Category Archives: Inner universe

Dreams, Electrical Reality, Emotions, Energy, Inner universe, LOVE, Metaphysics, Ontology, Physical Life, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Unknown

The body reacts to information about the environment.

December 26, 2015 zzzesus

Information which we are not consciously concerned. That same information is highly important to the body’s integrity, however, and therefore to our own mental stance.

On cellular levels the body has a picture not only of its own present condition, but of all those aspects of the physical environment that affect its own condition. In its own codified fashion it is not only aware of local weather conditions, for example, but of all those world patterns of weather upon which the local area is dependent. It then prepares itself ahead of time to meet whatever challenges of adjustment will be necessary. It weighs probabilities; it reacts to pressures of various kinds.

We are aware of pressure through touch, but in another version of that sense entirely, the cells react to air pressure. The body knows to the most precise degree the measurements involving radiation of all kinds. At one level, the body itself has a picture of reality of its own, upon which our conscious reality must be based — and yet the body’s terms of recognition or knowledge exist in terms so alien to our conscious ones as to be incomprehensible. Our conscious order, therefore, rides upon this greater circular kind of knowledge.

Generally speaking, the psyche has the same kind of instant overall comprehension of psychological events and environments as our body has of physical ones. It is then aware of our overall psychological climate; locally, as it involves us personally, and in world terms.

Our actions take place with such seeming smoothness that we do not realize the order involved. A volcanic eruption in one corner of the world will ultimately affect the entire earth in varying degrees. An emotional eruption will do the same thing on another level, altering the local area primarily but also sending out its ripples into the mass psychological environment. The psyche’s picture of reality, then, would be equally incomprehensible to the conscious mind because of the intense focus upon singularity that our usual consciousness requires.

Our dreams often give us glimpses, however, of the psyche’s picture of reality in that regard.

We become aware of probabilities, as actions sometimes that seem to have no connection with our own, but which are still related to them in that greater scheme of interaction that ordinarily we do not comprehend.

When we grow from a baby to an adult we do not just grow tall: we grow all about oneself, adding weight and thickness as well. To some extent events “grow” in the same fashion, and from the inside out, as we do. In a dream we are closer to those stages in which events are born. In our terms they emerge from the future and from the past, and are given vitality because of creative tension that exists between what we think of as our birth and our death. We make sentences out of alphabet of our language. We speak these or write them, and use them to communicate. Events can be considered in the same fashion, as psychological sentences put together from the alphabet of the senses — experience sentences that are lived instead of written, formed into perceived history instead of just being penned, for example, into a book about history.

Our language to some extent programs our experience. There is a language of the senses, however, that gives us biological perception, experience, and communication. It forms the nature of the events that we can perceive. It puts experience together so that it is physically felt. All of our written or verbal languages have to be based upon this biological “alphabet.” There is far greater leeway here than there is in any of our spoken or written languages.

I use the word “cord” to express the source out of which such languages spring. There are many correlations of course between our language and our body. Our spoken language is dependent upon our breath, and even written language is dependent upon the rapidity with which messages can leap the nerve endings. Biological cords then must be the source for physical languages, but the cords themselves arise from the psyche’s greater knowledge as it forms the physical mechanism to begin with.

Dreams are a language of the psyche, in which man’s and woman’s nature merges in time and out of it. Man and woman have sense experiences. He/she runs, though he or she lies in bed. He/she shouts though no word is spoken. He/she still has the language of the flesh, and yet that language is only opaquely connected with the body’s mechanisms. He/she deals with events, yet they do not happen in his or her bedroom, or necessarily in any place that he or she can find upon awakening.

Dreams, Evolution, Inner universe, Metaphysics, Thought, Uncategorized

We manage our subjective lives in a circular fashion

December 23, 2015 zzzesus

Pretend that the present moment is like a wheel, with our concentration at the hub. To maintain what we think of as time momentum, the hub is connected by spokes to the exterior circular framework. Otherwise the hub alone would get us nowhere, and our “moment” would not even give us a bumpy ride.

Our journey through time, however, seems to go smoothly: The wheel rolls ever forward. It can roll backward as well, but in our intentness we have a forward direction in mind, and to go backward would seem to divert us from our purpose.

The forward motion brings us into the future, out of the past from which it seems we are emerging. So we plot a straight course, it seems, through time, never realizing in our analogy that the wheel’s circular motion allows us to transverse this ongoing road. The hub of the present, therefore, is held together by “spokes.” These have nothing to do with our ideas of cause and effect at all. Instead they refer to the circular motion of our own psyche as it seems to progress in time. Each present moment of our experience is dependent upon the future as well as the past, our death as well as our birth. Our birth and our death are built in, so to speak, together, one implied in the other.

We could not die unless we were the kind of creature who was born, nor could we have a present moment as we consider it. Our body is aware of the fact of its death at birth, and of its birth at its death, for all of its possibilities for action take place in the area between, Death is therefore as creative as birth, and as necessary for action and consciousness, in our terms.

