il lato attivo del Tao - II

L'ultima parte dell'ultimo libro di Carlos Castaneda riprende, per la terza volta, il momento culminate del primo ciclo di insegnamenti, il salto nell'abisso e la contemporanea dissoluzione nell'infinito del gruppo del suo maestro.

Il salto nell'abisso



C'era una sola pista che portava alla mesa. Una volta lì, mi accorsi che non era cosi ampia come mi era apparsa quando la guardavo da lontano. La vegetazione non era diversa da quella che cresceva ai piedi della montagna: legnosi cespugli di un verde smorto, con un'ambigua somiglianza con gli alberi.
Non vidi subito I'abisso; solo quando don Juan mi condusse, scoprii che la mesa terminava in un precipizio. La montagna, di forma tondeggiante, era profondamente erosa sui versanti est e sud; a nord e a ovest, invece, sembrava tagliata con un coltello. In piedi sull'orlo, vedevo il fondo del burrone, forse tremila metri più in basso. Era coperto dagli stessi cespugli che crescevano dappertutto li intorno.
Facendo il giro della mesa, scoprii che si trattava in realtà della cima piatta di una montagna di discrete dimensioni. La fila di rilievi che si allungava a nord e a sud doveva essere stata parte di un canyon gigantesco e antichissimo, scavato da un fiume scomparso da tempo.
Un'erosione aveva profondamente intaccato i bordi del canyon, in certi punti spianandoli all'altezza del terreno. L'unica area intatta era quella su cui ci trovavamo noi.
"E' roccia solida" osservò don Juan, come se avesse letto nei miei pensieri. Con il mento indicò il baratro.
"Se qualcosa dovesse cadere laggiù, si fracasserebbe sulle rocce."
Fu questo l'inizio della conversazione che avemmo quel giorno, sulla vetta della montagna. In precedenza, don Juan mi aveva spiegato che il suo tempo sulla Terra era giunto al termine. Era pronto per il viaggio supremo. Io ne ero rimasto sconvolto. Avevo perso ogni controllo sulla realtà per sprofondare in un misericordioso stato di frammentazione, simile forse a quello che segue un esaurimento nervoso. Ma un frammento centrale era intatto: me stesso bambino. Tutto il resto era incertezza, imprecisione. Ero rimasto in quello stato di frammentarietà cosi a lungo che tornarci rappresentò per me l'unica via di uscita.
Successivamente, si verificò una stranissima interazione tra livelli diversi della mia consapevolezza. Con don Juan, il suo discepolo don Genaro e i due apprendisti Pablito e Nestor, ci arrampicammo sulla cima della montagna. Pablito, Nestor e io eravamo lì per adempiere al nostro ultimo compito di apprendisti: saltare in un abisso; una faccenda quanto mai misteriosa che don Juan mi aveva illustrato su piani diversi di consapevolezza, rna che fino a quel giorno era rimasta un enigma per me.
Don Juan disse scherzando che avrei dovuto tirar fuori il mio taccuino e prendere appunti su quel nostro ultimo incontro. Mi diede una leggera gomitata alle costole e, soffocando una risata, mi assicurò che sarebbe stato del tutto adeguato, dato che proprio prendendo appunti avevo cominciato la via del guerriero-viaggiatore.
Don Genaro intervenne dicendo che prima di noi, altri guerrieri-viaggiatori erano saliti su quella montagna per affrontare il viaggio nell'ignoto. Don Juan si rivolse a me e a bassa voce disse che presto sarei entrato con le mie sole forze nell'infinito, e che lui e don Genaro erano lì solo per dirmi addio. Di nuovo don Genaro si intromise dicendo che io avrei dovuto fare lo stesso con loro.
"Una volta che sarai entrato nell'infinito" riprese don Juan, "non potrai contare su di noi per il tuo eventuale ritorno. Sarà necessaria una tua decisione. Solo tu potrai decidere se tornare o meno. Devo inoltre avvertirti che solo pochi guerrieri-viaggiatori sopravvivono a questo incontro con l'infinito. L'infinito esercita un'attrazione smisurata. Per un guerriero-viaggiatore tornare nel mondo del disordine, della compulsione, del rumore e della sofferenza, è quanto mai sgradevole. Non devi pensare all'alternativa tra il tornare o il restare come a una scelta ragionevole, bensì come a una questione di intento."
"Se sceglierai di non tornare" continuò, scomparirai come inghiottito dalla terra. Se invece deciderai di tornare, dovrai aspettare come un vero guerriero-viaggiatore finché il tuo compito, qualunque esso sia, non si sarà concluso con una vittoria o una sconfitta."

...

