Exploring the Philosophy of Existence
I’ve always been fascinated by the simple question: what really exists in our world? As I dive into ontology, the philosophy of being, I uncover surprising paradoxes that challenge our everyday assumptions about objects like chairs and cranes, revealing deeper truths that might just reshape how we see reality.
TL;DR
I question whether everyday items like chairs truly exist beyond their parts, leading to intriguing doubts about reality itself.
Through examples like an origami crane made from paper, I explore how composition creates wholes that seem more than just their pieces.
Philosophers debate if ordinary objects are real or merely arrangements of fundamental simples, hinting at potential cosmic mysteries.
Paradoxes like the Ship of Theseus show how changes in parts challenge the essence of things, raising stakes about persistence and identity.
Ultimately, I realize we might be disturbances in stuff, not solid objects, sparking curiosity about the true nature of existence.
As I stand here, pondering what’s truly “here,” I realize that existence isn’t as straightforward as it seems. Take chairs, for instance—they’re ordinary objects we interact with daily, but when I dig deeper, I wonder if they’re more than just atoms arranged in a specific way. Ontology, the study of what exists, forces me to question if everything I see could be a dream or a simulation, yet even beyond that, there’s a core puzzle: can something be “made of” other things?
Consider this: I have a piece of paper that I fold into an origami crane. At first glance, they seem identical, but unfold it, and the crane vanishes while the paper remains. This highlights constitution, where one thing forms another, like the paper constituting the crane. It’s a one-to-one relationship, different from composition, where something like paper is made of countless subatomic particles—electrons, quarks, or perhaps strings.
Philosophers call these fundamental building blocks “simples,” things with no parts of their own. If everything is composed of simples, that’s ontological reductionism, suggesting wholes are nothing more than their parts. But what if our universe is “gunky,” with no end to smaller structures, or “junky,” where nothing forms a complete whole? These ideas make me question if ordinary objects like spoons or rocks are as real as they feel.
To define existence, I’d say something exists if there’s more than zero of it—like Pegasus in myths, but not in the physical world. So, chairs exist in that sense; I can see and touch this one right here. Yet, properties like its dryness and saltiness make me think about what things are like, not just what they are. We name objects and agree on them, but are those names an inventory of the universe or just our inventions?
Take islands—they exist, as dictionaries confirm—but what about made-up concepts like “incars,” a car in a garage? Or “trogs,” a tree and the nearest dog? These show how relations and properties can create things that aren’t objectively real. Ontological realists believe there’s a mind-independent truth, while anti-realists argue it’s all about how we carve up reality.
The special composition question asks when parts form a whole. Mereological universalism says any assortment composes something, even bizarre combinations, while nihilism denies that anything composes at all. For me, this leads to problems like over-determination, where composites seem redundant, and over-counting, where we end up with too many things in one place.
Paradoxes abound, like the sorites sequence: remove one atom from a chair, and it’s still a chair, but keep going, and suddenly it’s not. The Ship of Theseus puzzle questions identity when parts are replaced. These issues suggest ordinary objects might be vague or even illusions created by our minds.
Perhaps vagueness is a feature, not a flaw, as terms like “crowd” depend on context. Stuff, like water, survives sorites sequences without paradox, unlike things. This makes me think that chairs and people aren’t made of matter but are disturbances in it—hosted by atoms, not composed of them.
As I reflect, object fixation leads us to treat properties as objects, confusing identity with description. In the end, the universe doesn’t contain chairs or people; it chairs and peoples. We are the seeing, the disturbances, not the stuff itself.
These explorations remind me that while our concepts are helpful, they’re not always literal truths. Embracing this view resolves paradoxes and highlights how language shapes our reality, leaving me with a sense of wonder about what’s truly out there.
Key Takeaways
Existence is more complex than it appears, with ordinary objects potentially being arrangements of simples rather than distinct entities.
Philosophical paradoxes like sorites and Ship of Theseus challenge the persistence and identity of everyday things.
We may be disturbances in stuff, not physical objects, emphasizing the role of properties and context in defining reality.