Listers, I've spent an inordinate amount of time re-organizing my computer files following a crash more devastating than Katrina. I came across this one file that I can't remember copying or why or under what circumstances I might have come across it. I suspect it may have been referenced on either this list or Theoria, though I can't quite imagine it being referenced there. Does it ring a bell with anyone here? -- I'm asking the same of Theoria so forgive if you've already seen this -- I googled the author and title and found it was from a sermon by a Unitarian minister, but that's all I know. I like it. Is it familiar to anyone here? Was it referenced on this list by anyone? Why do I have it? 2. Lynne M. Constantine: How Do We Know What We Know? I teach a class called "Visual Perception and the Arts" at George Mason University. The first time I taught it, I was startled at how much my students resisted what I thought of as a self-evident proposition: that we "see" with our brains, not with our eyes. Our eyes are just the means by which light is transmitted for interpretation to the brain; and so the apparently solid world we see is, in fact, a complex construction, not a direct representation. "No," my students say. "That cannot be. Things are things. They are outside us." Last week, through one of those lovely byways that happen when you spend time really talking with children, my four grandchildren and I found ourselves discussing eyes and brains. The three boys took the idea that we see with our brains in stride, and soon moved on to speculating about whether, if they could hook their eyes up to special computers, they might be able to see like dogs and alligators. But 11-year-old Jennifer Lynne worried about the implications of human sight. "I hate to think that we're trapped like that in our heads," she said. "I love the world." "But we aren't trapped at all," I said. "Think of it instead as an amazing power. You're always creating the world fresh-and you become part of the world by giving a new look to everything you see." She was quiet for a while. Then she smiled. "Yes," she said. "I can see that." But I admit I was putting a rosy face on it for her. Because my Mason students are right. It's extremely disconcerting and dangerous to accept the idea that perception is co-creation. In a wonderful book called The Object Stares Back: On the Nature of Seeing, art theorist James Elkins describes visual perception as sharp, invasive, acidic. "Light is a corrosive," he says, "something that has the potential to tunnel into me, to melt part of what I am and re-form it in another shape. Some things in me are different because of what I see, and that means-if I am willing to let down my guard and be honest about how this works-that I am not the same person as I was before." And that is the scariest thought of all. When it comes to perception, the world is not "out there," and the "I" who perceives the things of the world is not a fixed and stable self. Instead of a strict separation of the knower and the known, there is a between-ness, a mutual vulnerability that is essential to knowledge. Perception is, ultimately, relationship-not distant and emotionless as the old scientific paradigms would have us think, but moral, ethical and emotional to its core. I'm spending a lot of my time these days trying to understand the implications of that statement. I hope some day to have a long conversations about it with Jennifer Lynne. ******** Mike Geary Memphis