The Incidental Corridor of Continued Existence, No.649

When we think of the continued existence of an object it is in the terms of the constancy of the impression that is bound to it. In contrast to a perishing existence which may consist of taste, odor, temperature, the constant condition of an object underlies its coherence, as in a land mass, or an ocean, or something as simple as a door. If I am seated at my desk, I see a sheet of paper as a temporary impression which is now blank but soon to be filled in with words, marks, or anything I wish to cover it with. Its existence is constant as long as it is left as is. If my office door opens, the same door which is constant in my memory, which has the same worn look, the identifying shade of a fading color, a contradiction occurs in the form of a new phenomenon. The body which crosses through the door may be someone I’m expecting, or someone who is surprising me with a visit. I experience a totally new, unreflecting reflective impression, a spontaneous occurrence which creates an impulsive situation, one which motivates an act; to smile, frown, rise to greet my visitor, or stay seated with my hand held out as a welcoming gesture. This new experience immediately operates in erasing other impressions of constancy, as in the windows, bookshelves, or any object that I perceived when alone. The question remains about the ongoing existence of these objects, although I no longer perceive them as I had before. Moreover, my mind no longer senses as it has turned its focus toward my visitor. The only constant I’m aware of at that moment, is the open door which I can still see in the background and the wall of the hallway behind it. But, these impressions soon fade, as I exchange greetings with my visitor and lose sight, literally and figuratively, of everything else which had been the only sensed objects of my surroundings. They have perished, along with my impressions, into my memory, resurrected at some other time at the right moment, the moment when I’m again alone in my office and all things, all objects, return to their earlier setting. They once existed and reappeared as continuing to exist, but, as my chair has moved slightly, exist in a way I hadn’t experienced before since the angle of my perception has changed, also the light of day passing through the windows. What is perceived as constant, is now sensed as having been altered. Therefore, nothing continues to exist except what is sensed and what impressions are created the moment of perceiving.

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