What the heck is emotion? It's killing me. No... it's just on my mind. What does that mean? "On" my mind? Is there anything really "on" anything else? No, it's just a figure of speech. So what do we mean by "on my mind"? If we move away from the language of idiom, I think we can agree upon the statement that we are "thinking about" something. So there must be two things: there must be an occurring phenomenon and an observing entity.
We take the observing entity for granted. We just accept the thoughts as happening, and don't pay particular attention to a noticing party. There is what we think, and also a kind of lens through which the thought is perceived. (This, of course, is not an all-the-time activity: our lens is forver fading into unconsciousness, but we can always will into presence.) So there seems to be a psychic equivalent to the physical eye. We might call it an "inner" eye. It perceives psychic phenomena just as the physical eye perceives material phenomena.
OK so what the hell do we do with an "inner eye?" Well, it can be very useful. The minute you are caught up in some intense emotion or some irrational thought - if you are a thoughtful, reflective human being who has practiced this sort of thing - you can immediately use your "inner eye" to witness what is happening, and then subsequently evaluate whatever it is that's going on inside of you. The Buddhist tradition utilizes this technique - self-awareness, in fact, is perhaps their core teaching.
I am not advocating this or that technique for stress reduction or inner peace. Rather, I am postulating the "inner eye" as psychic fact; as if I were presenting an anatomy of the psyche. This "inner eye" is very important, for being able to produce it at a moment's notice - and, ideally, sustain it for as long as possible - is an integral part of increasing one's consciousness.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Psyche/Substance
When something happens, we are apt to separate ourselves from it and say that happened. But a better understanding of the psyche will inform us that nothing that we perceive happens "outside" of us. In order for us to perceive, it must happen "inside" us as well, for as soon as it has occurred in the material universe, it has occurred in the psychic universe as well.
We can imagine a computer. We are convinced that the computer is that which we are perceiving. But somewhere in between the computer being there and us perceiving it, there is a layer of experience which most often goes unnoticed. The fact is that, somehow, by the miracle of human consciousness, the computer becomes psyche, thereby making it possible for us to experience it. Moreover, the psychic computer takes the same shape as the material computer, so that the two are almost indistinguishable save for the fabric of their composition. We cannot know exactly the true nature of the "stuff," or substance, that comprises psyche, but we can infer some general rules about its behavior indirectly - rules which I will attempt to outline at a later date.
The idea that the psyche is a substance is not a new one. During the Middle Ages, and throughout the Greco-Roman era, this belief was commonly, if not universally, held. Though more often called "soul," it was regarded as the source of life, or animating life-force from which the body arose. (If the psyche was properly understood, its similarity to - or perhaps indistinguishability from - the soul would be apparent.) In any case, nowadays the standpoint that psyche is an autonomous force is quite unpopular, as it runs counter to our prevailing "scientific" attitude which contends, antithetically, that psyche is a mere epiphenomenal byproduct of physical/biological/material processes.
The fact is that not only does the psyche have substance, this substance is fluid and malleable and conforms to the shapes of the physical world depending on what is being perceived. The important point, then, is that the only world that we directly perceive is the psychic world. We cannot escape the psychic world. It informs all that we know. One might even say that it is more real, from the human standpoint, than the material world.
We can imagine a computer. We are convinced that the computer is that which we are perceiving. But somewhere in between the computer being there and us perceiving it, there is a layer of experience which most often goes unnoticed. The fact is that, somehow, by the miracle of human consciousness, the computer becomes psyche, thereby making it possible for us to experience it. Moreover, the psychic computer takes the same shape as the material computer, so that the two are almost indistinguishable save for the fabric of their composition. We cannot know exactly the true nature of the "stuff," or substance, that comprises psyche, but we can infer some general rules about its behavior indirectly - rules which I will attempt to outline at a later date.
