Phenomenology of Spirit: The Path to the Absolute

@Paul Bailey95
You really need to dial it back with the Chesterton talk. He was just a passing mention, yet you’ve managed to turn him into the center of the universe, acting as if we're somehow polluting the purity of our thought by even bringing him up. Nobody was actually trying to pit him against Aristotle or Hegel, and as I mentioned before, I don't even really view him as a philosopher. If anyone is looking for profound insight, they aren't going to find it in Chesterton; we read him for other reasons entirely. It's like watching a movie like *Inception* on cable—you watch it because it's an interesting ride, not because you're hunting for deep ontological truths. I hope we can put that particular detour to rest now.

But let's finally get back to the actual point:
"This" serves as the bedrock for empiricism and positivism. In those frameworks, "this"—meaning the immediate "now" and "here"—functions as an absolute. It treats immediacy itself as the ultimate truth. For those seeking sensory certainty, this sense of immediacy becomes the very substance of reality. However, in his chapter on sense certainty, Hegel demonstrates that trying to treat "this" as an absolute is nothing more than an absurd, contradictory, and logically bankrupt endeavor. When a person attempts to articulate a specific, unique experience, they inevitably resort to universals and concepts. They begin to selectively dissect the whole. In doing so, they employ language and terms whose meanings exist far beyond the boundaries of that "immediate" experience. After all, "this" is itself just one such universal, standing indifferent to the very immediacy it claims to represent. Consequently, what we call "immediacy" isn't actually immediate at all; it is always, and necessarily, mediated. Consciousness, tripped up by these contradictions, starts to assume that the essence of its current, "unrepeatable" experience isn't rational and therefore can't be captured by language. This leads to the idea that the essence of an experience lies not in what can be expressed, but in the subjective lived moment—an intuitive, unspeakable immediacy of existence. One might call this a sort of "irrational cognition." From this, it follows that a consciousness capable of thinking about the unspeakable cannot be the same consciousness that observes. Furthermore, if something truly "exists," it necessitates a meaningful connection to everything else. Existence requires determinism, which in turn requires linguistic articulation; that is the only way it can integrate into the rest of that consciousness's experiences. Mere "immediacy" isn't enough to guarantee "existence." "This" only gains meaning when it can be compared to other "this-es." The moment consciousness tries to cling to the "now," that moment has already slipped away. This implies that the past, present, and future must all be present within this "now" for it to possess any coherent meaning whatsoever. In other words, every experience is inherently temporal. The illusion of the "immediacy" of "this" or "now" is only possible if consciousness remains oblivious to negation. And negation is the very core of how anything is determined. As Hegel puts it, there is the "absolute power of the negative."

3.

That cathedral which Mark's "I" perceives and confirms as "this here," along with Mary's "I" which also sees and validates a local corner store as "this here"—well, neither of them is actually "this here."

We’ve got two truths: Mark's truth and Mary's truth, both of which this "I" claims as "this here"—one being the cathedral and the other the corner store. Both truths carry the exact same level of confirmation for both Mark and Mary. Seriously—the exact same. And this "I," whether it belongs to Mark or Mary, sees it directly; they're certain of their knowledge, even if one truth seems to vanish into the other in a way that Mark's or Mary's "I" doesn't catch. But what *doesn't* vanish is simply that "I" of Mark and Mary—or, to be more precise, the "I" as a universal. This universal "I" doesn't actually see the cathedral or the store; only the specific "I" of Mark or Mary does. It sees what isn't there for the universal. The universal "I" doesn't see a building or a shop; it's more like the lens through which—by indirectly negating the cathedral or the store—everything becomes simple and totally indifferent to whatever happens to be there. What does that mean? Just this: when that cathedral or store stops being "this here" and turns into something else, the (universal) "I" is perfectly fine with whatever takes its place. Truly indifferent. Today it's a tree, tomorrow a house, the day after a skyscraper—the universal "I" just doesn't care. The "I" is just that general thing, much like "this here" itself. Hegel says he's referring to the individual "I." You could say something similar about "now" and how little it tells us about that "I." For example, "now" is 12:18 PM. That "I" says "now" is 12:18 PM. Nothing more, nothing less. Same goes for this "I." We say "now" is 12:18, or "this here" is a book—basically, we're saying all these "nows," all these "this heres," and all these "heres" are just individual instances. That's the crux of it. Also, the moment we say "I" or "this individual I," we're effectively saying "all I's." Everyone is what we call "I," whether it's the singular version or the individual one.
Note: Here we clearly see a Hegelian following of what Aristotle calls "ousia" (substance). Anyone who understands Aristotle's concept of substance will recognize Hegel's usage of it right here. Because of all this, you could say that, for instance, Branko despot says: "All significant thinkers essentially think the same thing."
End of note.

If we applied this logic to science, it wouldn't hold water. Science takes an "it" (let's say, a tree) and a "him" (a man), and then it deduces and constructs things based on that tree or that man. But when science talks about that tree or that guy, it can't actually say what it's really talking about—specifically, which "it" tree or which "him" man it's referring to. For science, it's impossible to truly articulate or state exactly which "it" or which "him" (the "I") is being addressed. The core of sensory certainty isn't found in the "it" (the object) nor in the "I" (Mark or Mary) that supposedly perceives it. What sensory certainty identifies as "this tree" or "this house," or as "this" "I," isn't just the object itself or just the "I"—yet it treats them as such. It treats what *isn't* as if it *is*. And that's where the problem with sensory certainty lies: it acts as if things are what they aren't, without even realizing they aren't.

