How would it appear to a man, or rather, how would a man appear to himself (and perhaps others) if he were to embrace some notion of his consciousness (even to him) as being more or less theoretical in nature as previously described? Rather than a bedrock thing as once previously assumed to himself, so certain of it, so sure of its reality in truth and being; he were to discover just how much flux is taking place in it and through it… and being directed to himself? Sometimes a comfort to him, sometimes a terror, sometimes seemingly reasonable, sometimes presenting him with either the most bizarre and absurd of notions whose ends, if seen, would never be pursued; and not infrequently propelling him by desires that lead to catastrophic results…or at the very least, calamity.
Who doesn’t know this?
And it should appear obvious…this sort of knowing is not the sort the self boasts of.
What if the man…previously presuming himself to be actor and possessor, discovers he is more of a witness to matters, even consciousness that he once called his own…this thing that “speaks” to him of his being, his reality, his wondering(s), and self confident affirmations and assurances? What if the thing that is actually the man is only seeing thoughts, seeing ideas, experiencing desires and with provoking of will in all, merely comes to understand the he that is the he (or she) is has been formed and made subject to all these mentioned by being locked in as witness restricted to their entertaining and solely to them; and is being convinced they are the he (or she) of which he is, and can never be otherwise.
I am. Me.
Perhaps such delusion would be fully expressed as one, by one, even as through one; who would make claim “I know my own mind”.
Really?
But also really…what keeps me…from being you? And perhaps more quizzically, what makes me know I am not? You. What is this bounding and bonding of self to self?
Now the easy answer that reveals nothing other than a belief in its being of itself a thing, is what is called sense of self. As in “The sense of self tells one he/she is him/herself.” How often we think by naming a thing it either explains or resolves it to some understanding! But for those who, in almost every other circumstance would decry circular reasoning as being inutile, generally it suffices most to consider this adequate…”sense of self is, well…having a sense of self”.
“It’s (what is that “it”?) what tells a person they are them/their self.”
And there it is again if one can receive or see…again a something is being “told”/instructed/informed of a thing by another thing in their seeming residence. Is an “I” still an I…or you a you…if lacking a sense of self? If so, what is necessity of sense of self…or is it…this thing we call sense of self the very thing that solely constitutes a self? In other words, if it can be lacking…is there an “I” self? A you…self? And, if assuming that such a thing is (and it might be difficult to argue otherwise)…what is stronger, more bedrock to each and every, that they are to them/their self…themselves?
What is ever more never not carried by each? But this sense of self? Not even the most strident empath could deliver their self from it.
Could something be stronger to break such bonding? Is it only death that accomplishes this? That place of terror where it appears a self is lost…to itself. Anything (or anyone) other? What might that, or who might that then, be? What could have power (or authority) to free any from being locked in to, or by, their own sense of self? And what sort of course of thinking and consciousness could, or would, then be held? Could it even be “safe” to be lost to one’s self?
It (or a person) would be, in that sense, could be like the rock mentioned earlier that vexes Descartes’ “I think therefore I am”. For if one is convinced the rock doesn’t think (neither of, nor for itself) does that deny its being? It almost seems that for a very bright man like Descartes (and who of us isn’t?) establishing “being”, that is being sure of it, is the conundrum left solely to the conscious. For we all learn something about mind…as reliable as it sometimes seems (and is relied upon) for verification, assessments, establishment…it is just as prone to making things up. “What if I don’t exist?” “How do I know I exist?” “What if all of the all I believe I think I know, perceive, contact, have some communing in…is just a product of my mind…under some influence?” (Have you ever watched the movie “The Matrix”?)
What if all of the “I” that I am and believe myself to be, is all and only “watching” a parade of images, thoughts, conceptions assumed to be right perceptions of the “out there”, but is really only taking place in the “in here”? Too much? Why? Almost any educated man (and probably every neuro-scientist) would tell you it all takes place…in the brain. Pain is not pain to a nerve, it only carries raw data. Sight is not sight to the eye, smell is not smell to the nose, hearing is not in the ear…etc. All the signals are sent (if conduits are intact) to a place where all is processed for interpretation. It appears all is feedback (so to speak) reliant…but to what can the mind/consciousness look for feedback itself, to itself, to verify?
