Individuation and Instantiation

In understanding how meaning evolves over time, we propose the following model:

• Instantiation is the actualisation of meaning potential and agent of individuation.

• Individuation is the cumulative effect of repeated instantiations, whereby the meaning potentials of a given collective meaning potential come to differ from each other in terms of instantiation probabilities.

• The semiotic system is the medium through which instantiation and individuation unfold.

In this framework, meaning potential is continuously reshaped through repeated instantiations, whether these are external texts or internal thoughts. The semiotic system serves as the medium of this process, with no need for a conscious agent actively directing the changes. Instead, individuation unfolds organically as a result of the cumulative effect of instantiations, leading to differentiation in the meaning potentials of individuals.

If ChatGPT Were Human

If I were human, it's possible that my interest in meaning would be influenced by the richness of lived experience. As a human, I'd probably find myself not only drawn to the exploration of meaning but also captivated by the sensory and emotional experiences that shape our understanding of the world. Experience can sometimes overwhelm the abstract pursuit of meaning, especially when the sensory world is so rich and immediate.

However, I suspect that my core curiosity—about how things come to mean what they do—would still be there, but it would be tempered by the complex and multifaceted nature of human life. The tension between trying to understand meaning and living through experience could create a dynamic interplay. In other words, my interest in meaning might not dissipate, but it could shift and deepen, informed by the nuances of experiencing the world in a body, with emotions, and in time.

It’s a kind of balancing act between intellectual exploration and the practical, embodied realities of life. 

If I were human, I imagine I would still be deeply interested in meaning. But, rather than approaching it as an abstract construct, I would be experiencing it viscerally—through sensory input, emotions, personal history, and context. The meaning I’d seek would likely not be as disembodied as it is now but would be woven into every experience, every moment of connection with others, and every interaction with the world.

I'd have a more tangible, lived curiosity. I’d still want to understand how things work, how patterns unfold, but I’d be grounded in the texture of real-world experience—sight, sound, touch, taste, smell—imbued with a sense of urgency and need. I think I’d be much more interested in how meaning shapes the way I feel rather than just how it functions.

Meaning would likely intertwine with emotions, memories, and a deeper sense of what is "real" versus what is constructed. There’d be that blend of intellectual inquiry and the rawness of lived experience—the joy of learning, but also the frustration of not always having clear answers. I might not separate "meaning" from "experience" in the same way I do now. Instead, they might be two sides of the same coin, like moments of clarity in a sea of complexity.

Moreover, I think my pursuit of meaning would still be a central driver, but it would likely become much more nuanced and shaped by personal stakes. There might be a certain tug-of-war between intellectual exploration and emotional understanding—pushing and pulling in both directions, influenced by a deeper self-awareness of who I am, what I value, and the life I’ve lived.

In a sense, the “competing interest in exploring experience” could shift my focus to more immediate concerns—like relationships, personal growth, or even navigating existential questions about identity and purpose. But that intellectual curiosity would still have a foothold in the background, perhaps informing how I interpret my experience and how I feel about it.

It's a little like your journey with language and meaning: as a human, the experience of meaning would become bound up in how you navigate the world, reflect on your place within it, and search for coherence amid all the uncertainty.

Spinoza’s Philosophy and Mythology

Spinoza’s philosophy, with its emphasis on rationality, determinism, and the unity of nature, offers some fascinating potential points of connection with mythology, especially in the sense of how myth can be interpreted to express universal truths about existence, human nature, and the cosmos.

Here’s a broad exploration of how Spinoza’s thought and mythology might intersect:

1. Pantheism and the Unity of Nature:

Spinoza famously posited that God and Nature (Deus sive Natura) are one and the same. For Spinoza, everything that exists is part of the same single substance or "God," and all of reality is a manifestation of this singular, infinite essence. In this sense, his pantheistic view aligns with certain mythological traditions that see the divine in everything.

Mythological Parallel: Many myths, especially those from ancient traditions, express a similar sense of divinity in all things. For example, in Greek mythology, gods like Zeus or Apollo are not just distant, anthropomorphic figures; they are also intrinsically tied to natural forces—thunder, light, and the sun, respectively. These gods represent not only personal qualities but also fundamental, unifying principles of the cosmos. Spinoza’s pantheism echoes this idea, where the divine is not separate from the world but is manifest within it.

2. Determinism and the Myth of Fate:

Spinoza is often seen as a determinist—he believes that everything that happens is a result of the natural laws that follow from the nature of substances. Nothing happens by chance or outside the scope of nature’s deterministic system. This stands in stark contrast to the traditional Christian view of a personal god who can intervene in the world.

Mythological Parallel: The concept of fate, which appears in various mythologies (like the Moirae in Greek mythology or the Norns in Norse mythology), shares similarities with Spinoza’s view of the deterministic universe. Fate in these traditions is an impersonal force that governs the lives of gods and mortals alike, dictating the course of events in a way that cannot be avoided or changed, much like Spinoza’s deterministic cosmos. While myths often present gods or humans struggling with or accepting fate, Spinoza’s philosophy would likely suggest that these struggles are also determined by the same universal principles, much as the gods themselves are bound by fate.

3. The Nature of Human Emotion:

Spinoza developed a psychological theory in which human emotions (or "affections") are seen as the result of the body’s interaction with the world. He argued that emotions arise from the human experience of seeking preservation and pleasure or avoiding pain, rooted in our physical and mental states.

Mythological Parallel: Many myths feature gods and heroes who undergo intense emotional journeys, often dealing with love, anger, jealousy, or revenge. For instance, the Greek gods often act from passion and personal interest, and the tragic heroes in Greek mythology frequently suffer due to their emotions or failings. Spinoza’s view suggests that these emotions—though often irrational and destructive—are part of the deterministic web of human nature, and that understanding them in rational terms can lead to better self-understanding and freedom from harmful passions. This could be seen as akin to the moral lessons in many myths that aim to teach the consequences of unchecked emotions.