So, the essence of sensory certainty isn't in the "it" or the "I." Neither one holds the key. These two things are just what the "I" thinks they are, and honestly, it doesn't matter what anyone thinks—everyone thinks, yet nobody truly "thinks" in this sense. The "it" (the object) and the "I" are universal; within them as universals, the "now" and the "here," along with the "I" that thinks them, exist regardless of whether we claim they do or not. This brings us to the next point. After describing the first "it" and the second moment of the "I" perceiving that "it," we reach the third moment. This third moment is the totality itself, which we establish as the actual essence of sensory certainty—not the "it" and not the "I." The "it" and the "I" undergo *aufhebung* (sublation) within this totality. In other words, the totality is the glue connecting the "it" and the "I." The essence of sensory certainty isn't the "it," and it isn't the "I" either.

Let’s look at this through the lens of sensory certainty:

a) the first moment—just pure "this"
This thing (the object)

b) the second moment—just me
Me seeing "this" (the object)

c) the third and final moment—the whole picture
The "this" and the "Me" are essentially canceled out, preserved, and ultimately overcome within the totality (the universal).

In the first moment, you see "this" standing in opposition to the Self, while the Self, on the other hand, stands in opposition to "this." That’s the whole crux of sensory certainty—it insists on taking itself as immediate by shutting out its own opposite.
On the flip side, pure immediacy doesn't care about the "otherness" of whatever happens to be "here," regardless of what "here" actually is. It doesn't matter what sits under "here"—whether it's a tree or a house—nor does it matter what that thing becomes later (a tree or not a tree, a house or not a house). Pure immediacy isn't concerned with "now" or even the "Self." It doesn't care what time it is. Nor does it care about the various versions of "Me" for which "this" might be something specific—like right now it's a tree, then a building, then a skyscraper, then a cathedral, or maybe just a local Starbucks. Its truth lies in its relation to itself (making it substantial, unlike simple immediacy). Pure immediacy doesn't make the distinction between "this" and "Me" that simple immediacy does, which is why no difference can enter into pure immediacy. So, here’s the deal: if "this" is a tree, then that tree isn't "this" anymore once the "Me" turns toward something else. Similarly, the Self doesn't dwell on what else it sees there. That other version of the Self can see both the tree and the non-tree within "this here." But the Self (in the sense of pure immediacy) doesn't see a tree or a non-tree in "this here," because, frankly, there is no such thing in "this here." Here, the Self hasn't entered into mere perception, but into pure perception—where we aren't comparing "this here" to, say, some other tree or a cathedral. Because the simple "Me" identifies "this here" as a tree or a cathedral—assuming that "this here" *is* the tree—certainty falls apart. That’s why we have to approach it by showing ourselves "this here." We have to show it to ourselves because the truth of that immediate relationship is also the truth of that Self that limits itself to "this here." Our job is to reveal them to ourselves, effectively transforming into that very Self that knows with certainty.

To visualize this, imagine little Mark out in his backyard, standing in front of a single tree (a beech tree, or whatever). For Mark, that tree is "this here." As it reveals itself to him, the "this" that appears as a tree has already ceased to be a tree simply by appearing. Get this: the moment it shows up, it's already gone. This "this here" in front of Mark, acting as a tree, is already something else the moment it's perceived; we recognize "this here" precisely because it revealed itself as something else that is no longer what it was. This "this here" (the tree) as it appeared to Mark is now entirely in the past. And that is its truth: that it has no essence, because things in "this here" vanish. All that remains is the fact that it *was* in "this here" (a tree, a building, a store, a skyscraper). Yet, what *was* wasn't an essence, because it is no longer the "this here" (the tree), even though we were dealing with its existence.

In this revelation of "this here," we see the following movement:

1. The Self points to "this here." The Self claims "this here" is true, then immediately points to it as something that has passed. Thus, the first truth is negated.

2. Then, the Self asserts "this here" as a second truth: that it *was* "this here," and that it has been negated.

3. Then the Self goes about undoing that very undoing. By canceling out the second truth, the Self negates the negation of "this here" and loops back to that initial claim—that "this here" actually exists.

Basically...

1a) Imagine Mark pointing at a sheet of paper on his desk. Mark claims that the paper *is*. Then, he tosses the paper into a fireplace and says the paper is gone.

2a) Next, Mark argues that the paper *was* there, and now there’s something else occupying the space of "this here," distinct from the paper that just vanished in the flames.

3a) Finally, Mark cancels out that cancellation. He voids the second truth—the idea that the paper vanished—thereby negating the negation of that paper and returning to the first premise: that "this here" exists. The catch? Instead of the original paper, "this here" is now occupied by something else.

