The Other Ways Of Receiving Information Than Those We Take For Granted

There are other kinds of knowledge. These deal with organizations with which we are generally not familiar. It is not merely a matter of learning new methods to acquire knowledge, then, but a situation in which old methods must be momentarily set aside– along with the type of knowledge that is associated with them.


It is not a matter, either, of there simply being one other category of knowledge, for there are numerous other such categories, many of them biologically within our reach. Various so-called esoteric traditions provide certain methods that allow an individual to set aside accepted modes of perception, and offer patterns that may be used as containers for these other kinds of knowledge. Even these containers must necessarily shape the information received, however. Some such methods are very advantageous, yet they have also become too rigid and autocratic, allowing little room for deviation. Dogmas are then set up about them so that only a certain body of data is considered acceptable. The systems no longer have the flexibility that first gave them birth.


The kind of knowledge upon which we depend needs verbalization. It is very difficult for us to consider the accumulation of any kind of knowledge without the use of language as we understand it. Even our remembered dreams are often verbalized constructs. We may also use images, but these are familiar images, born of the educated and hence prejudiced perceptions. Those remembered dreams have meaning and are very valuable, but they are already organized for us to some extent, and out into a shape that we can somewhat recognize.


Beneath those levels, however, we comprehend events in an entirely different fashion. These whole comprehensions are then packaged even in the dream state, and translated into unusual sense terms.


Any information or knowledge must have a pattern if we are going to understand it at all. Information has nothing to do with words but an overall comprehension of the nature of, a direct knowing. Use one’s own abilities as a container. This direct kind of knowledge is available through desire, love, intent or belief.


Many kind of knowledge. Think of them as states of knowledge. Perception of any of these takes a consciousness attuned to each. In our “waking” condition. We can operate at many levels of consciousness at once, and deal therefore with different systems of knowledge. In our “dream” condition, or rather conditions, we form links of consciousness that combine these various systems, creatively forming them into new versions. “Waking” again, we become consciously aware of those activities, and use them to add to the dimensions of our usual state, creatively expanding our experience of reality. What we learn is transmitted automatically to others like us, and their knowledge is transmitted to us.


We are each consciously aware of these transmissions. In the terms usually familiar to us, we think of “the conscious mind.” In those terms, there are many conscious minds. We are so prejudiced, however, that we ignore information that we have been taught cannot be conscious. All of our experience, therefore, is organized according to our beliefs.


It is much more natural to remember our dreams than not to remember them. It is presently in the vogue to say that the conscious mind, as we consider it, deals with survival. It deals with survival only insofar as it promotes survival in our particular kind of society. In those terms, if we remembered our dreams, and if we benefited consciously from the knowledge, even our physical survival would be better assured.


One level of dream life deals particularly with biological condition of the body, giving us not just hints of health difficulties, but the reasons for them and the ways to circumvent them. Information about the probable future is also given to help us make conscious choices. We have taught ourselves that we cannot be conscious in our dreams, whoever, because we interpret the word “conscious” so that it indicates only our own prejudiced concept. As a result, we do not have any culturally acceptable patterns that allow us to use our dreams competently.


Trance states, daydreaming, hypnotism — these give us some hint of the various differences that can occur from the standpoint of waking consciousness. In each, reality appears in another fashion, and for that matter, different rules apply. In the dream state far greater variations occur. They key to the dream state, however, lies in the waking one as far as we are concerned. We must change our ideas about dreaming, alter our concepts about it, before we can begin to explore it. Otherwise our own waking prejudice will close the door.

We Are Born With The Inclination Towards Language

Language is implied in our physical structure. We are born with the inclination to learn and to explore. When we are conceived, there is already a complete pattern for our own physical body — a pattern that is definite enough to give us the recognizable kind of adult form, while variable enough to allow for literally infinite variations.


It would be idiotic of us to say that we were forced to become an adult, however. For one thing, at any given time we could end the process — and many do. In other words, because the pattern for development exists in our terms, this does not mean that each such development is not unique.


In our terms again, then, at any one earth time many such patterns exist. In greater respects however, all time is simultaneous, and so all such physical patterns exist at once.

In the psychic areas all patterns for knowledge, cultures, civilizations, personal and mass accomplishments, sciences, religions, technologies and arts, exist in the same fashion.


The private psyche, the part of us that we do not recognize, is aware of those patterns even as it is aware of private physical biological patterns about which it forms our image. Certain leanings, inclinations, and probabilities are present then in our biological structure, to be triggered or not according to our purposes and intents. We may personally have the ability to be a fine athlete, for example. Yet our inclinations and intents may carry us in a different direction, so that the necessary triggers are not activated. Each individual is gifted in a variety of ways. His or her own desires and beliefs activate certain abilities and ignore others.