Con molta pazienza, don Juan mi spiegò che la solitudine non è ammissibile per un guerriero. I guerrieri-viaggiatori, disse, possono contare su un'entità su cui concentrare tutto il loro amore e le loro cure: questa terra meravigliosa, la madre, la matrice, l'epicentro di tutto quello che siamo e che f'acciamo; l'essere a cui tutti
facciamo ritorno e che permette ai guerrieri-viaggiatori di intraprendere il viaggio supremo.
Don Genaro procedette quindi a un atto di magico intento a mio beneficio. Sdraiato bocconi, eseguì una serie di movimenti, trasformandosi in un grumo di luminosità che sembrava nuotare, quasi che il terreno fosse una piscina. Don Juan disse che quello era il modo in cui don Genaro abbracciava l'immensità, della Terra e che, a dispetto delle diversità di dimensioni, la Terra prendeva atto di quel gesto. I movimenti di don Genaro e la spiegazione di don Juan bastarono a mutare la mia
tristezza in una gioia infinita.
"Non sopporto l'idea che te ne vada, don Juan" mi sentii dire, ma il suono della mia voce e le parole che avevo formulato mi precipitarono nell'imbarazzo. E quando ricominciai a piangere, pieno di autocommiserazionei, il mio sgomento aumentò. "Che cosa mi sta succedendo, don Juan?" mormorai. "Di solito non sono così."
"Quello che ti succede è che la tua consapevolezza è tornata al livello delle dita dei piedi" mi rispose ridendo.
Allora anche le ultime tracce di controllo mi abbandonarono e mi arresi alla disperazione e all'abbattimento.
"Resterò solo" dissi con voce stridula. "Cosa mi succederà? Che cosa ne sarà di me?"
"Mettiamola cosi" don Juan era calmissimo. "Per lasciare questo mondo e affrontare l'ignoto, ho bisogno di tutta la mia forza, di tutta la mia capacità di sopportazione, di tutta la mia fortuna; ma soprattutto, ho bisogno di tutto il coraggio di un gueriero-viaggiatore. E per restare e agire come un guerriero-viaggiatore, tu hai bisogno delle stesse cose. Avventurarsi là fuori, così come ci apprestiamo a fare, non è certo un gioco, ma non lo è neppure il restare."
Travolto dall'emozione, gli baciai la mano.
"Ehi, ehi, ehi!" rise lui. "II tuo prossimo passo sarà erigere un tabernacolo per i miei guaraches!"
L'autocommiserazione che mi aveva invaso si tramutò in un senso altrettanto acuto di perdita. "Te ne vai" ansimai. "Mio dio! Te ne vai per sempre!"
Allora don Juan fece quello che mi aveva fatto più volte dal giorno del nostro incontro. Il suo viso si gonfiò come dilatato da un'inspirazione profonda, mi premette con forza il palmo della mano sinistra sulla schiena e disse: "Sollevati dal livello dei tuoi piedi! Alzati!".
Un istante dopo ero di nuovo perfettamente coerente, con il pieno controllo di me. Sapevo che cosa dovevo fare e non avevo più alcuna esitazione, né timore. Non mi importava che cosa sarebbe stato di me una volta che don Juan se ne fosse andato. Sapevo che la sua partenza era imminente. Lui mi guardò, e quell'occhiata disse ogni cosa.
"Non ci incontreremo mai più" disse con dolcezza. "Non hai più bisogno del mio aiuto, né io desidero offrirtelo, perché ora sei un vero guerriero-viaggiatore e mi disprezzeresti se ci provassi. Oltre un determinato punto, la sola gioia del guerriero-viaggiatore è la sua solitudine. Né vorrei che tu tentassi di aiutare me. Una volta che me ne sarò andato, sarà per sempre. Non pensare a me, perché io non penserò a te. Se sei un guerriero-viaggiatore degno, sii perfetto! Prenditi cura del tuo mondo. Onoralo, proteggilo con la vita!"
Si allontanò. Non era più il momento per l'autocommiserazione o per le lacrime e neppure per la felicità. Scosse la testa in un gesto di congedo, o forse era un muto riconoscimento di quello che io provavo.
"Dimentica il sé e non temerai nulla, qualunque sia il livello di consapevolezza in cui ti troverai" disse ancora.
Ebbe un momento di giocosità, quasi fosse deciso a prendersi gioco di me fino all'ultimo. Alzò la mano e piegò le dita come fanno i bambini.
"Ciao" disse.
Sapevo che sarebbe stato futile provare dolore o rimpianto e che per don Juan andarsene era difficile come per me era difficile restare. Eravamo entrambi intrappolati in un'irreversibile operazione energetica che mai avremmo potuto arrestare. Eppure, avei voluto unirmi a lui, seguirlo ovunque andasse. Mi balenò alla mente il pensiero che, se fossi morto, avrebbe accettato la mia compagnia.
E allora vidi come don Juan Matus, il nagual, guidò i quindici veggenti che erano i suoi compagni, la sua corte, la sua gioia, a sparire uno a uno nella foschia che sovrastava la mesa, in direzione nord. Li vidi mutarsi in un grumo di luminosità e insieme ascendere e fluttuare al di sopra della mesa, simili a luci spettrali. Sorvolarono una volta la montagna, proprio come don Juan aveva predetto: l'ultima ricognizione, quella destinata ai loro occhi soltanto; l'ultimo sguardo a questa terra meravigliosa. Poi svanirono.
Sapevo che cosa dovevo fare. Non restava più tempo. Corsi verso l'abisso e saltai nel baratro. Per un momento sentii il vento sul mio viso, poi l'oscurità misericordiosa mi accolse come un placido fiume sotterraneo

piccolo Tao senza cielo

il Tao in alto è come il Tao in basso

Nella seconda parte di Stati di Coscienza Charles T. Tart discute tre argomenti speculativi sulla coscienza che derivano dalla descrizione sistemica dei suoi stati:

Speculation

As Above, So Below: Five Basic Principles Underlying Physics and Psychology

I consider the material in this chapter speculative and thus appropriate for introducing this section on speculation about consciousness. The ideas presented are not basic to the applications of the systems approach to the investigation of states of consciousness but are extensions of the approach that intrigue me. They are speculative also in that I am by no means a physicist and do not really understand mathematics, the language in which so much of physics is expressed. I intend this chapter primarily as a stimulus to prompt both physicists and psychologists to think further about some of the ideas expressed here.
Most psychologists accept the idea that reality is ultimately material, composed basically of matter and energy operating within the physical framework of space and time. This is a useful set of intellectual constructs for dealing with experiences, but most psychologists think of it as an understanding of reality rather than a philosophy. Psychologists who implicitly or explicitly accept this position (which means most psychologists) thus in effect define psychology as a derivative science, one dealing with phenomena much removed from the ultimate bases of reality. A corollary is that to be really "scientific" (to be fashionable in terms of the prevailing physicalistic philosophy), psychology must ultimately reduce psychological data to physical data.