That whole bit with Mark’s paper—the pointing, the burning—isn't just some simple, direct action. It’s more like a movement of moments where "this" is established, only for "this" to be replaced by something else (the paper) which then effectively cancels "this." Eventually, that secondary state is also canceled, bringing us back to the start. But the "first" thing we return to isn't quite the same as the original, immediate starting point. It’s more like an "is-ness" that contains countless other "this-nesses." This singular "this"—this actual object, like the paper—is simultaneously one thing and many things, just as this "this" is equal to countless other "this-nesses." So, the act of pointing is really just the movement that expresses what "this" truly is; it's the result composed of all those individual "this-nesses." Pointing shows that this specific "this" is actually the universal.

(I'll post the rest soon—the last time I tried this, the US forum software glitched out and wouldn't accept this third part, so I'll just drop the fourth part right after this one).

4.

Take this thing right here—this paper or maybe a tree—it’s basically "this thing" which isn't just "this thing," but rather an extension of "this thing" stretching up, down, left, right, in front, and behind. It’s all wrapped up in this "here," and it’s all pretty much multi-layered. Let’s look at what’s in front and to the right. For me, there’s a whole bunch of stuff sitting in front of me. We've got fibers, runners, trees, desks, cars, houses, you name it. A massive "in front." Same goes for the right side. From my perspective, the right is just as packed as the front. This "here" shows itself for a split second, then vanishes into another "here" (second moment), which itself eventually fades away (third moment). What shows up negatively through these moments is the "thing" itself, because the way we grasp "this" is by essentially canceling it out through a double negative. Say "this" is, for example, an essay. The essay isn't really the essay, but if you try to point to it as existing, you realize that pointing at an essay isn't direct knowledge. Instead, it's a movement from the thought of "this" (the essay), through a series of different "heres," until you hit the universal "here"—which is really just a collection of all these little "heres" acting as one single unit.

Dialectics is basically that movement within the experience of sensory certainty; in fact, sensory certainty *is* nothing else. Consciousness eventually hits this same result, stumbling into this dialectic while simultaneously forgetting it. Consciousness keeps insisting that the universal experience is something separate from reality, constantly claiming that the existence of "these" things is absolutely true for it, even though those very "things" it claims exist actually vanish. When I see a tree in front of me, I take that tree as an absolute fact, even though it isn't the truth of sensory certainty. An unknown consciousness making that claim doesn't realize it’s saying the exact opposite of what it intends. It wants to say the tree in front of it exists, but that specific "tree-in-front-of-me" doesn't. It's asserting that something non-existent actually is, and it completely misses the point.

To find the truth for consciousness, we have to look at the universal. Only the "this" viewed as a universal represents the truth of sensory certainty, which stands in total opposition to what an unknown consciousness thinks is universal. Like I said before, this "here" tree isn't a tree; now it's a building, then that building isn't a building, now it's a skyscraper, and so on. That's the mindset of the consciousness that thinks it understands the truth of sensory certainty—thinking it sees the actual essence of things through the "this" it perceives. And honestly? Hegel sends people who think they see the world this way to the lowest level of human wisdom. He practically puts them in the same category as animals, because animals don't hesitate when they see food; they dive in with total certainty, even though the food is ultimately fleeting. Then you have the folks who think they know exactly what "this" is, claiming that the existence of external objects is solid, absolute, and undeniable. They’ll say, for instance, "this" pen I'm using is "my" pen and there aren't any other pens besides "this" one. But they can't actually explain what they mean by "this." If these geniuses actually tried to articulate what they mean by "this" pen, they wouldn't be able to, because this sensory "this" is totally beyond the reach of language. You can't grab it, describe it, or put it into words because it's always in the process of disappearing. So, Hegel basically says they need to realize that everything they call "this"—any object or thing whatsoever—doesn't truly exist at all.

They think about "this" pen, "this" beam, "this" tree, "this" Starbucks, and so on, believing they are talking about real, tangible things. In reality, they're just expressing the universal. If they can't actually define "this" pen—if they claim "this" pen is completely different from the "previous" pen—then they're just talking nonsense, as mindless as a hollowed-out head. When we say a thing is a real object, that object is just a universal. Whether it's a pen or anything else, all pens are universal, and every individual pen is just part of that broader category. "This" pen, "this" tree, "this" skyscraper; every "this" pen is just "a" pen, every "this" tree is just "a" tree, and every "this" skyscraper is just "a" skyscraper. It's all just the universal.

The truth about sensory certainty boils down to this: we point at a pen and call it "this thing right here," but let's be real—that "thing" is just part of a much larger, universal "here." It’s a collection of all the "heres" wrapped up in one big, singular "here." Instead of actually experiencing the tree or the pen directly, we perceive this generalized "here" instead. Basically, we aren't seeing the actual objects—the trees, the houses, the skyscrapers—we're just seeing the "here" they inhabit. By doing this, we jump straight into a different level of consciousness—one based on perception and illusion. It's where most people live, stuck in a loop of guesswork and assumptions. And honestly, what follows is just a quick recap of what our buddy Sigmund already laid out for us.

