Are You Awake?
October 10th 2006 11:01
'Awake, arise, or be forever fall'n' - John Milton, Paradise Lost
How many of us are truly awake? Or more relevant to this post, how many of us are still asleep?
I ask this question because I have been pondering it for some time & have come to the conclusion that it is possible to live an entire lifetime without ever being truly conscious of oneself.
In order to clarify this I feel it is necessary to explain a little about my own state of mind. About five or six years ago I feel that I had some form of awakening experience (not one particular event but rather a slow, gentle awakening caused by a gradual change of perspective). Nevertheless it is easy for me to draw a very distinct line between different stages of my life & to see that my view of virtually everything before this point was entirely different in comparison to the present. Before this stage, my memory of events seems somewhat hazy, not that I have a bad memory, more that I was just not really paying attention. It seems so different, in fact, that I could describe that era as a past life or a dream.
My explanation of this is very simple & something that Im sure we have all, without exception, had experience of. For example, we have all had that experience when we are lying in bed & cannot remember wether or not we have locked the doors, turned the oven off etc. The more you think of it the more you start to worry as you realise you have absolutely no recollection of doing it. So, eventually you get out of bed and reluctantly take the walk downstairs only to find the doors locked, the oven turned off etc. Once you are satisfied that youre nightly ritual has been performed you can go to bed, sleep & rest in peace. The reason we have no conscious recollection of these acts is simply because they are not performed consciously.
I learned from studying Kung Fu that in order for an action to be performed instantly & without thought it needs to be implanted in the unconscious mind, and can then be utilized with a minimum of effort & deliberation (deliberation being the martial artists greatest enemy). The method used by martial artists to gain this ability is simply repetition of the relevant action. Through repetition & ritualistic behaviour we achieve a state of mind where everyday actions no longer demand our thought or attention. This a highly effective & necessary method of doing things, imagine if you had to make the effort to consciously breathe in and out all day, every day & even in your sleep. Life without this function is virtually impossible. If, however, we allow this ability to go unchecked, it can have very negative consequences for our mental & spiritual evolution.
It is my proposal that it was this state of mind, this unconscious behaviour that dominated my past life & is responsible for not only the sense of detachment I have in relation to that era but also for my previous failure to question anything. It is easy to see how this can happen when your entire life is governed by ritual. For example, getting up at the same time every day, taking the same route to the same job to do the same thing all day, every day, only to leave work, go home, watch Friends & go to bed. None of which really demands any kind of conscious participation, just an ability to carry on. In fact, now I am thinking of it, breaking this cycle of mundane repetition was quite possibly both the most traumatic & liberating experience of my life. I can only imagine how much this must apply to those who are actively encouraged & even forced into this kind of existence, such as a soldier. A life where this ritualism is enforced to such a degree that even the rythm of your footsteps is dictated in exactly the same manner day in & day out until the person becomes little more than a zombie and any sign of breaking this cycle (e.g. marching out of time) is punished in the harshest manner both physically & mentally.
How many of us are truly awake? Or more relevant to this post, how many of us are still asleep?
I ask this question because I have been pondering it for some time & have come to the conclusion that it is possible to live an entire lifetime without ever being truly conscious of oneself.
In order to clarify this I feel it is necessary to explain a little about my own state of mind. About five or six years ago I feel that I had some form of awakening experience (not one particular event but rather a slow, gentle awakening caused by a gradual change of perspective). Nevertheless it is easy for me to draw a very distinct line between different stages of my life & to see that my view of virtually everything before this point was entirely different in comparison to the present. Before this stage, my memory of events seems somewhat hazy, not that I have a bad memory, more that I was just not really paying attention. It seems so different, in fact, that I could describe that era as a past life or a dream.
My explanation of this is very simple & something that Im sure we have all, without exception, had experience of. For example, we have all had that experience when we are lying in bed & cannot remember wether or not we have locked the doors, turned the oven off etc. The more you think of it the more you start to worry as you realise you have absolutely no recollection of doing it. So, eventually you get out of bed and reluctantly take the walk downstairs only to find the doors locked, the oven turned off etc. Once you are satisfied that youre nightly ritual has been performed you can go to bed, sleep & rest in peace. The reason we have no conscious recollection of these acts is simply because they are not performed consciously.