It is not quite that simple, however, for we live in the midst of multitudinous small deaths and births all of the time, that are registered by the body and the psyche. Consciously we are usually unaware of them. Logical thought, using usual definitions, deals with cause and effect, and depends upon a straight sequence of time for its framework. It builds step upon step. It is woven into our language. According to logical thought and language we may say: “I am going to a party today because I was invited last week, and said I would attend.” That makes sense. We cannot say: “I am going to a party today because I am going to meet an individual there who will be very important to my life five years from now.” That does not make sense in terms of logical thought or language, for in the last example cause and effect would exist simultaneously — or worse, the effect would exist before the cause.

On all other-than-normally conscious levels, however, we deal very effectively with probabilities. The cells maintain their integrity by choosing one probability above the others. The present hub of the wheel, therefore, is but one prominent present, operationally valid. Cause and effect as we think of them appear only because of the motion, the relative motion, of the wheel in our analogy.

When our eyes are on the road of time, therefore, we forget the circular motion of our being. When we dream or sleep, however, the world of cause and effect either vanishes or appears confused and chaotic. Normal night-time images are mixed and matched, so that combinations are formed quite different from those seen in the daylight. The known rules that govern the behavior of creatures and objects in dreams seem no longer to apply. Past, present, and future merge in a seemingly bizarre alliance in which, were we waking, we would lose all mental footing. The circular nature of the psyche to some extent makes its known. When we think of dreams we usually consider those aspects of it only, commenting on perhaps upon the strange activities, the odd juxtapositions and the strange character of dream life itself. Few are struck by the fact of their dream’s own order, or impressed by the ultimate restrain that allows such sometimes-spectacular events to occur in such a relatively restricted physical framework.

For example, in a dream of 20 minutes, events that would ordinarily take years can be experienced. The body ages it’s 20 minutes of time, and that is all. In dreams, experience is peripheral, in that it dips into our time and touches it, leaving ripples; but the dream events themselves exist largely out of time. Dream experience is ordered in a circular fashion. Sometimes it never touches the hub of our present moment at all, as we think of it, as far as our memory is concerned; yet the dream is, and it is registered at all other levels of our existence, including the cellular.

We always translate experience into terms we can understand. Of course the translation is real. The dream as we recall it is already a translation, then, but an experienced one. As a language that we know is, dependent upon other languages, and implied pauses and silences, so the dream that we experience and recall is also one statement of the psyche, coming into prominence; but it is also dependent upon other events that we do not recall, and that our consciousness, as it now operates, must automatically translate into its own terms.

Dreams, Electrical Reality, Evolution, Inner universe, Metaphysics, Thought, Uncategorized

We have been taught dreams, are imaginary events.

December 17, 2015 zzzesus

In larger terms it is futile to question whether or not dreams are true, for they simply are. We do consider a dream true, however, if its events later occur in fact.

In the life of psyche a dream is no more or less “true,” whether or not it is duplicated in waking life. Dream events happen in a different context — one, we might say, of the imagination. Here we experience a valid reality that exists on its own, so to speak; one in which the psyche’s own language is given greater freedom.

Some of us may try to remember our dreams, but none of us have to relate to dream reality as we must to physical life.

To some extent, however, we form physical events while we are dreaming. Then, freed from waking limitations, we process our experience, weigh it according to our own intents and purposes, correlate it with information so vast we could not be consciously aware of it. In most dreams we do not simply think of a situation. We imaginatively become part of it. It is real in every fashion except that of physical fact.

When we meet with any fact, we encounter the tail end of a certain kind of creativity. The psyche, however, is responsible for bringing facts into existence. In that reality a so-called fact is equally true or equally false. The dream that we remember is already a translation of a deeper experience.

It is cast for us so that it bridges self. Dreams serve as dramas, transferring experience from one level of the psyche to another. In certain portions of sleep, our experience reaches into areas of being so vast that the dream is used to translate it for us.

The power to dream springs from that source. Dreaming is not a passive activity. It demands a peculiar and distinctive mixture of various kinds of consciousness, and the transformation of “nonphysical perception” into symbols and codes that will be sensually understood, though not directly experienced as in waking experienced as in waking experience.

We take dreaming for granted, yet it is the result of a characteristic ability that is responsible for the very subjective feeling that we call conscious life. Without it our normal consciousness would not be possible.

A spoken language is, again, dependent upon other languages that could possibly be spoken, and thus its sounds rise into prominence and order because of the silences and pauses between them; so our waking consciousness is dependent upon what we think of as sleeping or dreaming consciousness. It rises into prominence in somewhat the same fashion, riding upon other possible versions of itself; alert only because — in our terms — of hidden pauses within its alertness.

The ability to dream presupposes the existence of experience that is not defined as physical fact. It presupposes a far greater freedom in which objects appear or are dismissed with equal ease, a subjective framework in which the individual freely expresses what he or she will in the most direct of fashions, yet without physical contact in usual terms.

The reality represents our origin, and is the natural environment in which the psyche resides. Our beliefs, cultural background, and to some extent our languages, set up barriers so that this dream dimension seems unreal to us. Even when we catch ourselves in the most vivid of dream adventures, or find ourselves traveling outside of our bodies while dreaming, we still do not give such experiences equal validity with waking ones.