The human species has built into it all the knowledge, information, and “data” that it can possibly need under any and all conditions. This heritage must be triggered psychically, however, as a physical mechanism such as a music is triggered through desire or intent.


This does not mean that we learn what in larger terms we already know; as for example, if we learn a skill. Without the triggering desire, the skill would not be developed; but even when we do learn a skill, we use it in our own unique way. Still, the knowledge of mathematics and the arts is a much within us as our genes are within us. We usually believe that all such information must come from outside of our self, however. Certainly mathematics formulas are not imprinted in the brain, yet they are inherent in the structure of the brain, and implied within its existence. Our own focus determines the information that is available to us.


The information, however, is extremely valuable, and knowledge on any kind of subject is available in just such a manner– but it is attained through desire and through intent.

This does not mean that any person, spontaneously, with no instruction, can suddenly become a great artist or writer or scientist. Even becoming a proofreader requires huge amounts of study and dedication. Whether you work for a large corporation, or if you work from home on a freelance basis, you still need plenty of talent and a passion for words. It does mean, however, that the species possesses within itself those inclinations which will flower. It means also that we are limiting the range of our knowledge by not taking advantage of such methods. It does not mean that in our terms all knowledge already exists, either, for knowledge automatically becomes individualized as we receive it, and hence, new.


Our desire automatically attracts the kind of information we require, though we may or may not be aware of it.


If we are gifted, and want to be a musician, for example, then we may literally learn while we are asleep, tuning in to the world views of other musicians, both alive and dead in our terms. When we are awake, we will receive inner hints, nudges or inspirations. We may still need to practice, but our practice will be largely in joy, and will not take as long as it might others. The reception of such information facilitates skill, and operates basically outside of time’s sequences.


It seems almost heresy to suppose that such knowledge is available, for then what use is education? Yet education should serve to introduce a student to as many fields of endeavor as possible, so that he or she might recognize those that serve as natural triggers, opening skills or furthering development. The student will, then pick and choose. There are, or course, probable futures from the standpoint of our past. Future information is theoretically available there, just as the body’s future pattern of development was at our birth– and that certainly was practical.

WE EXPERIENCE DIRECT KNOWLEDGE, When We are In Touch With Our Psyche.

Direct knowledge is comprehension. When we are dreaming, we are experiencing direct knowledge about ourselves of about the world. We are comprehending our own being in a different way. When we are reading a book, we are experiencing indirect knowledge that may or may not lead to comprehension. Comprehension itself exists whether or not we have words– or even thoughts– to express it. We may comprehend the meaning of a dream without understanding it at all in verbal terms. Our ordinary thoughts may falter, or slip and slide around our inner comprehension without ever really coming close to expressing it.


Dreams deal with associations and with emotional validities that often do not seem to make sense in the usual world. No one can really give you a definition of the psyche. It must be experienced. Since its activities, wisdom and perception rise largely from another kind of reference, then we must often learn to interpret our encounter with the psyche to our usual self. One of the largest difficulties here is the issue of organization. In regular life, we organize our experience very neatly and push it into accepted patterns or channels, into preconceived ideas and beliefs. We tailor it to fit time sequences. The psyche’s organization follows no such learned predisposition. Its products can often appear chaotic simply because they splash over our accepted ideas about what experience is.


Hints, that would increase practical, spiritual, and physical enjoyment and fulfillment in daily life. Experiences of the psyche splash outward into daylight. We can see the greater dimensions that touch ordinary living, and sense the psyche’s magic. The psyche’s events are very difficult to pin down in time. Some events could hardly be so pinpointed, and indeed seem to have no beginning or end.


Because we tie our experience so directly to time, we rarely allow ourselves any experiences, except in dreams, that seem to defy it. The psyche must be directly experienced.


Each of our experiences, however, demonstrates the ways in which the psyche’s direct experiences defy our prosaic concepts of time, reality. And the orderly sequence of events. They serve to point up the differences between knowledge and comprehension, and emphasize the importance of desire and of the emotions.

We organize our experience in terms of time

Our usual stream of consciousness is also highly associative, however. Certain events in the present will remind us if past ones, for example, and sometimes our memory of the past will color present events.


Association or not, physically we will remember events in time, with present moments nealy following past ones. The psyche deals largely with associative processes, however, as it organizes events through association. Time as such has little meaning in that framework. Associations are tied together, so to speak, by emotional experience. In a large manner, the emotions defy time.

