[The disagreement between Mitch and me deepens as we spiral toward the close of this conversation, but don't despair, things remain civil and thought-provoking.]

Mitch: Pete, yes, now we are getting somewhere. The layers of the onion are beginning to be peeled back. Are there different types of truth, no. Remember, truth is that which corresponds to reality. If something really is, then it is true. If something really is not, then it is not true. You are certainly correct that some truths are easier to verify than others. You and I started learning that probably by about 2nd grade as a Jaguar at Jefferson. What you are differentiating between are physical and metaphysical realities. It certainly is much easier to prove something physical is true (Mitch lives in Georgia) versus proving something metaphysical is true (I love my wife and kids or I am having thoughts right now). Often it is assumed that if we cannot know something exhaustively, then we cannot know the truth. I have had people say to me that we cannot know anything for certain about reality (agnosticism). To which I ask, how do you know that for certain? They just offered me knowledge about reality. If no one could know anything for certain about reality, that would include that person. True agnosticism is self-defeating.

In your answers on truth, you are starting to get ahead of the game. In doing so, you can see why I asked the initial 3 questions that I did. This leads to the ideas of cause and effect to which you alluded. There are not different types of truths, but there certainly are different types of causes. As you well know, the first principle of science is the causality principle. All of science is based on a metaphysical, philosophic principle, not a scientific principle. Many physical effects begin with metaphysical causes. For instance, think about your last response to me. The efficient cause (that by which something comes to be) was your thoughts. The final cause (that for which something comes to be) was your argument to prove your point. The instrumental cause (that through which something comes to be) was your keyboard and computer. The material cause (that out of which something comes to be) was my computer and monitor, which allowed me to see the effect, your last post. So while I cannot know your thoughts (metaphysical reality), I can read the results of your thoughts (physical reality). It would obviously be absurd for me to attribute the truth of your thoughts to just the letters, words or sentences on my computer screen. In other words, those letters and words were not the primary/efficient cause.

You also made a great point about the existence of God. You recognize that either God exists, or he doesn’t. Either God is the universe and the universe is God, or he isn’t. Either God is the uncaused first cause of the universe, or he isn’t. That sort of leads into the idea of infinity of time. Einstein’s relativity described time and space woven together like a fabric. Einstein also discovered that the universe was expanding which led him to a conclusion that he did not like. If the universe is expanding, then it had a beginning. In the 80’s and 90’s, the COBE (Cosmologic Background Explorer) satellite mapped out the background radiation (similar to the after effect on a tube TV when it gets turned off) of a massive explosion. That radiation also pointed to the beginning of the universe. Combine those things with the most universally observed law in the universe, the 2nd law of thermodynamics, and there is no way to point to the eternality of the universe. Just the 2nd law alone would mean the universe would have died out an eternity ago.

Also think of infinity. Mathematical infinity is abstract, not concrete. While we can say that there are an infinite number of midpoints on a line between point A and point B, we cannot get an infinite number of pieces of paper between those 2 points no matter how thin they are. Also, think of this:
1) An infinite number of moments cannot be traversed
2) If there were an infinite number of moments before today, then today would never have come, since an infinite number of moments cannot be traversed
3) But today has come
4) Hence, there were only a finite number of moments before today (a beginning of time)

[Just a quick interjection to point out that I don't trust the notion of one ever-expanding universe taking up the whole of the cosmos, but I think my following response makes that pretty clear. Also, I wish I'd challenged Mitch a bit more on his point about agnosticism. Why, after all, is it any less valid to claim that we cannot know anything for certain about reality than it is to claim the opposite? Both positions "offer knowledge about reality." Again, I think I've argued this point throughout the discourse, but maybe not as directly as I could have.]

Me: Mitch, you draw me in like a carnival barker! I thought my most philosophical years were behind or ahead of me, but you've got me caught up in this stuff. I think the common ground I see in our views regarding truth can be put more succinctly than I did in my last note. You seem to be saying there is one universal truth. I'm saying there might be (we just don't have the tools to know for sure). I think this amounts to about the same thing. We all approach metaphysical topics from such different angles precisely because there's no way of knowing whether one way is more valid than another (well, some approaches are just plain cockamamie, but that goes without saying). This is why I think it's important to draw knowledge from more than one well.