Figure 18-1 depicts the world-view of philosophical physicalism. The ultimate structures or components of reality (top) are subatomic particles. When I was a high school student, only a few such particles were known and many scientists thought that electrons, protons, and neutrons were the basics whose arrangement in patterns accounted for the way the world was. Now literally hundreds of subatomic particles have been "discovered." The word is enclosed in quotation marks because, of course, no one has actually ever seen a subatomic particle. They are assumed to exist because their presence enables sensible interpretation of various kinds of instrumental readings. Thus modern physicists picture the universe as composed of hundreds of subatomic particles being influenced by three basic types of forces: (1) the nuclear binding forces, which operate only at the extremely tiny distances inside atomic nuclei; (2) the so-called weak forces, which determine particle interaction at extremely close distances; and (3) electromagnetic forces. These forces act on the subatomic particles within a matrix of space and time, which is still largely taken for granted as simply being "space" and "time." Physics, then, is the study of this most basic level of reality.
From this most basic level this world-view builds toward life and consciousness. From subatomic particles, it moves to atoms, primarily influenced by electromagnetic forces and studied by physics and chemistry. From atoms it moves to molecules, primarily governed by chemical forces (which are electromagnetic forces) and studied most appropriately by chemistry. Next come large molecules, which to some extent are self-sustaining, hold their molecular configuration in spite of fairly large changes in their environment. Some of these cross the mysterious dividing line into the simplest forms of life, complex molecular assemblies capable of sustaining themselves and reproducing themselves in spite of environmental changes. Chemical, electromagnetic, and now gravitational forces affect things at this level, and chemistry and biology are the sciences for studying them.
Next comes the evolutionary chain of increasingly complex organisms, which soon develop specialized nervous systems, which themselves increase greatly in complexity. Chemical, electromagnetic, and gravitational forces are active here, and chemistry, biology, and physiology are the important sciences for studying them.
The human brain is considered the epitome of development of nervous systems. I suspect that this is an unduly egocentric view, for animals such as dolphins and whales certainly have larger brains than man. But, perhaps because they do not build weapons to attack each other or us, practically no one seriously considers the idea that they may be as intelligent as we — the notable exception is John Lilly. The human brain is also affected by chemical, electromagnetic, and gravitational forces. Physiology and probably information theory are appropriate sciences for dealing with the human brain.
Finally, there is consciousness, thought of as a by-product or property of the human brain, and psychology is the science for studying it. The forces affecting consciousness are not shown because, in terms of the physicalistic philosophy, social or psychological forces are derivative, not the "real" forces that actually control the universe.
This is the conservative or orthodox view of the mind discussed briefly at the beginning of this book. It does not really explain what consciousness is, but, citing good evidence that physically affecting the brain alters consciousness, asks not further questions and simply believes that consciousness itself is a product of brain functioning. The consequence of this view is that for an ultimate explanation of consciousness, the phenomena of consciousness must be reduced to those of brain functioning; brain functioning must be reduced to basic properties of nervous systems, which must be reduced to basic properties of live molecules, which in turn must be reduced to basic properties of molecules per se, which must be reduced to properties of atoms, which must finally be reduced to properties of subatomic particles.
In practice, of course, this would be extremely tedious. Certain relatively simple phenomena can be reduced one or two levels, but if I want to predict what you are next going to do, the amount of information I must deal with, starting with the knowledge of subatomic particles and various forces and building all the way up to consciousness, is simply impossible to handle.
There is no doubt that reductionism to more basic physical levels has been extremely useful in the physical sciences; and, to a certain extent, reductionism to simpler psychological events has been useful in psychology. Finding the physiological bases of psychological events or perhaps more accurately, the physiological parallels or interactions with psychological events, has also been useful. But, by and large, the attempt to reduce psychological events to physiological events is neither the only nor the best activity for psychology.
In the radical view of the mind, discussed earlier, a person's belief about the nature of reality may actually alter the reality, not just his interpretation of it. A fundamental part of the radical view is that basic awareness may have an independently real status itself, rather than being just a derivative of physical processes.

Figure 18-2 shows the scheme I propose for understanding human consciousness. Human consciousness is shown as the result of the interaction of six dimensions, each one just as real in some ultimate sense as any of the others. The dimensions are matter, energy, space, time, awareness, and an unknown factor that may be life itself. Science, guided by a physicalistic, reductionistic philosophy, investigates finer and finer levels of the matter and energy dimensions, within a certain space-time framework; but these dimensions constitute only two of the six or more dimensions that must be examined for full understanding of human consciousness.
I have added space and time as two independent dimensions more on intuition than on a basis I can cogently argue. We tend to assume that space is some uniform thing that is just there and that time is some uniform thing that is just passing. But experiences in d-ASCs (see discussion of the Space/Time subsystem, in Chapter 8) indicate that there may be other kinds of spaces and other kinds of times. I predict that some day our procedure of simply taking space and time for granted as unitary phenomena will seem quite crude.
In the systems approach, awareness is given a real and separate status. Recall the distinction between awareness and consciousness. Awareness is that basic, obviously there but hard-to-define property that makes us cognizant of things; consciousness is awareness as it is modified by and embedded in the structure of the mind. Consciousness is awareness transformed by the brain-body machine so that awareness loses some of its own innate properties, gains certain properties from the structure (probably largely brain structure) it merges with (or arises from in the conservative view), and leads to certain gestalt properties that cannot be predicted from a knowledge of either. The unknown factor dimension is added to remind us of our ignorance and because I feel intuitively that symmetry is called for in this diagram.
The first phrase of this chapter's title, "As Above, So Below," expresses my hypotheses that there is a uniform set of basic laws running the universe. I speculate that whatever fundamental principles or laws run the universe manifest themselves similarly in one area we call psychology and in another we call physics. The idea can be extended to other areas also, but I am not expert enough to do so. Thus the laws of physics, as we currently understand them, are manifestations (of an unknown degree of directness) of the basic principles running the universe; laws and principles affecting consciousness are manifestations (of an unknown degree of directness) of these same principles. Neither manifestation may be any more basic than the other. If this hypothesis is correct, parallels to the five basic principles that seem to underlie physics should be clearly discernible in the psychological area.

