Keeping in form with the theme of my blog, I do write occasional ramblings, and today looks to be one of them. I have often contemplated some of the deeper ramifications of the truth behind one of the most famous phrases in all of literature, spoken by Juliet in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet:

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

At first glance, the casual reader would take this comment at face value and realize that the truth in the statement is that, no matter what we choose to call something, it does not change the existence of that thing or idea: it remains just as it was before. If I were to declare myself to be a pilot, it obviously does not automatically make me one. On the contrary, it actually enhances the awareness of my lack of knowledge in the area of piloting. In the case of Juliet’s metaphor, if we were to call a rose a skunk, not only would the flower not become the animal, but the concept of “skunk” ingrained within us would emphasize the sweet smell of the flower that much more.

That is the general premise that got me thinking: what would happen if we were to take this line of thinking to the extreme in the opposite direction? I mean, what is it that makes a rose a rose in the first place? What if we had been taught our whole lives that a rose were a skunk and a skunk a rose? We would obviously then be able to distinguish a skunk by the fragrance and beauty it has, and likewise, we would recognize the rose at a distance by its white stripes and do all we could to keep our distance.

Recognizing something by its color brings me nicely to the core issue I have been mulling over in the first place: our vision is a perfect example of the importance of names. We have been taught our whole lives to recognize and conceptualize things by color, but what is color really? Is it an absolute that is tangible? How would you describe the color green to someone who is visually impaired and unable to see the grass, trees or any other green object you might use as a reference? Beyond the simplicity of what a child learns as “green” comes the ability to distinguish between different shades of green. We simply recognize green for what it is based on our personal experience and what we have been taught represents the concept of green.

What would happen then, if we were to determine that the next generation of children to be born would be taught that red were green and green were red? Their personal perception of the colors they are seeing would not change, and in fact, their actual view of the tangible world would remain the same, yet to them, they would decorate a red Christmas tree each year and bleed green when they cut themselves. While even the concept of such a thing seems foolish to us, it would be reality to them.

Having already touched on the fact that color is a perception (or sensation), not a tangible reality, let’s discuss the fact that even our own perceived realities differ from what anyone else perceives. First, we need to grasp a basic understanding of the nature of color: more specifically, what is it that makes me “see” green (Warning: Science 101 approaching)? Every eye is equipped with light and color receptors: rods and cones respectively. The spacing, attitude and sensitivity of those receptors is what determines precisely how a given view is interpreted by one’s brain, and therefore, the colors we see. This quote from The Franklin Institute sums up the process of individual sight quite nicely:

We are capable of seeing color because our eyes have light and color-sensitive receptors. These receptors are called rods (receptive to amounts of light) and cones (sensitive to colors). Being able to see color is a sensation, just like smelling a pie fresh out of the oven or tasting your favorite meal. Different foods smell and taste different to each person, and likewise, no color is seen exactly the same by two people, because each person’s rods and cones vary.

Some people become disturbed when considering not just the chance, but the surety that sight varies from individual to individual, because it has the potential to shake the very core of one of the realities we base our lives around: our own perception of the world in which we live. Granted, the variance in rods and cones within two individual’s eyes are likely not great enough that your eyes see green the way mine see purple, but the possibility is there. So, why doesn’t this cause a problem with how we live? Well, think back to the generation gap concept I brought up before: we have learned about colors not by reality but by simply naming the sensation we experience when our eyes interpret what we see. Whatever your eyes interpret as green when the teacher pointed at the green crayon in illustration is what you learned to be green; as did I, but now we can recognize how our perception of green during those lessons is actually different.

As if this conundrum were not enough to consider, let’s fuel the fire a little more and discuss what specifically causes an object to appear green to our eyes — whatever our personal perception of green is. When light hits an object, certain colors and wavelengths of light are absorbed, and the rest are reflected. Visual color is interpreted when those reflected light waves come in contact with your eyeball. Interestingly enough, if we study a little more, we realize that the color we see is not defined by the surface of the object itself, but rather solely by the array of light reflected from that object. Considering this, we realize that by shining a light on an object and perceiving green as the object’s color means that the object itself has then absorbed all the light waves except for those green ones transmitted to our eyes.

Perhaps I’m going a bit out on a limb here, but wouldn’t that mean that the object itself was every color except for the color we perceive it to be? Consider that, if all colors are absorbed into the surface of an object, those colors would now be part of what defines that object and would therefore be part of its defined existence. We simply perceive the byproduct of that absorption and reflection process and incorrectly label the object as having that perceived color as one of its attributes.

One final, interesting thing to consider is the source and type of light itself. In everything we have discussed thus far, we have been talking in terms of colors we perceive in our day to day life Ᾱ in the sunlight or relatively white light we have in our homes. If we were to shine a different colored light on an object within a dark room, our perception of the object’s color can change dramatically. Does this mean that the makeup Ᾱ surface color in this case — of the object itself has changed? In my initial consideration of the rules of light and color, it may be safe to say that the object is indeed a different color, since color is exactly what we have previously discussed: our perception of the light reflected from an object.

I live in constant amazement of the things in our world that we take as absolutes, yet when boiled down, the truth of the matter is that they are no more than man’s feeble attempt to assign a name, label or other descriptive term to something we really don’t understand. It is at times like these, when I follow some of my idle thoughts through to their conclusion, that I am extremely grateful that we do have a source of absolute authority and power we can turn to in God. No matter what we understand or fail to comprehend, we can always rely on Him and His Word to give us an anchor on which we can base both our lives and our perceptions.