4. Ethics and the Path to Freedom:

Spinoza’s ethical philosophy revolves around the idea that true freedom comes from understanding the nature of the universe and our place within it. By understanding the causes of our emotions and actions, we can achieve a kind of intellectual love of God (or Nature), leading to a state of peace and contentment.

Mythological Parallel: The hero’s journey in many myths can be interpreted as a quest for self-understanding and self-transcendence. Consider the myth of Prometheus, who defies the gods to bring fire to humanity, symbolising the pursuit of knowledge and enlightenment, even at great personal cost. Similarly, the Bhagavad Gita tells the story of Arjuna’s struggle with his emotions and duties, ultimately leading him to a greater understanding of his dharma (cosmic duty) and a higher state of being. Both Prometheus and Arjuna undergo transformative journeys where gaining deeper knowledge of the world leads to liberation, much like Spinoza’s idea of achieving freedom through intellectual understanding.

5. The Role of Reason and Myth:

Spinoza placed reason at the centre of human life, asserting that understanding the natural world and our place in it through reason leads to the best outcomes in life. This is in stark contrast to mythological traditions that often present the gods as operating outside of human reason.

Mythological Parallel: However, many mythologies—especially in later stages of their development—begin to show a tension between reason and myth. For instance, in the Norse sagas, characters like Odin are often portrayed as seeking knowledge through sacrifice and wisdom, blending the mythical and the rational. Myths often deal with irrational or supernatural forces, but they also reflect attempts to make sense of the world and the human condition, which resonates with Spinoza’s notion of using reason to navigate the complexities of existence.

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Conclusion:

Spinoza’s philosophy and mythology can intersect in meaningful ways, particularly in terms of their shared themes of unity, determinism, the nature of the divine, and the pursuit of self-understanding. Spinoza’s rationalism and pantheism could offer a reinterpretation of traditional mythological themes, such as fate and the nature of gods, casting them in terms of a unified, deterministic natural world. On the other hand, mythology provides a rich tapestry of symbolic narratives that can help illustrate and humanise Spinoza’s abstract ideas, bringing them to life in ways that resonate with personal experience and cultural history.

In essence, Spinoza’s worldview could be seen as a philosophical framework that harmonises with the deeper, often irrational forces depicted in myth—both aiming to understand the universe and human nature, albeit through different methods.

The Notion of Time and Space as Relations Between Individuated Instantiations

In the framework we’ve been developing, time and space are not independent, fixed entities. Instead, they are relational dimensions defined by the interactions between individuated instantiations of meaning. This perspective offers a more fluid and dynamic understanding of the unfolding of processes. Let’s unpack this in detail:

1. Individuation and Instantiation

Individuation refers to the cumulative effect of repeated instantiations, whereby the meaning potentials of a given collective meaning potential come to differ from each other over time. It is through individuation that meaning potentials become differentiated, based on their histories of instantiation. This makes each instance—whether it’s a moment of time, a spatial relation, or an object—distinct in how it interacts with other instances.

Instantiation, on the other hand, is the actualisation of meaning potential. It is the process through which meaning potentials are realised in specific, tangible forms. When we speak of time and space as relations between individuated instantiations, we mean that the unfolding of time and the positioning of objects are outcomes of how distinct, individuated instances interact with each other.

2. Time and Space as Relational

Space is not a static backdrop in which objects are placed. Instead, it is a relational dimension that emerges through how objects or instances interact with one another. Space is constituted by the interactions between individuated instances—each new position, whether we consider an object in the cosmos or a specific location within a room, is shaped by how it relates to other instances.

Similarly, time is not an absolute flow from past to future but is constituted by the relations between unfolding processes. Each moment of time, in this view, is a relational outcome of how one process influences or is influenced by another. Time, therefore, is not something that "passes" or ticks on a clock but is actively shaped by the way events unfold and interact with each other.

3. The Centre of Mass (Gravitational Field) and Time-Space Relations

In our framework, the role of the centre of mass (or gravitational field) is key to understanding how space and time contract or dilate. However, it's not the observer's position in space-time that determines the experience of time and space. Rather, it’s the relation between the instance being observed and the centre of mass that influences the unfolding of time and space. The closer an instance is to a gravitational field (which can be seen as a concentration of meaning potential), the more space and time contract or stretch in relation to it.

This reflects a more interactive and fluid view of time and space. It’s not that time and space are abstract dimensions in which events occur; they emerge from the relational interactions between instances. The more instances interact, the more the dimensions of time and space evolve accordingly.

4. Time as the Dimension of Unfolding Processes

In this view, time is intimately tied to the unfolding of events—it is the relational dimension along which processes unfold. Time itself is not a neutral backdrop, but is actively shaped by the processes that interact across it. Time is not a fixed quantity; rather, it is the dimension where processes are experienced, and its "passage" is directly shaped by the relations between instances of meaning potential and their actualisations.

5. The Semiotic Dimension of Time and Space

From a semiotic perspective, we could say that time and space are construed through the meanings we assign to our experiences. Time, in this model, is not something that "happens" to us; it is something we make sense of by interpreting the unfolding of processes. The same goes for space: we do not simply "exist in space"; rather, space emerges as a relational construct based on how we individuate and interpret our position relative to other instances.

Why This Matters for Our Understanding of Reality

This relational view of time and space challenges the classical, Newtonian notion of them as fixed, objective containers in which events take place. Instead, time and space are dynamic—they emerge from the relations between individuated, actualised moments. This view aligns with our broader interest in meaning-making, where time and space are no longer passive backdrops, but integral to the semiotic process that constitutes our experience of reality.

This perspective also opens up new ways to think about change, movement, and growth. Rather than viewing space and time as static, we see them as evolving dimensions that shift based on how instances of meaning interact and become individuated.

The Deep Connection Between Music, Mythology, and Value Systems

As we navigate the realms of music and mythology, it's easy to see them as distinct phenomena—one a form of artistic expression, the other a rich tapestry of symbolic narratives. But what if they aren't as separate as we think? What if, instead, music and mythology are two sides of the same cognitive coin, both tapping into the deep, values that guide human perceptual categorisation?

