Passengers of Consciousness

Passengers of Consciousness

Our way of perceiving our physical environment, of understanding our relationships and our way of being in the world, is changing. And thanks to the technological metaphor that is the establishment of a “global village of information,” we are starting to be willing to admit that, perhaps, there is also a “global village of consciousness” – of intentions, of emotions, of desires.

An immerse knower of the known, the human being does not have an impartial observation point.  The laws that uphold the world around us –as the logos (reason) explains– can just be made out behind what we observe, like shadows, providing clues, breadcrumbs over a path – a path that is fabulous but uncertain.

Fleeting, just like that fish that slips out of our hands just when we thought we had caught it, jumping once again to the river, the essential nature of things slips from our hands.

We are both the hand trying to catch the fish and the fish itself, once again submerged, fighting for its life upstream.

A fish that knows the stream, its rocks and bends.  A fish that knows of danger and need but, because it is submerged therein, it does not know of the existence of the water.

We, human beings, undeniably better equipped than fish to take steps forward, have the ability to infer, to question, to extract the essential information – all to trap aspects of that “logos” that we sense.

In the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey, by Stanley Kubrick, filmed in the 1970s, an impressive plot develops in which the primitive man, equipped with the tibia of the animal that he is devouring, defends himself from a competitor who tries to rob him of the leftovers.

The idea of using a bone as a weapon, of using an everyday object for a practical use other than the one for which it was conceived, implies a high level of abstract thought and is what has brought about a leap in the evolution of our species – but we aren’t the only capable animal.

What was then a giant leap –and in the movie is celebrated by the primitive man making that tibia dance in the sky as if it were a graduation cap– was the understanding that we had the ability to do it.

The conversion of the Homo sapiens into the Homo sapiens sapiens –he who knows he knows– really is a distinguishing trait.

The caveman’s tibia turns about in the sky and does so marking an unpredictable story of one hundred and thirty thousand years in age – the time that passes from that magnificent discovery to today. The time between that bone, thrown into the air, and any of the communications satellites that are currently in orbit.

We know that we know, but we don’t know exactly what, and we learn by throwing tibia bones to the sky or building metaphors that allow us to approach principles which we better understand in terms of their practical application.

That has traditionally been our key in terms of understanding the mystery that surrounds us.

The digital revolution, for example, reminds us of something that perhaps we sensed, yet we can no longer continue to deny: the physical representation of content –the format– is irrelevant.   The important thing is the information, the logos, the mystery.

That fact, which now seems obvious to us, was not so clear just a few decades ago.

And it represents such a big qualitative difference in understanding our surroundings that we cannot yet determine where the next step will take us.

The Ark of the Covenant, along with the Tables of the Law, the petroglyphs, the mural paintings in the tombs of Ancient Egypt, and the vinyl record (as a format that is now in clear transition) have been venerated as cult objects because the physical possibility of separating the contents from the object itself which held those contents did not exist.

Our day planners are no longer bound volumes that we replace each year and collect on a shelf. Our day planners are data uploaded to a digital cloud and we can access them from any electronic device, from anywhere, at any time. And, more importantly, all that data are stored electronically in virtual “silos” that we can all access.

Once again, technology, the practical application of principle, is showing us the way forward. The fish, perhaps, does not yet understand the existence of that water, but he is starting to notice that he is wet.

Our way of perceiving our physical surroundings is changing: our way of understanding our relationships and our way of being in the world. And thanks to the technological metaphor that is the establishment of a “global village of information,” we are starting to be willing to admit that perhaps there is also a “global village of consciousness” – of intentions, of emotions, of desires.

A way of achieving interpersonal connection that has not yet been explained, that would go beyond than sensorial communication and that generates collective states of consciousness or realities.  Let us call that meeting point, that global village of consciousness, the “system.”  And we shall call the methodology that allows us to access that source of information “systemic facilitation.”

The search is part of our destiny and, perhaps, as an adaptive quality, represents the most effective element in terms of guaranteeing our collective survival on the planet.

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