The Stamp of Identity

Any word, simply by being thought, written or spoken, immediately implies a specification. In our daily reality it is very handy to distinguish one thing from another by giving each item a name. When we are dealing with subjective experience, however, definitions can often serve to limit rather than express a given experience. Obviously the psyche is not a thing. It does not have a beginning or ending. It cannot be seen or touched in normal terms. It is useless, therefore, to attempt any description of it through usual vocabulary, for our language, primarily allows us to identify physical rather than nonphysical experience.


I am not saying that words cannot be used to describe the psyche, but they cannot define it. It is futile to question: “What is the difference between my psyche and my soul, my entity and my greater being?” for all of these are terms used in an effort to express the greater portions or our own experience that we sense within ourselves. Our use of language may make us impatient for definitions. The psyche’s reality escapes all definitions, defies all categorizing, and shoves aside with exuberant creativity all attempts to wrap it up in a neat package.


When we begin a physical journey, we feel oneself distinct from the land through which we travel. No matter how far we journey–on a motorcycle, in a car or plane, or on foot, by bicycle or camel, or truck or vessel, still we are the wanderer, and the land or ocean or desert in the environment through which we roam. When we begin our travels into our own psyche, however, everything changes. We are also the vehicle and the environment. We form the roads, our method of travel, the hills or mountains or oceans, as well as the hills, farms, and villages of the self, or of the psyche, as we go along.


When in colonial times men and women traveled westward across the continent of North America, many of then took it on faith that the land did indeed continue beyond–for example–towering mountains. When we travel as pioneers through our own reality, we create each blade of grass, each inch of land, each sunset and sunrise, each oasis, friendly cabin or enemy encounter as we go along.


Now if we are looking for simple definitions to explain the psyche, I will be of no help. If we want to experience the splendid creativity of our own being, however, then we can use methods that will arouse our greatest adventuresomeness, our boldest faith in oneself, and paint pictures of our psyche that will lead us to experience even its broadest reaches, if we so desire. The psyche, then, is not a known land. It is simply an alien land, to which or through which we can travel. It is not a completed or nearly complete subjective universe already there for us to explore. It is, instead, an ever-forming state of being, in which our present sense of existence resides. We create it and it creates us.


It creates in physical terms that we recognize. On the other hand, we create physical time for our psyche, for without us there would be no experience of the seasons, their coming and their passing.


There would be no experience of the privacy of the moment, so if one portion of our being wants to rise above the solitary march of the moments, other parts of our psyche rush, delighted, into that particular time-focus that is our own. As we now desire to understand the timeless, infinite dimensions of our own greater existence, so “even now” multitudinous elements of that unearthly identity just as eagerly explore the dimensions of earth-being and creaturehood.


Imagine the odd effects that might occur if we tried to take our watch or other timepiece into other levels of reality. Now, when we try to interpret our selfhood in other kinds of existence, the same surprises or distortions or alterations can seem to occur. When we attempt to understand our psyche, and define it into terms of time, then it seems that the idea of reincarnation makes sense. We think “Of course. My psyche lives many lives physically, one after the other. If my present experience is dictated by that in my childhood, then surely; my current life is a result of earlier ones.” And so we try to define the psyche in terms of time, and in so doing limit our understanding and even our experience of it.


Let us try another analogy: You are an artist in the throes of inspiration. There is before you a canvas, and you are working in all areas of it at once. In your terms each part of the canvas could be a time period–say, a given century. You are trying to keep some kind of overall balance and purpose in mind, so when you make one brushstroke in any particular portion of this canvas, all the relationships within the entire area can change. No brushstroke is ever really wiped out, however, in this mysterious canvas of our analogy, but remains, further altering all the relationships at its particular level.


These magical brushstrokes, however, are not simple representations of a flat surface, but alive, carrying within themselves all of the artist’s intent, but focused through the characteristics of each individual stroke.


If the artist paints a doorway, all of the sensed perspectives within it open, and add further dimensions of reality. Since this is our analogy, we can stretch it as far as we like–far further than any artist could stretch his canvas. Therefore, there is no need to limit ourselves. The canvas itself can change size and shape as the artist works. The people in the artist’s painting are not simple representations either– to stare back at him with forever-fixed glassy eyes, or ostentatious smiles, dressed in their best Sunday clothes. Instead, they can confront the artist and talk back. They can turn sideways in the painting and look at their companions, observe their environment, and even look out of the dimensions of the painting itself and question the artist


Now the psyche in our analogy is both the painting and the artist, for the artist finds that all of the elements within the painting are portions of himself. More, as he looks about, our artist discovers that he is literally surrounded by other paintings that he is also producing. As he looks closer, he discovers that there is a still-greater masterpiece in which he appears as an artist creating the very same paintings that he begins to recognize.