A quick rundown of the sensory certainty chapter for those who aren't reading the whole thing (basically, everyone)

Sensory certainty: a summary of two ways of looking at it

The first way

This is just the subject sitting there in a passive state, essentially swallowing whatever is shoved in front of their face as if it were an absolute fact. They don't actually engage with what's there; they just accept it as "this" and nothing else. If there’s a cow in front of them, it’s a cow. If there’s a Starbucks, it’s a Starbucks. Things just *are*. They don't question what they see, they don't overthink it, and they don't dive into any deep analysis. Like an animal, they just passively crash into reality—kind of like a pig diving headfirst into the mud.

The second way

Let me put it this way: when we talk about "this thing here," we’re really talking about one single, universal "here" that all other individual "heres" are submerged in. There isn't actually a difference between one "here" and another. They are substantively the same—that one universal "here"—even if, at one moment, you’ve got a red book, then a coffee cup, then a stray sneaker appearing in front of you. Despite having a million different objects in front of you, you don't have a million different "heres"; you just have that one overarching "here" that holds all the others. So, when someone says "this here is a tree" and then immediately says "this here is a building," it’s not true that the tree or the building exists *inside* a separate "here," because they’ll vanish from that "here" just like everything else the "I" perceives. Hegel argues there’s no real distinction between the "here" of a tree and the "here" of a building; the "here" for both is exactly the same.
That "here" is the singular, universal space where all objects and things reside. If you walk outside and say, "this here is the road," then "this here to my right is a building," and "this here on my wrist is my watch," you aren't dealing with three different "heres." You're dealing with one single "here" where the road, the building, and the watch are all passing by like items on a conveyor belt at a grocery store. Think of it like a film reel where everything is captured on one strip. That "here" contains everything; once you step outside of it, there is no other "here" for any object or thing.
Objects come and go within this "here"—one appears, then vanishes, then another takes its place—but the "here" itself remains constant. I think people get this wrong; they assume that "this here" tree or "this here" Target store is actually *in* the "here," even though neither the tree nor the store stays; they disappear while the "here" persists. A lot of people get tripped up by this "here," thinking the tree they see is the definitive "here," only to turn around and find a house, thinking *that* is the "here," and then turn again and find a construction site, thinking *that's* the "here." There is only one universal "here" that holds all the "heres" the "I" perceives. The truth of sensory certainty is precisely that: it's one single whole, not the fragmented pieces that an (unknown) consciousness perceives as "this" or "now." This is why Hegel titles the chapter "This and Opinion." I might think "this," but once that thought happens, consciousness has basically entered the realm of opinion regarding "this." Once people accept that, you have "opinion." Most people live in that state. In the next chapter, when we get into how perception can deceive us, we'll see how consciousness tricks itself, leading to all sorts of half-truths and deceivers who mislead themselves before they move on to misleading others. It's a vicious, inescapable cycle—which is where most people end up, if we're being honest.

Side note: Hegel’s entire scientific framework is basically pure substance; "truth is the whole," as they say. Even some professors—like a certain academic I follow who lectures on this stuff—go as far as calling it "subject-substance." He’s argued in his talks that Hegel’s thought, his whole system and logic, is essentially divine. He basically claims that only the Absolute itself could have authored it—that the system isn't just *about* the Absolute, it *is* the Absolute, plain and simple, no jokes or fluff involved.
End of side note.

Substantially speaking, this "thisness"—this sensory certainty—is a singular thing, identical to itself, with nothing outside of it that feels foreign. Hegel’s "this" works the exact same way. It’s this one universal "this" that encompasses all those other little "thises" that my consciousness (unknown) thinks are a bunch of different things, even though there’s really just one massive, unified "THIS" containing everything. This "this" holds all those objects together within itself; they appear within it and then vanish from it, leaving my conscious mind to realize it's just staring at the "this" itself before moving on to perception.

So, that's the deal with the first stage of consciousness—the "sensory certainty: this and opinion" phase. Next, we move toward perception and illusion, which is the second mode of consciousness. It's worth noting that the first stage gets swallowed up by the second; the first mode transitions into the second, where it's simultaneously abolished and preserved.

Paul Bailey95 said:4.

Take this thing right here—this paper or maybe a tree—it’s basically "this thing" which isn't just "this thing," but rather an extension of "this thing" stretching up, down, left, right, in front, and behind. It’s all wrapped up in this "here," and it’s all pretty much multi-layered. Let’s look at what’s in front and to the right. For me, there’s a whole bunch of stuff sitting in front of me. We've got fibers, runners, trees, desks, cars, houses, you name it. A massive "in front." Same goes for the right side. From my perspective, the right is just as packed as the front. This "here" shows itself for a split second, then vanishes into another "here" (second moment), which itself eventually fades away (third moment). What shows up negatively through these moments is the "thing" itself, because the way we grasp "this" is by essentially canceling it out through a double negative. Say "this" is, for example, an essay. The essay isn't really the essay, but if you try to point to it as existing, you realize that pointing at an essay isn't direct knowledge. Instead, it's a movement from the thought of "this" (the essay), through a series of different "heres," until you hit the universal "here"—which is really just a collection of all these little "heres" acting as one single unit.

