How far the perspectival character
of existence extends

or indeed whether existence has any other character than this;
whether existence without interpretation,
without sense,
does not become
“meaninglessness”.

Whether on the other hand,
all existence
is not essentially actively engaged in interpretation
–that cannot be decided
even by the most industrious
and most scrupulously conscientious analysis
and self-examination of the intellect;
for in the course of this analysis the human intellect
cannot avoid seeing itself in its own perspectives, and only in these.

The Gay Science by Friedrich Nietzsche, trans. by R. G. Collingwood, aphorism 374

These lines impress as a somewhat complex joke.

“Reality” as a matter of one’s point of view, when applied thoroughly amounts to suspicion that there’s no meaning inherent in anything, no definition at the core of anything.  A interpreting-Subject is requisite for the application of any meaning whatsoever.  If a tree falls in the forest, and there’s no one around to hear it, — does it make a sound? To push the point even further, can a “falling tree” or a “forest” be…without a Subject? What do you think?

The joke zags in the other direction. Is there a possibility that everything (in its own way) interprets everything else? Everything interprets as a Subject… A squirrel perched on the head of a Buddha statue in my backyard, maintains an interpretation of the morsel that it holds in its tiny paws. What about the elements of the Buddha statue?  The cement and sand of the concrete statue?  The same as the squirrel.  Everything is engaged, a multi-dimensional, reciprocal evaluation (interpretation), taking-the-measure of every thing else in its neighborhood.

Here comes the punch line.  Get ready!

How do we know that any of what Nietzsche describes in these lines is true?  We don’t know.  We can’t know.  We cannot know because it is quite impossible to get outside of a human point of view.  I am seeing/projecting my distinctly human needs and purposes in order to craft, shape, the possibilities rendered by Nietzsche’s words.

Like in a fun-house of mirrors, I am always encountering myself no matter how, or where I look…

Is anyone laughing?