Subjectively speaking, we are everywhere surrounded by our own greater reality, but we do not look in the right places. We have been taught not to trust our feelings, our dreams, or our imagination precisely because these do not often fit the accepted reality of facts.

They are the creators of facts, however. In no way do I mean to demean the intellect. It is here, however, that the tyranny of the fact world holds greatest sway. The intellect has been denied its wings. Its field of activity has been limited because we have given it only facts to go on.

Biologically, we are quite capable of dealing with dreaming and waking reality both, and of forming a far more effective synthesis in that regard. All of our creative impulses arise from that hidden dimension — the very impulses that formed our greatest cities, our technology, and the physical cement that binds our culturally organized world.

The creative impulses are behind our languages, yet often we use the languages to silence rather than free inner communication. There have always been rhythms in consciousness that are not historically obvious. At certain times some behavior has been primarily expressed in the waking state, and sometimes in the dream state. The emphasis is never static, but ever-changing. In some periods, then, the normal behavior was “more dreamlike,” while more specific developments occurred in the dream state, which was then the more clear or specified of the two. Men went to sleep to do their work, in other words, and the realm of dreams was considered more real than waking reality. Now the opposite is true.

Electrical Reality, Emotions, Energy, Evolution, Inner universe, Metaphysics, Ontology, Physical Life, Thought

Daily language deals with separations, divisions, and distinctions

December 15, 2015 zzzesus

To some extent our language organizes our feelings and emotions. The language of the psyche, however, has at its command many more symbols that can be combined in many more ways, say, than mere letters of an alphabet.

In daily language, objects have certain names. Obviously the names are not the objects, but symbols for them. Even these symbols, however, divide us as the perceiver from the rest of the world, which becomes objectified. We can ourselves understand far more about the nature of the psyche, for example, than we think we can. To do this, however, we must leave our daily language behind at least momentarily, and pay attention to our own feelings and imagination. Our language tells us that certain things are true, or facts, and that certain things are not. Many of our most vivid and moving feelings do not fit the facts of our language, so we disregard them.

These emotional experiences, however, often express the language of the psyche. It is not that an understanding of our psyche is beyond us: It is usually that we try to understand or experience it in one of the most difficult ways — Through the use of daily language.

The imagination belongs to the language of the psyche. For this reason it often gives experiences that conflict with the basic assumptions upon which daily language is based. Therefore the imagination is often considered suspect.

We might stand alone in our doorway, or in a field — or even on a street, surrounded by many people in a large city — look upward, suddenly struck by the great sweeping clouds above, and feel oneself a part of them. We might momentarily experience a great yearning or feel our own emotions suddenly filled with that same moving majesty, so that for an instant we and the sky seem to be one.

Mundane language tells us, as we think with its patterns, that our imagination is running away with us, for obviously we are one thing and the sky is another. Us and the sky do not equate — or as friend Spock would say: “It is not logical.” The feeling swiftly fades after bemusing us briefly. We might be spiritually refreshed, yet as a rule we would not consider the feeling to be a statement of any legitimate reality, or a representation of our psyche’s existence.

The emotions and the imagination, however, give us our closest contact with other portions of our own reality. They also liberate our intellect so that its powers are not limited by concepts it has been taught are true. Instead, such concepts are relatively true — operationally true. For example, the example, the physical laws that we are familiar with operate where we are. They are true, relatively speaking. In those terms we are one person physically objectified, staring upward in the scene just mentioned at an objectified sky. We weigh so many pounds, tilt our head at such-and-such an angle to peer upward at the skyscape, and physically speaking, we can be categorized.

In those terms the clouds could be physically measured, and shown to be so far above us — composed of, say, winds of a certain velocity, ready to pour down a precise amount of rain or whatever. Physically speaking then, obviously, we are separate from the clouds, and so in those terms our momentary experience of uniting with them would seem to be a lie — at least not factual, or “the product of our imagination.”

Instead, such an event is a direct expression of the psyche’s knowledge. It senses its quite legitimate identification with nature, exercises its mobility, and feel its own emotional power leap. Our emotions in such a case would be momentarily magnified — raised, say, to a higher power. There are multitudinous such examples that could be given, as in each day our psyche presents evidence of its own greater being — evidence that we are taught to overlook, or to dismiss because it is factual.

What is imaginary is not true: We are taught this as children. The imagination, however, brings us into connection with a different kind of truth, or a different framework in which experience can be legitimately perceived. The larger truths of the psyche exist in that dimension.

From it we choose physical facts. Thoughts are real. Only some thoughts turn into physical actions, of course. Despite distorted versions of that last statement, however, there is still obviously a distant difference, say, between the though of adultery and its physical expression.

We cannot treat thoughts and imagination in such a literal manner, nor in a large respect should we try to “guard our thoughts” as if they were herds of animals that we wanted to keep purely bred. Our thoughts do form our reality. If we do not fear them, however, they create their own balances. The psyche dwells in a reality so different from the world we usually recognize that there good and evil, as we think of them, are also seen to be as operationally or relatively true as the difference between the perceiver and the object perceived.

