What a song Hank Cochran wrote. It has been sung by many, perhaps too many, from stars to bands in bars. Some of these bands no doubt had to put up with annoying listeners like me, who once began to sing "Make the Band go Away" after their version of this sad classic finally reached its conclusion.
But I have no wish to write more of the song, except to note its claim that it was the world which caused the heartache expressed in such a maudlin fashion. The world did it, not the one with the broken heart. He should not have....what, exactly? Succumbed to the charms of the wicked world?
Regardless, I wish the world to go away for different reasons. I find the world annoying, or rather the people of the world, or most of them. Those we see and hear about in any case, and their number is growing.
This makes me sad. I should not be annoyed. I strive to walk the Stoic path (has nobody yet written of the tao of Stoicism?), and so should be indifferent of that which is not within the control of my will. But I find myself irritated by so much of what transpires in the world I see, and sometimes wish that the irritating components of it would kindly go away. Or unkindly go away, it matters not to me. At least I'm indifferent to the manner in which it would go away.
We see, and hear, too much of the world and those people who inhabit it these days, as I've noted before in this place. I've maintained that the deluge of information and opinion we suffer encourages thoughtlessness and thoughtless response to thoughtlessness. I suppose I'm indulging in that now, thereby proving my point, to me at least. How does the world annoy me? Let me count the ways.
The politics of our Glorious Union irritates me tremendously; all aspects of it. Most recently, I scowl helplessly at the (most recent) calls for impeachment of the President for taking executive action on immigration. I can't help but wonder at this, given the long history of such action taken by Presidents in the past and given the enormous discretion it seems has been given to the President and the agency by the law and regulations. There is also, of course, the consideration that the House has refused to legislate, out of what I assume is what it seems primarily motivates our politicians--the desire to be elected and fear of not being reelected. The seemingly deranged reaction of those opposing the action leads me to wonder, once again, why it is this President provokes such rancor. More and more it seems to me to be fundamentally irrational, and contemptible.
But unreason is present everywhere, not merely in politics. It seems we flaunt our unreasonableness around the globe. Surprisingly, there seems to be a kind of reaction against reason. We see it and have seen it for some time in the guise of postmodernism, perhaps the most futile of intellectual pretensions. Futility indeed seems to be what it seeks, everywhere. At least, it revels in what it conceives to be the futility of everything but postmodernism. Unfortunately, it provides no hope of anything but futility; it simply claims to provide us with a means to establish that all is futile.
I pause to wonder, though. Is this my age talking? Am I becoming, or have I become, an old fogey, like Alan Bloom? Perhaps. But what might distinguish me from other old fogies is that I think of reason as a method; I don't think that what was then and is not now is necessarily better than the present. I don't long for good old days or good old ways. I don't think the use of reason will result in a return to things as they were. For the most part I think, and hope, it will not do so.
But it seems that thinking is something we're not interesting in doing. Perhaps we never have been. Perhaps we've always acted on impulse and irrationally, and simply have more opportunity to do so now, in new and different ways, and this is broadcast instantly to the world at large. It may be that technology has merely enhanced our irrationality, provided a means by which circumstances which previously served to blunt our impulses and stupidity (provided time to think or at least to be less excited).
Certainly, we've found ways to make ourselves appear ridiculous to more and more people. Also, our sins may be forgiven but if we're not careful they'll live on forever, somewhere on the Internet or some smart phone.
The likelihood is we're no more stupid (and no smarter) than we have ever been, but our stupidity is less private than it has been in the past. One would think that would make us long to be less stupid, or at least more careful. Perhaps it will, in time.
We can hope that our technology may save us. Because it emphasizes our faults and failings, it's possible that we'll eventually feel so shamed or disgusted with ourselves that we'll learn to exercise restraint. Perhaps it will make this world go away by forcing us to think about what we do.
Well, it's good to dream. But I see another future, one born of our tendency to assign blame to anyone, or anything, but ourselves. The fear of technology has been with us since at least the last century, what with Heidegger and others whining about what it does to the world and to us. If we find ourselves so disgusted with what we see and hear, the inclination may be to prevent ourselves from being able to see and hear what disgusts us. It would be so much easier to regulate media and the Internet than correcting or regulating ourselves As we have so many times in the past, we may seek to prohibit people from using technology in certain ways, regulating the content of what can be seen or heard or sent or broadcast.
