation for the tower of knowledge which we have built, though were incapable of seeing the ground from the ever so high vantage allotted to us by our tower, then we would have a tremendous problem: namely, we will be forced by virtue of our viewpoint to place down onto solid foundations our tower, while being without view of the validity of those foundations which we will place our tower upon. Thus, in the face of said circumstances, we might either mistakenly place our tower onto fragile foundations, of which beyond doubt will lead to the collapse of our tower; or, worse yet, we might be of the belief that, in respect to the spot where we will soon place our tower, there is a foundation, though in truth there is not. We have no means of knowing where to place our tower because we know nothing of the foundations, and this leaves us with but one option.
Life can aptly be characterized as an effort against the inevitable; we build against a universe designed to destroy. And build we will if we make a mistake about the foundations of our knowledge. Though the consequence is catastrophic, we nevertheless must act capriciously about our foundations for knowledge. As we cannot know with certainty about any possible foundation, it follows that we must speculatively assume our foundations. Much like with the tower, our vantage point stops us from seeing whether we are on sound foundations or not; so we must assume we are and see what happens.