Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Are you conscious? (Seriously. Right now.)

Are you conscious or mostly semi-conscious?
  • Can a man with no discernible (by doctors) electrical activity in the brain be said to be Conscious? Nope. Not Conscious. 
  • Can a man with no discernible (by you) thought activity in the brain be said to be Conscious? Nope. Not Conscious. (And do realize that even while asleep, there are subliminal thoughts, just as there certainly are while reading this right now
  • Can a man with thought activity flowing through the brain (as it does 24-7-365-80), none of which he is aware of in a "conscious way" (so as to be able to clearly remember all of it: what triggered it and set it in motion, what thoughts actually occurred, in order and how long they lasted, and what trigger terminated the thread so the next could begin) be said to be Conscious? Nope. Not Conscious. Certainly not the way in which all the ancient, and later, Schools of Enlightenment discussed it... including right here, today.
Thought-centric consciousness is all that most men can know, will ever know, unless and until they rise above that level, to achieve Consciousness Sans Thought, which is often called, simply, a Higher State of Consciousness. Until then, they are practically, operationally, not conscious of their thoughts, their feelings, their sensations, their actions, as they go through the day, living their lives; amazingly, not killing themselves or others in the (mostly somnambulistic) process.

The brain has NO memory of itself, unlike the body which has exceedingly good memory of itself. This is why it is quite easy to report in some detail what you were doing between 9am and 10am, this morning... even between 3pm and 4pm yesterday... and even between 7pm and 8pm the day before (though you may have to think about that - but if a cop is asking for your alibi... well, you know how that works.)

Consciousness is not under control, and is a hapless puppet of every changing condition, and though you MAY remember driving to work (specifically because your body was involved), you CAN NOT remember everything you were thinking and feeling (what started it, how it proceeded, in order, and what stopped it so that the next "thread" could proceed) while taking that trip. Now, Think, Feel, Sense this for yourself. CAN YOU?

Clearly, things go better with consciousness - your body, your emotions, your thoughts, and for those who like these words, your heart, your soul, and your spirit. This is why we - who love consciousness - are "addicted" to thinking, talking and writing about these matters, because Clearly, thoughts go better when conscious, and the more one can do to bring consciousness into the thought (and feeling) "process", the better everything goes - your job, your relationships, your family life, your financial life, your spiritual life, and your free-time life, all of it.

That "Faraway Place" - most people never even reach out for, let alone journey to, let alone bring something delicious, if not spectacular back - is closer than Queen Anne Hill, and the Space Needle is to the City of Seattle. And all of it is closer to the "City in the Sky" than anyone imagines! Well, except for the few who do, who know specifically where "Sky City" is, and how to get there, "DAILY!" (which means, minute-by-minute-by minute!) They know that Consciousness is "THAT CLOSE", and it is only the ordinary somnambulistic life-style - the background noise of being asleep - that keeps one from making the Eternal Trek up the hill,  into the needle, and out into the cosmos, where all the real fun is.

And to stretch these metaphors, so as to lengthen that Long Neuron of yours a little bit more, Seattle ("you"), and Queen Anne Hill (your "mind"), and the Space Needle (the "stairway to heaven") are all in This Thing together. And all you have to do is Wake Up, Think More than you have to (beyond the point where ordinary thinking always sinks into confusion), and Lighten Up Bigtime, i.e., "Be More Conscious", in order to escape your own Gravitational Seriousness.

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