That would not work of course, but would result in a different world, which we then would wish to go away.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Monday, November 17, 2014
William Gibson and the Creation of Worlds
I'm rereading Neuromancer and am moved to comment on what makes the superior writer of what's called science fiction such a boon to those who love to read.
All know William Gibson as the creator of cyberpunk, the man who named cyberspace, the matrix, who coined so many words and phrases now in common use when the Internet as we know it did not yet exist. But reading this early work I'm struck by the imposing realness of the world he creates in this novel, and detailed in the subsequent novels Count Zero and Mona Lisa Overdrive. As far as I'm concerned, our Internet is far less interesting than the artificial reality he described as accessed by his computer cowboys, though it is not (yet?) here in our world. But the world in which his cowboys lived and, sometimes, thrived, bears considerable resemblance to the one in which we live.
Consider the ubiquity of drugs use in that world, the omnipresence of new and interesting technologies, the significance of money, the grittiness of the urban landscapes in which people live and die, deals are made and information obtained and traded, the twisting of medicine and genetics to doing service in making money and pursuing and exercising power though the enhancement of physical and mental abilities. The latter may not be here yet, but one feels that it will come; that it must come.
For some reason, when I try to visualize the world that Gibson shows us in these novels, the landscapes we see in the movie Blade Runner always comes to my mind. That's what I see when the Sprawl or Chiba City are mentioned. I'm surprised that a movie hasn't been made of Neuromancer. I would prefer such a movie to the sword and sorcery epics we're being dubiously treated to instead in the form of Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones and their imitations. Odd that we obsess over faux castles and kingdoms, swords and magic; there's something adolescent about it.
Which is not to criticize either Tolkien or George R.R. Martin, both of them being superb creators of worlds themselves. Other such creators are (or were) Frank Herbert who made the Dune universe, and Philip Jose Farmer for his Riverworld. C.J. Cherryh has made more than one interesting world, as has Dan Simmons, the maker of Hyperion and the Shrike. Orson Scott Card, when he is not busy moralizing, has also manufactured fascinating alternate realities.
It is unsurprising that it is in science fiction and fantasy that the worlds are created and live and are experienced. Nowhere else is the imagination given such free reign; nowhere else is it the case that new and different realities are expected. But it is the gift of Gibson and others to make these realities simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar. Outlandish worlds somehow turn out to be uninteresting. It's impossible to picture oneself in worlds that are entirely unreal, and one must picture oneself somewhere in order for it to hold one's interest and attention; in order for it to be worth the effort of reading or thinking, or dreaming.
Science fiction is a curious genre, though. Great science fiction can fascinate in a good way, but science fiction that is not great can fascinate in a bad way. The many versions of Star Trek and Star Wars are examples of science fiction that is not great. They are not bad, really, but they are silly. This may come of the need evidently felt to come up with aliens who always seem to be far too much like human beings, but human beings who are comical or irritating or mystical in one sense or another and used as expositive devices. We see the results of the fascination with science fiction that is not great in conventions and cosplay, in a devotion to the Klingon language or to The Force, in dreaming one is a Jedi Knight or superhero.
The worlds of great science fiction are disturbingly real; those of science fiction that is not great are cartoonish. It's regrettable that the science fiction we see translated into visual media these days is that science fiction which generates cartoon realities, primarily those of the superhero. This suggests we desire to escape our own world, which is understandable. But to escape into cartoons is only to escape reality, not to reimagine it and think of it.
All know William Gibson as the creator of cyberpunk, the man who named cyberspace, the matrix, who coined so many words and phrases now in common use when the Internet as we know it did not yet exist. But reading this early work I'm struck by the imposing realness of the world he creates in this novel, and detailed in the subsequent novels Count Zero and Mona Lisa Overdrive. As far as I'm concerned, our Internet is far less interesting than the artificial reality he described as accessed by his computer cowboys, though it is not (yet?) here in our world. But the world in which his cowboys lived and, sometimes, thrived, bears considerable resemblance to the one in which we live.
