Reason, Mathematics, Art, and More

Some things can't be explained by reason, for reason has its limits: "Why is there anything at all?" is one of the questions that reason cannot answer; the answer is "because there is." Reason requires assumptions, states, experiences, and if you assume none, then you get none. I am a person who loves reason, loves mathematics, and loves the arts. I love asking the question "Why?", but this doesn't mean that I worship reason, or worship mathematics, or even worship the arts. I am a learner, a teacher, a creator, and I feast on being, creating, connecting, and understanding.

I believe that the universe has purposes, has rules, and has soul, and therefore I seek it, I seek the underbelly, I seek perspectives. In mathematics, if you asked me, "What is a number?" I could not give a simple answer. I could give you the standard definition found in set theory, but I could also define them using Conway's surreal construction, I could describe them as a count or measure of something, or I could consider them as actions in a group. I understand numbers so well, my answer would depend on the situation, my mood, and the person who asked.

I feel like some people think that reason is the only way to determine truth, and while with assumed assumptions it's not that far off, I dislike that belief. We're more than just things of reason, we are more than just facts and machines—we're agents who can make goals and can use our minds and bodies to try and achieve them. We know and learn from experience, we make our beliefs and actions with experiences and intellect. It is misleading to assume that all truth is determined by reason, and it's misleading even in the context of reason to assume all statements are true or false—black or white.

Perfectionism is one of the strangest attitudes I've come across. It's strange because perfectionism does two things:
1) It makes doing anything harder.
2) It often makes the quality of things worse.
I know a lot of people who are perfectionists in something, and some mistake me as one, though I push back on that notion. I might correct you for being slightly wrong on something I know really well, but that's because I want you to correct me when I'm slightly wrong. I might be skillful in a thing, but I claim no perfection or genius in almost anything, and though I love being as correct as reasonably possible, if I make a mistake it's not the end of the world—it's a teaching moment, a moment where I can improve. Perfectionism does the opposite, so I shall avoid it.

I love finding commonality with others. People aren't that different, but people are also extremely different. I hate straw-manning someone: it's pathetic and shows a lack of fortitude in one's own beliefs and positions. I prefer steel-manning people because it makes me empathize and understand them more, and it helps me learn more about myself. How can people be not so different and yet extremely different? It's because of how we learn: we build our knowledge, beliefs, and actions mostly on our experiences that often vary wildly. If we treat each other with respect and avoid hostility, then our diversity would make us better. I see so often in politics, people straw-manning or simplifying problems. There are many cases where I feel both major sides are wrong, because one side ignores one half of the problem, claiming it doesn't exist, and the other side does the same but with the other half—foolishly calling the other side evil for it. It annoys me when I hear the same issue from both sides and both miss the mark, talking past each other, sometimes using the same flawed reasoning.

I love mathematics. It's not because it's logical, nor because in mathematics you can prove and know things for certain—which isn't actually true in mathematics—it's because it's a powerful creative medium and tool. It's like another avenue, another wilderness, another world to explore and understand. One thing that's more fun than learning or understanding more of that landscape is teaching it and exploring it with others. It's too bad the school system teaches the subject so terribly that most people don't actually understand the creativity and artistic aspects of mathematics, and too often learn to hate it. It's quite a sad sight to witness, because I know people who would love it if it was taught differently.

I love drawing, I love singing, and I love witnessing people's creations. One of the songs I've been thinking about recently is "Hellfire" from Hunchback of Notre Dame. When I was a young child, the song and visuals scared me, and I could tell that the old man was rotten—but I didn't have the experience, nor language, to understand quite what he was rotten with. Frollo is corrupted with two things: self-righteous, prideful blindness and a "burning desire." My natural disposition makes it hard for me to have that self-righteous, prideful blindness, no matter how many times people call me things like "too good for this world." I internally and non-verbally scoff at such things because I know my faults, and even then the world could use more good in it. But a "burning desire" I understand, and I can empathize with Frollo, despite believing him to be an extremely evil, hypocritical monster. His terror of doing something wrong, his anger about desires he doesn't want, and his begging and praying—it's deeply uncomfortable and relatable, but it isn't justifying.

When the self-righteous pride and the burning desire conflict, burning and freezing him alive, instead of looking inward and recognizing his fault and repenting, he looks outward and blames God for "making the devil so much stronger than the man," blames the innocent girl of being "the witch who set this flame." And after all of that, when the two conflicting beliefs collide, he twists his deeply flawed definition of righteousness to make the desire compatible with his blindness. His logic and reason is extremely faulty, but he cannot reconcile otherwise without repentance. When God takes away Frollo's object of desire, it's too late—because Frollo had already made his choice and won't take no as an answer. This is Disney's best I-want song, adding all the conventional aspects of an I-want song while giving a polar opposite emotional effect. It humanizes the villain while condemning him, and does not justify him at all.