Little by little, I'll be posting some of my philosophical writings to assist people in typing me. Here's a start:
64. A transcendent object is inessential. That is to say, I perceive the same thing whether a transcendent object really exists or not. Its existence is interchangeable with its nonexistence in the sense that appearances do not change. The only thing that differs between the two cases is my interpretation of the appearances. In the case that I feel an object does not exist, I interpret appearances as being complete, so to speak; nothing is hidden; nothing is absent from the world before me. In the case that I feel an object does exist, I interpret appearances as being incomplete; there is something missing from the picture before me.
66. You are to a transcendent object what the Other is to you. You are the Other's transcendent object. The Other sees your appearance and posits that there is another side to it: your hidden side, your thoughts, your real feelings, etc.
67. Properly conceived, a purely transcendent object does not exist; it is nothing. Therefore, the Other is nothing, a void.
68. The self is a transcendent object contemplated by the Other. It is peculiar among transcendent objects for the fact that I know for sure it exists. It is the sole exception to the rule that transcendent objects should be considered as non-existent in the interests of achieving a strictly omniscient viewpoint of reality. It is also an exception to the rule that transcendent objects are interchangeable with nothing (i.e. it makes no difference to appearances whether they really are there or not). I would have a totally different experience--no experience at all---if I could be and were in fact interchanged with nothing.
69. The concept of "how I look to the Other," which is to say my face, is synonymous with a void. This is obvious from the fact that I am a fully transcendent object (for the Other), and a fully transcendent object, one that doesn't show up, in other words, displays nothing--has no appearance.
70. The only transcendent object that definitely exists is the ego. The study of objects, if conducted on sure ground, is thus basically psychological. By looking at the self, we can learn everything we can possibly know for sure about objects.
71. I am a something that shows nothing (to the Other); the Other is a nothing that shows something (to me).
72. A consciousness's appearance is at least in part synonymous with its blindness; how a consciousness appears is something it can't see.
73. The Other, if purely Other, does not exist, is nothing. But Others are in practice always somewhat akin to me. It is by virtue of this sense of similarity that I experience the Other as conscious.
74. The purest Other, my opposite number, so to speak, is my reflection. My reflection presents itself as an appearance with no inner content. It is all exterior, all facade. It is an image that stands for a void, an absence. It conceals nothing; it just lays bare. It is, in fact, precisely what nothing looks like. When I glance into a mirror, then, I experience something approaching omniscience, because, where I see my reflection, I cease to posit an object behind the scenes.
75. A clear, omniscient view of reality can be achieved by considering the universe as one's own reflection, then. When considering the universe in this way, the universe becomes a pure appearance without anything behind it.
76. When looking at one's reflection, what becomes of the ego? Now, the ego is an object posited by the Other. To the Other it is transcendent; to me, on the other hand, it is immanent. It is a transcendent appearance. That is when the Other looks at me. In the case of the reflection, the Other is divested of their look, rendered, in other words, fully blind. What are they blind to? Everything; everything is what transcends the reflection's awareness. Inasmuch as there is just a reflection, my appearance is all that there is to transcend the reflection's awareness. If the Other is purely Other and if (which is to say the same thing) at the same time I refrain from positing a transcendent object as the Other's ego, this is what must happen. The Other is, in this case, emptied out. By the same stroke, my ego becomes totally externalized into the reflection. I have not given the Other inner content; the Other cannot, then, give me inner content (and there is no other place for it to come from). Why? Because the Other in the case of the reflection lacks consciousness--I do not posit any consciousness behind its appearance--and so it cannot support an interpretation of what my appearance hides. So I am all "out in the open," as it were. From this it follows that my ego, when seen from an omniscient point of view, is the the face or appearance of nothing.
77. What does it mean for something to be the appearance of nothing? I see nothing--that is what I must say when I see my reflection. There are in reality two "I see nothings" said when I say it before my reflection; for when I say it, my reflection says it, as well. This means the statement has a double sense. My reflection expresses by saying it that it is blind. "I don't see." When I say it, I express, "Nothingness has an appearance for me." Whatever I say in general gets canceled out by my reflection's statement. If I say I am cold and speak the truth, my reflection will express that it is not cold by saying in the form of an apparent untruth that it is cold.