Consider the ubiquity of drugs use in that world, the omnipresence of new and interesting technologies, the significance of money, the grittiness of the urban landscapes in which people live and die, deals are made and information obtained and traded, the twisting of medicine and genetics to doing service in making money and pursuing and exercising power though the enhancement of physical and mental abilities. The latter may not be here yet, but one feels that it will come; that it must come.
For some reason, when I try to visualize the world that Gibson shows us in these novels, the landscapes we see in the movie Blade Runner always comes to my mind. That's what I see when the Sprawl or Chiba City are mentioned. I'm surprised that a movie hasn't been made of Neuromancer. I would prefer such a movie to the sword and sorcery epics we're being dubiously treated to instead in the form of Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones and their imitations. Odd that we obsess over faux castles and kingdoms, swords and magic; there's something adolescent about it.
Which is not to criticize either Tolkien or George R.R. Martin, both of them being superb creators of worlds themselves. Other such creators are (or were) Frank Herbert who made the Dune universe, and Philip Jose Farmer for his Riverworld. C.J. Cherryh has made more than one interesting world, as has Dan Simmons, the maker of Hyperion and the Shrike. Orson Scott Card, when he is not busy moralizing, has also manufactured fascinating alternate realities.
It is unsurprising that it is in science fiction and fantasy that the worlds are created and live and are experienced. Nowhere else is the imagination given such free reign; nowhere else is it the case that new and different realities are expected. But it is the gift of Gibson and others to make these realities simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar. Outlandish worlds somehow turn out to be uninteresting. It's impossible to picture oneself in worlds that are entirely unreal, and one must picture oneself somewhere in order for it to hold one's interest and attention; in order for it to be worth the effort of reading or thinking, or dreaming.
Science fiction is a curious genre, though. Great science fiction can fascinate in a good way, but science fiction that is not great can fascinate in a bad way. The many versions of Star Trek and Star Wars are examples of science fiction that is not great. They are not bad, really, but they are silly. This may come of the need evidently felt to come up with aliens who always seem to be far too much like human beings, but human beings who are comical or irritating or mystical in one sense or another and used as expositive devices. We see the results of the fascination with science fiction that is not great in conventions and cosplay, in a devotion to the Klingon language or to The Force, in dreaming one is a Jedi Knight or superhero.
The worlds of great science fiction are disturbingly real; those of science fiction that is not great are cartoonish. It's regrettable that the science fiction we see translated into visual media these days is that science fiction which generates cartoon realities, primarily those of the superhero. This suggests we desire to escape our own world, which is understandable. But to escape into cartoons is only to escape reality, not to reimagine it and think of it.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
No Balm in Gilead?
It's interesting that we expect others to understand, or at least recognize, phrases or stories taken from the Bible. The Old and New Testaments have permeated Western imagination and thought, at least to the extent they supply ready grist for a variety of mills, reference points, expressions, thought-images. The West has other common reference points as well, of course. Most of us know instantly what is intended when the Trojan Horse is mentioned, for example, or when reference is made to Caesar crossing the Rubicon. These are commonalities of the Western mind, foundations on which may be placed all manner of constructs and comparisons. Analogy can instantly prompt understanding in certain cases.
Here I refer to the sickness which characterizes our Great Republic, and the question whether we have become a hopeless case; thus, no balm in Gilead. Jeremiah 8:22 according helpful Google. Not quite as common a reference as would be one to the Walls of Jericho, or Daniel in the lion's den, I know, but you see this healing balm referred to by Poe in his poem The Raven, and elsewhere.
I know--you tire as I do of doomsayers. There are so many of them and they are so insistent and noisy. This is especially the case, as it always is, with those who have much to lose and are fearful of losing it, and with the old. What was the case will not be the case, more than likely, and change, though the darling of nature as it was called by Marcus Aurelius, has always evoked fear among those who cannot abide change. The content are satisfied with what they are and what they have and care next to nothing about anything but remaining content. When there is a chance that something will happen which would endanger their satisfaction, however, they are rabid in their defense of the status quo.