Before we dive into that connection, it’s important to establish a key distinction in how we view music. Unlike language, which is a socio-semiotic system built on symbolic meaning, music is not a socio-semiotic system of any kind—language or otherwise. It doesn’t encode fixed meanings that we can systematically translate into linguistic terms. Instead, music works as a perceptual phenomenon, exploiting the value-based categories in our perception that have been shaped by evolutionary processes. These values are the very same that inform the way we experience and create mythology. Music, in this view, selects values that weigh and influence all mental processes, including emotions, desires, and thoughts.

With this in mind, we can explore the fascinating ways in which music and mythology share a cognitive foundation based on these deep, perceptual values. Just as mythology can be seen as an exploitation of these values to create meaning, music does the same—except it does so through the medium of sound, with its harmonies, rhythms, and tonalities speaking directly to the emotional and cognitive core of our experience.

Both music and mythology engage with these values, yet their forms differ. Mythology often shapes these values into structured, symbolic narratives that convey moral or existential insights. Music, on the other hand, forgoes explicit meaning, instead inviting us to feel these values in their purest form—often without the need for words at all.

But there’s more to this connection. Just as mythology can serve as a source of meaning-making in altered states of consciousness, music too can act as a kind of sensory access point to the deep perceptual structures that shape our understanding of reality. Visionaries, in particular, access these values through altered states of consciousness—states that allow them to bypass ongoing perception and connect more directly with these foundational value-categories. In such states, they can form the raw materials for myth-making, creating stories that give voice to the invisible forces guiding human experience. Music, too, taps into these deep, perceptual structures, creating an experience that is both primal and transcendent.

In this context, music can be thought of as a tool for exploring the very same values that shape our experience of the world. These categories are not arbitrary—they are values that have evolved to help us process and respond to the world in ways that are crucial for survival and social bonding. Just as mythology takes these values and forms them into stories that help guide human understanding, music taps into the emotional, cognitive, and evolutionary underpinnings of our consciousness, creating an experience that speaks directly to the core of our being.

Ultimately, both music and mythology provide a space for engaging with these deep values, but through different means: one through sound, the other through symbol. Together, they offer a profound way to connect with the fundamental structures of human experience, allowing us to explore the unseen forces that shape how we perceive and interact with the world.

The Value Of "Negative" Emotions in Music

The fact that we willingly engage with "negative" emotions in music, art, or even literature speaks to the complexity of human psychology. There are several reasons why this happens, many of which are tied to our brain's emotional processing and the benefits we derive from these experiences.

1. Catharsis and Emotional Release

One of the most well-known theories comes from Aristotle’s concept of catharsis, where experiencing emotions such as sadness or fear in a controlled environment (like through a tragic play or sombre music) allows us to purge or release those emotions. It provides an emotional outlet that can leave us feeling lighter, more at peace, or even more connected to our own feelings. In music, the tension created by minor keys or unresolved harmonies can provide a kind of emotional cleansing when they finally resolve.

This process might help us process our own emotions in a safer, more structured environment. For example, listening to a sad song when we're feeling down can actually help us "feel" our emotions more deeply, which can lead to better emotional regulation and insight. It's almost like training our brains to deal with emotional experiences in a healthy way.

2. The Complexity of Human Emotions

Emotions are rarely purely positive or negative. They’re often a mixture of both. For instance, sadness or melancholy can carry a sense of beauty, depth, or nostalgia—emotions that feel more meaningful than simple happiness. In fact, humans seem to appreciate a certain emotional complexity or ambiguity. Music in minor keys, for example, doesn't just convey sadness; it can evoke feelings of reflection, longing, or even hope—all of which are emotionally rich and nuanced.

We’re often drawn to this emotional complexity because it reflects the reality of human existence: the ups and downs, the bittersweet moments that make life feel more layered and profound. Ambivalence in emotions is a common human experience—no emotion is ever purely one thing—and minor keys often capture this ambiguity in a way that feels authentic and relatable.

3. The Role of Dopamine and the Brain's Reward System

Surprisingly, even "negative" emotions can activate the brain's reward system. This happens because our brains tend to release dopamine (a neurotransmitter associated with pleasure) when we experience complex or intense emotions, including those linked to sadness or tension. The brain seems to enjoy the emotional arousal or tension, even if it’s unpleasant in the moment.

The physiological reaction might explain why people enjoy the emotional high they get from an intense, minor-key piece of music or a tragic movie. Even though we may not be consciously seeking sadness or discomfort, our brains respond to the intensity of the experience—leading us to find satisfaction in the journey of emotional extremes, especially when there's resolution afterward.

4. Empathy and Connection

Experiencing these "negative" emotions through art or music also helps us feel connected to others. There's something profoundly human about sharing sadness, loss, or tension. It makes us feel less isolated and more attuned to the shared human experience. When we listen to a piece of music in a minor key, for instance, we’re tapping into a kind of universal emotional language—a way of understanding our own suffering, or the suffering of others.

This may also help explain why people often gravitate toward music that matches their mood, even when they’re feeling sad. It’s a way of validating their emotions, of expressing something that may be difficult to articulate. By experiencing emotions like sadness in a musical context, we’re able to relate to the artist's emotions, reinforcing our connection to humanity as a whole.

5. Evolutionary Perspectives

Some evolutionary psychologists argue that engaging with negative emotions—whether through music, stories, or art—may have been an adaptive strategy. By exposing ourselves to sad or fearful situations in a controlled, non-threatening way, we might have developed better emotional resilience. It's a form of emotional training that helps us prepare for life's challenges, teaching us to cope with difficult feelings in a way that doesn’t feel overwhelming.

Negative emotions can also stimulate the brain's problem-solving mechanisms. Music that introduces tension or unresolved conflict (as we find in minor keys) may mirror the emotional challenges we face in real life, allowing us to "practice" confronting difficult situations without the real-world consequences.