The idea that the psyche is a substance is not a new one. During the Middle Ages, and throughout the Greco-Roman era, this belief was commonly, if not universally, held. Though more often called "soul," it was regarded as the source of life, or animating life-force from which the body arose. (If the psyche was properly understood, its similarity to - or perhaps indistinguishability from - the soul would be apparent.) In any case, nowadays the standpoint that psyche is an autonomous force is quite unpopular, as it runs counter to our prevailing "scientific" attitude which contends, antithetically, that psyche is a mere epiphenomenal byproduct of physical/biological/material processes.
The fact is that not only does the psyche have substance, this substance is fluid and malleable and conforms to the shapes of the physical world depending on what is being perceived. The important point, then, is that the only world that we directly perceive is the psychic world. We cannot escape the psychic world. It informs all that we know. One might even say that it is more real, from the human standpoint, than the material world.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
The Difference
The difference between psychic contents that are conscious and psychic contents that are unconscious has typically been described as spatial. Something is either "in" consciousness, or "outside" of consciousness. There is a "here" that we know and a "there" that we don't know. Nobody understands exactly how this works, but the distinction seemed to be the best approximation and it was subsumed by popular culture. It is not uncommon for people to make a further, physical, distinction with regard to their actual skull. Something conscious is indicated by pointing to or touching their head, while waving a hand outside (or behind) their head
represents something about which they are unconscious.
Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung fiddled with developing a quasi-spatial model of consciousness based on energic potential. In other words, the unconscious contents that ended up reaching consciousness were the ones charged with enough affectivity to cross a "threshold." Neither man, however, came to rest on a definitive hypothesis. The reason for their reticence is clear when we examine the fundamental problem with thinking about consciousness as location-specific.
In the first place, the notion of something being "in" my head and "out" of my head is utterly baseless. That we have agreed to call the head the center of consciousness is only a matter of convention and should not be taken as representative of the facts. Nothing literally comes into your skull when you learn something new. In other words, consciousness is not strictly "of the mind." Ancient Egyptians would have laughed at the notion that thinking takes place in our heads. They "thought" with their hearts. Even today we distinguish between being in accord with our head, our heart, our gut, even our genitalia. So, from a physical standpoint at least, there is no one "center" of consciousness.
So we must play with the idea that the psyche is not inside the body at all.
Perhaps a qualitative model of consciousness might be more appropriate. In this model, unconscious and conscious contents differ on the basis of certain properties rather than some location. Namely, the property (or quality) of light.
In this way we may speak of something merely being in an unconscious state rather than purely unconscious. This descriptive way of talking is beneficial, as it does away with the absoluteness of both conditions. Consciousness and unconsciousness, after all, exist on a continuum, as the literature referring to "pre-consciousness," etc. attests. At the risk of sounding "too" spiritual, we might instead say that a certain content has more light than another.
But to seriously take up this notion we must examine in greater detail the argument that psyche is a reflection, or "aspect" of matter.
represents something about which they are unconscious.
Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung fiddled with developing a quasi-spatial model of consciousness based on energic potential. In other words, the unconscious contents that ended up reaching consciousness were the ones charged with enough affectivity to cross a "threshold." Neither man, however, came to rest on a definitive hypothesis. The reason for their reticence is clear when we examine the fundamental problem with thinking about consciousness as location-specific.
In the first place, the notion of something being "in" my head and "out" of my head is utterly baseless. That we have agreed to call the head the center of consciousness is only a matter of convention and should not be taken as representative of the facts. Nothing literally comes into your skull when you learn something new. In other words, consciousness is not strictly "of the mind." Ancient Egyptians would have laughed at the notion that thinking takes place in our heads. They "thought" with their hearts. Even today we distinguish between being in accord with our head, our heart, our gut, even our genitalia. So, from a physical standpoint at least, there is no one "center" of consciousness.
So we must play with the idea that the psyche is not inside the body at all.
Perhaps a qualitative model of consciousness might be more appropriate. In this model, unconscious and conscious contents differ on the basis of certain properties rather than some location. Namely, the property (or quality) of light.