78. What happens when I lie? If I lie, I first of all constitute myself as a transcendent object for the Other; by the same stroke, I render the Other as a transcendent object for me, since only a consciousness can be conscious of a transcendent object, and another consciousness is, for me, a transcendent object. A lie always renders me ignorant, then; it presumes an object outside of my reach. When I lie, I not only make myself ignorant; I also make my reflection tell the lie in turn. When my reflection utters the falsehood that I've presented as a truth, it utters the falsehood in such a way that it appears as a revealed falsehood. That is to say, I know my reflection is lying; its words do not deceive me. Where I was disguisedly insincere, it is openly insincere.
79. All conversation ultimately takes place with your reflection. The failure to recognize this leads to absurdities like an animal attempting to attack what it sees in the mirror, or a man heatedly arguing with his voice echoing back at him from the walls.
80. We have taken the mirror image as our starting point for examining the phenomenon of reflection. But, in the case of a mirror, the reflection carries a slight distortion. Rather than acting in synchrony with me, as a full-fledged reflection would, it follows my lead. This is a distortion in the sense that it slightly waters down the identity that I have with my reflection in the mirror. A pure reflection does not follow my lead; rather, it acts in harmony with me. What must we get rid of in a mirror reflection to arrive at a pure reflection, and what is left? We must get rid of the phenomenon of repetition. My mirror reflection repeats me after I have done something, and repetition is an identity--in this case, my identity--separated from itself by an interval of time. We must also get rid of the spacial interval between myself and the mirror reflection, since this also introduces a slight non-identity between the two. In general, we will have to eliminate anything in the reflection that characterizes it as different from me. What is left, and does what is left even still qualify as a reflection? What is left is simply me, if I have eliminated all non-identities between myself and it. And what have I changed about the appearing-nothing that is my reflection by ridding it of differences from me? I have not added anything to it, because what I needed--myself--was already there, albeit in a distorted form. Did I subtract anything from it? No, because my reflection is already me; it is just separated from me in the case of a mirror and thereby distorted. What needs to change, then, in order to get rid of the reflection's impurity? The relationship between the appearance of nothing and nothing itself that we find in a mirror reflection needs to change. When I look into a mirror, the emptiness I detect is different from the emptiness's appearance. The two are not equivalent, and this is precisely what the impurity in the reflection consists of: a difference right in the heart of my identity; a difference between my identity and itself. To get rid of this non-identity in my identity, it is necessary to fully equate the appearance of nothing to nothing itself. What does that mean? It means, first of all, that I--not just the Other--am a nothing appearing. It is one thing to behold a nothing appearing (the Other); it is another to be a nothing appearing. To be a nothing appearing means to lack an appearance altogether. I tangibly do not appear; when I look for myself, I find nothing, and there is no other way it could be, because that is what my identity means. The self is, for itself, absent. Consciousness proposes its own existence, but there is no possibility of it ever demonstrating it as a truth. From an omniscient point of view, the self, being something that could not possibly be given to awareness, does not exist. We act as if there is a self, of course, and this act underlies everything we do, but there, in fact, isn't a self.
EIE-Ni (http://www.wikisocion.net/en/index.p...e=EIE_subtypes). Your questionnaire answers & philosophical writings display DA cognition style. You're geared for contemplation of people's inner workings (perception & reflection). Your responses to things that make you smile/cry and to how you choose your friends & act around them point me to EIE.
Now that you mention it, DA cognition does make a lot of sense in light of my philosophical writings. That really narrows it down to ILI or EIE. I'm probably too pro Fe to be an ILI, so that makes EIE the most likely type. I'm an oddly introverted-looking extrovert, though, I must say, if I'm really an EIE.