First Principle: Duality

Physics distinguishes between a pure energy state and a matter state, with both energy and matter operating within the framework of space and time. A convenient abbreviation for this quaternity is MEST (matter, energy, space, time). The first principle is that whenever pure energy is converted into matter, it generally (universally?) creates a pair of particles whose properties are, in some important way, opposite. An electron and a positron may be created, for example, with opposite electrical charges, or a pair of particles may be created that spin in opposite directions. Conversely, the proper interaction of a pair of such opposite particles results in their annihilation as particles and their transformation back into pure energy. Thus the transformation of energy into matter is generally done in a dualistic manner. The principle seems so general that whenever a new particle is discovered, its exact opposite is looked for as a matter of course.
Assuming that a resulting duality in a transition from an energy state to a matter state is a general universal principle, a parallel manifestation at the psychological level is seen in a phenomenon encountered in some d-ASCs, the mystical experience of unity. This is a direct experience of a condition of consciousness in which all duality is transcended. In contrast to ordinary existence in a world dominated by opposites, there is to up and down, good and evil, creator and created, I and thou; everything is oneness. Our language, of course, cannot express the experience adequately. The experience of what may have been consciousness of the Void in William's ultradeep hypnotic state may be an example of this kind. In Buddhist literature, the highest kind of samadhi, reached by successive refinements of concentration, is described as a state in which there is neither perception nor nonperception. This state of consciousness seems analogous to the condition of pure, undifferentiated energy.
But we do not live in such a state of consciousness. Few people ever attain it, and even to them it is a transient experience, though of supreme importance. All the spiritual systems that have this realization of a transcendence of duality as an experiential basis teach that in the ordinary d-SoC (and in many d-ASCs) duality is a basic principle governing the manifestation of consciousness. Thus pleasure cannot exist without pain, hope cannot exist without despair, courage cannot exist without fear, up cannot exist without down. The state of mystical unity, of Void consciousness, seems to be the experience of pure awareness, transcending all opposites, like the pure energy state, while consciousness, the condition of awareness deeply intermeshed with and modified by the structures of the mind and brain, is a realm of duality, the analog of the matter state. This seems to be a manifestation of the principle of duality in he psychological realm.
It is an exotic example, as most of us lack an experiential basis for understanding it. When we deal with human consciousness we do not deal with undifferentiated energy manifesting as two opposite particles, the simple, primary phenomena with which physics deals, but with complex, interacting systems made up of untold numbers of more elementary systems constituting the structures of the mind and brain, activated by awareness and construction, consciousness (as opposed to pure awareness), is the experiential area with which we are most familiar. As we shall see in considering the other basic principles, the fact that our ordinary psychological experience is almost always with the complex, ongoing structure of human consciousness makes it difficult to see how these basic principles, derived for ideally simplified situations, can be applied precisely.

Second Principle: Quantum Law, the Law of Discreteness

The quantum principle in physics states that because of the nature of certain physical systems, most obviously that of the atom, certain transitions from one energy configuration to another can occur only in a complete, all-or-none jump. In an atom, for example, an electron can be in one or another precise energy state, but cannot occupy an energy level intermediate between these two. It must go from one to the other, given the requisite energy to bring this about, in an all-or-none fashion. Thus there is one state, a forbidden zone, and then a second state. There may be a third state, a fourth state, and so on, but the transition is always all-or-none. When dealing macroscopic objects or systems that are made up of large numbers of the more elementary components governed by quantum laws, the aggregate, the macroscopic system, may seem to show continuity over wide ranges of intermediate values, but this is statistical illusion from a gross level of observation. For example, an aggregate made up of units, many of which are in a quantum state that we can call two, and many of which are in a quantum state that we can call three, can have an average value anywhere between two and three, depending on the relative distribution of the quantum units.
I see the quantum principle, as stated in physics, as particular manifestation of a more general principle that various components of the universe have a "shape" or "structure" or "energy configuration." On a familiar, macroscopic level, for example, water can be in three distinct states, a solid (ice), a liquid (ordinary water), or a gas (steam). There can be mechanical mixtures of the three states, as of water droplets falling or floating in the air, but the solid, liquid, and gas states are quite distinct.
The application to consciousness of this general principle, that various components of reality have properties that therefore determine the way they can interact with other units, is outlined in Chapter 2. To recapitulate briefly, a d-SoC is a system or a pattern or an overall configuration of many psychological subsystems or structures. Each subsystem shows variation within itself within certain limits, but maintains its overall identity as a subsystem. Since identity means properties, this limits the number of possible ways a stable system can be built up from the subsystems and thus limits the number of d-SoCs possible for a human being.
The induction of a d-ASC involves the application of disrupting forces to the b-SoC to push one or more subsystems beyond their stable limits and/or to disrupt the feedback loops between subsystems that stabilize the b-SoC. When enough feedback loops have been disrupted and/or enough subsystems pushed beyond their stable, ordinary ranges of functioning, the overall organization of the b-SoC breaks down, and a transitional period of varying duration occurs, with the subsystems having only transient, unstable relationships to each other. then, with the application of appropriate patterning forces, the subsystems are reassembled in a new configuration that is stable and that we call the d-ASC.
This process constitutes a kind of quantum jump, albeit not the neat quantum jump of an electron from one discrete energy state to another in an atom. We are dealing with highly composite, complex structures, and even when such structures are made up of units that operate on quantum principles, the aggregate may show various degrees of continuity. Recall the earlier discussion of individual differences. For certain individuals, the transition from a b-SoC to a d-ASC definitely shows a quantum jump, with no consciousness during the transition period. The system properties of the d-ASC are quite different from those of the b-SoC.
The quantum jump from one d-SoC to a d-ASC may be a leap along what we conceive of as a continuum or it may be the emergence of a totally new function or pattern of functioning.
The d-ASCs of which we now have some scientific knowledge occur in human beings who have been thoroughly conditioned by enculturation processes, so the quantum jumps we have seen in investigating various d-ASCs may largely represent the results of semiarbitrary cultural conditioning. That is, in a particular culture you might have to be either straight or stoned, but in another culture you may be able to be a little of each simultaneously. However, we can postulate as a general principle that the various subsystems and structures that make up the human mind cannot be put together in just any arbitrary way: each structure has properties of its own that restrict its possible interaction with other structures into a larger structure or system. Insofar as we can learn to study the mind beyond the semiarbitrary cultural conditionings of consciousness, the study of d-ASCs may eventually tell us something about the fundamental properties of the human mind and the way in which the overall system of consciousness can thus be structured, what its basic states and forbidden zones are.