In this way we may speak of something merely being in an unconscious state rather than purely unconscious. This descriptive way of talking is beneficial, as it does away with the absoluteness of both conditions. Consciousness and unconsciousness, after all, exist on a continuum, as the literature referring to "pre-consciousness," etc. attests. At the risk of sounding "too" spiritual, we might instead say that a certain content has more light than another.
But to seriously take up this notion we must examine in greater detail the argument that psyche is a reflection, or "aspect" of matter.
The point
The point I am trying to make in nearly all of these posts, the point that is central to understanding all that I write here, the point from which all the rest of my theory flows, is that everything has a psychic counterpart. Imagine looking at a river, or looking out into the ocean. Water is an especially good example because most people feel it: your insides seem to shift when you gaze upon moving, running - even stagnant water. It has an effect on us. Historically we have tried to capture the effect that water has on us with poetry, or beautiful words. Descriptive language. Can we not say, though, that there is water inside of us? Not, of course, the hydrogen and oxygen fusion we are used to, but inner water.
It makes very little sense upon first hearing it, but the more we get comfortable with the idea, the more sense it makes: We are humans. Humans reflect. We are the only species, in fact, that reflects. We observe the world. We notice. We take note. And that which we have apprehended takes on a life of its own. It transforms into something else. Everything we perceive. Everything we see is at once registered in another meter. Matter becomes psyche.
At lower levels of consciousness the difference is difficult to recognize, but as people grow in consciousness they report a kind of harmony, or fusing with nature. Well, what have they fused? What were the two things that were not One before? It might be reasonable to say matter and psyche. Perhaps when we grow in consciousness there is some inner counterpart to the sun - a "psychic light" that shines upon a greater portion of the collective unconscious (this is a term used by Carl Jung that essentially means the psychic universe). This "collective unconscious" mirrors the material universe.
It's craziness. It's crazy. It's obscene. But it's true.
It makes very little sense upon first hearing it, but the more we get comfortable with the idea, the more sense it makes: We are humans. Humans reflect. We are the only species, in fact, that reflects. We observe the world. We notice. We take note. And that which we have apprehended takes on a life of its own. It transforms into something else. Everything we perceive. Everything we see is at once registered in another meter. Matter becomes psyche.
At lower levels of consciousness the difference is difficult to recognize, but as people grow in consciousness they report a kind of harmony, or fusing with nature. Well, what have they fused? What were the two things that were not One before? It might be reasonable to say matter and psyche. Perhaps when we grow in consciousness there is some inner counterpart to the sun - a "psychic light" that shines upon a greater portion of the collective unconscious (this is a term used by Carl Jung that essentially means the psychic universe). This "collective unconscious" mirrors the material universe.
It's craziness. It's crazy. It's obscene. But it's true.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
And: Time
As I mentioned in an earlier post, the unconscious cannot be limited to the confines of dreams, hunches, slips of the tongue, and fantasies or daydreams. Many psychologists have tried to do this, but it is essential to imagine the unconscious as much broader. If we regard these things as the only way the unconscious manifests, then we seemingly create a paradox: A dynamic, autonomous entity that forces itself into consciousness with enough power to disrupt the ordering influence of the ego is nevertheless relegated to subservient status - something that is "below" or "inferior." Can we really imagine an unconscious which just jumps out of its hiding place from time to time? What does it do when it's not "interrupting" the ego? Just chill?
It seems to me more helpful to consider the unconscious as a life-force - that which powers all things and makes all things possible. In this way we have broadened our definition of the unconscious to include all psychic phenomena, and also done a better job of capturing its power, not to mention its autonomy and dynamism. The factor, heretofore unmentioned, that makes this model plausible, is movement. In accord with Heraclitus' dictum, "Nothing endures but change," we must imagine the unconscious as moving - all the time.
Now here I get confused. I can't decide if it's the psychic or "inner" eye that witnesses the moving, or some bigger "now" window which creates the phenomenon of "the present." In either case, one can imagine the implications: Time becomes merely the byproduct of an observing entity watching the rest of the "stuff" of the psyche flow by. In other words, time is equivalent to the observation of psychic material that is in the process of moving and is, moreover, a phenomenon exclusive to human consciousness.