"Radical conservatism" has a nice ring to it, but I hesitate to call "conservative" what passes for the Right Wing these days in our Glorious Union. "Radical" seems an appropriate enough word, however, though "reactionary" may be more appropriate. Intelligent conservatism doesn't deny that change will occur or maintain that change is in all cases something bad, something to be avoided at all costs. If that was the case then J.S. Mill's remark that most stupid people are conservatives would be true, as stupidity is required if one is to object to all change, any change.
A true conservative may be cautious in making changes, and leery of social experiments when engaged in by the government, but isn't ipso facto against all change and an unswerving supporter of tradition. Conservatives once thought, and may even have thought truly, that they were more reasonable than their Liberal counterparts. But it is necessary to employ reason in order to be reasonable, and reason seems to be something those who style themselves as conservatives now conspicuously lack.
Today's conservatism is in fact anti-reason, anti-science, anti-education. It scoffs at evidence of climate change. It would be more reasonable to acknowledge the evidence and do something about it rather than yammering over whether or not it is in whole or in part or not at all related to the conduct of our rapidly multiplying and exceedingly selfish species. It seeks to require than creationism be taught in school; that homosexual relationships be at best ignored if not criminalized, but in any case recognized as qualitatively different from heterosexual relationships and accorded no status in the law; that our nation involve itself militarily in disputes all over the planet; that drug use be criminalized; media regulated; religion (Christian, that is) not merely tolerated but encouraged and granted special benefits by the law, and seeks to make what was intended to be a secular state assuring religious freedom into a state actively fostering religion of a particular kind.
I don't mean to claim that conservatism is the disease we suffer from, first because conservatism has been jettisoned but also because what may be a fatal disease is one that runs deeper, and has its basis in the abandonment of reason as a guide to conduct. This has many consequences, but among them is a tendency to tribalism and thoughtless adherence to what is familiar.
What conservatism has lost sight of is its roots in classical liberalism, which emphasized individual rights and civil liberties. Today's conservatives want people to act in specified ways and to think, if at all, in a particular manner. They do not want people to have the freedom to live as people themselves think best; they want people to live as they do. Today's conservatives seek to create their own version of a nanny state, they've merely chosen a different kind of nanny interested in pursuing other goals. Their nanny is God-fearing, traditional, close-minded, distrustful, insular and unreasonable.
There may in fact be balm in Gilead, though, but if so it is not a balm which need be applied. Death may be the ultimate medicine for our nation's illness. Death and globalization. Soon, those who call themselves conservatives will die off, and it is not at all clear that there will be others to take the place. Unfortunately, it's not likely that this will result from the fact that younger generations will be better educated and more reasonable than their hidebound elders. It will more likely result from the fact that the traditions to which their elders adhere will dissipate as we all come to be more familiar with different customs, different traditions.
What conservatives should be doing is assuring that reason and science are given prominent places in education and that the young grow used to employing critical thinking in decision making. This would be the best way to assure that actions are taken only after intelligent consideration. But critical thinking is not respectful of tradition and generally not indulged in by those who want nothing more than to have things just as they are or were.
Here I refer to the sickness which characterizes our Great Republic, and the question whether we have become a hopeless case; thus, no balm in Gilead. Jeremiah 8:22 according helpful Google. Not quite as common a reference as would be one to the Walls of Jericho, or Daniel in the lion's den, I know, but you see this healing balm referred to by Poe in his poem The Raven, and elsewhere.
I know--you tire as I do of doomsayers. There are so many of them and they are so insistent and noisy. This is especially the case, as it always is, with those who have much to lose and are fearful of losing it, and with the old. What was the case will not be the case, more than likely, and change, though the darling of nature as it was called by Marcus Aurelius, has always evoked fear among those who cannot abide change. The content are satisfied with what they are and what they have and care next to nothing about anything but remaining content. When there is a chance that something will happen which would endanger their satisfaction, however, they are rabid in their defense of the status quo.
"Radical conservatism" has a nice ring to it, but I hesitate to call "conservative" what passes for the Right Wing these days in our Glorious Union. "Radical" seems an appropriate enough word, however, though "reactionary" may be more appropriate. Intelligent conservatism doesn't deny that change will occur or maintain that change is in all cases something bad, something to be avoided at all costs. If that was the case then J.S. Mill's remark that most stupid people are conservatives would be true, as stupidity is required if one is to object to all change, any change.