Dreams, Electrical Reality, Evolution, Inner universe, Metaphysics, Thoughts, Uncategorized

The language of the atoms and molecules in our own private way.

December 12, 2015 zzzesus

We mark the universe. We impress it, or “stamp” it, or imprint it with our own identity. Henceforth it always recognizes us as us and no other. We are known.

In larger terms, while we speak our own language, the universe also speaks “our” language as it constantly translates itself into our private perception. We live in our psyche somewhat in the same way that physically we dwell in the world.

That world has many languages. Physically we are like one country within our psyche, with a language of our own. People are always searching for master language, or for one in particular out of which all others emerged. In a way, Latin is a master language. In the same manner people search for gods, or a God, out of which all psyche emerged. Here we are searching for the implied source, the unspoken, invisible “pause,” the inner organization that gives language or the self a vehicle of expression. Language finally become archaic. Some words are entirely forgotten in one language, but spring up in altered form in another. All of the earth’s languages, however, are united because of characteristic pauses and hesitations upon which the different sounds ride.

Even the alterations of obvious pauses between languages make sense only because of an implied, unstated inner rhythm. The historic gods become equally archaic. Their differences are often obvious. When we are learning a language, great mystery seems involved. When we are learning about the nature of the psyche, an even greater aura of the unknown exists. The unknown portions of the psyche and its greater psyches out of which the self emerged — as for example Latin is a source for the Romance Languages.

Using language, we speak with our fellows. We write histories and communications. Many books are meant to be read and never to be spoken aloud. Through written language, then, communication is vastly extended. In direct contact, however, we encounter not only the spoken language of another, but we are presented with the communicator’s person as well. Spoken language is embellished with smiles, frowns, or other gestures, and these add to the meaning of the spoken word.

Often when we read a book we silently mouth the words, as if to reinforce their symbolic content with a more emotional immediacy. The language of the psyche, however, is far richer and more varied. Its “words” spring alive. Its “verbs” really move, and do not simply signify, or stand for, motion.

Its “nouns” become what they signify. Its declensions are multi-dimensional. It verbs and nouns can become interchangeable. In a way, the psyche is its own language. “At any given time,” all of its tenses are present tense. In other words, it has multitudinous tenses, all in the present, or it has multitudinous present tenses. Within it no “word” dies or becomes archaic. This language is experience. Psychically, then, we can and we cannot say that there is a source. The very fact that we question: “Is there a God, or a Source?” shows that we misunderstand the issues.

In the same manner, when we ask: “Is there a master language?” it is apparent that we do not understand what language itself is. Otherwise we would know that language is dependent upon other implied ones; and that the two, or all of them, are themselves and yet inseparable, so closely connected that it is impossible to separate them even though our focus may be upon one language alone.

So the psyche and its source, or the individual and the God, are so inseparable and interconnected that an attempt to find one apart from the other automatically confuses the issue.

Dreams, Electrical Reality, Evolution, Inner universe, Metaphysics, Thought, Thoughts, Uncategorized

The existence of one person implies the existence of all others who have lived or will live.

December 9, 2015 zzzesus

Our own existence is implied therefore in everyone else’s and theirs is implied in us.

Languages gain their meaning largely from the pauses and hesitations between sounds. They obviously gain their meaning also because of the sounds not used, so that any one language also implies the existence of all others. To that extent, all other languages reside silently within any given spoken language. The same applies to language written upon a page. The written characters make sense because of their arrangement, and precisely because they are chosen over other characters that do not appear. In the same kind of manner, our focused existence is dependent upon all other existences that are not us presently. We are a part of them. We ride upon their existences, though we are primarily us and no other.

The same applies, however, to every other person. Each of them becomes a primarily focus or identity within which all others are implied. In Ordinary terms, we do not “make ourselves.” We are like a living language spoken by someone who did not originate it — the language was there for us to use. The language in this case is a molecular one that speaks our physical being. The components of that language or the earth elements that form the body were already created when we were born, as the alphabet of our particular language was waiting to be used.

Our very physical life, then, implies a “source,” a life out of which the physical one emerges, — the implied, unspoken, immaterialized, unsounded vitality that supplied the ingredients for the physical, bodily, molecular “alphabet.” Our physical life therefore implies a non-physical one. We take our particular “language” so for granted, and use it so effortlessly, that we give no thought at all to the fact that it implies other languages also, or that it gains its meaning because of inner assumptions that are never spoken, or by the use of pauses in which no sounds are made. We live our lives in the same fashion.

There are many languages, though most people speak one, or two, or three at most. Languages also have accents, each somewhat different while still maintaining the original integrity of any given language. To some extent we can learn to speak oneself with an accent, so to speak, in which case, still being oneself, we allow ourselves to take on some of the attributes of another “language.”

We can read the world in a different way, while still maintaining our own identity, or we can move into a different country of oneself that speaks our native language but with a different slant. We do this to some extent or another whenever we tune in to broadcasts to which we usually pay no attention. The news is slightly foreign, while it is still interpreted through the language that we know. We are getting a translation of reality.