It is my proposal that it was this state of mind, this unconscious behaviour that dominated my past life & is responsible for not only the sense of detachment I have in relation to that era but also for my previous failure to question anything. It is easy to see how this can happen when your entire life is governed by ritual. For example, getting up at the same time every day, taking the same route to the same job to do the same thing all day, every day, only to leave work, go home, watch Friends & go to bed. None of which really demands any kind of conscious participation, just an ability to carry on. In fact, now I am thinking of it, breaking this cycle of mundane repetition was quite possibly both the most traumatic & liberating experience of my life. I can only imagine how much this must apply to those who are actively encouraged & even forced into this kind of existence, such as a soldier. A life where this ritualism is enforced to such a degree that even the rythm of your footsteps is dictated in exactly the same manner day in & day out until the person becomes little more than a zombie and any sign of breaking this cycle (e.g. marching out of time) is punished in the harshest manner both physically & mentally.
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Comment by Anonymous
I guess my thing is to surf the stream of consciousness in whatever form it takes.
Interesting thoughts.
Comment by Gareth
Comment by amy louise
Comment by Gareth
Yeah, it makes perfect sense. thats exactly how i feel. When you think of it in that context it makes sense that enlightenment is often reffered to as an 'awakening' or conversely how those who fail to question things are reffered to as being 'asleep'. think of 'The Matrix', the time since you have felt this way (the last three years) is the time since you have taken the red pill.
Thanks for the comment
Comment by JakeDanger
The Matrix
I would like to point out, though, that many geniuses are extremely absent-minded. I think that's because they put the little things on autopilot in order to free up their minds to concentrate on what matters most to them.
Comment by Gareth
I dont know wether your familiar with Zen philosophy but Zen masters say that most of our problems woth percieving the world are due to our preconceptions and our need to label thngs. I once read a book about Merlin called 'They Way of The Wizard' and the reason merlin is so absent minded is because he has no labels for things, he doesn't know that a deer is a deer, or a tree is a tree. This can be very confusing with regards to communication but from a personal point of view it enables him to see things as they reallyt are without any preconcieved ideas about how they should be.
Comment by Gareth
I dont know wether your familiar with Zen philosophy but Zen masters say that most of our problems woth percieving the world are due to our preconceptions and our need to label thngs. I once read a book about Merlin called 'They Way of The Wizard' and the reason merlin is so absent minded is because he has no labels for things, he doesn't know that a deer is a deer, or a tree is a tree. This can be very confusing with regards to communication but from a personal point of view it enables him to see things as they reallyt are without any preconcieved ideas about how they should be.
Comment by Anonymous
Comment by Anonymous
I found this thread because I've recently been thinking about this more, and I recently tried to put it into words. I too have the feelinlg that once you've expereienced this, you feel compelled to do something with your awareness; to help change someone else's life, or perhaps change the world. In short, to try to awaken others. Unfortunately, it's such a difficult sensation to put into words that I think most people just keep it a secret for fear of sounding crazy. I nevertheless tried to get it down in words recently when I was feeling very pensive. It's written a bit like the opening chapter of a book, but I haven't any clue where it could ever lead. And since I know I'll never do anything with it if I don't do this now, here it is. If any of you think it's any good, feel free to pass it along. Maybe it will help others, but even if it doesn't, it's cathartic to let it go. I've always had the feeling that this ability to peel back another layer of consciousness somehow ties into destiny - like there's some value to this ability beyond what I can comprehend. Anyway, here goes:
============================= ===========
Foreword to a Book Not Yet Written
It was at times like this that he could really hear his thoughts. When he was away from the watchful eyes of his friends, family, or colleagues, surrounded instead only by strangers who he might never see again. It had always seemed to him that there was something more to life than most people were interested in knowing, but he had long ago learned that such topics only made people uncomfortable. Only in the waning hours of a drunken night had he ever really attempted to connect with others on this level, and even then there was always an air of reservation in those with whom he shared these thoughts. It was as though everyone but him was instinctively averse to thinking that deeply, but that did not stop him from believing. He was sure, not of why, but that there was more to life, some purpose just beyond his comprehension that would reveal itself in time. And right now, as the train glided past the waves of billowing Meadowlands, heading toward a city he could only barely continue to tolerate, it was almost as though that certainty was tangible, racing along just outside his window and coaxing him to make that giant leap he was sure he shouldn’t try to make until the signs were absolutely right.
Every step in his life had seemed oddly easy. Not that he hadn’t had to try, struggle even, to get through the various challenges he had taken on in his first 28 years. But whenever it came time to make that next critical step – when it was really time – some door had always miraculously opened and revealed the next chapter. He knew that some people, or maybe most, would call this luck. He may even have believed that too at some point, though it was difficult to remember a time when he wasn’t gripped by this firm conviction that there was something different about his existence.