Dialectics is basically that movement within the experience of sensory certainty; in fact, sensory certainty *is* nothing else. Consciousness eventually hits this same result, stumbling into this dialectic while simultaneously forgetting it. Consciousness keeps insisting that the universal experience is something separate from reality, constantly claiming that the existence of "these" things is absolutely true for it, even though those very "things" it claims exist actually vanish. When I see a tree in front of me, I take that tree as an absolute fact, even though it isn't the truth of sensory certainty. An unknown consciousness making that claim doesn't realize it’s saying the exact opposite of what it intends. It wants to say the tree in front of it exists, but that specific "tree-in-front-of-me" doesn't. It's asserting that something non-existent actually is, and it completely misses the point.

To find the truth for consciousness, we have to look at the universal. Only the "this" viewed as a universal represents the truth of sensory certainty, which stands in total opposition to what an unknown consciousness thinks is universal. Like I said before, this "here" tree isn't a tree; now it's a building, then that building isn't a building, now it's a skyscraper, and so on. That's the mindset of the consciousness that thinks it understands the truth of sensory certainty—thinking it sees the actual essence of things through the "this" it perceives. And honestly? Hegel sends people who think they see the world this way to the lowest level of human wisdom. He practically puts them in the same category as animals, because animals don't hesitate when they see food; they dive in with total certainty, even though the food is ultimately fleeting. Then you have the folks who think they know exactly what "this" is, claiming that the existence of external objects is solid, absolute, and undeniable. They’ll say, for instance, "this" pen I'm using is "my" pen and there aren't any other pens besides "this" one. But they can't actually explain what they mean by "this." If these geniuses actually tried to articulate what they mean by "this" pen, they wouldn't be able to, because this sensory "this" is totally beyond the reach of language. You can't grab it, describe it, or put it into words because it's always in the process of disappearing. So, Hegel basically says they need to realize that everything they call "this"—any object or thing whatsoever—doesn't truly exist at all.

They think about "this" pen, "this" beam, "this" tree, "this" Starbucks, and so on, believing they are talking about real, tangible things. In reality, they're just expressing the universal. If they can't actually define "this" pen—if they claim "this" pen is completely different from the "previous" pen—then they're just talking nonsense, as mindless as a hollowed-out head. When we say a thing is a real object, that object is just a universal. Whether it's a pen or anything else, all pens are universal, and every individual pen is just part of that broader category. "This" pen, "this" tree, "this" skyscraper; every "this" pen is just "a" pen, every "this" tree is just "a" tree, and every "this" skyscraper is just "a" skyscraper. It's all just the universal.

The truth about sensory certainty boils down to this: we point at a pen and call it "this thing right here," but let's be real—that "thing" is just part of a much larger, universal "here." It’s a collection of all the "heres" wrapped up in one big, singular "here." Instead of actually experiencing the tree or the pen directly, we perceive this generalized "here" instead. Basically, we aren't seeing the actual objects—the trees, the houses, the skyscrapers—we're just seeing the "here" they inhabit. By doing this, we jump straight into a different level of consciousness—one based on perception and illusion. It's where most people live, stuck in a loop of guesswork and assumptions. And honestly, what follows is just a quick recap of what our buddy Sigmund already laid out for us.

A quick rundown of the sensory certainty chapter for those who aren't reading the whole thing (basically, everyone)

Sensory certainty: a summary of two ways of looking at it

The first way

This is just the subject sitting there in a passive state, essentially swallowing whatever is shoved in front of their face as if it were an absolute fact. They don't actually engage with what's there; they just accept it as "this" and nothing else. If there’s a cow in front of them, it’s a cow. If there’s a Starbucks, it’s a Starbucks. Things just *are*. They don't question what they see, they don't overthink it, and they don't dive into any deep analysis. Like an animal, they just passively crash into reality—kind of like a pig diving headfirst into the mud.

The second way

Let me put it this way: when we talk about "this thing here," we’re really talking about one single, universal "here" that all other individual "heres" are submerged in. There isn't actually a difference between one "here" and another. They are substantively the same—that one universal "here"—even if, at one moment, you’ve got a red book, then a coffee cup, then a stray sneaker appearing in front of you. Despite having a million different objects in front of you, you don't have a million different "heres"; you just have that one overarching "here" that holds all the others. So, when someone says "this here is a tree" and then immediately says "this here is a building," it’s not true that the tree or the building exists *inside* a separate "here," because they’ll vanish from that "here" just like everything else the "I" perceives. Hegel argues there’s no real distinction between the "here" of a tree and the "here" of a building; the "here" for both is exactly the same.
That "here" is the singular, universal space where all objects and things reside. If you walk outside and say, "this here is the road," then "this here to my right is a building," and "this here on my wrist is my watch," you aren't dealing with three different "heres." You're dealing with one single "here" where the road, the building, and the watch are all passing by like items on a conveyor belt at a grocery store. Think of it like a film reel where everything is captured on one strip. That "here" contains everything; once you step outside of it, there is no other "here" for any object or thing.
Objects come and go within this "here"—one appears, then vanishes, then another takes its place—but the "here" itself remains constant. I think people get this wrong; they assume that "this here" tree or "this here" Target store is actually *in* the "here," even though neither the tree nor the store stays; they disappear while the "here" persists. A lot of people get tripped up by this "here," thinking the tree they see is the definitive "here," only to turn around and find a house, thinking *that* is the "here," and then turn again and find a construction site, thinking *that's* the "here." There is only one universal "here" that holds all the "heres" the "I" perceives. The truth of sensory certainty is precisely that: it's one single whole, not the fragmented pieces that an (unknown) consciousness perceives as "this" or "now." This is why Hegel titles the chapter "This and Opinion." I might think "this," but once that thought happens, consciousness has basically entered the realm of opinion regarding "this." Once people accept that, you have "opinion." Most people live in that state. In the next chapter, when we get into how perception can deceive us, we'll see how consciousness tricks itself, leading to all sorts of half-truths and deceivers who mislead themselves before they move on to misleading others. It's a vicious, inescapable cycle—which is where most people end up, if we're being honest.