The psyche, always in a state of becoming, obviously has no precise boundaries. The existence of one, implies the existence of all, and so any one given psyche comes into prominence also because of the existence of the others upon which its reality rides. One television station exists in the same manner, for if one could not be tuned into, theoretically speaking, none could.

These inner communications, reach outward in all directions. Each identity has eternal validity within the psyche’s greater reality. At one level, any person contacting his or her own psyche can theoretically contact any other psyche. Life implies death, and death implies life — that is, in the terms of our world. In those terms life is a spoken element, while death is the unspoken but still-present element “beneath,” upon which life rides. Both are equally present.

To obtain knowledge consciously other than usually available, we pay attention to the pauses, to the implied elements in language, to any felt or sensed quality upon which the recognizable experiences of life reside. There are all kind of information available to us, but it must be perceived through our own focus or identity.

All events occur at once — a difficult statement to understand. All identities occur at once also. Each event changes every other. Present ones alter past ones. Any one event implies the existence of probable events which do not “emerge,” which are not “spoken.” Physical world events therefore rest upon the existence of implied probable events. Different languages use sounds in their own peculiar manners, with their own rhythms, one emphasizing what another ignores. Other probabilities, therefore, emphasize events that are only implied in our reality, so that our physical events become the implied probable ones upon which other worlds reside.

Dreams, Evolution, Inner universe, Metaphysics, Thoughts, Uncategorized

We are part of the world, and yet we are oneself.

December 8, 2015 zzzesus

This does not confuse us, and we follow our own sense of identity without difficulty, even though we are everywhere surrounded by other individuals.

Using this as an analogy, we are a part of our psyche or our soul, dwelling within it, easily following our own sense of identity even though that psyche also contains other identities beside the one that we think of as our own. We draw sustenance from the world, and grow through its medium. We contribute our abilities and experience, helping to form the world’s civilization and culture. To some strong degree we bear the same kind of relationship to our own psyche.

Through ordinary methods of communication we are able to tell what is going on in other countries beside our own, even without traveling to them. News telecasts acquaint us with conditions around the world.

Now there are also inner “broadcasts” going on constantly — to which, however, we are not consciously attuned. These keep us in constant touch with the other portions of our own psyche. We are so a part of the world that our slightest action contributes to its reality. Our breath changes the atmosphere. Our encounters with others alter the fabrics of their lives, and the lives of those who come in contact with them.

It is easy for us to see how the cells of the body form it — that is, we understand at least the cooperative nature of the cell’s activities. An alteration on the part of one cell immediately causes changes in the others, and brings about a difference in body behavior. It is somewhat more difficult for us to understand the ways in which our own actions and those of others combine to bring about world events. On the other hand, each individual alive on the planet at any given “time.” It may seem that the individual has little power. On the other hand, each individual alive is a necessary one. It is, each of our actions is so important, contributing to the experience of others whom we do not know, that each individual is like a center about which the world revolves.

If we did not do what we did today, for example, the entire world would be in some way different.

Our acts ripple outward in ways that we do not understand, interacting with the experience of others, and hence forming world events. The most famous and the most anonymous person are connected through such a fabric, and an action seemingly small and innocuous can end up changing history as we understand it. In metaphysical terms, we have our being in our psyche or soul in somewhat the same manner. Identities are obviously psychic environments, primarily, rather than physical ones. Physical objects cannot move through each other, as a table cannot move through a chair. Mental events behave differently. They can mix and merge, move through each other while still maintaining their own focus. they can interact on psychic levels in the way that events do on physical levels, but without physical restrictions. Though we are a portion if our psyche, then, our identity is still inviolate. It will not be submerged or annihilated in a greater self. It carries a stamp — a divine mark — or its own integrity. It follows its own focus, and knows itself as itself, even while its own existence as itself may be but a portion of another “identity.”

Moreover, there is nothing to stop it from exploring this other greater identity, or moving into it, so to speak. When this happens both identities are changed. In greater terms, the psyche or soul nowhere exists as a finished product or entity. On the other hand it is always becoming, and that becoming happens on the part of each of its own portions.

Our very physical stance and existence are dependent upon portions of our psyche’s reality, or our soul’s existence, of which we are normally unaware. Those portions are also dependent upon our existence, however.

We take our breathing, our moving, for granted, though they are unconsciously produced. In certain terms, however, “at one time” we had to learn how to do these things that we are not consciously concerned with. At still other levels of reality, activities that we now consciously claim as our own have — in those same terms and from another viewpoint — become unconscious, providing a psychic history from which other identities emerge, as it seems that our own identities emerge from unconscious bodily activity.

Dreams, Electrical Reality, Evolution, Inner universe, Lessons, Metaphysics, Ontology, Physical Life, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Unknown

Almost any question that we can ask of God, can be asked of the Psyche as well.