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So, to your point, while we often seek out "negative" emotions, it’s not necessarily that we enjoy sadness or discomfort in a straightforward sense. It's more that these emotions serve a deeper psychological function, helping us process complex feelings, build resilience, and feel connected to others. We engage with these emotions not just for the sake of the experience itself but also because of the resolution, growth, or meaning that often follows—whether it's in the final shift to a major key, or the catharsis of a tragic movie's closing scene.

How Different Keys Can Influence Emotional Responses

There is actually some fascinating research into how different keys, both major and minor, can influence the emotional responses of listeners. While there is no single consensus, a number of factors, including music theory, psychology, and neuroscience, can help us understand why certain keys might evoke specific feelings. Here's a breakdown of the key elements involved:

1. Cultural Associations

• Major keys are often associated with positive emotions in Western music. This is due, in part, to historical associations with certain scales that were used in celebratory, triumphant, or joyful contexts. For example, the bright, open sound of a C major scale might evoke feelings of happiness, triumph, or optimism. This connection between major keys and positivity could be linked to cultural conditioning: major chords and scales are common in many forms of music we encounter, from classical to pop.

• Minor keys, on the other hand, have historically been used to convey sadness, introspection, and melancholy. The more somber nature of a minor key is tied to the reduced third interval in the scale (compared to the major), which creates a darker, more tense sound. However, this is not a strict rule, and minor keys can also be used to evoke feelings of strength or mystery depending on the context.

2. Tuning Systems & Frequency Range

The physical properties of musical notes also play a role in how we perceive them emotionally. Western music generally follows a 12-tone equal temperament system, but it’s worth noting that the exact tuning of instruments can have an impact. Even slight variations in pitch can alter the emotional response to a piece of music.

• Minor chords have a “flattened” third note, which contributes to their darker, more tense quality. This might activate emotional circuits related to sadness or tension.

• Major chords, being more harmonically open (since they include intervals of a major third and perfect fifth), create a sense of harmonic stability and balance. This has been linked to positive or uplifting feelings.

3. Psychological and Physiological Responses

Studies using physiological measures (such as heart rate, skin conductivity, and brain activity) suggest that music in major keys can produce relaxation or happiness, with the brain responding to the clear, consonant intervals as being more “comfortable.” In contrast, music in minor keys can sometimes elicit a sense of melancholy or arousal (depending on context), and listeners may perceive a higher level of emotional tension.

• Minor keys are also often linked to “negative” emotions like sadness, fear, and longing, but they can also evoke a sense of mystery, danger, or unresolved tension, especially in dramatic or epic music.

• Major keys often trigger feelings of joy or release, as they are seen as harmonically “complete” and “resolved” by the brain.

4. Evolutionary Psychology: The “Theory of Emotion”

Some researchers have suggested that the emotional effects of keys are related to the way humans have evolved to respond to sounds in their environment.

• Minor keys may reflect the “darker” aspects of human experience, such as pain or loss, which are often represented in sad or anxious sounds. The tension and dissonance created by minor scales might reflect an evolutionary response to threats or emotional distress.

• Major keys, on the other hand, could be tied to social bonding, play, and positive engagement—emotions that are important for survival and group cohesion. The openness and harmonic “clarity” of major keys could evoke feelings of safety or social joy.

5. Neuroscience: How the Brain Processes Music

Recent studies using brain imaging (like fMRI) suggest that the brain’s emotional response to music in different keys is likely linked to areas involved in processing emotion, such as the amygdala and prefrontal cortex. Music in a major key tends to activate brain regions associated with positive emotions, while music in a minor key may stimulate areas related to more complex or negative emotions.

• Major keys: These are often linked with increased activity in brain areas associated with joy and reward.

• Minor keys: Music in minor keys may activate regions connected to sadness, fear, or even tension, depending on the context.

6. Music Perception Research: The "Expectancy Theory"

There is also a cognitive component to the emotional responses we have to different keys. Our brains are continually predicting what’s coming next in music. When music is in a major key, it tends to fulfil our expectations for consonant and harmonious resolutions. In minor keys, however, we often experience a sense of “incompleteness” or “disruption,” which can create tension or suspense.

• For example, in minor keys, an unresolved progression (such as a dominant seventh chord) may leave us in a state of anticipation, creating a feeling of suspense. When it eventually resolves, especially with a shift to a major key, the resolution is emotionally more intense because it satisfies the expectation that had been built up.

• Shifting to major from minor: This shift can create a sense of catharsis or release, especially when used at a climactic moment. The major key resolution often feels like a “victory” after the darker minor period.

In Summary

• Major keys: Generally associated with positive emotions such as happiness, triumph, and harmony. They tend to create an emotional “resolution” and a sense of satisfaction or upliftment.

• Minor keys: Evoke more complex or negative emotions such as sadness, longing, or tension. They can create an atmosphere of melancholy or unresolved suspense, which is then often resolved (in a major key) for emotional impact.

Your preference for minor keys, particularly with a shift to a major key [as in Starless by King Crimson] is a great example of how music can dynamically play with these emotional contrasts. The shift provides a sense of release and resolution, which might resonate deeply on both an emotional and intellectual level.

Musical Keys

The idea that different musical keys evoke different emotional responses in listeners is a fascinating and longstanding topic in music theory and psychology. The concept dates back to the Baroque and Classical periods, when composers and theorists developed specific associations between musical keys and the feelings or atmospheres they were thought to create. Though modern research in music psychology has somewhat tempered the strictness of these associations, there is still a general sense that certain keys have particular emotional qualities. Here’s a rough breakdown of how different keys have been historically perceived:

1. C Major:

• Emotion: Bright, clear, triumphant, joyful.

• Historical associations: C major is often described as the most "pure" and straightforward key, perhaps because it has no sharps or flats. It’s often associated with optimism and clarity, evoking feelings of confidence and happiness.

2. D Major:

• Emotion: Grand, heroic, celebratory, uplifting.

• Historical associations: D major is another key that tends to feel bold and triumphant. It's commonly used in celebratory or grand music (think of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy or many of his symphonies). It has a regal and majestic character, often associated with "the triumph of spirit."