Side note: Hegel’s entire scientific framework is basically pure substance; "truth is the whole," as they say. Even some professors—like a certain academic I follow who lectures on this stuff—go as far as calling it "subject-substance." He’s argued in his talks that Hegel’s thought, his whole system and logic, is essentially divine. He basically claims that only the Absolute itself could have authored it—that the system isn't just *about* the Absolute, it *is* the Absolute, plain and simple, no jokes or fluff involved.
End of side note.

Substantially speaking, this "thisness"—this sensory certainty—is a singular thing, identical to itself, with nothing outside of it that feels foreign. Hegel’s "this" works the exact same way. It’s this one universal "this" that encompasses all those other little "thises" that my consciousness (unknown) thinks are a bunch of different things, even though there’s really just one massive, unified "THIS" containing everything. This "this" holds all those objects together within itself; they appear within it and then vanish from it, leaving my conscious mind to realize it's just staring at the "this" itself before moving on to perception.

So, that's the deal with the first stage of consciousness—the "sensory certainty: this and opinion" phase. Next, we move toward perception and illusion, which is the second mode of consciousness. It's worth noting that the first stage gets swallowed up by the second; the first mode transitions into the second, where it's simultaneously abolished and preserved.

Hegel was fully aware of this himself—that he was acting as a mouthpiece for the Absolute Spirit—which is exactly what he lays out in the preface to logic science:

"Objective thought constitutes the content of pure science. Consequently, far from being merely formal (take note of this, Parsifal, next time you feel the urge to accuse me or Hegel of being too 'formalistic'—thanks, Amanda Jackson5), and far from lacking the material necessary for genuine and true cognition, its content is the sole possessor of absolute truth. Or, if one still insists on using the word 'matter,' it is the only true matter—a matter where form is not something external, because that matter is pure thought and therefore is itself the absolute form. Therefore, logic should be understood as a system of pure reason, a realm of pure thought. This realm is revealed truth, truth as it is in itself and for itself. One might say that this content is an exposition of God as He exists in His eternal essence prior to the creation of nature and the finite spirit."

Paul Bailey95 said:Look, what follows is going to be a bit of an exposition on Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit—and honestly, I probably won't finish this series. In fact, I likely won't be posting on this forum, or even touching the "cyber world" in general, for a while. I've decided to cut out all the noise and distractions to focus entirely on what I'm doing. I’ve already made the call to go totally off the grid—doesn't matter if it takes two, four, or eight months—cutting ties in my personal life too just to clear the deck. My goal is to truly wrap my head around the Phenomenology of Spirit and dive deep into Aristotle’s Organon (specifically those Categories, which are pretty much the core of the whole thing). This is a massive undertaking, so for me, there's no more hanging out or socializing. The only exception is the occasional reach-out for mutual help—mostly because one colleague already managed to pull me back out once—but until I've conquered this, that's it. I'm viewing these posts as just a small way to share bits of the journey, strictly for the sake of helping each other out, though let's be real: I probably won't ever actually meet any of you in person.

Honestly, deciding to skip out on that mindless social scene during your younger years—especially since we're living in this absolute era of nihilism where those connections basically rot away anyway—is actually a solid move. It pulls your spirit away from all that aimless wandering and the sheer triviality of just hanging out for the sake of hanging out. Even a forum like this is just another version of that socializing, if you actually take it seriously. I mean, you don't have to be physically out at a bar with buddies to be "out there"—you can be fully engaged with the world even while you're sitting alone inside. Most of the socializing we see today is just pure nonsense or, at its absolute best, an endless flood of useless facts. Whether it’s politics or whatever else is grabbing everyone's attention, it’s just a massive dump of "Nothingness" designed to clutter our consciousness. And let's face it, only actual struggle can change that. See, the moment you turn off the TV, disconnect from the internet, put down the newspaper, or even just stop obsessing over your watch—that’s a fight. That’s you fighting for something meaningful to actually exist. You can't build anything real if you're constantly jumping from one distraction to the next, just drifting wherever the noise tells you to go. It's about being your own experiment, your own boss—not someone else's test subject or their little subject. One or the other.
With all this endless chatter—and honestly, all this writing about absolutely nothing—we’re losing the one thing that actually matters: the spirit. And that's everything we are. I mean, seriously, who actually wants to lose themselves in all that noise?