From what he could figure, it had begun one day when he was very young. He had suddenly become aware of himself – not in the normal sense of the word, but truly aware, as though for a split second he realized that he was not just dreaming, he was really here. It had been extremely unsettling, like realizing in a single moment that he was naked when he had though he was clothed. Since that day he had been able awaken himself thus whenever he chose, but it was not until adulthood that he could do so without feeling that he might somehow forget how to get back to the comforting trance of everyday life.
Somehow, that feeling – of being suddenly and truly awake – had always seemed significant to him. It seemed as though destiny was watching the entire human race, but somehow only he had noticed it sitting there, perched high above the fray; and when he looked, it was looking back at him. Over time, that feeling became a suspicion, and the suspicion became a conviction, that there truly was something more to life than met the eye – something just beneath the surface of the here and now. Whether it was a preordained pattern or just the promise of a final destination he was not sure; it wasn’t about a path so much as a destination. He somehow knew it, and at times like this he could feel even feel it tingling in his spine – someday, either by virtue of his own decisions or those of a higher power, he would realize that he had arrived somewhere unexpected, and that somewhere would explain his reason for being.
Deep down, he knew why he could only think like this in private. He was either right – and who could possibly believe that? – or , he was wrong, and that meant one of several things, none of them good. But even though he had often considered the many reasons he had for indulging such fantasies, he could not bring himself to believe that this was just his imagination running wild. Despite all logic, he could not bring himself to doubt that someday, a new door would open as so many had before and deliver him to the life he knew he was born to lead. That was what made it so tantalizing on days like today: as sure as he was that there was something looming on the horizon for him, he was equally sure that there was nothing he could do to force the hand of fate, to speed its arrival. All he could do was wait, and try not to frustrate the plans.
And then it happened. He didn’t know it had, and he wouldn’t have believed it if he did. He had always had the sense that fate would send him down his intended path before he realized where it was leading – there was just something about the concept of destiny that didn’t make sense if the designs could be revealed before they were complete. He had thought he was just marking time, waiting for life to begin. He was sure that his education would never do more than pay the bills. But he never suspected that it was actually his inclination toward these boringly practical pursuits that would frustrate him just enough to take the leap of faith necessary to set his destiny in motion.
It was ironic that all this would begin happening on a day when he felt that a door was actually closing in front of him. He had received a rejection letter today. He had been so sure that the stars were aligning yet again that it truly caught him off guard. He hadn’t even sought out this opportunity; a door he had not even tried to open had shut in his face. Though he had considered the possibility that this was some kind of sign that his ultimate path would eventually lead him away from this profession altogether, he was not in a mood to placate himself with such thoughts at the moment. Right then, he just wanted to know how much longer he was going to have to wait, and how much more patient he was going to need to be.
What he didn’t realize was that he had to feel this way. He had to be driven to the edge of his patience, had to lose his conviction just long enough to flail aimlessly. He had never been a writer, but he had often wanted to record his feelings at moments like this. And the he just starting doing it. As he sat on that train, tired of waiting for his real life to begin, he began typing. Not thinking, but typing, much the same way that people subconsciously wiggle their feet while they wait for a bus or a train. The words that flowed forth were undiluted by purpose or pageantry, and for the briefest moment, they captured the feelings that Jim had had for his entire life.
If he had been able to see it then, he would have been tickled by the simplicity. He had always figured that his feelings – of being truly awake among a world of sleeping people – had been some early indication that he would one day do something special. In a sense he had been entirely correct, but he had never considered that his contribution would, in the end, be nothing more than conveying that feeling to others. His gift to humanity was to be nothing more than an eye-witness account. And that was why it had to happen exactly this way. In one moment of weakness he would begin writing, knowing that his words would never serve a purpose. And because of that, his words would come straight from his soul, untouched and uninterrupted by any human instinct to organize, embellish, or explain. In doing so, he would unknowingly write a foreword to a book not yet written.
"I am conscious of my surroundings. I am breathing in and out and I have all of my senses. Everything is normal, of course. Then, in a single jarring instant, I am standing outside of my body. But somehow I am still seeing things through my eyes. And then the tingling in my spine and the prickling of my skin delivers the final blow to my “reality.” I am not outside my body, I am just awake. For the first time, finally. My life is not a dream after all. I am really here. Oh God, I am here. Whatever this is, it is not normal and it is not okay. I feel exposed, completely and utterly exposed. The protective trance of consciousness has lifted and it is terrifying. I don’t know how this happened, but I need to get back. Can I get back? I can feel myself panicking. I can’t stay like this – the clarity is too much, frighteningly too much. And then it happens. My mind is forced to protect itself; my thoughts go blank and return to focus on something familiar – I am consumed by the automatic routine of walking down stairs, the subconscious exercise of putting one foot in front of the other. The tingling stops, and in my mind I shut that door and run away. For now."