Ernst Cassirer gave the name momentary gods to the things that fortuitously come to our rescue. He mentions a man during a time of drought who discovers a hidden spring, and for some time after this, his tribal family respects that spring as if it were a deity – a momentary god.
We have all felt this gratitude at times. We are constantly on the lookout for the little things that will stop our need for this or that. The little things, it turns out, are qualia, and the momentary gods ((I prefer to call them ecosystems – it is the gifts themselves that are of the moment) are always ready to reveal the qualia we need when we need it. Once we start to notice qualia we will begin to notice more and more all the time.
However, when our craving is too strong the usual landmarks and pathways, as well as the treasures they lead us to, disappear.
The real treasures, the ones we ought to crave (and which are not so addictive) are in the mind. Ecosystems’ momentary gifts are there, in the mind, too. It just so happens that the environment of the brain is a perfect environment for qualia.
This is pretty obvious (it seems to me), because the human brain has grown so large in the last several hundred thousand years, simply because we developed the capacity to sense a different kind of qualia than other animals. Animals notice signs: a noise alerts them that a predator is near, and other signs represent food, or shelter, or family. Humans notice signs, too, but we also notice symbols.
The big difference between signs and symbols is that symbols represent, not the thing, but our conception of it. What this means is that, for most animals, out of sight is out of mind; if the sign is not present, the animal does not dwell on it. Humans, on the other hand, have the capacity to keep in mind what has gone out of sight.
Symbols are qualia that live inside our brains, and with whom we have a successful relationship. The more we pay attention to them the more we begin to think, and to imagine; and the more we begin to do so the further our inner qualia reaches, too. It grows, we grow; it survives, we survive; it evolves, we evolve.
In any case, the long story short is that the qualia inside us has every reason to want us to notice it. Unfortunately, most of it is far too subtle for us to notice. We tend to notice the same things that everybody else notices, what we have been programmed to notice: more, bigger, better – what I call Big Dopamine (the human economy of addiction).
The key, then, is in our appreciation for Little Dopamine. Qualia, and the Little Dopamine that goes along with it, have this in common: if we don’t pay attention to them, and acknowledge them, they disappear. Qualia fades away like last nights dreams, while Little Dopamine gets lost in a flood of Big Dopamine. Remember, it is momentary, and it will disappear quickly if we are not qualiadelically alert.