Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Consciousness and Its Alterations


I value consciousness. That seems like an absurd statement - so obvious. What do we have without consciousness? For many people consciousness is a pain and trial - for some it holds terrors. We're inclined to treat it casually, to take it for granted. We medicate it when it causes troubles - apply various soporifics to lessen its insatiable appetite. For consciousness also eats us up. It's so silent in itself - what does it want from us?

I feel I have a partnership with consciousness - I look into its invisibility, listen into its silence. I know this is a privilege, almost a luxury. But the very pain and suffering of existence - the non-comprehension, the sickness, the death - insist on it. To be in partnership. I feel and believe that stones have consciousness, trees, stars, animals of course. We all share the same borders.

So what about the altering of it? How many ways can it be changed? Sleep, dreams, daylight hours - three normal states. Coma, anaesthetic, schizophrenia - abnormal states. Trance, possession, suspended animation.. Drink and drugs - normal or abnormal? What about states where consciousness is 'enhanced' or 'heightened'? And the big one - death. What do we think, feel or know then?

For me consciousness is consciousness. Obvious again. But there are two senses of the word. Consciousness, as in that troublesome thing we have all the time; and consciousness in the sense of being conscious, being aware of something: reaching into it. Meditation occupies a unique position here - a state of consciousness which enhances itself. And what about death? There is plenty of evidence - and teachings - to suggest that the quality of consciousness you possess after death - indeed the very existence of consciousness - depends on your spiritual activity or lack of it on this side of the border. The problem is that consciousness is the unknown known. It's the intangible thing we are.

Beyond a certain point I believe it's a great adventure. Perhaps when you commit yourself to it, accept the death in it, as Krishna taught Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita. Stop clinging.

So we come back to the question of honouring consciousness. After all it does advance, even if - on the face of it - we are conscious of so much less than the societies and civilizations of the past. Could they not actually hear the stones speaking, the trees, stars and animals? How can I say I am more advanced? Because I have consciousness. I have the pain and burden of consciousness, which includes thinking. It includes the freedom of knowing you're conscious.

And so to the moral issue of changing it. This is a difficult one. Mind-altering drugs are more popular than ever. For some people these have a pro-active value in society - they expand awareness and help to usher in change. There is a sense of a great upward heave: enhancing, meditating, fighting for, evolving, sustaining. But there is also the danger of euphemism: when does 'medicinal' mean merely narcotic, when does 'heightened' simply mean hallucinogenic? In other words when do we stop being conscious? It seems to me it's a very fine balancing act to be conscious in the true sense while altering your consciousness. The reason for this is that - I believe - consciousness bears a responsibility. It is the very thing we are.

Of course there's infinite scope for self-delusion when anything intoxicating is present. All the words we have in our vocabulary for legitimizing things come into play, rightly or wrongly. Self-deception, self-knowledge, honesty.

Conscious. The word itself carries the answer. Does it judge? No. Does it bear a responsibility? I think so. It says, 'Don't stop'. Isn't that the essential feature of consciousness? Not to stop, not to give itself up. But it also says, 'Don't be in pain'. Or so I believe. Suffering is where consciousness is tangible. Meditation is where it's intangible. The Buddha was the incomparable master in this: enlightening consciousness in response to suffering. As if answering the call of consciousness itself.

I come to the conclusion, therefore, that consciousness does not want to give itself up; it wants the big adventure; but it also wants to find the solution to suffering - and ultimately to death - in itself.

I was prompted to write this by the great number of articles which allude to the alterations of consciousness by one means or another. In response to the question, 'Should you/shouldn't you?' I would say: 'Honour consciousness - treat it as your partner.' Listen to its voice, as the ancients listened to the voices in the stones and trees. If you fail to honour it, it will come back to haunt you. This is not to say that if you lift the cup to extend your consciousness then you are dishonouring it. The paradoxical answer to this - and pretty much to every question in life - is, 'Be more conscious'. Each person must find their own way of doing that - while preserving honesty.

With best wishes,
Jay

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