December 4, 2015 zzzesus

It seems to us that we know ourselves, but that we take the existence of our psyche on faith. At best, it often seems that we are all that we know of our psyche, and we will complain that we do not know oneself to begin with. When we say: “I want to find myself,” we usually take it for granted that there is a completed, done, finished version of oneself that we have mislaid somewhere. When we think of finding God, we often think in the same terms.

We are “around ourselves” all the time. We are ever becoming oneself. In a manner of speaking we are “composed” of those patterns of oneself that are everywhere coming together. We cannot help but be oneself. Biologically, mentally, and spiritually we are marked as apart from all others, and no cloak of conventionally can ever hide that unutterable uniqueness. We cannot help but be ourselves.

In a way, physically we are a molecular language that communicates to others, but a language with its own peculiarities, as if speaking an accepted tongue we spoke with a biological accent that carried its own flavor and meaning.

When we ask: “What is my psyche, or my soul, or who am I?” we are seeking of course for our own meaning as apart from what we already know about oneself. In that context, God and the psyche are constantly expanding– unutterable, and always becoming.

We will question, most likely, “Becoming what?” for to us it usually seems that all motion tends toward a stat of completion of one kind or another. We think, therefore, in terms of becoming perfect, or becoming free. The word “becoming” by itself seems to leave us up in the air, so to speak, suspended without definitions. If I say: “You are becoming what you already are,” then my remark sounds meaningless, for if you already are, how can you become what is already accomplished? In larger terms, however, what we are is always vaster than our knowledge of oneself, for in physical life we cannot keep up with our own psychological and psychic activity.

In a way our bodies speak a biological language, but in those terms we are bilingual, to say the least. We deal with certain kinds of organizations. They can be equated with biological verbs, adjectives and nouns. These result in certain time sequences that can be compared to sentences, written and read from one side, say, to the other.

Pretend that our life’s experience is a page of a book that we write, read, and experience from top to bottom, left to right, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. That is the you that you know– the wold view that we understand. But other quite as legitimate “yous” may write, read, and experience the same page backwards, or read each letter downward and back up again, as we would a column of figures. Or others might mix and match the letters in entirely different fashions altogether, forming entirely different sentences. Still another, vaster you might be aware of all the different methods of experiencing that particular page, which is our life as we understand it.

We think that our own consciousness is the only logical culmination of our body’s reality. We read oneself in a certain accepted fashion. In the “entire book of life,” however, just physically speaking, there are interrelationships on adjacent levels that we do not perceive, as other portions of our own biological consciousness or biological language relate to the entire living fabric of the world. In physical terms we are alive because of substructures — psychic, spiritual, and biological — of which we have hardly any comprehension at all.

These are implied, however, in the nature of our own consciousness, which could not exist otherwise as we know it. As language gains and attains its meaning not only by what is included in it, but also by what is excluded, so our consciousness attains its stability also by exclusions.

What we are is implied in the nature of what we are not. By the same token, we are what we are because of the existence of what we are not.

We read ourselves from the top of the page to the bottom, or from what we think of as the beginning to the end. Our greater reality, however, is read in terms of intensities, so that the psyche puts us together in a different way. The psyche does not mark time. To it the intense experiences of our life exist simultaneously. In our terms they would be the psyche’s present. The psyche deals with probable events, however, so some events– perhaps some that we dreamed of but did not materialize — are quite real to the psyche. They are far more real to it than most innocuous but definite physical events, as for example yesterday morning’s breakfast.

The inner events of the psyche compose the greater experience from which physical events arrive. They cast an aura that almost magically make our life our own. Even as two people encountered precisely the same events in their lives at precisely the same time, their experiences of reality would still hardly be approximately connected.

Dreams, Electrical Reality, Evolution, Inner universe, Metaphysics, Thoughts, Uncategorized

Before the birth of images and words, the world existed in different terms.

December 3, 2015 zzzesus

Images as we consider them had not taken the form that we recognize. It seems to us that visually, for example, the natural world must be put together or perceived in a certain fashion.

Whatever our language, we perceive trees, ,mountains, people, oceans. We never see a man merge with a tree, for example. This would be considered an hallucinatory image. Our visual data are learned and interpreted so that they appear as the only possible results of those data. Inner vision can confound us, because in our mind we often see images quite clearly that we would dismiss if our eyes were open. In the terms of which we are speaking, however, the young species utilized what I have called the “inner senses” to a far greater degree than we do. Visually, early man did not perceive the physical world in the way that seems natural to us.

When a man’s and woman’s consciousness, for example, blended with that of a tree, those data, became “visual” for others to perceive. When a man’s/woman’s consciousness merged with an animal’s that blending became visual data also.

In a manner of speaking, the brain put visual information together so that the visual contents of the world were not as stationary as they are now. We have learned to be highly specific in our physical sight and interpretations. Our mental vision holds hints as to data that could be, but are not visually, physically perceived. We have trained ourselves to react to certain visual cues which trigger our mental interpretations, and to ignore other variations.

These later can be described as too subtle. Yet actually they are no more subtle than those cues we acknowledge.