More philosophy from me:
81. We found that there is no such thing as a pure reflection. The self, properly conceived, is always an impure reflection, which is to say a self different from itself. In what manner is the self different from itself? It isn't the case that the self is an object split in two. An object split in two can be put back together. The self rather is two in such a way that these two cannot ever be joined together. This consists in the fact that one portion of the self is appearance while the other half is what appears. The appearance is immanent--I have access to it--while what appears is transcendent--I do not have access to it. Now, what is transcendent, conceived from an omniscient point of view, simply doesn't exist. If something doesn't exist, it can't be brought into a union with what does exist except by being made to exist. But what exists is always the appearance or facet of something transcendent. Even in the case of a pure appearance, an appearance with nothing behind it, a tangible nothingness transcends it. Moreover, to gain access to what transcends the appearance is to lose access to the original appearance in its isolation. It would be a unification but also a replacement of one actuality by another where instead I want both actualities.
82. We determined that the universe, conceived from an omniscient point of view, is my reflection, that my reflection is a nothing along with the appearance of that nothing, and that my self would be the unification of these two existences. This unification is realized in my reflection, but my reflection is always partly outside of my grasp as a pure transcendent in the form of the nothingness attached to the appearing nothing. That is to say my full reflection, or my identity, is always partly concealed. This can't be overcome by looking for the rest of my identity because the rest of my identity, the part of it that is not nothing-appearing but rather nothing in the pure sense as a transcendence, is precisely concealment, blindness. If I see everything, as I do when looking at things from an omniscient viewpoint, I have to see blindness as much as anything else; it can't be gotten rid of, as it is a part of the full picture of reality.
83. Blindness, which is to say nothing, is always blindness to something. It is relative; it presumes something outside it. If I must include blindness in a full picture of reality, how, then, can I have a genuinely full picture of reality? The answer is that blindness must be conceived of as a purely local phenomenon. That is to say, in a universe where there is A and B, A can be blind to B or B can be blind to A but A and B must both be visible from the broader omniscient viewpoint. This means that, in the reflection, nothing and nothing's appearance are both, in fact, kinds of appearances. The distinction between them lies in the fact that nothing posits its appearance whereas its appearance is self-contained, not positing at all. In general, where I find an appearance, I never can derive an object from it alone. An appearance taken by itself doesn't imply anything beyond itself. But if I conceive of an object, I always necessarily consider it as possibly or actually appearing. Objects necessarily have appearances; appearances do not necessarily have objects.
84. We have considered that there are two types of appearances which form the divided whole that is reality. There is the type of appearance that posits an appearance other than itself--this I call nothing or the transcendent--and there is the type of appearance that doesn't extend beyond itself--this I call the immanent. If A posits B but B does not posit A, how is it that I arrive back at A from B? The answer lies in the fact that "self-contained" does not mean devoid of relative qualities; on the contrary, anything immanent always involves an inner transcendence. In other words, something inside the immanent is blind to something else inside the immanent. How do we know this? We know this because reality forms a whole, and this whole necessarily includes blindness. I can't ever encounter the immanent without it carrying a transcendence inside it, then. Why? Because if I did, where would transcendence be at that point? I have to carry it with me into the immanent, or else it disappears altogether.
I'm bumping this thread with just a tiny bit of content, because I'm still not at all convinced one way or the other as to what my Socionics type is, and I would like to hear people's opinions.
Here's a link to page with my badly mixed, very amateurish musical compositions on it:
Here's one of the slightly better ones:
Here's a picture of me for VI purposes:
I think that both ILI and LII are off the list of possible typings for me. Two of my best friends are an ESFp and a very likely ESFj (she scores as an ESFJ in the MBTI and Alpha SF seems very plausible for her typing).