A true conservative may be cautious in making changes, and leery of social experiments when engaged in by the government, but isn't ipso facto against all change and an unswerving supporter of tradition. Conservatives once thought, and may even have thought truly, that they were more reasonable than their Liberal counterparts. But it is necessary to employ reason in order to be reasonable, and reason seems to be something those who style themselves as conservatives now conspicuously lack.
Today's conservatism is in fact anti-reason, anti-science, anti-education. It scoffs at evidence of climate change. It would be more reasonable to acknowledge the evidence and do something about it rather than yammering over whether or not it is in whole or in part or not at all related to the conduct of our rapidly multiplying and exceedingly selfish species. It seeks to require than creationism be taught in school; that homosexual relationships be at best ignored if not criminalized, but in any case recognized as qualitatively different from heterosexual relationships and accorded no status in the law; that our nation involve itself militarily in disputes all over the planet; that drug use be criminalized; media regulated; religion (Christian, that is) not merely tolerated but encouraged and granted special benefits by the law, and seeks to make what was intended to be a secular state assuring religious freedom into a state actively fostering religion of a particular kind.
I don't mean to claim that conservatism is the disease we suffer from, first because conservatism has been jettisoned but also because what may be a fatal disease is one that runs deeper, and has its basis in the abandonment of reason as a guide to conduct. This has many consequences, but among them is a tendency to tribalism and thoughtless adherence to what is familiar.
What conservatism has lost sight of is its roots in classical liberalism, which emphasized individual rights and civil liberties. Today's conservatives want people to act in specified ways and to think, if at all, in a particular manner. They do not want people to have the freedom to live as people themselves think best; they want people to live as they do. Today's conservatives seek to create their own version of a nanny state, they've merely chosen a different kind of nanny interested in pursuing other goals. Their nanny is God-fearing, traditional, close-minded, distrustful, insular and unreasonable.
There may in fact be balm in Gilead, though, but if so it is not a balm which need be applied. Death may be the ultimate medicine for our nation's illness. Death and globalization. Soon, those who call themselves conservatives will die off, and it is not at all clear that there will be others to take the place. Unfortunately, it's not likely that this will result from the fact that younger generations will be better educated and more reasonable than their hidebound elders. It will more likely result from the fact that the traditions to which their elders adhere will dissipate as we all come to be more familiar with different customs, different traditions.
What conservatives should be doing is assuring that reason and science are given prominent places in education and that the young grow used to employing critical thinking in decision making. This would be the best way to assure that actions are taken only after intelligent consideration. But critical thinking is not respectful of tradition and generally not indulged in by those who want nothing more than to have things just as they are or were.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Raiders of the Lost God
I'm reading a book called The Death of the Mythic God: The Rise of Evolutionary Spirituality by Jim Marion.
Let's pause for a moment (humor me) and consider the use of "Jim" instead of "James" by the author. Such things prey upon my mind. Is the use of "Jim" an effort at self-effacement, or perhaps intended to to give the impression that the author, though we don't know him, is our buddy, our pal? A swell guy? I grow suspicious when encountering these diminutives in a name. I think of Jimmy Carter, and Bill Clinton, and other narcissists who have indulged in this ploy. If one is going to do such a thing and scorn the formality of "James" why not go all the way? "Jimbo Marion"; why not? "Slim Jim Marion", or "Sweet Jimmy Marion"? But to the book.
The author describes what he considers to be the death, or pending death, of God considered as the source of absolute commandments, proscribing all conduct and thought, accepting (sometimes) petition and prayers, intervening in creation, speaking through ancient books and prophets. In other words, the death of the God of the Abrahamic religions if not others. The knowledge of this death inevitably works on most of us, through the Kubler-Ross stages of denial, anger, etc. (I don't think the author explains why these stages apply or are appropriate). Some of us linger in our worship of this Sky-God, some of us (those who are mystics, it seems) do not. The Sky-God, or rather our worship of Him, has had various negative results.