Data, we say, are stored in the chromosomes, strung together in a certain fashion. Now biologically that is direct cognition. The inner senses perceive directly in the same fashion. To us, language means words. Words are always symbols for emotions or feelings, intents or desires. Direct cognition did not need the symbols. The first language, the initial language, did not involve images or words, but dealt with a free flow of directly cognitive material.

A man or woman, wondering what a tree was like, became one, and let his or her own consciousness flow into the tree. Man’s/woman’s consciousness mixed and merged with other kinds of consciousness with the great curiosity of love. A child did not simply look at an animal, but let its consciousness merge with the animal’s and so to some extent the animal looked out through the child’s eyes.

In ways most difficult to explain, man and woman “absorbed” an animal’s spirit before he/she killed it, so that the spirit of the animal merged with his or her own. In using the animal’s flesh, then, the hunter believed that he or she was giving the animal a new focus of existence. He/she could draw on the animal’s strength, and therefore were one.

Our own kind of focus emerged from such a background, so that within ourselves we contain myriad consciousnesses of which we are unaware. Through our own particular focus, the consciousnesses of the natural world merged to form a synthesis in which, for example, symphonies can emerge. We act not only for ourselves, but also for other kinds of consciousness that we have purposefully forgotten. In following our own purposes, which are ours, we also serve the purposes of others we have forgotten.

In thinking our own private thoughts, we also add to a larger psychic and mental reality of which we are part. Our language program our perceptions, and limit our communications in certain terms, as much as they facilitate it.

A musician writing a symphony, however, does not use all of the notes that are available to him. He or she chooses and discriminates. His/her discrimination is based upon his/her knowledge of the information available, however. In the same way, our languages are based upon an inner knowledge of larger available communications. The “secrets” of language are not to be found, then, in the available sounds, accents, root words or syllables, but in the rhythms between the words; the pauses and hesitations; the flow with which the words are put together, and the unsaid inferences that connect verbal and visual data.

As a species “We” sought certain kinds of experience. Individually, and as tribes or nations, we follow certain “progressions” — and yet in so doing we act also on the part of the whole of nature. We take into our bodies in transmuted form the consciousness of all the things we consume.

The consciousness then merge to perceive the world in a fashion we call our own. Through our eyes the beasts, vegetables, birds, and dust perceive the dawn and sunlight as we do — as us, and yet on the other hand our experience is our own.

To some extent it is true to say that languages emerged as we began to lose direct communication with our own experience, and with that of others. Language is therefore a substitute for direct communication. The symbols of the words stand for our own or someone else’s experience, while protecting us or them from it at the same time.

Visual data as we perceive them amount to visual language; the images perceived are like visual words. An object is presented to our visual perception so that we can safely perceive it from the outside. Objects as we see them are also symbols.

Dreams, Evolution, Inner universe, Metaphysics, Thought, Uncategorized

Channels of interrelatedness

December 1, 2015 zzzesus

Connecting all physical matter — channels through consciousness flows.

Man’s/woman’s identification with nature allowed him/her to utilize those inner channels. He/she could send his/her own consciousness swimming, so to speak, through many currents, in which other kinds of consciousness merged. The language of love is one basic language. Man/woman loved nature, identified with its many parts, and added to his/her own sense of being by joining into its power and identifying with its force.

It is not so much that “Man”/”Woman” personified the elements of nature as that he/she threw his or her personality into its elements and rode them, so to speak. Love incites the desire to know, and communicate with the beloved; so language began as man/woman tried to express his/her love for the natural world.

Initially language had nothing to do with words, and indeed verbal language emerged only when man or woman had lost a portion of his/her love, forgotten some of his or her identification with nature, so that he or she no longer understood its voice to be his/her also. In those early days man and woman possessed a gargantuan arena for the expression of his/her emotions. He or she did not symbolically rage with the storms, for example, but quite consciously identified with them to such a degree that he or she and his or her tribesman or tribeswoman merged with the wind and lightning, and became a part of the storm’ forces. They felt, and knew as well, that the storms would refresh the land, whatever their fury.

Because of such identification with nature, the death experience, as we understand it, was in no way considered an end. The mobility of consciousness was a fact of experience. The self was not considered to be stuck within the skin. The body was considered more or less like a friendly home or cave, kindly giving the self refuge but not confining it.

The language of love did not initially involve images, either. Images in the mind, as they are understood, emerged in their present form only when man or woman had, lost a portion of his or her love and identification, and forgotten how to identify with an image from its insides, and so began to view it from outside.

In a way the language of love followed molecular roots — a sort of biological alphabet, though “alphabet” is far too limiting a term.

Each natural element had its own key system that interlocked with others, forming channels through which consciousness could flow from one kind of life to another. Man and woman understood himself/herself to be a separate entity, but one that was connected to all of nature. The emotional reaches of his/her subjective life, then, lept far beyond what we think of as private experience. Each person participating fully in a storm, for example, still participated in his or her own individual way. Yet the grandeur of the emotions was allowed full sway, and the seasons of the earth and the world were jointly felt.