Third Principle: Relativity

In nonmathematical terms the relativity principle in physics is that there is not such thing as a neutral observer. Rather, any observer exists within a particular MST framework, and this framework affects his observations.
This is more profound than saying that an observer's sense organs affect his observations. We realize, for example, that we do not naturally know how the world looks in the ultraviolet spectrum of light, but we can build instruments to make a translation for us. What is here being said is that the observer is an inherent part of the MEST framework, and this gives the observer himself characteristics, over and above what can be compensated for by special instruments, which affect his observations of thins outside himself.
The principle of relativity applies in a variety of ways in psychological work, even though most psychologists have not seriously accepted it. Indeed, it applies to you and me in our everyday lives, even though we do not always accept it. At one level, each human being, functioning in his ordinary d-SoC (or in a d-ASC), shows selective perception, selective thinking, selective action that in turn controls his perceptions. Because of his particular culture and the consensus reality to which his ordinary d-SoC has adapted him, plus his personal idiosyncrasies, he (1) is more prone to observe certain things; (2) is unlikely to observe other kinds of things at all; and (3) may have a great many transformations and distortions of what he does sense before it reaches his consciousness. This all happens unconsciously, automatically, and smoothly in the normally functioning adult. For example, the Christian missionary of the 1800s "saw" sin in the form of public display of "lust" in a native village, when the natives would have said that they were only giving polite approval to the dancers.
This kind of relativity is becoming recognized in psychology under the topics of experimenter bias and the implicit demand characteristics of experiments. An experimenter's desire to prove the hypothesis he believes in not only can influence how he perceives his data, but also can subtly influence his subjects to cooperate in ways that will erroneously "prove" his hypothesis. Your beliefs about the nature of things around you can influence the way you see things and subtly influence others to uphold your view of reality.
In addition to this culturally and individually conditioned relativity, the fact that each person is human and therefore born with certain basic properties in his nervous system, sensory receptors, and perhaps in the nature of the awareness that enters into or comes from the operation of his nervous system, equips him with built-in biases for seeing the universe in certain kinds of ways and not other ways. This applies not only to the external universe perceived through his senses or with instrumental aids, but to his observations of his own internal experiences.
It is amazing how little recognized this idea is. The old concept of the "neutral observer," common in nineteenth century physics but now long abandoned by physicists, is alive and well within the ranks of psychologists, implicitly guiding almost all experiments. A wiser course is always to assume that an observer or experimenter has biases and selectivities in the way he perceives, evaluates, and acts, even when these are not obvious.
D-ASCs are of particular interest here. The ordinary d-SoC is a complex system incorporating various selectivities for perceiving the outside world and our own internal experiences, and functioning as a tool for coping with our external and internal worlds. Transiting to a d-ASC constitutes a qualitative as well as a quantitative restructuring of the systems, which may be looked at as a new set of filters, biases, and tools for the observer/theorizer. By observing both the external and internal worlds from a variety of d-SoCs, rather than only one, we can develop a number of state-specific sciences within various d-ASCs. This enables a complementary series of views of the external and internal universes, which may partially compensate for the limits of the view found in any one d-SoC. I emphasize partially compensate, because no matter how many different d-SoCs we observe from, we are still human, and that probably implies ultimate limits on what we can do. We have not begun to approach these ultimate limits.
Note again that the idea that we must obtain complementary (I use this term in the sense it is used in physics) views of the universe from various d-SoCs, in order to get as full as view of it as possible, collides with an implicit and pervasive assumption that the ordinary d-SoC is the optimal, most logical state of consciousness and thus the one in which ultimate understandings will occur. This powerful and implicit bias, a product of enculturation, seriously hinders our thinking. We should always be open to the possibility that there is some "higher" d-SoC of which all other d-SoCs can be seen as fully comprehensible subsets: perhaps this is what enlightenment means in some ultimate sense. The ordinary d-SoC, with all its culturally conditioned limitations, is an unlikely candidate for this high degree.
The last two basic principles of physics do not have obvious parallels in known psychological functioning because the complexity of the human mind precludes such simple analogies. It is interesting, however, to consider them and assume that they ought to be manifest in the psychological realm if they are true. In this way, we can alert ourselves to look for parallels.

Fourth Principle: Conversation

The basic expression of the principle of conservation in physics is that in any reaction nothing is lost. The sum total of what goes in is the sum total of what goes out, even if there are transformations in form. This was originally thought of as the conservation of mass: the amount of matter that went into a chemical reaction was exactly equal to the amount of matter that came out of it. Because of various theoretical prospective changes, as well as the development of extremely precise measurement techniques, this definition was seen to be too simple and the principle was rephrased in terms of the conservation of the sum of mass and energy. Thus mass can be traded for energy, for example, but the sum is still the same. Modifications of the exact quantities are put into this equivalence equation in various physical situations, but the basic principle that what goes in equals what comes out holds generally through physics.
I do not see the obvious application of this to conscious experiences that we know of, because we almost never have simple, straightforward actions of consciousness that allow this kind of input-output comparison. Even apparently simple psychological reactions may consist of many separate steps that are perceived dimly or not at all due to automatization. Also, experience at almost all times involves several things going on in rapid succession or even apparently simultaneously, and we know that important unconscious reactions can occur simultaneously with conscious ones. Thus we may have conscious experiences that seem to deplete or use up psychological energy or create psychological experience (the equivalent of mass?), and other kinds of experiences that seem to increase energy, but we do not know how to assess or measure these in a clear enough way to begin to measure what goes in and what goes out and see whether they are equivalent. We may be able to develop indirect indicators of unconscious reactions or make unconscious reactions more conscious by means of therapeutic or self-observational techniques.

Fifth Principle: Law of Least Action

The physical expression of this principle is that nature is economical: when a process can occur in several alternate ways, the one requiring the least expenditure of energy is the one used. Apparent exceptions generally turn out to conform to the principle and to have seemed exceptional because they were viewed in isolation: when considered as a part of a larger system, the principle of least action is, in fact, followed.
An initial glance at psychological experience seems to show many contradictions to this. We do all sorts of things every day in ways that, even to our own perception, are certainly not the most economical ways. An observer may detect even more wasted energy. Suppose I carry a book from here into the next room. If I observe the action carefully, I will probably find that I have not used my body in a way that requires a minimal expenditure of energy to move the book from here to there. The complicating factor in trying to apply the fifth principle to psychology is the human propensity for doing several things simultaneously, many of them not in consciousness or even available to consciousness. So while carrying the book from this room to the next I may also be thinking about what to write in this chapter an using "body English" as part of my thinking process. I may also be semiconsciously trying to improve my posture, semiconsciously rebelling against the need to try and improve myself so much of the time, and so deliberately wasting some energy, either bodily or psychological energy, in order to express my "freedom."
A claim made in many spiritual writings, supported by some experiential data from various d-ASCs, is that, with effort, we can become more and more conscious of exactly what we are doing. Whether we can become conscious of everything we are doing psychologically at a given moment is unknown. Thus it is unclear whether we can ever be in a position adequately to assess whether the law of least action applies to psychological phenomena. But it may be profitable to postulate that the fifth principle does apply and then proceed to look for manifestations.
In the history of science it has often been fruitful to postulate some principle as true before there is good evidence for it, and then to examine the subject matter of the particular science with the postulate in mind. It may be profitable to follow this plan for the fourth and fifth principles. They may be true; if they are not, the need to develop more precise ways of measuring many psychological phenomena simultaneously in order to test the truth of the principles will be a major advance in itself.
As above, so below?