How do I know a rose today smells just like the rose did yesterday? Or, as most any child has engaged in some sort of this thought experiment, “How do I know, and could I ever know…that the thing I call blue (and looks “blue” to me)…if I were able to step into your mind and see…I would call red? My red is his blue. His blue is my red. Yet, it would still work.
“Oh”, you say, “wavelengths… wavelengths establish color” Yes, but they do not establish perception. All the raw data (that we have only decided/agreed upon as is raw data…that is in purest/simplest/truest(?) form) is all and always under interpretation. And not merely for identification (though we most often think in those terms), but so many other things are also engaged. What is your favorite…color?
It would no less seem almost all is played to us for favor…a far less tangible thing (if we can even agree that perceptions to the end of identification are more substantial) than most others. Favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite memories, favorite vacation spots, shoes, fishing rods, experiences, movies, sensations, child, etc…and on and on and on. Even to a favorite…self. Or more specifically totally engaged and consequent to (all these favorites) a self from, and in which, we are locked in that sense and sensing, and in, and to which, we have no choice.
“Be yourself” is touted. What choice would one (does one) have, anyway? Even if that self is striving always to be a different self, or different kind of self? No, that’s hardly what seems meant to be taken. “Don’t try to be like anyone else, in fact don’t try to be anything…just…be…yourself” seems more the take away. But what of these? Dahmer? Hitler? Pol Pot, Stalin, Manson, Jim Jones…OK…let’s throw in Mother Theresa and Jonas Salk.
Yet I think you would find, at least in the last two mentioned, some impetus to try…to either try to “do good” or be good. And of the others I am more than persuaded that, not unlike the blue and red thought experiment…were one able to enter their mind/consciousness…what you might call evil in your own mind, might not even be there in their perception of their own self. To each self…what is good, or what good is, is dictated to and by, that self. I think it would be both naive and somewhat childish to think Adolf awoke every morning fiendishly rolling his hands over one another and wondering what evil and mayhem he might bring upon the world today.
To himself he was, after all, not unlike any other…just being himself.
And thought Hitler has become our sort of useful tool for almost general agreement of how bad/evil “a” man can be…(a handy go to avatar of extreme malevolence) rare is the man who might come to think otherwise; and that he, if given that allowance of indulging “If I were you…” might easily say “You know, I think I might have been an even worse Hitler than Hitler.”
But who could/would think that?
For in almost any consideration of Herr Hitler as the avatar of pure evil, this is found more the case. “Oh Hitler! Now look what you’ve done! You don’t scare us anymore, you’ve become to us and for us a wonderful thing…we all get to feel better about ourselves by comparison. Everyone gets to believe themselves a more decent human being and we owe it so much…to your malevolence!”
And I am no less persuaded that for a very long while he liked “being himself”. And maybe his sudden and final (if believed) conversion from vegetarian to a 7.65mm bullet/cyanide diet was not even him trying to not be himself any longer…but was the most perfect expression by his self and of his self, to most fully express who and what his self is/was. A self fully submitted to its self.
But O! That would be hard to swallow! Hitler not as avatar of evil anymore, but more an everyman. Just a man as everyman, being himself.
And how very often do we find we do not like certain selves in their being of them/their self? Maybe an update or codicil is needed to “Be yourself”.
It might then go like this: “OK…OK…now listen up we have a small revision…everyone who is not a Hitler, a Pol Pot, a Charles Manson, Stalin, Caligula…(or someone’s mother in law) ‘Be yourself’…it’s OK…to be your self.”
One may take issue with this, one may not know it (yet), or agree with it; and many, I am fairly sure would simply not like it for being taken from a book (for it is not found among their favorites) and for which they lack any esteem. Nevertheless it is there:
All of a man’s ways are right in his own eyes.
He may not have any care for “trying” to be either good or evil, but to himself he is right. He is the right person…to be “him” (or her).
He may even hate being himself…but regardless then, he is (to himself) right in hating it.
After all, one has no choice.
Could any be chosen to know this?
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