The language or the method of communication can best be described perhaps as direct cognition. Direct cognition is dependent upon a lover’s kind of identification, where what is known is known. At that stage no words or even images were needed. The wind outside and the breath were felt to be one and the same, so that the wind was the earth breathing out the breath that rose from the mouths of the living, spreading out through the earth’s body. Part of a man or woman went out with breath — therefore, man’s and woman’s consciousness could go wherever the wind traveled. A man or woman’s consciousness, traveling with the wind,became part of all places.

A person’s identity was private, in that man/her always knew who he/she was. He or her was so sure of his/her identity that he/she did not feel the need to protect it, so that he or her could expand his/her awareness in away now quite foreign to us.

Take the English sentence: “I observe the tree.” If the original language had words, the equivalent would be: “as a tree, I observe myself.”

Or: “Taking on my tree nature, I rest in my shade.” Or even: “From my man/woman nature, I rest in the shade of my tree nature.” A man/woman did not so much stand at the shore looking down at the water, as he/she immersed his/her consciousness within it. Man’s or woman’s initial curiosity did not involve seeing, feeling, or touching the object’s nature as much as it involved a joyful psychic exploration in which he or she plunged his or her consciousness, rather than, say, his or her foot into the stream — though he or she did both.

If that language I speak of had been verbal, man/woman never would have said: “The water flows through the valley.” Instead, the sentence would have read something like this: “Running over the rocks, my water self flows together with others in slippery union.” That translation is not the best, either. Man or woman did not designate his or her own as the only kind of consciousness by any means. He/she graciously thanked the tree the gave him or her shade, for example, and he/she understood that the tree retained its own identity even when it allowed his or her awareness to join with it.

In our terms, the use of language began as man and woman lost his/her kind of identification. I must stress, that the identification was not symbolic, but practical, daily expression. Nature spoke for man/woman and man/woman for nature.

In a manner of speaking, the noun and the verb were one. The noun did not disappear, but expressed itself as the verb.

In a kind of emotional magnification unknown to us, each person’s private emotions were given an expression and release through nature’s changes — a release that was understood, and taken for granted. In the most profound of terms, weather conditions and the emotions are still highly related. The inner conditions cause the exterior climatic changes, though of course it now seems to you that it is the other way around.

We are robbed, then, or we rob ourselves, of one of the most basic kinds of expression, since we can no longer identify ourselves with the forces of nature. Man and woman wanted to pursue a certain kind of consciousness, however. In our terms, over a period of time he/she pulled his/her awareness in, so to speak; he/she no longer identified as he/she did before, and began to view objects through the object of his own body. He or she no longer merged his or her awareness, so that he/she learned to look as a tree as one object, where before he/she would have joined with it, and perhaps viewed his/her own standing body from the tree’s vantage point. It was then the mental images became important in usual terms — for he or she had understood these before, but in a different way, from the inside out.

Now he and she began to draw and sketch, and to learn how to build images in the mind that were connected to real exterior objects in the presently accepted manner. Now he/she walked, not simply for pleasure, but to gain the information he or she wanted, to cross distances that before his/her consciousness had freely traveled. So he or she needed primitive maps and signs. Instead of using whole images he/she used partial ones, fragments of circles or lines, to represent natural objects.

He/she had always made sounds that communicate emotions, intent, and sheer exuberance. When he/she became involved with sketched or drawn images, he or she began to imitate their form with the shape of his/her lips. The “O” was perfect, and represents one of his or her initial, deliberate sounds of verbalized language.

Dreams, Electrical Reality, Evolution, Inner universe, Metaphysics, Thoughts

Consciousness is far more mobile

November 28, 2015 zzzesus

Operationally, we have focused ours primarily with the body. We cannot experience subjective behavior “from outside,” so this natural mobility of consciousness, which for example the animals have retained, is psychologically invisible to us.

We think in terms of units and definitions, so even when we consider our own consciousness we think of it as “a thing,” or a unit — an invisible something that might be held in invisible hands perhaps. Instead consciousness is a particular quality of being. Each portion of “it” contains the whole, so theoretically as far as we are concerned, we can leave our body and be in it simultaneously. We are rarely aware of such experiences because we do not believe them possible, and it seems that even consciousness, particularly when individualized, must be in one place or another.

In those early times, then, consciousness was more mobile. Identity was more democratic. In a strange fashion this does not mean that individuality was weaker. Instead it was strong enough not to accept within its confines many divergent kinds of experience. A person then, looking out into the world of trees, waters and rock, wildlife and vegetation, literally felt that he/she was looking at the larger, materialized, subjective areas of personal selfhood.

To explore that exterior world was to explore the inner one. Such a person, however, walking through the forest, also felt that he or she was also a portion of the inner life of each rock or tree, materialized. yet there was no contradiction of identities.

A man/woman might merge his/her own consciousness with a running stream, traveling in such a way for miles to explore the layout of the land. To do this he/she became part water in a kind of identification we can barely understand– but so did the water then become part of the man/woman.

We can imagine atoms and molecules forming objects with little difficulty. In the same way, however, portions of identified consciousness can also mix and merge, forming alliances.

CITY OF VANGUARD