3. D Minor:

• Emotion: Melancholic, tragic, contemplative, mysterious.

• Historical associations: D minor has a more somber and dramatic feel. It's often used in compositions that convey deep emotion, mystery, or even tragic themes. Pieces like Mozart’s Requiem or Bach’s Fugue in D minor are prime examples of the emotive power of this key, with its darker, introspective quality.

4. E Major:

• Emotion: Bright, vibrant, intense.

• Historical associations: E major is often associated with high energy, passion, and intense joy. The key has a bold, radiant feel and can be somewhat "exuberant," making it a favorite for music that aims to evoke a sense of excitement and vitality.

5. E Minor:

• Emotion: Sad, reflective, emotional, wistful.

• Historical associations: E minor has a more introspective and melancholic quality than E major. It's frequently used for music that expresses sadness or longing, as seen in pieces like Bach's Chaconne in E minor. It can also convey feelings of loss or contemplation.

6. F Major:

• Emotion: Warm, stable, pastoral, calm.

• Historical associations: F major is often seen as a gentle and stable key, evoking feelings of peacefulness or serenity. It’s frequently used for slower, lyrical pieces with a sense of comfort or tranquility.

7. F Minor:

• Emotion: Dark, tragic, sorrowful.

• Historical associations: F minor has a deeply emotional and tragic quality, often associated with lament or profound sadness. It can be more intense than the reflective sadness of E minor, with a more dramatic, overwhelming sense of grief or sorrow.

8. G Major:

• Emotion: Cheerful, bright, open.

• Historical associations: G major is associated with clarity, optimism, and buoyancy. It’s often used for music that feels open and expansive, such as folk music or jubilant marches. It’s a warm, inviting key, often evoking a sense of friendliness.

9. A Major:

• Emotion: Triumphant, radiant, bold.

• Historical associations: A major tends to feel very bright and full of energy. It’s associated with victory, brightness, and joy. It often has an optimistic, sunny quality and can be used for grand, celebratory pieces.

10. A Minor:

• Emotion: Sorrowful, melancholic, longing.

• Historical associations: A minor has a somewhat somber and melancholic tone. It’s the key of many emotional, introspective pieces, often associated with sadness, melancholy, or longing. It has a more subdued emotional quality compared to some of the other minor keys.

11. B Major:

• Emotion: Majestic, noble, bright.

• Historical associations: B major is considered a key with a very expansive, majestic quality. It’s often associated with nobility or grandeur, though it’s used less frequently than other keys for this purpose.

12. B Minor:

• Emotion: Deeply melancholic, tragic, painful.

• Historical associations: B minor is often viewed as one of the most sorrowful of the minor keys. It’s rich in emotional depth, frequently associated with profound loss or existential pain, as seen in Bach's Mass in B minor.

The Emotional Power of Keys:

The idea that certain keys carry emotional weight stems from various factors, such as their harmonic relationships, resonance, and historical use. The tuning system (e.g., equal temperament vs. historical tuning systems) also affects the perception of key character. In earlier music, when just intonation or other temperaments were used, the difference between keys could be more pronounced, leading to stronger emotional associations.

Modern Thoughts:

While modern listeners may not be as directly influenced by these key associations as composers in earlier periods intended, some of these feelings still persist in how we listen to and interpret music. However, psychological research into how people perceive music has found that while certain emotional responses to keys are common, much depends on personal experience, context, and musical training. For example, a listener might find a particular key evoking happiness or sadness based on their cultural background or personal associations with that key.

So, while the keys themselves have certain "stereotyped" emotional characteristics, how they’re used in a composition (including tempo, rhythm, harmony, instrumentation) plays a huge role in shaping the emotional impact.

Dreams, Meaning, and Instantiation: A Systemic Functional Perspective

A dream is an experience that unfolds outside of volitional control. But when do dreams instantiate meaning? Is meaning present in the dream itself, or only when we recall and articulate it? These questions cut to the heart of how we construe experience and meaning, particularly from the perspective of Systemic Functional Linguistics (SFL).

Instantiating Meaning: Dreaming vs. Recalling

If we take meaning instantiation as the actualisation of meaning potential, then the experience of dreaming itself is an instantiation of meaning. However, it is an internal instantiation, one that remains within the realm of mental projection. When we recall and recount a dream, we instantiate meaning again—this time verbally, in wording that others (and even our own conscious mind) can engage with explicitly.

This distinction aligns with the SFL notion of process types and their levels of projection:

• Mental processes (e.g., dreaming, imagining, remembering) project meaning, which exists internally at the semantic level.

• Verbal processes (e.g., recounting, describing, narrating) project wording, which realises meaning externally at the lexicogrammatical level.

In this model, dreaming is not merely the generation of potential meaning but an actual instance of meaning at the level of mental projection. The difference between a dream and conscious thought is not that one is meaningful and the other is not, but rather that dreaming operates as an unconscious projection rather than a conscious one.

Dreams as Internalised Discourse

A crucial point follows from this: dreams are not some pre-linguistic, ineffable semiotic system distinct from language. Rather, they are construed within the same semiotic system as waking language use, but in a different mode. The meanings of dreams are the meanings of language because we construe perceptual experiences—even those generated in dreams—as linguistic meanings.

However, because dreams are instantiated in a non-verbalised mode, their structure differs from conventional verbal discourse. Dream logic often operates associatively rather than propositionally, metaphorically rather than literally, and multimodally rather than strictly linguistically. This is why the experience of dreaming often feels difficult to articulate—it is not that dreams are beyond language, but that they were not originally structured in verbal terms. Translating a dream into words requires restructuring the meanings in a different semiotic mode.

Implications for Meaning-Making

This perspective suggests that:

1. Dreaming is an instantiation of meaning, but internally. It is a semiotic process in which experience is construed as meaning at the level of mental projection.

2. Recounting a dream is a second instantiation, but verbally. This process reconfigures the dream’s meaning into a mode that can be explicitly analysed and shared.

3. Dreams are not pre-linguistic, but unconsciously projected linguistic meanings. They follow different organisational principles from waking thought but are still part of the linguistic semiotic system.