This Mythic God was preceded by other, even more primitive, gods as we humans grew in sophistication and knowledge. The Mythic God has been, for all practical purposes, interred by the growth of the rational view, exemplified it would seem by science, which to borrow Laplace's supposed remark to Napoleon rendered Him an unnecessary hypothesis.
This rational view has triumphed, but in its turn has wrecked havoc on the world, for the most part through the acceptance of a thoroughly materialistic conception of the universe which has caused us to rape the environment and each other when deemed appropriate. Now is the time to evolve to a yet higher level of spirituality.
These levels of spirituality, or consciousness, have been categorized for reference by colors by some psychologists, and Marion makes use of these categories. It seems the highest level is turquoise, which is indeed a nice enough color.
The God of this higher level seems to be an immanent one, but I'm not entirely certain of this. Marion's God may be both immanent and transcendent. Marion (or should I say "Jim"?) is unclear in this, and in much else regarding this presumably real God. He seems in some fashion to associate him with Jesus, who he says rejected the Mythic God, but whether Jesus is God is not directly stated. He speaks of Jesus as discovering divinity in himself, but also indicates that we may, and should, do the same by "looking within" or seeking God in ourselves. Perhaps we're all God, or God is everything, human beings included. Perhaps Jesus is God in a sense, or a path to God, as are other great religious figures such as Buddha. Marion's God seems to be one that has been realized and accepted by Christian and non-Christian mystics.
Marion evidently rejects materialism, and in addressing its limitations refers, as it seems many do, to physics or more particularly quantum mechanics. This is something of a red flag, though, as physicists generally (not just Alan Sokal) have written despairingly of the misuse and misunderstanding of the theories of physics by those unfamiliar with them, and the efforts made to assert that they establish the existence of God, or an afterlife, or some inexplicable relation between everything in the universe and portals to other universes or dimensions. If materialism is rejected it seems we may have problems with immanence.
Perhaps Marion's interpretation of physics is correct; perhaps it is not. As I incline towards a Stoic point of view, I have a sympathy for the proposition that God is immanent in all things, and that we therefore partake in God. However, I don't pretend that this view has the support of science of any kind or that it can be established by application of the scientific method or reason.
Marion also may be correct that the great religious mystics have encountered the divine, and that we can all do so. We don't know whether they did or not, although it would seem to me that they felt in good faith they had experienced the divine. I'm unconvinced that if we do this, or perhaps regardless of whether we do or not, we therefore become divine or are divine in a way we're unable to understand until we become divine.
One thing we can be sure of, though, is that those who have experienced the divinity cannot describe with any specificity what that experience was or how or why it took place. Mystical encounters of this kind cannot be put into words, it seems, or if put into words are largely incomprehensible. This may mean they are phantasms, or that we lack the ability or tools to describe them.
What seems clear enough, however, is that certain people have experiences which may be called mystical, and which may or may not serve as evidence of something beyond the universe we normally encounter. While I'm not generally a follower of William James, I'm inclined to think with him that such experiences should be the subject of scientific inquiry, or at least may be the subject of inquiry (in other words, they are phenomena which can be studied intelligently).
What is also clear, for good or ill, is that we seem compelled to search for whatever it is we call God, or a higher or different reality which we may experience now or after we die. Perhaps that's a part of being mortal. Many of us are not willing to seek him in old books or in church, but seek him we will, and we'll write books about our search. Most of us seem to want God or at least to seek God, despite the fact that we've lost one or more in the course of our evolution. Lose one god and we will find another. Good old Jim Marion may have found him. If not, he and others will keep on trying until they can't try no more. God is wanted, dead or alive!
Let's pause for a moment (humor me) and consider the use of "Jim" instead of "James" by the author. Such things prey upon my mind. Is the use of "Jim" an effort at self-effacement, or perhaps intended to to give the impression that the author, though we don't know him, is our buddy, our pal? A swell guy? I grow suspicious when encountering these diminutives in a name. I think of Jimmy Carter, and Bill Clinton, and other narcissists who have indulged in this ploy. If one is going to do such a thing and scorn the formality of "James" why not go all the way? "Jimbo Marion"; why not? "Slim Jim Marion", or "Sweet Jimmy Marion"? But to the book.