Humans have made time linear, but psychologically there is no justification for this assumption. Time, it seems, is just movement in the psyche. Physicists talk about time beginning with the Big Bang - but this overlooks entirely the fact that human beings are the only species talking about time (not to mention that claiming time has "started" is a mind-bending propisition). If humans are the only ones noticing time, shouldn't we take a few minutes to consider the characteristics of the psyche which allowed the observation?
It seems then, that all the therapeutic techniques that support "mindfulness," and Buddhist thought, and any other discipline that encourages "presence" has its roots in the experience of connecting, or aligning the observing entity with that which flows "through" or "past" it. But here we must take up the idea of the collective unconscious, for without it we could get very confused about what exactly this "stuff" is that is appearing to the observing entity.
It seems to me more helpful to consider the unconscious as a life-force - that which powers all things and makes all things possible. In this way we have broadened our definition of the unconscious to include all psychic phenomena, and also done a better job of capturing its power, not to mention its autonomy and dynamism. The factor, heretofore unmentioned, that makes this model plausible, is movement. In accord with Heraclitus' dictum, "Nothing endures but change," we must imagine the unconscious as moving - all the time.
Now here I get confused. I can't decide if it's the psychic or "inner" eye that witnesses the moving, or some bigger "now" window which creates the phenomenon of "the present." In either case, one can imagine the implications: Time becomes merely the byproduct of an observing entity watching the rest of the "stuff" of the psyche flow by. In other words, time is equivalent to the observation of psychic material that is in the process of moving and is, moreover, a phenomenon exclusive to human consciousness.
Humans have made time linear, but psychologically there is no justification for this assumption. Time, it seems, is just movement in the psyche. Physicists talk about time beginning with the Big Bang - but this overlooks entirely the fact that human beings are the only species talking about time (not to mention that claiming time has "started" is a mind-bending propisition). If humans are the only ones noticing time, shouldn't we take a few minutes to consider the characteristics of the psyche which allowed the observation?
It seems then, that all the therapeutic techniques that support "mindfulness," and Buddhist thought, and any other discipline that encourages "presence" has its roots in the experience of connecting, or aligning the observing entity with that which flows "through" or "past" it. But here we must take up the idea of the collective unconscious, for without it we could get very confused about what exactly this "stuff" is that is appearing to the observing entity.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
The psyche does so many things
The psyche does so many things. We experience ourselves so many different ways. I had a dream once that I was hurtling through space on a magic carpet, through red rocks over a moonlit desert. There was a puffin walking beneath me, and my hat flew off but I grabbed it before I lost it to the desert floor. This was a psychic experience. Not only did I experience it when I woke up, but I was also experiencing it at the time.
Our conscious lives are simply psychic experience of one sort or another. Every experience we have is mediated through the psyche. Here I get lost. Where does the psyche end? What should be considered psychic? Should the process of your stomach digesting food be considered psychic? At some level we are aware of it, but it is not what we would call “psychological” in the strict sense of the word. And what about blood cells traveling throughout your body? Is one just “unconscious” of this? And if so, is there some way to get conscious of this? I would say no, but I have no way of really knowing.
So there is a line between the psychic and the non-psychic, but I don’t think we’re sure exactly where it is.
The psyche has currents. Different parts vibrate at different speeds, and manifest differently in consciousness. Take, for example, the time that you were in an emergency and you had to call 9-1-1. Was that just a thought? Was it an emotion? Or was it your entire being that ran to that phone and pushed those numbers. Was there anything distracting you? Was your mind dazed, or lost on some other unfinished matter in your life? Probably not. Probably every cell of your body was directed toward placing that phone call. It probably seemed like the entire universe depended on you getting through.
And then there are other times. Other times that you can’t decide what to do. Other times when a thousand possibilities are swirling through your head, and you wish one would just jump out and say “Me! Choose ME!” Those times are difficult because we seem to be contending with a whole host of forces coursing through our bodies and minds. So it seems: some actions that we do seem to come from a fuller place – a place of certainty, while others seem to come from tiny threads: we hope this is right; we think this is the case… but it might not be so.