Our artist then realizes that all of the people he painted are also painting their own pictures, and moving about in their own realities in a way that even he cannot perceive.


In a flash of insight it occurs to him that he has been painted — that there is another artist behind him from whom his own creativity springs, and he also begins to look out of the frame.

The greater dimensions of our being

Step aside from all conventionalized doctrines, and to some extent or another we are impatient to examine and experience the natural flowing nature that is our birthright. That birthright has long been clothed in symbols and mythologies.


Consciousness forms symbols. It is not the other way around. Symbols are great exuberant playthings. We can build with then as we can with children’s blocks. We can learn from them, as once we piled alphabet blocks together in a stack at school. Symbols are as natural to our minds as trees are to the earth. There is a difference, however, between a story told to children about forests, and a real child in a real woods. Both the story and the woods becomes involved in its life cycle, treads upon leaves that fell yesterday, rests beneath trees far older than his or her memory, and looks up at night to see a moon that will soon disappear. Looking at an illustration of the woods may give a child some excellent imaginative experiences, but they will be of a different kind, and the child knows the difference.


If we mistake the symbols for the reality, however, we will program our experience, and we will insist that each forest look like the pictures in our book. In other words, we will expect our own experiences with various portions of our psyche to be more of less the same. We will take our local laws with us, and we will try to tell psychic time with a wristwatch.


We will have to use some of our terms however, particularly in the beginning. Other terms with which we are familiar, we will squeeze out of all recognition. The reality of our own being cannot be defined by anyone but us, and then our own definition must be understood as a reference point at best. The psychologist, the priest, the physicist, the philosopher or the guru, can explain our own psyche to us only insofar as those specialists can forget that they are specialists, and deal directly with the private psyche from which all specializations come.

The Earth is composed of many environments, so is the Psyche

As there are different continents, islands, mountains, seas, and peninsulas, so the psyche takes various shapes. If we live in one country, we often consider natives in other areas of the world as foreigners, while of course they see us in the same light. In those terms, the psyche contains many other levels of reality. From our point of view these might appear alien, and yet they are as much a part of our psyche as our motherland is a portion of the earth.


Different countries follow different kinds of constitutions, and even within any geographical area there may be various local laws followed by the populace. For example, if we are driving a car we may discover to our chagrin that the local speed limit in one small town is miles slower than in another. In the same manner, different portions of the psyche exist with their own local “laws,” their different kinds of “government.” They each possess their own characteristic geography.


If we are traveling around the world, we have to make frequent time adjustments. When we travel through the psyche, we will also discover that our own time is automatically squeezed out of shape. If for a moment we try to imagine that we were able to carry our own time with us on such a journey, all packaged neatly in a wrist-watch, then we would be quite amazed at what would happen.


As we approached the boundaries of certain psychic lands, the wristwatch would run backwards. As we entered other kingdoms of the psyche our watch would go faster or slower. Now, if time suddenly ran backward we would notice it. If it ran faster or slower enough, we would also notice the difference. If time ran backward very slowly, and according to the conditions, we might not be aware of the difference, because it would take so much “time” to get from the present moment to the one “before” it that we might be struck, instead, simply with the feeling that something was familiar, as if it had happened before.


In other lands of the psyche, however, even stranger events might occur. The watch itself might change shape, or turn heavy as a rock, or as light as a gas, so that we could not read the time at all. Or the hands might never move. Different portions of the psyche are familiar with all of those mentioned occurrences–because the psyche straddles any of the local laws that we recognize as “official,” and has within itself the capacity to deal with an infinite number of reality-experiences.


Obviously our physical body has capacities that few of us use to full advantage. But beyond this the species itself possesses the possibilities for adaptations that allow it to exist and persist in the physical environment under drastically varying circumstances. Hidden within the corporal biological structure there are latent specializations that would allow the species to continue, and that take into consideration any of the planetary changes that might occur for whatever reasons.


The psyche however, while being earth-tuned in our experience, also has many other systems of reality “to contend with.” Each psyche, then, contains within it the potentials, abilities, and powers that are possible, or capable of actualization under any conditions.


The psyche, our psyche, can record and experience time backward, forward, or sideways through systems of alternate presents, of it can maintain its own integrity in a no-time environment. The psyche is the creator of time complexes. Theoretically, the most fleeting moment of our day can be prolonged endlessly. This would not be a static elongation, however, but a vivid delving into that moment, from which all time as we think of it, past and future and all its probabilities, might emerge.