17th century depiction of the Emerald Tablet from the work of Heinrich Khunrath, 1606.

creatività del Tao

Vincent van Gogh, Winter Garden
drawing, pencil, pen in brown ink (originally black), on wove paper
Nuenen: March, 1884
Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam, The Netherlands

LETTER to ANTON RIDDER VAN RAPPARD

I have been working very hard. I had not made many compositions or studies for a long time, so when I once got started, I became so eager that many a morning I got up at four o'clock; It must not surprise you that some of my figures are so entirely different from those I make at times when I use models.
"I seldom work from memory" I do not practice that kind of thing very much. Besides, I am so used to work with the natural form now and can keep my personal feeling out of it much better than I could at first. I waver less and just because I am sitting opposite the model, SOMETIMES i FEEL MORE LIKE MYSELF. When I have a model who is quiet and steady and with whom I am acquainted, then I draw repeatedly till there is one drawing that is different from the rest, which does not look like an ordinary study, but more typical and with more feeling. All the same it was made under circumstances similar to those of the others> yet the latter are just studies with less feeling and life in them. This manner of working is like another one, just as plausible. As to "The Little Winter Gardens", for example, you said yourself they had so much feeling; all right, but that was not accidental - I drew them several times and there was no feeling in them. Then afterwards after I had done the ones that were so stiff came the others. It is the same with the clumsy and awkward things. HOW IT HAPPENS THAT i CAN EXPRESS SOMETHING OF THAT KIND? Because the thing has already taken form in my mind before I start on it. The first attempts are absolutely unbearable. I say this because I want you to know that if you see something worth while in what I am doing, it is not by accident but because of real intention and purpose.
I am very much pleased to have you notice that of late I have been trying to express the values of crowds, and that I try to separate things in the dizzy whirl and chaos one can see in each little corner of Nature.
Formerly the light and shade in my studies were mostly arbitrary, at least they were not put down logically, and so they were colder and flatter.
When I once get "the feeling of my subject", and get to know it, I usually draw it in three or more variations be it a figure or landscape only I always refer to Nature for every one of them and then I do my best not to put in "any detail", as the dream quality would then be lost. When Tersteeg or my brother then says to me: "What is that, grass or coal?" I answer: "Glad to hear that you cannot see what it is."
Still it is enough like Nature for the simple peasants of this part of the country. They say: "Yes, that's the hedge of Juffrouw Renese," and: "There are the beanpoles of van der Louw."

Translated by Rela van Messel

From Letters to an Artist: Vincent van Gogh to Anton Bidder van Rappard, translated by Rela van Messel. By permission of the publishers: The Viking Press, Inc., copyright 1936, New York City.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Sinfonia n. 40 in Sol minore K 550, 1778

A LETTER

When I AM, as it were, completely myself, entirely alone, and of good cheer say, travelling in a carriage, or walking after a good meal, or during the night when I cannot sleep; it is on such occasions that my ideas flow best and most abundantly. Whence and how they come, I know not; nor can I force them. Those ideas that please me I retain in memory, and am accustomed, as I have been told, to hum them to myself. If I continue in this way, it soon occurs to me how I may turn this or that morsel to account, so as to make a good dish of it, that is to say, agreeably to the rules of counterpoint, to the peculiarities of the various instruments, etc.
All this fires my soul, and, provided I am not disturbed, my subject enlarges itself, becomes methodised and defined, and the whole, though it be long, stands almost complete and finished in my mind, so that I can survey it, like a fine picture or a beautiful statue, at a glance. Nor do I hear in my imagination the parts successively, but I hear them, as it were, all at once (gleich dies zusammen). What a delight this is I cannot tell! All this inventing, this producing, takes place in a pleasing lively dream. Still the actual hearing of the tout ensemble is after all the best. What has been thus produced I do not easily forget, and this is perhaps the best gift I have my Divine Maker to thank for.
When I proceed to write down my ideas, I take out of the bag of my memory, if I may use that phrase, what has been previously collected into it in the way I have mentioned. For this reason the committing to paper is done quickly enough, for everything is, as I said before, already finished; and it rarely differs on paper from what it was in my imagination. At this occupation I can therefore suffer myself to be disturbed; for whatever may be going on around me, I write, and even talk, but only of fowls and geese, or of Gretel or Barbel, or some such matters. But why my productions take from my hand that particular form and style that makes them Mozartish, and different from the works of other composers, is probably owing to the same cause which renders my nose so large or so aquiline, or, in short, makes it Mozart's, and different from those of other people. For I really do not study or aim at any originality.

From Life of Mozart, by Edward Holmes (Everyman's Library). By permission of the publishers: J. M. Dent&Sons, Ltd., London, and E. P. Dutton&Co., Inc., 1912, New York City.

LETTER TO JACQUES HADAMARD

MY DEAR COLLEAGUE:

In the following, I am trying to answer in brief your questions as well as I am able. I am not satisfied myself with those answers and I am willing to answer more questions if you believe this could be of any advantage for the very interesting and difficult work you have undertaken.
(A) The words or the language, as they are written or spoken, do not seem, to play any role in my mechanism of thought. The psychical entities which seem to serve as elements in thought are certain signs and more or less clear images which can be "voluntarily" reproduced and combined.
There is, of course, a certain connection between those elements and relevant logical concepts. It is also clear that the desire to arrive finally at logically connected concepts is the emotional basis of this rather vague play with the above mentioned elements. But taken from a psychological viewpoint, this combinatory play seems to be the essential feature in productive thought before there is any connection with logical construction in words or other kinds of signs which can be communicated to others.
(B) The above mentioned elements are, in my case, of visual and some of muscular type. Conventional words or other signs have to be sought for laboriously only in a secondary stage, when the mentioned associative play is sufficiently established and can be reproduced at will.
(C) According to what has been said, the play with the mentioned elements is aimed to be analogous to certain logical connections one is searching for.
(D) Visual and motor. In a stage when words intervene at all, they are, in my case, purely auditive, but they interfere only in a secondary stage as already mentioned.
(E) It seems to me that what you call full consciousness is a limit case which can never be fully accomplished. This seems to me connected with the fact called the narrowness of consciousness (Enge des Bewusstseins).
Remark : Professor Max Wertheimer has tried to investigate the distinction between mere associating or combining of reproducible elements and between understanding (organisches Begreifen); I cannot judge how far his psychological analysis catches the essential point.

