By Alyce Santoro
Prevailing thought is like prevailing wind; it requires less effort
to allow oneself to be carried along than to set a course that goes
against it. Also like wind, thought is often presumed to be invisible.
But one can quite easily learn to observe the effects of both on
tangible objects, and thereby gain the ability to harness the power of
either.
The first lesson in sailing usually occurs on the shoreline. Students
are invited to determine from which direction the wind is blowing by
looking for clues: flags, trees, boats at anchor, the feel of the breeze
on one’s own skin, and through careful observation of subtle variations
in the texture of wavelets on the surface of the water itself.
In order to see thought, one only needs to look around oneself. The
urge to connect turns into telephones, televisions, and the internet.
The inclination to travel manifests as cars, ships, planes, and trains.
The need for social organization is revealed in our political systems.
And so forth and so on…
But what is a thought, exactly? An electrochemical impulse? Does it
require an embodied agent, or is it possible that ambient
electrochemical forces cause matter to coalesce into particular patterns
and configurations, resulting in the infinite variety of artifacts we
find ourselves among? Needs, longings, and desires arrive with the
distinct sensation that they are ours alone – but couldn’t the existence
of a tree be the outward expression of a fundamental “need” in the
universe for an efficient, multifunctional carbon dioxide processing
unit?
Sophisticated new investigative apparatus developed around the 17th
century in the form of telescopes and microscopes suggested to their
human operators that the world around us could be broken down into
parts, and that we ourselves are unique entities that are distinctly
separated from the environment in which we find ourselves. Galileo
declared “Measure what is measurable, and make measurable what is not so.” That which could not be made measureable was granted an air of dubiousness, if not eliminated outright.
The scientific method (i.e.: formulate a hypothesis, design and
implement an experiment, analyze the result, repeat), however useful it
may be for technical applications, was never really intended as an
all-purpose standard to which social and philosophical principles should
also be applied. Just because we cannot measure intuition, love,
compassion, grief, or inspiration certainly does not mean that these
things do not exist, or that they are somehow inferior to that which is
tangible. Over the course of the past 400 years as human culture has
become increasingly industrialized, we have also become more
compartmentalized. As we’ve come to put less value on the immeasurable,
we’ve rationalized ourselves into a state of intolerance of the nuanced,
the complex, the seemingly paradoxical. Things that could be taken as
two sides of the same coin are instead viewed as diametrically opposed:
art vs. science, religion vs. reason, classical vs. quantum physics;
determinism vs. free will; left (hemisphere of the brain or political
party) vs. right.
Ironically, at the same time that scientific rationalism has come to
dominate prevailing thought, science itself has taken a turn towards
subtlety. With advances in quantum theory, we are moving into a strange
new domain where things do not function according to the orderly and
predictable rules that we have come to rely upon. Tests with subatomic
particles are not only practically unrepeatable; they reveal that the
very nature of our experiments makes objective observation impossible.
Fortunately there are many other ways to collect and interpret
information about our reality. The ability to hold several seemingly
contradictory views simultaneously, the willingness to cultivate,
explore, and trust subtle sensory signals, the boldness and endurance
required to set a course that defies the dominant paradigm – this is the
domain of certain artists, poets, musicians, shamans, ecologists,
permaculturists, philosophers, and others adept at seeing and feeling
connections to the obscured dimensions and forces of nature that others
neglect to notice.
Throughout history visionary practitioners from every field of human
knowledge have felt compelled to share their particular mode of data
processing. A few notable examples might include musician John Coltrane,
conceptual artist/social-environmental activist Joseph Beuys, quantum
physicist/philosopher David Bohm, writer/scientist Wolfgang Von Goethe,
physician/natural scientist Hans Jenny, spiritual leader the Dalai Lama,
inventor/futurist Buckminster Fuller, and poet Allen Ginsberg. Through
their work, each of these individuals has given form to the otherwise
invisible/inaudible. The products of their inspiration resonate in those
who experience them – our senses know them to be true without
analytical proof.
Goethe called investigation that involves a kind of connectedness to and empathic understanding of a subject delicate empiricism. Beuys believed that by becoming more attuned to the subtle
forces of the ecosystems we inhabit we can rediscover innate aptitudes
that will help us to mend ourselves, our communities, and the planet. He
believed that it is the job of both shamans and artists to shake people
out of ordinary, habitual states of mind and to reawaken latent
faculties.
Even slight shifts in individual and
collective values and intentions could quickly bring new sets of
priorities into the mainstream, radically altering prevailing thought.
Like a flock of starlings that moves in an elegant cloud of instinctive, constantly modulating cooperation, changes of mind can have an instantaneous ripple effect across an entire culture. When Beuys said everyone is an artist
he implied that each of us is not only capable of accessing the same
mysterious, improbable, constantly unfolding, infinitely creative
phenomena – we are the phenomena. Each of us is an outcropping, an empathic agent of transformation, wired to receive, process, and transmit.
To hone one’s connection with this font of supreme imagination, Allen
Ginsberg prescribed this simple but profound experiment to aspiring
creative practitioners: “Notice what you notice.” Like a single
pebble out of thousands that catches your glance on the beach, the
things you find yourself aware of – and the state of awareness itself –
these are the clues. Each of us is a receptor for a different part of
the same sublime puzzle. Evidence is everywhere. The investigation never
ends.
cross-posted with The Synergetic Omni-Solution.
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