The unconscious is happening all the time. It is a set of energies that sets our life acourse. I’ve had many experiences in which things have just “come” to me. Words, images, even feelings. These things have seemingly just “arrived” at my doorstep without any intentionality on my part. They seem to be preordained, and they give you the feeling of them having “supposed” to have happened like that, that they could not have happened any other way.
When sadness overtakes you, it is like some force, some grip. We often talk about emotions but nobody has really taken the time to think about what they are – what their substance is. I envision them as psychic waves that pulse through our psyches at varying frequencies and intensities. Certainly there are thoughts that come with the emotion – enough with these psychologists trying to decide which comes “first”… The thought comes with the emotion, and we are only equipped to be conscious of one at a time. Do you think we could simultaneously be fully conscious of a thought and an emotion? It’s impossible. We can waver back and forth between the two, but consciousness only has room to observe more of one or the other. One of the two necessarily slides into greater unconsciousness. So there are these rhythms, these currents, these frequencies that visit us that are all part of the unconscious matrix.
They seem to be unique, independent strands of energy that can only intermittently be apprehended by consciousness. Consciousness is now, present, golden. Time is the awareness that these forces are moving. Like personal consciousness is a golden sphere that just passes over different parts of a universal consciousness.
Our conscious lives are simply psychic experience of one sort or another. Every experience we have is mediated through the psyche. Here I get lost. Where does the psyche end? What should be considered psychic? Should the process of your stomach digesting food be considered psychic? At some level we are aware of it, but it is not what we would call “psychological” in the strict sense of the word. And what about blood cells traveling throughout your body? Is one just “unconscious” of this? And if so, is there some way to get conscious of this? I would say no, but I have no way of really knowing.
So there is a line between the psychic and the non-psychic, but I don’t think we’re sure exactly where it is.
The psyche has currents. Different parts vibrate at different speeds, and manifest differently in consciousness. Take, for example, the time that you were in an emergency and you had to call 9-1-1. Was that just a thought? Was it an emotion? Or was it your entire being that ran to that phone and pushed those numbers. Was there anything distracting you? Was your mind dazed, or lost on some other unfinished matter in your life? Probably not. Probably every cell of your body was directed toward placing that phone call. It probably seemed like the entire universe depended on you getting through.
And then there are other times. Other times that you can’t decide what to do. Other times when a thousand possibilities are swirling through your head, and you wish one would just jump out and say “Me! Choose ME!” Those times are difficult because we seem to be contending with a whole host of forces coursing through our bodies and minds. So it seems: some actions that we do seem to come from a fuller place – a place of certainty, while others seem to come from tiny threads: we hope this is right; we think this is the case… but it might not be so.
The unconscious is happening all the time. It is a set of energies that sets our life acourse. I’ve had many experiences in which things have just “come” to me. Words, images, even feelings. These things have seemingly just “arrived” at my doorstep without any intentionality on my part. They seem to be preordained, and they give you the feeling of them having “supposed” to have happened like that, that they could not have happened any other way.
When sadness overtakes you, it is like some force, some grip. We often talk about emotions but nobody has really taken the time to think about what they are – what their substance is. I envision them as psychic waves that pulse through our psyches at varying frequencies and intensities. Certainly there are thoughts that come with the emotion – enough with these psychologists trying to decide which comes “first”… The thought comes with the emotion, and we are only equipped to be conscious of one at a time. Do you think we could simultaneously be fully conscious of a thought and an emotion? It’s impossible. We can waver back and forth between the two, but consciousness only has room to observe more of one or the other. One of the two necessarily slides into greater unconsciousness. So there are these rhythms, these currents, these frequencies that visit us that are all part of the unconscious matrix.
They seem to be unique, independent strands of energy that can only intermittently be apprehended by consciousness. Consciousness is now, present, golden. Time is the awareness that these forces are moving. Like personal consciousness is a golden sphere that just passes over different parts of a universal consciousness.
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