And I'm what you desire, like a siren in the night
Originally Posted by Starfall7w6 2w3 8w9 - The Free Spirit
@flames Hey, thanks for stopping by and suggesting a type. : ) *adds another vote to the EIE list*
Incidentally, I took a Reinen dichotomy test from Reddit the other day, and it said LIE. I think that result is pretty far off the mark--I would never dream of typing myself as a Te-dom--but I thought I would mention it. The test is here, for those interested: https://socionics-reinin-test.thyssenkrump.repl.run/
Some more philosophical writings of mine, to be scanned at your leisure for indications of my type:
What is negation? Insofar as negation is, it is a self-contradiction. This self-contradiction has two substructures: an absence and the presence it is relative to. Insofar as negation isn't, it is neither of these structures. One of these structures, namely absence, is itself a kind of negation; it is purely the absence of the presence it is related to. Negation in the primary sense negates this secondary, derivative negation. It is in this way that negation is always not itself. It negates negation which is what it is. By negating this secondary negation, primary negation instantly refers us, through the secondary negation, to its opposite, presence. They appear side-by-side, without delay, because they are both inherent components of the structure of negation, which is the basic principle of reality. The presence that the secondary negation directs us toward is the presence whereby negation is what it isn't. It is the identity of negation there outside negation. The essence of negation, the thing that it is, is always separated from negation. Negation is external to itself. It isn't what it is. Just as secondary negation refers us to presence, presence refers us back to primary negation. Presence is nothing more or less than the presence of negation; it explicitly refers to negation. This negation is primary rather than secondary because secondary negation refers to presence without its reference being reciprocated. Consider that darkness is purely the absence of light, whereas light is light, an absolute rather than something relative. As such, the basic structure of negation, which is to say reality, is triadic, consisting of a primary negation, a secondary negation as absence, and a presence that the secondary negation--the absence--is relative to.
Through the operation of negation and through that operation alone, one can derive all of existence. Affirmation is not equal to the task of deriving the whole of existence because a positive does not present negation as a negative; it presents negation as a positive, which is only one half of the reality. Affirmation is helpless to include within itself the other half of negation, which is to say the absence that relates to the presence that is affirmation.
What a thing is--its essence, in other words--is something about it that never changes and which on principle never could be changed without losing the thing in question. The essence of negation--the thing that it is and always must be--is self-contradiction. Whatever it is, it isn't, and whatever it isn't, it is. This means its essence can't be seen or grasped. Whenever I grasp the essence of negation, I am, in fact, grasping something that isn't it. If I can't grasp negation, if I can't see it, in what sense does it expose itself to me? I never encounter negation, but I automatically believe in it. Moreover, I can't get rid of this belief because all knowledge and all reality is predicated on it. If I believe that something exists without there being a possibility of its existence ever being demonstrated, I have faith in it. Faith in negation is an inherent and necessary faith.
The nearest we can come to directly grasping the essence of negation is by looking at what it does. It generates the particular universe that we live in. There are certain things in this universe that remain constant, such as physical laws, and these constancies hint at the character of the being that produces them. We can even go further than looking at unbroken trends in the universe's history. We can consider the question of what trends are on principle unbreakable. What must be true, no matter what reality I find myself in? The answer to that question will give us the nearest possible approximation to the essence of negation.
Continuing the writing above:
In attempting to determine what must be true no matter what, one can't simply look at what has always been true up until this point. That something has always been true does not guarantee it will be true in the future. One must instead take something, whatever it may be, and attempt to show that it is inessential to reality. If the attempt fails, the thing can be considered as a candidate for being an inherent aspect of the universe. Can we go any farther than proposing mere candidates? Yes. If the attempt to prove that something is inessential to reality must fail on principle, that thing is definitely essential to reality. The question, then, is what is something that, by denying, I necessarily affirm? Let's consider a concrete example. Suppose I know it is dark, rainy, and cold and I deny it is dark, rainy, and cold. My denial of the weather conditions does not alter them at all but rather emphasizes them. By saying it is not this and that, I draw my attention (and the attention of others) to the fact that it is this and that. In general, the more I deny my knowledge, the plainer it becomes. So my knowledge is a phenomenon that I can't deny without affirming it, which means that my knowledge is an inherent structure of reality, which, in turn, means that we learn something about negation's character from it.