To be honest—since this is a forum and there's no point in holding back—my life basically boils down to a single library and a quiet room. Figures like Buddha, Christ, or Moses? They’re just distractions at this point. My days are filled with the usual grind, helping people out when I can, dealing with a pretty chaotic past, and having those occasional chats with people I’ve known since I was a kid. And look, I don't mean that negatively—I'm perfectly civil with them—but I wouldn't call them friends. I don't really have friends. There’s no such thing as "true brotherhood," as Nietzsche would put it—though he wasn't the first to think so; you've got Aristotle before him, and even Plato, who basically questioned the whole concept of friendship or admitted in his Lysidus that he wasn't quite sure what it all meant. For me, it's just a collection of friendly acquaintances. As for romance... well, there have been some lovely little excursions, but nothing more. People—and I'm not just talking about flighty women—might jump to conclusions, but there's no real love there. Just moments.
Alright, let's take a quick detour into some personal nonsense—totally irrelevant, I know—and then get back to the actual point.
I’m hoping this thread sparks enough interest to get some people actually diving in—even if wrestling with Hegel feels like trying to swim through molasses. Honestly, though, if you’ve got even a shred of intellectual curiosity, there’s no point in building an entire worldview on anyone else. If we're talking about the heavy hitters—the actual bedrock of deep philosophy—you’ve got Aristotle, Kant, Hegel (obviously), Plato, Spinoza, Descartes, Nietzsche, and the rest. But when you look at the absolute summit of that mountain? It’s Hegel. If you try to kick off your philosophical journey starting with Schopenhauer, you're basically asking for an existential meltdown. And don't even get me started on starting with Nietzsche. I've seen it happen—some young guy decides Nietzsche is his entry point, and man, he’s headed straight for a crisis. For a guy like that, it might honestly be better to just grab a beer, eat a good meal, work a regular job, and find a wife—just live a normal life like everyone else. It’s much easier than deciding to drown yourself in thought. Unless, of course, he's actively looking to sink the ship. Not everyone survives that kind of wreck, but hey, if he wants to go down with it, that's his call. There’s a difference between someone truly seeking truth and someone who is just... seeking. If you're just "seeking," then your whole existence becomes trapped in that hollow loop of searching without purpose. That isn't how you start out. You don't jump straight into Cicero, Schopenhauer, Camus, Kierkegaard, or Nietzsche. That’s just not how the game is played. The foundation is Aristotle. Period. Trying to build a philosophy without those fundamentals is like trying to build a house without a blueprint or a solid slab. Instead, people just start throwing bricks and shingles together, using glue instead of cement, hoping it holds. They end up with a little straw shack that blows away the second a decent breeze hits—kind of like that Three Little Pigs situation. It’s not just bad strategy; it’s plain foolish. Look, there are plenty of fools out there—that’s just the way the world works—but if you take things to heart the way Nietzsche did (along with everything else, obviously), you’re going to end up broken. Stick to Aristotle for the foundation. For anything else, you can always find a path through art or religion.

Look, if you’ve actually got an appetite for philosophy—if you’ve actually got that Will to Power—then just know right now: you aren't going to make a living at it. If you want bread, go work at a bakery. If you want actual insight, you head toward philosophy or science—and I don't mean this "modern science" nonsense, for God's sake. Back in the day, even the big names here in the States had a real affinity for philosophy (think Newton or someone of that caliber), but today? They’ve just downgraded themselves into a massive swarm of these various "scientists"—to use Kierkegaard’s term—whose intellect is basically like a monkey counting fruit; they think they understand the tree because they can count a piece of fruit, even though the poor thing doesn't even grasp what a tree is, let alone the soil it grows in. Scientists nowadays just count and calculate; that's it. They don't actually *think*.
The people who have an affinity for wisdom itself—not just this or that little bit of fruit they find hanging on the branches of knowledge—those are the Hegelians, the Aristotelians, the Platonists, and the kind of readers who actually engage with ideas. They aren't just "readers" in the sense of consuming quantity like rabbits; they’re slow, like snails or turtles—actually, way slower than those guys.