With kind regards . . .

From "The Letter of Albert Einstein to M. Hadamard," in The Psychology of Invention in the Mathematical Field, by Jacques Hadamard. By permission of the publishers: Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey.

il Te del Tao: LXXVI - GUARDARSI DALLA FORZA

by deiby-ybied

LXXVI - GUARDARSI DALLA FORZA

Alla nascita l'uomo è molle e debole,
alla morte è duro e forte.
Tutte le creature, l'erbe e le piante
quando vivono son molli e tenere
quando muoiono son aride e secche.
Durezza e forza sono compagne della morte,
mollezza e debolezza sono compagne della vita.
Per questo
chi si fa forte con le armi non vince,
L'albero che è forte viene abbattuto.
Quel che è forte e robusto sta in basso,
quel che è molle e debole sta in alto.

Tao cartongessato

Il mio lavoro principale, il mio primo lavoro, quello ufficiale, qui a Insaponata, un lavoro non retribuito, quello per il quale mi trovo impiegato ventiquattro (24) ore su ventiquattro (24), ogni giorno, senza soste, quello che svolgo da sempre, vale a dire dal momento in cui ho raggiunta la cosiddetta capacità naturale, più o meno dai sedici (16) anni in avanti, è quello che mi vede pedissequamente impegnato nell’impedire alle salme mobili che occupano la mia vita biologica di annientarmi definitivamente colla loro biologica visione delle cose; questa visione delle cose, ovviamente una visione biologicamente pragmatica e piatta, ovviamente una visione elementare e vuota, tipica delle persone premorte, animate da bisogni originari, che occupano militarmente la mia vita attraverso corpi ricoperti da divise demenziali, i cui scopi sono sempre e solo scopi materiali, a corto raggio, sempre indecorosi, sempre vergognosi, questa visione fonda e assicura la sua esistenza su due (2) regole tanto rozze, dal mio punto di vista, quanto incredibilmente efficaci: la regola che chiamerò, per comodità, la regola A) statuisce: uno (1) più uno (1) fa sempre due (2); mentre la regola che chiamerò regola B) recita: uno (1) più uno (1) fa due (2) qui e ora; diversamente da quanto accade a me: uno (1) più uno (1) non fa quasi mai due (2). Potrebbe fare uno-emmezzo (1,5) forse due-trequarti (2,75). [...]

Il mio secondo lavoro, che è in rapporto di connessione col primo, anch’esso non retribuito, lavoro che svolgo senza tregua per ventiquattro (24) ore al giorno, a tempo indeterminato, equivale al maldestro e ingenuo tentativo di mantenere in vita alcune mie aspettative in un bidé di provincia chiamato bassopiave, al maldestro e ingenuo tentativo di mantenere in vita alcuni progetti di fuga da un bidé di provincia chiamato bassopiave, una terra, o meglio un territorio, come si usa dire in giro, cioè nei bar e nelle pagine della cronachetta locale, un territorio dimenticato dalla grazia di dio e dagli uomini intelligenti, o meglio, ricordato solo da uomini confezionati o da spericolati coltivatori di clientele, un territorio che ha voluto fare a meno della grazia di dio. Questa terra ha smesso di pensare e comportarsi come si comporterebbe un uomo, non è più una terra, e infatti è divenuta un territorio, non più una terra con gli uomini a conquistarne il decoro e l’onore, e a mantenerne la fertilità a mani nude.

Qui nel pianeta venetorientale degli ex miracolati non abbiamo la grazia e l’energia d’un popolo, una lingua doc, un orgoglio similnazionale, un certo nazionalismo regionale d’origine controllata, una capitale, un giornale, degli statisti o, più semplicemente, una classe dirigente ad un tempo rigorosa e folle o anche solo dotata d’un minimo di coerenza o idealità. Non ce la siamo conquistata, dunque, non possiamo meritarcela. Non c’è nulla di tutto ciò: c’è solo un popolame di mentecatti, oltre ai cosiddetti puitici, la naturale protesi di quella nientitudine in termini d’idealità, o forse no, forse mi sbaglio io, c’è solo della buona gente, qui in Cisalpinia, della gente buona ma piatta. La bontà non basta, però. La bontà non serve a un accidente. La finta bontà non serve a nulla. Non è sufficiente se uno si piscia sotto, se uno non è davvero cinico. Gente impaurita, mi vien da pensare, oppure vaporizzata, sradicata, delocalizzata, bancomattata, che ha arrangiato liberamente la libertà dando sfogo agli istinti per battere il complesso di colpa che deriva dalla pellagra secolare, mai vinta veramente fino in fondo, lavorando diciotto (18) ore al giorno, come se fraccare allo sfinimento come l’uomo di cromagnon per diciotto ore al giorno possa avere un qualche significato meritorio, e così facendo, operando senza tregua diciotto (18) ore al giorno per trecentocinquanta (350) giorni all’anno per dieci (10) anni di fila, approfittando della particolare fortunata congiuntura storico-economica, ha potuto ingrassare molto; i risultati di questa magnada sconcia, della sbueata sgolza, del cosiddetto benessere diffuso, del miracolo, sotto gli occhi di tutti, sono: la totale distruzione della lingua regionale, la totale distruzione della religiosità regionale, la totale distruzione dell’ambiente regionale: si sono persi per sempre lingua, terra, religione. E tutto questo in meno di mezzo secolo. Persa la lingua, ossia i dialetti, oggi a Insaponata si parla il grezzo, un idioma tecnico para-dialettale di consumo, privo di bellezza indigena, totalmente impreciso, perennemente impreciso, involgarito dalla cantilena locale e da sillabe sincopate, buono solo per la sopravvivenza dei consumi di massa, ma senza anima, forza evocativa e un minimo di poetica.