The author describes what he considers to be the death, or pending death, of God considered as the source of absolute commandments, proscribing all conduct and thought, accepting (sometimes) petition and prayers, intervening in creation, speaking through ancient books and prophets. In other words, the death of the God of the Abrahamic religions if not others. The knowledge of this death inevitably works on most of us, through the Kubler-Ross stages of denial, anger, etc. (I don't think the author explains why these stages apply or are appropriate). Some of us linger in our worship of this Sky-God, some of us (those who are mystics, it seems) do not. The Sky-God, or rather our worship of Him, has had various negative results.
This Mythic God was preceded by other, even more primitive, gods as we humans grew in sophistication and knowledge. The Mythic God has been, for all practical purposes, interred by the growth of the rational view, exemplified it would seem by science, which to borrow Laplace's supposed remark to Napoleon rendered Him an unnecessary hypothesis.
This rational view has triumphed, but in its turn has wrecked havoc on the world, for the most part through the acceptance of a thoroughly materialistic conception of the universe which has caused us to rape the environment and each other when deemed appropriate. Now is the time to evolve to a yet higher level of spirituality.
These levels of spirituality, or consciousness, have been categorized for reference by colors by some psychologists, and Marion makes use of these categories. It seems the highest level is turquoise, which is indeed a nice enough color.
The God of this higher level seems to be an immanent one, but I'm not entirely certain of this. Marion's God may be both immanent and transcendent. Marion (or should I say "Jim"?) is unclear in this, and in much else regarding this presumably real God. He seems in some fashion to associate him with Jesus, who he says rejected the Mythic God, but whether Jesus is God is not directly stated. He speaks of Jesus as discovering divinity in himself, but also indicates that we may, and should, do the same by "looking within" or seeking God in ourselves. Perhaps we're all God, or God is everything, human beings included. Perhaps Jesus is God in a sense, or a path to God, as are other great religious figures such as Buddha. Marion's God seems to be one that has been realized and accepted by Christian and non-Christian mystics.
Marion evidently rejects materialism, and in addressing its limitations refers, as it seems many do, to physics or more particularly quantum mechanics. This is something of a red flag, though, as physicists generally (not just Alan Sokal) have written despairingly of the misuse and misunderstanding of the theories of physics by those unfamiliar with them, and the efforts made to assert that they establish the existence of God, or an afterlife, or some inexplicable relation between everything in the universe and portals to other universes or dimensions. If materialism is rejected it seems we may have problems with immanence.
Perhaps Marion's interpretation of physics is correct; perhaps it is not. As I incline towards a Stoic point of view, I have a sympathy for the proposition that God is immanent in all things, and that we therefore partake in God. However, I don't pretend that this view has the support of science of any kind or that it can be established by application of the scientific method or reason.
Marion also may be correct that the great religious mystics have encountered the divine, and that we can all do so. We don't know whether they did or not, although it would seem to me that they felt in good faith they had experienced the divine. I'm unconvinced that if we do this, or perhaps regardless of whether we do or not, we therefore become divine or are divine in a way we're unable to understand until we become divine.
One thing we can be sure of, though, is that those who have experienced the divinity cannot describe with any specificity what that experience was or how or why it took place. Mystical encounters of this kind cannot be put into words, it seems, or if put into words are largely incomprehensible. This may mean they are phantasms, or that we lack the ability or tools to describe them.
What seems clear enough, however, is that certain people have experiences which may be called mystical, and which may or may not serve as evidence of something beyond the universe we normally encounter. While I'm not generally a follower of William James, I'm inclined to think with him that such experiences should be the subject of scientific inquiry, or at least may be the subject of inquiry (in other words, they are phenomena which can be studied intelligently).
What is also clear, for good or ill, is that we seem compelled to search for whatever it is we call God, or a higher or different reality which we may experience now or after we die. Perhaps that's a part of being mortal. Many of us are not willing to seek him in old books or in church, but seek him we will, and we'll write books about our search. Most of us seem to want God or at least to seek God, despite the fact that we've lost one or more in the course of our evolution. Lose one god and we will find another. Good old Jim Marion may have found him. If not, he and others will keep on trying until they can't try no more. God is wanted, dead or alive!
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