Originally posted on my blog Sloth And Dignity.
Truth is unknowable, because we can only know with our minds. I mean, no, of course truth is knowable.
I’m sure, to an ant, truth is apparent: follow formic acid trails, dig in soil.
To us, probably the same—the truth of whatever is our own equivalent of formic acid and digging. Broader by comparison, of course, but equivalent in terms of being constrained by limits we know nothing about, out there on the impenetrable edge of our own capacities.
I wonder what an ant makes of the beach, the shore, the ocean. The sky.
An ant works in the daytime, but I don’t think it questions where the light comes from.
What don’t we do?