Hegel’s thought... man, it’s almost like God Himself is speaking, and He isn't even joking or being sarcastic about it; He's dead serious. Actually, a scholar like Vanja Sutlić said something similar in his lectures on Hegel—I believe his book was published by a major American university press earlier this year. Anyway, Sutlić argues in those lectures that Hegel isn't just a thinker practicing philosophy as a "love of wisdom," but rather—get this—he's dealing with Wisdom itself. We aren't talking about philosophy as a pursuit anymore; we're dealing with the essence of Wisdom. Hegel moved past "philosophy" and arrived at Wisdom itself. He’s no longer striving toward it as a philosopher; he *possesses* it. He has realized it. He’s essentially the messenger for the Absolute. To him, thought is the All-in-All, a single Totality, a Substance.
To be identical to that is what Sutlić calls the "substance-subject." That’s the whole game. And yet, even though that’s everything, and even though artists and religious folks try to reach that point in their own ways, most of the masses—unfortunately—don't bother at all. They just merge with this era of nihilism like a guy merging with a woman; they just stagnate as a bunch of nobodies in nothingness. It's like most people just... exist. There. Just "there." Like this one acquaintance of mine—a sort of depressed entrepreneur type—told me a year or two ago, "I'm just here." He’s just existing without any goal or purpose. He doesn't even read; honestly, it’s probably better for him that he doesn't. A person who just exists like that is living a slow death, acting as if they’re already dead, chasing nothing higher than their own fleeting happiness, interests, or those "clay pots and glass cups" Epictetus talked about. See, Epictetus says true wisdom lies in not getting attached to anything that has the nature of "clay pots and glass cups." But if you actually listened to that advice from Epictetus and followed it logically to its absolute limit, you’d realize that a person shouldn't just avoid attaching themselves to transient things—like friends, a spouse, or a mother—but they shouldn't even attach themselves to *themselves*, or to their house, or their intellect, or whatever else they claim as "mine." Doing so would be like leaving behind one's own identity. It would be like a Zen monk watching a thief steal stuff from his house and thinking, "Shame he didn't take the clothes off my back and the month of sunshine I'm looking at, too." Anything that has that fleeting, fragile nature—that "clay pot and glass cup" quality—Epictetus would call it foolish, almost childish, to get attached to it. So, all a person can do is walk toward the imperishable, toward the Totality and the Whole. And in that climb, they shouldn't cling to the stairs or even the destination, nor to themselves. Instead, they should follow the Spirit. Without staring at themselves, they finish the movement by ascending the steps, because a human being is nothing more than a moment in the service of the Spirit. Anyone who wastes that moment—by wasting other moments—is "outside" that Spirit. They are far from it, as if they were never truly part of it to begin with, merely existing within it as a passing thought.
Living in a state of total madness is basically second nature to most people. It’s like life itself has somehow pushed them away from actually *living*—because, let’s be real, being reckless, chaotic, or just plain delusional is really just a way of distancing oneself from the Whole. It’s an exile. Kind of like how religions talk about being kicked out of Eden, right? So, I guess our whole job is just finding our way back.

The author of 'Science of Logic' (and his other massive works, for that matter) is essentially the Absolute speaking through Hegel. If you actually take the time to wrap your head around his heavy hitters, you have to realize that works like 'Science of Logic' are on another level. It’s like what some scholars say—that it feels as if God Himself sat down to write it; truly, only the Absolute could produce logic this profound.

More coming soon.

Yeah, it’s recent, but it isn't from the national foundation.

Vanja Sutlić: "Lectures on Hegel (1968-1969), edited by Damir Barbarić, Washington, D.C.: Institute for Philosophy, 2016."

Just last year, there was a symposium over at the national foundation marking the 90th anniversary of Sutlić's birth titled "historical opinion in the horizon of contemporary philosophy."

Sutlić still has his fan club, sure, but the guy's a dud. Just three sentences spinning in circles.

As for "phenomenology"—which I slogged through for the third time back in 2002 as my most serious attempt at reading it—you basically have to ruthlessly cross out everything that looks like nonsense, because most of it actually is. It's so repetitive you won't even miss the parts you cut. That's like 90% of the book right there. Especially when he touches on nature and the natural sciences; he's about as relevant there as some shaman trying to explain atomic structure.

With whatever is left, just hack away at the repetitions until you're left with pithy little nuggets. That wipes out another 90% (of the remaining 10%), leaving you with something halfway interesting or even thought-provoking once in a blue moon.

Just wanted to drop this here

So, they're hosting their fifth school out in Đakovo soon—focusing on the basics of phenomenology. You can find the full program right there on their site at the bottom.

Amanda Jackson5, any chance you'll be heading out to Đakovo next week? I'll shoot you a DM so we can chat about it.

As for me posting more about phenomenology on this forum... I think I mentioned earlier that I might lay off the topic for a bit.

That's all from me.

Paul Bailey95 said:Just wanted to drop this here

So, they're hosting their fifth school out in Đakovo soon—focusing on the basics of phenomenology. You can find the full program right there on their site at the bottom.

Amanda Jackson5, any chance you'll be heading out to Đakovo next week? I'll shoot you a DM so we can chat about it.

As for me posting more about phenomenology on this forum... I think I mentioned earlier that I might lay off the topic for a bit.

That's all from me.

That sounds like it would be a blast, honestly, but I won't be able to make it happen because my work schedule is a mess—I've got vacation time lined up for June and July, so I'm pretty much booked.

Paul Bailey95 said:Just wanted to drop this here

So, they're hosting their fifth school out in Đakovo soon—focusing on the basics of phenomenology. You can find the full program right there on their site at the bottom.

Amanda Jackson5, any chance you'll be heading out to Đakovo next week? I'll shoot you a DM so we can chat about it.

As for me posting more about phenomenology on this forum... I think I mentioned earlier that I might lay off the topic for a bit.

That's all from me.

So, what's the deal? Are you actually calling it quits on phenomenology then?

I was hanging out at one of those schools like an interested citizen, checking out "Battle and Time"—it’s actually pretty great. It's kinda wild that they’re running fourth grade this week, but they'll be on fifth by the fall. I guess Hasanbegović must've opened up the checkbook for the Matrix.

James Lee77 said:I was hanging out at one of those schools like an interested citizen, checking out "Battle and Time"—it’s actually pretty great. It's kinda wild that they’re running fourth grade this week, but they'll be on fifth by the fall. I guess Hasanbegović must've opened up the checkbook for the Matrix.

You can bet on that.