The earth has structure. In those terms so does the psyche. We live in one particular area on the face of our planet, and we can only see so much of it at any given time–yet we take it for granted that the ocean exists even when we cannot feel its spray or see the tides.


And even if we live in a desert, we take it on faith that there are indeed great cultivated fields and torrents of rain. It is true that some of our faith is based on knowledge. Others have traveled where we have not, and television provides us with images. Despite this, however, our senses present us with only a picture of our immediate environment, unless they are cultivated in certain particular manners that are relatively unusual.


We take it for granted that the earth has a history. In those terms, our own psyche has a history also. We have taught ourselves to look outward into physical reality, but the inward validity of our being cannot be found there– only its effects. We can turn on television and see a drama, but the inward mobility and experience of our psyche is mysteriously enfolded within all of those exterior gestures that allow us to turn on the television switch to begin with, and to make sense of the images presented. So the motion of our own psyche usually escapes us.


Where is the television drama before it appears on our channel–and where does it go afterwards? How can it exist one moment and be finished the next, and yet be replayed when the conditions are correct? If we understood the mechanics, we would know that the program obviously does not go anywhere. It simply is, while the proper conditions activate it for our attention. In the same way, we are alive whether or not we are playing on an earth “program.” We are, whether we are in time or out or it. Getting in touch with our own being as it exists outside of the context in which we are used to viewing it.


As we dwell in one particular city or town or village, we presently “live” in one small area of the psyche’s inner planet. We identify that area as our home, as our “I.” Mankind has learned to explore the physical environment, but has barely begun the greater inner journeys that will be embarked upon as the inner lands of the psyche are joyously and bravely explored. In those terms, there is a land of the psyche. However, this virgin territory is the heritage of each individual, and no domain is quite like any other. Yet there is indeed an inner commerce that occurs, and as the exterior continents rise from the inner commerce that occurs, and as the exterior continents rise from the inner structure of the earth, so the lands of the psyche emerge from an even greater invisible source.

PSYCHE: Conscious and Unconscious

We come into the condition we call life, and pass out of it. In between birth and death, we wonder at the nature of our own being. We search our experience and study official histories of the past, hoping to find their clues as to the nature of our own reality.


Our life seems synonymous with our consciousness. Therefore it appears that our knowledge of oneself grows gradually, as our self-consciousness develops from our birth. It appears, furthermore, that our consciousness will meet a death beyond which our self-consciousness will not survive. We may think longingly and with an almost hopeful nostalgia of the religion of our childhood, and remember a system of belief that ensured us of immortality. Yet most of us, yearn for some private and intimate assurances, and seek for some inner certainty that our own individuality is not curtly dismissed at death. Each person knows intuitively that his or her own experience somehow matter, and that there is a meaning, however obscured, that connects the individual with a greater creative pattern. Each person senses now and then a private purpose, and yet many are filled with frustration because that inner goal is not consciously known or clearly apprehended.


When we were children we knew we were growing toward an adulthood. We were sustained by the belief in projected abilities–that is, we took it for granted that we were in the process of learning and growing. No matter what happened to us, we lived in a kind of rarefied psychic air, in which our being was charged and glowing. We knew we were in a state of becoming. The world, in those terms, is also in a state of becoming.


In private life and on the world stage, action is occurring all the time. It is easy to look at oneself or at the world, to see oneself and become so hypnotized by our present state that all change or growth seems impossible, or to see the world in the same manner.


We do not remember our birth, as a rule. Certainly is seems that we do not remember the birth of the world. We had a history, however, before our birth — even as it seems to us that the world had a history before we were born.


The sciences still keep secrets from each other. The physical sciences pretend that the centuries exist one after the other, while the physicists realize that time is not only relative to the perceiver, but that all events are simultaneous. The archeologists merrily continue to date the remains of “past” civilizations, never asking themselves what the past means — or saying: “This is the past relative to my point or perception.”


Astronomers speak of outer space and of galaxies that would dwarf our own. In the world that we recognize there are also wars and rumors of wars, prophets of destruction. Yet in spite of all, the private man or the private woman, unknown, anonymous to the world at large, stubbornly feels within a rousing, determined affirmation that says: “I am important. I have a purpose, even though I do not understand what it is. “My life that seems so insignificant and inefficient, is nevertheless of prime importance in some way that I do not recognize.”


Though caught up in life of seeming frustration, obsessed with family problems, uneasy in sickness, defeated it seems for all practical purposes, some portion of each individual rouses against all disasters, all discouragements, and now and then at least glimpses a sense of enduring validity that cannot be denied. It is to that knowing portion of each individual I Speak to.