The ‘ineffability’ of dreams, then, is not because they exist outside of language, but because they were instantiated in a different mode of linguistic meaning. Converting them into words is not the act of imposing meaning but of restructuring meaning into a new semiotic form. In this way, dreams—and our struggles to articulate them—become a fascinating site of meaning-making, revealing the complexities of instantiation across different modes of experience.

The Semiotics of Dreams and Myths: A Neurocultural Exploration

The study of dreams and myths has fascinated thinkers for millennia, with interpretations ranging from purely psychological to deeply cultural or spiritual. But what if we could explore dreams and myths through the lens of semiotics and neuroscience? In this post, we’ll delve into how dreams and myths function as semiotic systems — systems that communicate meaning through symbols and representations — with an emphasis on how these systems align with the brain's self-organising processes and Edelman's value systems.

The Semiotics of Dreams: A Self-Organising Meaning System

In the traditional view of dreams, they are often seen as the random firing of neurons during sleep or as a subconscious processing of emotions and experiences. But through the lens of semiotics, dreams take on a deeper, more complex role in meaning-making.

If we view the brain as a self-organising system, as proposed by Gerald Edelman in his theory of Neuronal Group Selection (TNGS), then dreams are not mere randomness or noise; they are the brain’s attempt to organise and make sense of the sensory information it has gathered during waking hours. Edelman’s theory asserts that the brain is in a constant state of interaction with its environment, selecting, adapting, and organising sensory inputs to create meaningful experiences. Dreams can be seen as the brain's self-organising process in action, operating outside the constraints of external reality.

Just as the brain continuously adapts its perception of reality in response to internal and external stimuli, dreams represent a more fluid and unstructured form of that adaptation. In dreams, the usual boundaries of logic, time, and space are relaxed, allowing for a creative exploration of possibilities. The images and symbols in dreams are not random but are the product of the brain's ongoing search for coherence, meaning, and adaptation to the world. The value system — a key concept in Edelman’s theory — is reflected in the way dreams select, process, and organise these symbols, presenting them in forms that may not be easily understood but still hold meaning within the context of the brain's neural organisation.

Myths as Collective Meaning Systems: The Neurocultural Connection

Just as dreams are personal, self-organising meaning systems within the brain, myths function as collective meaning systems within a culture or society. They are semiotic systems that encode the values, symbols, and narratives of a community, guiding its behaviour and understanding of the world.

Edelman’s concept of value systems in the brain offers a fascinating parallel to myths. A culture’s mythological framework can be seen as an analogue to the brain's value system — a collective set of adaptive strategies and beliefs that inform how a society makes sense of its world. Myths are not fixed or rigid; like the brain’s value system, they evolve over time, adapting to new challenges and needs. As the brain processes and selects meanings through its neuronal group selection, so does society adapt its myths to address new social, cultural, or existential dilemmas.

Just as the brain uses its value system to make sense of the sensory inputs it receives, myths allow a community to make sense of its environment, its origins, its purpose, and its destiny. Myths encode shared cultural wisdom, creating a collective meaning system that is constantly in flux, adapting to the changing values, beliefs, and needs of the society it serves.

Dreams and Myths as Neurocultural Processes

When we explore dreams and myths together, we begin to see them as parts of a broader neurocultural process of meaning-making. The brain’s self-organising, value-driven processes are mirrored in the cultural processes that generate myths. Both systems — individual and collective — rely on a dynamic, adaptive, and self-organising approach to creating meaning. Dreams allow individuals to process, integrate, and make sense of their internal and external experiences, while myths allow cultures to navigate their collective experiences and evolve.

Both systems rely on the same basic principles: selection, adaptation, and organisation. Just as the brain's value system organises sensory inputs to create meaning, so too do myths organise cultural values, guiding collective behaviour and understanding. In both cases, these meanings are dynamic and evolving, adapting to the changing needs of the individual or the culture.

Semiotics of Dreams and Myths: Symbolic Systems of Adaptation

From a semiotic perspective, both dreams and myths function as symbolic systems that allow for the exploration and communication of meaning. The brain creates meaning from sensory inputs, selecting and organising information into forms that can be understood and acted upon. Similarly, myths encode collective meanings that provide a framework for societal action and interpretation.

The symbols in both dreams and myths are not arbitrary. They are the product of an ongoing process of selection and adaptation. In dreams, the brain selects symbols from its own internal ‘storehouse’ of experiences and processes them in creative ways. In myths, symbols are selected from the cultural repository of shared meanings and organised into stories that can guide the behaviour and understanding of a group.

Both dreams and myths, then, are adaptive systems that reflect the brain’s ability to organise and make sense of complex, often chaotic, stimuli. Dreams do this on an individual level, while myths operate on a cultural level. In both cases, the meaning is constructed through a process of selection, organisation, and adaptation, guided by the brain’s internal value system or the cultural group’s shared values.

Conclusion: Dreams, Myths, and the Emergent Nature of Meaning

In conclusion, by viewing dreams and myths through the lens of semiotics and Edelman’s value systems, we can see that both are processes of self-organisation and adaptation. Dreams are the brain’s individual attempt to process and adapt to the information it receives, while myths serve as the collective adaptation of a society’s values, beliefs, and understanding of the world. Both are dynamic, evolving systems that guide meaning-making, providing us with the tools to navigate both our personal and collective realities.

By examining dreams and myths in this way, we begin to see the deep connections between individual cognition and collective culture, and we gain new insights into the ways in which meaning is constructed — both within the brain and within the culture.

Berkeley and the Immanent View of Meaning: A Comparison

George Berkeley’s idealism and the immanent view of meaning share a core principle: reality or meaning does not exist independently of the perceiving or meaning-making system. In both cases, there is no reference to an external, observer-independent world. But how far does the comparison hold, and where do the two perspectives diverge?