Il grezzo è diventata la lingua ufficiale dello stato etnico del Mesovenetorientale: questa è una parlata fatta esclusivamente di vocali, di o oppure ou, e nessuna consonante; è praticamente la sintesi della sintesi del dialetto delle paludi del seimila avanti cristo bonificate nei priminovecento. Da quando la governatrice di Insaponata e Pratochiuso di Piave, un refettorio per parrocchiani obesi, ha ordinato e ufficializzato il grezzo come lingua distrettuale essa è divenuta l’idioma ufficiale di riferimento, una lingua tecnica che serve unicamente, per volontà istituzionale, a risolvere problemi di carattere pratico: ordinare da magnar e da bevar, domandar el conto, riconoscersi tra grezzi, spiegare a gesti la voglia di orinare all’aperto e di condividere alle sagre l’orinata tra grezzi come unico piacere della vita legalmente concedibile, socialmente gratificante, esprimere una sola e ossessiva considerazione personale che tuttavia, col passar del tempo, è divenuta il fatto più importante: i negri, i negri clandestini e, in generale, gli stranieri di ogni razza e colore che non parlano il grezzo e non riconoscono le radici cristiane dei grezzi, ossia non riconoscono il fatto che la vita della comunità del nuovo stato etnico del veneto è fatta per affermarsi solo colla lengua grezza, gli dei cani, gli dei porci, la fedeltà al contante, al nero, che permette puttane aperitivi e costate di manzo, vanno eliminati o meglio, usati come oggetti di produzione e per la produzione, fino a quando questa ci sarà. I neri non parlando il grezzo non possono integrarsi e ambire a qualche miglioramento nello stile di vita. Sicché il grezzo serve ai rondisti vincenti a guadagnare un bel mucchio di soldi, i soldi del monopoli che servono a finanziare i concorsi della lotteria mesoveneta, le cene medievali e i sempiterni baracconi culinari. I rondisti vincenti sono creature subumane che vanno per la maggiore. A costoro è stata iniettata la democrasia, si è espansa come il poliuretano, ma si tratta solo del diritto di voto, il diritto di voto non è esattamente la democrazia, il diritto di voto è esattamente il diritto di voto, vuol dire che una mandria di analfabeti, mettono la crose colla matita copiativa sulla faccia del candidato pantagruele che ha la stessa faccia insaponificata dell’elettore gargantuà, la stessa famanza, lo stesso odore, stessi vestiti, uguali le scarpe a punta lucidata, morirà della stessa cirrosi epatica o dello stesso bruto mal, in poche parole parla la stessa lingua, vuole le stesse cose, lenzuola di seta, cerchioni in lega, russarsi il culo cogli scartozi di panoccia, mangiare lo stracotto di musso colle mani, pulirsi sulle braghe. Pironi e bancomat. Scorezze e parafanghi da rally. [...]

Lo spritz è la risposta, la nuova eucaristia, 1/3 vinello bianco amabile, 1/3 aperol ovvero campari, 1/3 selz, fettina di limone, ghiaccio, due euro, bevetene tutti, questo è il nuovo sangue arancione versato per la rimozione dei peccati.

I trentacinque (35) bar d’Insaponata di Piave sono disperatamente popolati specialmente nei weekend da questi capannoidi e di queste femminine. Ogni categoria sociale ha il proprio bar, un bar del cazzo in cartongesso, cartongesso, penso, metà cartone, metà gesso, il cartone delle baracche, penso, da dove tutti proveniamo, il gesso che si sfarina come cocaina, penso, quella che tutti aspirano, il bar, il proprio porto franco, il proprio atollo, i propri disperati prosecchi, le disperate bollicine, i disperati vodka-tonic, i disperati spritz al Select, i vinelli più disperatamente strutturati, i rossi importanti anch’essi disperatamente soli.

Il nuovo umanesimo è l’umanesimo della mescita, il rinascimento dell’aperitivo. Non è un caso che si dica l’arte di fare uno spritz. Che cosa dovrebbe d’altronde rimanere dopo la produzione medio-industriale in un’area d’ottantamila (80.000) parrocchiani senza niente attorno, solo asfalto, parcheggi e bar, senza un teatro nel raggio di cinquanta (50) chilometri? Rimane l’alcool. L’affermatività orgogliosa dell’alcoolismo da parte dei parrocchiani medesimi, dei capannoidi. S’ordinano giri e giri d’aperitivi, con disinvoltura, con facce millantatrici, auto-compiacenti, dissolute, giri e giri di birre da far rabbrividire una guardia-parco.

Abbondanza (Re di Denari)

Questo personaggio dionisiaco raffigura con esattezza l'uomo integro, uno “Zorba il Buddha” in grado di bere vino, danzare sulla spiaggia e cantare sotto la pioggia, e al tempo stesso godere le profondità della comprensione e della saggezza proprie del sapiente. In una mano ha un loto,che dimostra il suo rispetto e il suo avere in sé la grazia del femminile. Il petto nudo (un cuore aperto) e una pancia rilassata dimostrano che è a proprio agio con l'aspetto maschile e, al tempo stesso, è del tutto autoappagato. I quattro elementi - terra, fuoco, acqua e cielo - si uniscono tutti al Re di Arcobaleno che siede sul libro della saggezza della vita. Se sei una donna, il Re di Arcobaleno reca nella tua vita il sostegno delle tue energie maschili, un'unione con l'anima gemella interiore. Per un uomo, questa carta rappresenta un momento di rottura degli stereotipi maschili convenzionali, per permettere alla pienezza dell'essere umano integro di risplendere.

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In Oriente la gente ha condannato il corpo, biasimatola materia, definendola “illusoria”, maya - affermando che di fatto non esiste, sembra solo esistere; è fatta della stessa sostanza dei sogni. Hanno negato il mondo, ed è per questo che l'Oriente è rimasto povero, malato, denutrito. Metà dell'umanità ha accettato il mondo interiore, ma ha negato il mondo esteriore. L'altra metà del genere umano ha accettato il mondo materiale e ha negato il mondo interiore. Entrambe sono parziali, e nessun uomo che sia parziale potrà essere appagato. Devi essere totale, integro: ricco nel corpo, ricco per ciò che riguarda la scienza; e ricco in meditazione, in consapevolezza. Solo una persona globale è santa, per ciò che mi riguarda. Io voglio che Zorba e Buddha s'incontrino. Da solo, Zorba è vacuo, vuoto: la sua danza non ha un valore eterno, è un piacere del momento. Ben presto se ne stancherà. Solo se possiedi fonti inesauribili, solo se puoi attingere alle fonti stesse del cosmo... Se non diventi esistenziale, non potrai diventare integro. Questo è il mio contributo all'umanità: l'uomo integro, globale.