Your discussion of mathematical infinity gets at the limitations of our brains, I think. My brain, anyway. Another example I remember from a college course on comparative religion is this: You stand facing a wall. Now, imagine walking all the way to that wall. Before you can reach the wall, you'll need to cover half the distance. But before you can cover half the distance, you'll have to cover half the distance between where you stand and the midway point between you and the wall. And before that, you'll need to cover half that distance. It seems that you can never cover an entire distance without first covering half the distance, but if that's true, how do you ever get to where you're going? The thing is, the wall is not the end of the universe. There's something on the other side of it, and on the other side of that, and so on. If there's a beginning or end to all that exists, we certainly haven't found it, and I have strong doubts that we ever can.

My question to you is, What existed before the beginning of time? I assume you'll answer, "Nothing." But that's a concept beyond the ability of the human brain to imagine if ever there was one! I have no idea what nothing is. It makes absolutely no sense to me. Maybe our universe had a beginning, but only to the extent that anything really has a beginning. If the universe began, then there were materials and forces around to bring it into being. Maybe even other universes. But it's impossible for me to imagine nothing existing before the spontaneous birth of time.

Science isn't always much more convincing on these matters than religion, either. Some folks with fancy degrees who are well regarded in their scientific fields will tell you that global warming is a man-made phenomenon; others contend it's largely a natural, cyclical one. Still others, I suppose, maintain that it's some kind of farce altogether. Science is correctable, too. Some theories, like evolution, become cemented over time. Others, like phlogiston, become punch lines. Science is important, but it's only one lens. Scientific ideas are still generated in the limited brains of humans, after all.

One last thing. You wrote, "What you are differentiating between are physical and metaphysical realities." Now, if truth, for you, is that which corresponds to reality, aren't you saying, in fact, that there are two types of truth—physical and metaphysical?

[Not a lot to add here, people. There's only one more rousing session left, and I doubt I'll be as quiet in my closing arguments to that, so for now I bow to you with all due humility and beg your forbearance till we convene again.]

I'm just warning you up front that this is going to be one of those high-horse affairs, where I pretend to know a lot more about the craft of writing than I do. It's called posturing and it's not beneath me. I could focus on good writing and what it means to me, and maybe we'll get to a little of that, but I'd rather complain. Takes less time. Besides, perceptive readers (that's you) are more than capable of inferring tails when I show them heads. So let's begin.

According to some, prose fiction should affix itself to a trajectory of ever increasing economy. Commas, be gone! Adjectives, away! Adverbs, to the moon! There's a reason this school of thought perpetuates itself. It's sound advice. But like all sound advice, it should be treated as a guideline. Economy of language and punctuation should always be lurking in the back of a writer's mind. Is this word necessary? Do I really need that semicolon? Why the italics? By all means, add these questions to the flock of concerns that ought to be fluttering around in the rear of your conscious mind while you write. Just don't be afraid to answer them in unexpected ways.

Why? Because there are worse problems afoot in the world of fiction than rampant over-punctuation and occasional wordiness. At the other end of the candle, for instance, is writing that reads like an apology for its very existence, as though the writer would have preferred to inject you with a story (or at least the notion of a series of events, which seems to be an acceptable stand-in for plot with many writers who adopt this "style") but was forced by logistical considerations to deliver the damn thing through the painful manipulation of words. These folks tend to wish they were filmmakers but can't afford the equipment and don't play well with others.

Here's my bottom line, people. Prose that doesn't revel in its own music has no place on my bookshelf, and it should find no home on yours. Dialogue that can be thrown away without being missed ... should be, along with the rest of the book. I have yet to be convinced that an author who doesn't get a little drunk on words can lovingly craft a character, let alone a story. The best sentences say exactly what we mean and convey that meaning to readers in a poetic way. I'm not talking doth and thee and smite and zounds, here, either. A well-placed holy damn can do just fine. It's all about where you put it, which character you give it to, and what it accomplishes.

Now, one last thing before I call it a day: Throw away your fucking thesaurus, all right? It's a crutch.

Thanks for coming by, and take care till next time. I'll be shivering in the dark without you.