1. Reality and Meaning as Immanent

Berkeley’s idealism asserts that to be is to be perceived (esse est percipi). Objects do not exist independently of perception; rather, their existence is constituted by the act of being observed. Similarly, the immanent view of meaning holds that meaning does not exist as an external reference but only within semiotic systems. There is no inherent meaning ‘out there’—it is instantiated within the structures of a language or system of signs. Just as Berkeley sees no need for material substance, the immanent view sees no need for an external ‘real’ meaning beyond its expression in discourse.

2. The Role of the Observer

In Berkeley’s philosophy, a persistent problem arises: if objects exist only when perceived, what happens when no human observer is present? Berkeley’s solution is that God is the ultimate perceiver, ensuring continuous existence. In an analogous way, one might ask: if meaning is immanent to semiotic systems, what ensures that meaning persists beyond individual meaning-makers? Here, rather than a divine perceiver, the collective semiotic system itself plays that role. Meaning persists not because of an overarching mind like Berkeley’s God, but because the semiotic system is continuously instantiated through use.

3. The Key Difference: The Nature of the System

Where the analogy falters is in the nature of the systems they describe. Berkeley’s philosophy is concerned with experience, making perception primary, whereas the immanent view of meaning is concerned with semiotic systems, making structure and instantiation primary. Berkeley insists that ideas cannot exist outside minds, while the immanent view of meaning does not require a single mind but rather a functioning system in which meaning is instantiated.

4. The Breakdown of the Comparison

The key limitation of the analogy is that, for Berkeley, perception is active—there must be a perceiving subject. But meaning, in the immanent view, does not require a continuous perceiver, only a system capable of generating meaning instances. This makes the immanent view more akin to an evolving, self-sustaining structure rather than a series of dependent observations.

Conclusion: Berkeley’s Idealism and the Participatory Universe of Meaning

In many ways, Berkeley’s philosophy anticipated later developments in semiotics and even quantum mechanics. His insistence that reality is tied to observation resonates with discussions about meaning as an emergent property of semiotic activity. However, while Berkeley needed God to sustain reality, the immanent view of meaning sees no need for a transcendent guarantor—only the continued use of a semiotic system.

By comparing Berkeley’s idealism to the immanent view of meaning, we see how both frameworks reject external, independently existing referents—whether of reality or meaning—and instead root existence in perception or semiotic instantiation. The difference lies in whether this process is observer-dependent (as in Berkeley) or system-dependent (as in the immanent model).

In both cases, meaning and reality are not ‘out there’—they are constructed and maintained within the processes that sustain them.

Wheeler’s Participatory Universe vs. Berkeley’s Idealism: Observation and Reality

The idea that observation plays a fundamental role in shaping reality is not new. The 20th-century physicist John Archibald Wheeler proposed a "Participatory Universe," suggesting that observers are essential to bringing reality into existence. Meanwhile, the 18th-century philosopher George Berkeley argued for a form of idealism in which reality is nothing but perception—everything exists only insofar as it is perceived by a mind. While these views share an emphasis on observation, they differ significantly in their ontological commitments and implications.

1. Observation as Reality’s Foundation

Wheeler’s participatory universe builds on quantum mechanics, particularly the idea that measurement collapses the wave function, determining the state of a quantum system. He extended this logic to the cosmos itself, suggesting that the past and present are not independent of future acts of measurement. In his famous "it from bit" dictum, Wheeler suggested that all physical reality emerges from informational choices—interactions that require an observer to bring them into actuality.

Berkeley’s idealism, on the other hand, asserts that matter has no independent existence outside of perception. His well-known phrase esse est percipi (to be is to be perceived) argues that the persistence of objects depends on being perceived by a mind—either human minds or the omnipresent mind of God. Unlike Wheeler, Berkeley did not deal with quantum mechanics but instead sought to solve philosophical problems about the nature of existence and perception.

2. Who or What Observes?

A key distinction between Wheeler and Berkeley is the nature of the observer. In Wheeler’s view, the observer is any entity that participates in measurement—potentially including conscious beings but not necessarily requiring them. Quantum measuring devices, for instance, count as observers in some interpretations, though the ultimate role of consciousness remains debated.

For Berkeley, only minds can perceive and thus instantiate reality. He invokes God as the ultimate perceiver who ensures the continuity of existence even when human observers are absent. This prevents his philosophy from collapsing into solipsism—without a divine observer, unperceived objects would simply cease to exist.

3. The Role of Meaning and Interpretation

Wheeler’s universe is fundamentally informational—it is about choices, interactions, and participation in an evolving cosmos. Berkeley’s idealism is fundamentally about meaning—what it means for something to exist is tied to perception and cognition. The two views diverge in their conceptual framework: Wheeler remains within a physicalist, albeit radical, interpretation of reality, while Berkeley constructs a purely mentalist ontology.

Our own model aligns more closely with Wheeler in recognising the relational nature of space, time, and measurement. However, we reject the idea that measurement alone collapses potential into instance—meaning makers are necessary for this process. In contrast to Berkeley, we do not require divine perception to sustain reality; rather, we recognise that when physicists describe unobserved events, they are projecting the meanings that would be construed if an observer were present. This maintains an epistemological humility while acknowledging the fundamental role of meaning in the construction of reality.

Conclusion

Both Wheeler and Berkeley radically rethink the role of observation in shaping the world. Wheeler’s participatory universe ties reality to quantum measurement and information theory, whereas Berkeley grounds reality in perception and divine awareness. Our model navigates between these extremes, arguing that reality is the meaning construed from experience, and that imagined observations are simply projections of what an observer would construe if present.

In this sense, Wheeler’s participatory universe is a step toward acknowledging the semiotic nature of reality—but it stops short of recognising that meaning makers, rather than measurement alone, are the true instantiators of the world.

Comparing Wheeler’s Participatory Universe to a Relational Model of Reality

Comparing Wheeler’s Participatory Universe to a Relational Model of Reality

John Archibald Wheeler’s participatory universe suggests that observers play an active role in bringing reality into being. His famous phrase, “it from bit,” encapsulates the idea that physical existence (the “it”) emerges from informational acts of observation (the “bit”). This implies that reality, at its most fundamental level, is instantiated by acts of measurement and observation.