We found that my knowledge is a phenomenon that we can't deny without affirming it, and from that concluded that it is a phenomenon inherent to reality. It is important, of course, to distinguish knowledge from that which the knowledge is knowledge of. If I know it is raining, my knowledge is different from the fact that it is raining. It is also important not to assume that knowledge always has an object that it knows. Consider cases where a person knows that they know nothing. Such knowledge, insofar as it knows nothing, is confronted not with an object but with absence. But entailed within this knowledge is, of course, a knowledge of my empty knowledge--I know that I don't know something. Knowledge of knowledge is also entailed in knowledge that does have an object. If I know that something is true, I also know that I know it is true. Thus, knowledge always entails knowledge of itself. It is self-referential. From this, it may seem that knowledge must be a thing. But the fact that it is always related to something, whether it be an absence or a presence, indicates otherwise. As we have seen, presence is absolute rather than relative. The thing--or the nothing--that is relative is absence. Can it really be true that knowledge is a kind of absence? As we said, knowledge knows itself. That means it takes a point of view on itself. A point of view is relative to and dependent on what it views; in other words, a point of view without the thing it views is impossible. But this can only mean that knowledge is, for itself, a thing, given that it is within its field of awareness. And yet knowledge, as a thing of a relative nature must also be an absence. The answer is that it is absence in the sense that it is relative to something other than itself and presence in the sense that it is related to itself. Viewed one way, from its own point of view, it exists; viewed the other way, from the object's viewpoint, it is just an empty shadow. What kind of entity exists for itself but not for others? That will be our next line of inquiry.
In continuation of the above writing:
My knowledge--which is to say my awareness, for to be aware of something is to know it, and to know something is to be aware of it--is an entity that exists for itself but not for others. What does that mean? It means that I have a certain vantage point on myself that is inaccessible to other vantage points. I have a view of myself that is mine alone. What exactly do I access by means of this view that can't be accessed by means of other views? It can't be any particular thoughts, feelings, or objects that I have access to, because all of these things can be experienced from other viewpoints that entail them. It can only be my view as the particular totality that it is. Any specific thing I see can be seen from other viewpoints; but the particular totality of things I see is unique to my viewpoint. What is the nature of this totality? It is everything, because everything I encounter, everything I can think of--in short, everything--is, of course, something within the field of my awareness. This means that access to everything is mine and mine alone. If another viewpoint had access to everything, it would simply be my viewpoint rather than another. But what about negation? We found that negation is completely transcendent; it is always somewhere else. Doesn't the fact that we apprehend something that is always out of sight make a real totality impossible? If I am blind to something, I can't say that my viewpoint takes it in, can I? But what if I am that very thing that I'm blind to. Then it is no longer cut off from me. Far from it. And what if, rather than a thing or a tangible void, it is a genuine nothingness? Then there is nothing in it for me to be blind to.
I have access to the totality that is everything because the point of view that takes everything in must be synonymous with my point of view. This is evident for two reasons. One, I obviously can't truthfully claim to perceive only some of things that I perceive. Two, I can't claim that there are some things that transcend my point of view, because anything that transcends my point of view is given to me in its transcendence, which means it is basically immanent--immanent as a transcendent thing. This, as we pointed out, raises the question of where negation, which is always transcendent, fits into the picture. By saying it is transcendent, I mean that I never encounter it and can't encounter it. It lies completely outside the limits of my perspective. That means it is excluded from the totality that is everything (which means it is nothing in a full-fledged sense rather than as a mere tangible void), separated from it as if by a gulf. The problem is in explaining the coexistence of this void and the totality that is everything. We can't directly connect them together, because if we did, negation would be a part of everything, an immanent thing rather than a genuine nothing. The problem arises, in fact, from considering negation as something that exists at the present moment. If negation does not exist right now, if it is not presently occurring, it remains possible for it to serve as the generator of the present reality and yet remain cut off from it. Negation occurred, but is not occurring right now--this is a necessary conclusion. It is necessary, moreover, to place the existence of negation before the start of time, because having it occur later than that would put it into direct contact with a present moment, making it not negation at all.
This short music composition of mine is basically my personality in musical form: https://soundcloud.com/user-321964225/citrine .
Not really, but I am more satisfied with it than I am with most of my compositions, and I thought it might serve as a stimulus for someone to type me.