On Consciousness
by Kirby Congdon…….
Coming back to Mr. Donnelly’s question about the origin of consciousness, one bounces around in trying to define it. A country’s poetry is a convenient definition for its consciousness but this is about as vague as you can get in explaining this word. The dictionary hammers away at the synonym “aware,” for defining “conscious” while “consciousness” is awareness of one’s feeling or “the totality of one’s thoughts, feelings and impresions.” So there we are back in the hodge-podge of vague references.
We think of awareness as another word for a sense of reality. Is a state of happiness consciousness and is that reality? Cutting one’s finger accidentally also gets your attention. Is that the real world that defines consciousness? Is being attentive to the miasma of situations we are always in the final answer? How about study as in reading or playing an instrument? Then there is that dimension of habitual behavior in a familiar environment. A wild bird or a pet at a feeder surely know reality and the importance of what it’s doing. Can we pin the terms “ease- and-comfort” to the act of consciousness? This, however, dismisses despair, pain and grief. Another angle is that of intensity by which I mean the mad artist, bringing up a child, or any act of deep dedication. A locomotive is intense on bringing its train down the track but we need some life for our survey or, as we said in the beginning, we need a sense of consciousness. There’s that word again. The situation, whatever it may be, always seems to require more than one thing to be going on.
We have five senses and consciousness likes to have a couple of them occupied: where we are, what we see, hear, smell, taste while the brain is lining up its thoughts, conjectures, memories and inquisitiveness. The rules are–here we go! vague, but still quite busy. Taking notice of a catastrophe like a flood an earthquake, a hurricane, an explosion or being late to a luncheon date involves us in consiousness. And so does sitting in the back yard, making chit-chat, along side some kind of landscape lets us know who we are as well. And who are we? We don’t know for sure. But perhaps that is what we are about when we are enchanted, frightened, or just learning about a passing act of consciousness.
A good poem finishes well by leaving it at that–provocatively suggesting almost anything, but defining very little of our consciousness with any permanent definition of either the real or the imaginary. Perhaps consciousness is not confined to anything at all that we can point at but it is coping with everything in one way or another to live and, even more, to be alive.
Kirby,
What a delightfully beautiful essay…Addressing the essence of what it is to be alive, as we commingle with the Creation.
When I am dialed into my true ‘Self’, I realize that I’m the thinker of the thought, my mind having become my servant; as I process, call the plays and determine the conditions of my reality.
I’ve learned that it’s not overly important what happens to me; it’s critically important in how I let it affect me. Being liberated from the bondage of self, catapulted me into another dimension, where all things are possible. The freedom to be open to new and diverse approaches towards living one’s life. Abandoning old ideas that hadn’t worked very well, while developing a new design of living, that stimulated awakenings and awareness of my Consciousness; triggered an exploration and discovery of worlds, which I did not know existed.
Now mind you, the work required of me to maintain a heightened sense of insight and awareness, and it is work for me; as my body and ego want to be pleasured and pleased most of the time; is challenging and sometimes difficult. However, the alternative is to accept and revel in the darkness. I refuse to live like that anymore.
So I press on as I Am, warts and all, utilizing the force of my will to bring goodness into my life and the world. When I err, no worries, I’ve learned how to pick myself up, brush off whatever clothes I’m wearing; and continue my journey towards the Light…
Love your work. Without reminders from teachers as yourself, I can drift and forget how lucky I am.
Kirby, thanks for your great stuff…
Because of this
Democracy failed
politicians owned
votes for sale
because of this
false wars waged; bombs dropped
veterans abandoned
freedom rings; in spite of this
Education for profit
certificates sold
student debt; because of this
employment promised
American Dream; what of this?
Consumer slaves
trash piled high
celebrity worshipped
digital opiates; because of this
Apathy
run from this
Manipulated crashes
shorted stocks
markets moved
pensions stolen
hearts broken
who will prosecute this?
Because of this
unemployment
rotting homes; cities decay
Homelessness
open your eyes
do you see this?
Hope lost; because of this
booze flows
needles stab
pipes burn
pills dull this
because of this
prisons are built
souls incarcerated
police brutality; bodies beat
rubber bullets fly
tear gas smokes; eyes on fire
streets burn
who needs this?
Twin towers felled
high jacked planes
sleeper cells
underwear bombs
patriotism flamed
remember this?
what became of this?
petroleum addiction
droughts scorch; because of this
water wars
crops die; prices rise
glaciers die; tides rise
can we stop this?
Coffers robbed; leaving this
broken roads
crumbling bridges
dinosaur trains
antiquated air traffic control
we’ll pay for this
I sit still
because of this
wonder how
it became this
red, white; but mostly blue
because of
this
– JWH