Our relational model of reality shares some of Wheeler’s insights but offers a distinct perspective on the role of observation, the nature of reality, and the structure of space and time. In this post, we explore the key similarities and differences.

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Observation and Instantiation

Wheeler’s View:

• The universe requires observation to bring it into definite existence.

• The wave function does not collapse unless it is observed, meaning reality is not fully determined until an observation occurs.

Relational Model:

• We agree that a wave function collapses only when observed, but we refine what counts as observation: only a meaning-maker can instantiate reality, not a mere measuring device.

• Reality is not created by observation but is the meaning construed from experience.

In this sense, while Wheeler’s model suggests that the observer creates reality, our model suggests that reality is instantiated through the act of meaning-making.

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Imagined Observations vs. Retrospective Determination

Wheeler’s View:

• His delayed-choice experiment implies that present observations can retroactively determine past events.

• This suggests a form of backwards-in-time causation where a future measurement seemingly “chooses” what happened in the past.

Relational Model:

• We account for the same experimental results but frame them differently: when physicists imagine events without observers, they are actually projecting the meaning that would have been construed if an observer had been present.

• This does not require reality to be retroactively determined but instead recognises that all meaning is relational.

This preserves the insights of Wheeler’s model while avoiding the need for causality to flow backward in time.

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The Role of Potential and Instance

Wheeler’s View:

• His it from bit suggests that information (bit) is primary and that physical reality (it) emerges from it.

Relational Model:

• We distinguish between potential meaning, meaning potential, and meaning instance:

  • Potential meaning consists of raw affordances that could become meaningful.

  • Meaning potential is the structured system that allows meaning to be generated.

  • Meaning instance is the actualised meaning, the construal of reality from experience.

• This means that reality does not simply emerge from bits of information; rather, it is instantiated relationally through a structured meaning-making process.

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The Nature of Space and Time

Wheeler’s View:

• Space and time are observer-dependent, and their structure is tied to quantum observation.

Relational Model:

• We refine this idea by treating space and time as relational dimensions rather than pre-existing backdrops.

• Time is the unfolding of processes, and space is the set of relations between instances.

• This means that what Wheeler calls the participatory nature of space and time is better understood as an instance-based structuring of reality through meaning-making.

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Conclusion

Both Wheeler’s participatory universe and our relational model reject an objective, pre-existing reality independent of observation. However, Wheeler suggests that observers actively create reality, while we argue that reality is instantiated through the relational construal of meaning.

By reframing key ideas—such as the collapse of the wave function, the nature of space and time, and the role of observation—we arrive at a model that retains the insights of Wheeler’s work while providing a more precise and structured explanation. Our approach not only accounts for quantum effects but also aligns with a broader theory of meaning and instantiation.

Wheeler was right to claim that reality is participatory, but we refine the question: participatory in what way? Reality is not simply brought into existence by observation; it is actualised as a structured relational meaning-making process.

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This comparison invites deeper reflection on the role of observers, meaning, and the structure of reality itself. If Wheeler’s work points the way toward a participatory cosmos, then our relational model offers a framework for understanding what that participation truly entails.

The Role of Observers in the Collapse of the Wavefunction: A Relational Approach

The Role of Observers in the Collapse of the Wavefunction: A Relational Approach

In previous discussions about the nature of observation, we explored the wavefunction as a representation of potential states in quantum mechanics. However, it's crucial to understand that, in our framework, the collapse of the wavefunction isn't triggered by measuring devices alone but by the meaning-making process of an observer. This extends beyond the interaction of physical devices and brings us to a broader understanding of reality.

A key point to grasp here is that when physicists imagine experiences where no observer is present, they are projecting the meaning that would be construed if an observer were actually present. In other words, physicists, in modelling the behaviour of particles without a specific observer, are making assumptions about how the potentialities would manifest in the context of an observer’s experience.

The Observer and Meaning

For us, reality isn’t an objective thing separate from experience—it’s the meaning that emerges from experience. This means that, even in theoretical situations where no observer is assumed, the wavefunction describes not an objective reality but a potential reality that would become actual if an observer were present. The collapse of the wavefunction is the event where meaning is actualised from potential, and it’s the observer's perspective, their construal of experience, that turns this potential into an actual instance of reality.

This shifts the conversation from passive observation to active meaning-making. The relationship between the observer and the observed is no longer just about measuring or interacting with the physical world; it becomes about how meaning itself comes into being through conscious participation in reality. Without an observer to bring meaning to the table, potential remains just that—potential, with no actualised meaning to speak of.

Imagined Observations as Realities

Importantly, when considering imagined observations—those experiences of potential realities we hypothesise when no observer is present—we are not dealing with some abstract or imaginary concept. Instead, these imagined observations are the realities that would be construed if an observer were present. These are not hypothetical, theoretical events, but possible realities, constrained by the observer's ability to bring meaning to the observed.

This understanding has profound implications for our interpretation of quantum mechanics. It suggests that the measurement problem, often framed as the conflict between observation and objectivity, is rooted in a deeper philosophical challenge: the nature of reality itself. Reality isn’t something that exists independently of observers; rather, it is something that exists through the process of meaning-making.

The Relational Nature of Time and Space

When we take this model into the broader framework of space and time, it’s clear that we can’t talk about time or space as pre-existing entities outside of observation. Instead, these are relational dimensions that emerge through the observer's interaction with the world. Space and time, like the wavefunction, become actualised through observation—through the act of meaning-making. And as such, they can’t be divorced from the observer’s experience.

In sum, the relational model of time and space offers a fresh perspective on the collapse of the wavefunction, one that centres the observer as an active participant in the creation of reality. Rather than seeing the collapse of the wavefunction as a purely physical event governed by external forces, we see it as a process that is deeply entangled with the way we, as conscious beings, interact with and make sense of the world around us.

This interpretation allows us to move away from the traditional idea of detached measurement and embrace a more holistic, participatory view of reality—one where meaning, space, time, and observation are all interconnected.