Humans can only determine truth by reducing the untruths of the universe. This is the epitome of the scientific method. Researchers, whether in a lab or through fieldwork, devise hypotheses to test theories. When enough hypotheses prove constant, a theory develops. This appears paradoxical to the idea of reducing untruths: hypotheses prove the truth, and a theory embodies the general principal of this truth. However, by definition, a theory is a concept that scientists generally accept because no study has yet to prove it false. New hypotheses, whether for or against the theory, are the attempts to prove it false, for nothing can prove a theory true in all circumstances: undiscovered exceptions always exist. In this, truth lies in the search for fallacy and opposition to this truth.
The idea that “there is no permanence” manifests itself in human culture through the effort of humans to create permanence (106). Humans, as everyday researchers, constantly test the theory of impermanence by attempting to falsify it through opposite observations, hypotheses, and conclusions. That “no man’s name is written” in the forest of the cedars urges Gilgamesh to test the theory that the forest and its guardian are impenetrable (70). By human nature, Gilgamesh composes a hypothesis claiming a well-known, commonly accepted theory as erroneous, in a greater effort to make his name permanently known. That Gilgamesh feels the need to “establish [his] name on bricks” as a man who conquered the unknown shows, through his overconfidence, man’s need to comfort the fear of obscurity with the notion of permanence (70). However, though Gilgamesh succeeds in the short-term in killing Humbaba, he dies in the end of the epic, ultimately enhancing the truth in the theory of impermanence in the long term through his efforts to falsify it. Gilgamesh works so meticulously towards keeping his fame permanent, that he forgets that “the kingship, not everlasting life….was [his] destiny” (118). He lives his life through the hope that people remember it and that it will create meaning within the lives of others. However, since Gilgamesh created little to no meaning in his life during it, humans in the future have no basis to work with, and he should theoretically disappear from history. In this, his failed search for permanence further reduced the opposition to impermanence.
As well, the art of the ancient Egyptians exemplifies the urge to create permanence against the will of nature. Egyptian sculptures, such as those of Rameses II at Abu Simbel, were huge statues, essentially carved out of a mountain of sandstone, creating a sense of timeless fame and life of the dominating Pharaoh. In addition, the tombs of the Egyptians and the idea of mummification enhanced the idea of the Egyptian afterlife, seen as more important than the current life. In Rameses’ huge building project and the effort and time put into predicting and preparing for the afterlife, the hope for permanence causes humans to forget that “when the gods created man they allotted to him death, but life they retained in their own keeping” (102). The Egyptians, whether they had an afterlife or not is forever unknown to us; that they spent the majority of their time on Pyramids and prayers to Osiris, the god of the Underworld, we understand. In the attempt to prove impermanence as false, the security of the present life was lost. In the effort to create timelessness, the time to live and create meaning in one’s own life, during one’s own life, slowly evaporated.
With this in mind, I suppose we gain meaning in life through the varying ways that we attempt to prove the theory of impermanence as false. Some, like Gilgamesh, work only towards having “[his] name establish[ed] on bricks” (70). To a selfish man like Gilgamesh, building his own name for future generations to know gave him meaning in life. However, to others, many of whom we do not label as heroes, they attempt to prove impermanence false in leaving a lasting impression in others, rather than in history. A small gesture of holding the door for another, adopting a child, or even helping a fellow classmate pick up his or her books when they fall in the hallway is how we test impermanence. If one act can affect another human being, we have, through these lasting impressions left with others, created the highest degree of impermanence possible. While these attempts to engrave our marks in time are clearly subtler than those of Gilgamesh, these create more meaning in the present. If we do not have the resources, or perhaps even the heroic qualities, to test impermanence, we do so through our simple actions and the impressions others carry on with them of us after our interactions. Yet, no matter how many people we affect or how many monuments go up in our honor, the truth remains that monuments eventually wither and crumble, and humans die.
The majority of the human race, both in the past and present, have yet to live in the now, and always prepare for some goal in the future. Yet, we create order and the sense of eternity through our goals for the future. Every human has some type of goal, whether it is to get into college, to secure a job, or even to wake up in the morning. Humans, by nature, create meaning in life off of their individual goals. Life, after all, is a series of completed and failed goals. The idea of proving impermanence false has manifested itself so deeply within the human mind, and is such a paramount aspect of human nature, that humans feed off of their goals for the future, rather than “going with the flow” and not thinking ahead. We realistically cannot live solely in the present, “feast and rejoice, dance and be merry” without instinctively planning our next dance move or food to consume (102). Thus, we embrace this constant working towards the future. Every act in the present leads to another in the future, and every future act, once completed, becomes a part of the past. The constant struggle between fleeting moments and lasting impressions makes up what we define as a human life. We keep moving forward to secure these future moments, and as they disappear into the past, we enter into a vicious cycle of hope for a lasting moment. Yet, the concept of a lasting moment is utterly impossible. This cycle, ironically, moves humans forward through life, and is what keeps humans stable. In the words of Charles Kettering, “My interest is in the future, because I am going to spend the rest of my life there.”
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