The simple matter of our neurons is vastly more complex than any theory of psychology; infinitely more fantastic than any mythology. One neuron makes an imbecile of any philosopher or scientist.
Landscapes of thought and sense have a sentimental appeal which a neuron hasn’t. Yet…
We have evolved our senses in very specific ways. One way seems to be speed, to notice more quickly the appearance and movement of predators. Meanwhile, the rest of the landscape — that which is not a threat — has either slowed down or sped up. We don’t take much notice of a tree — it moves too slowly — or a beam of light — it moves too quickly; we just see monolithic trees and a generalized lightness or darkness. The world which is not in our time frame is basically static.
As we grow old time speeds up, so why can’t we learn to see light? And as we grow wise, why shouldn’t our thoughts spread out in tree-like, graceful, tempered movements.
We would not be able to sense the outer landscape if we didn’t have the inner pathways of neurons. The inner landscape of neurons mirrors the outer landscape of objects, of trees, people, buildings, landmarks, pathways and the like. If we stray down an odd street, or into the company of different people, our neurons sketch out the notable qualia quite practicably. But we still miss details and we ignore all sorts of excess information; in other words, the improvised neuronal landscape is succinct, not thorough.
Neurons adapt, as all life adapts, in order to be fit — and the fittest should not, by any means, be mistaken for the best.
Obviously, there is something appealing in having the notes of a musical instrument strike the ears. Even a child reacts to them, moves toward them, and tries to repeat them.
Within the mind, one may imagine musical notes; alas, our imaginings are never so real as life. But it is only because our inner sense is not so well evolved — our inner senses do not detect and report quite the same raw physical sensations as our outer senses. This is just a matter of exercise; we may consciously ritual in order to develop these inner senses.
Complex thoughts do flow across the mind, and they do create a sensation. We are each a kind of Aeolian harp whose strings, instead of played by the wind, are played by qualia. Our inner senses may not be so keen as our ears, but if we neglect them we are robbing ourselves of a profound music.
A dog will watch his owner open a door a thousand times and it will never occur to him to do it himself. “My owner causes the door to open, not me.”
Humans are just like that dog when it comes to our own ability to recreate the world around us. Sure, we have built civilization — and we teeter on the brink of destroying the living planet. We are but puppies, excited and careless. We take the raw materials of the landscape and build with them, but the raw materials are not so raw as we think – they have been touched by qualia long before we began to sense them. Qualia has formed them so that we can know them, and use them.
Like the dog we see what we see and think nothing more. Yet we can touch the qualia, too, and build with that – we can even create qualia, and we can open the door…
photograph by alexandra bellissimo
We have a shallow qualiadelic interface with the world around us. What we can sense on the outside with our eyes and ears and fingers is mirrored by neurons inside. It is all very surface.
Who can really say what lies deeper or beyond the surface of the landscape? We might as well tell someone the dreams which lie behind our neurons (a friendly bartender or a loving mother might give us a patronizing smile). But these are our ideals, un-lived. If we are anything greater than the shallow interface between inner and outer landscape, it is our sense of the ideal.
We travel well-worn pathways past recognizable places and familiar landmarks, and we don’t really vary our habits too much. It is just like watching movies, each of which is different, but familiar. Sometimes a movie takes us down new pathways, but how seldom is it that we are so transported by one to actually change our life?
Qualia should not just be noticed. We must move toward it. We must play with it. We must ritual with it knowing that is just may actually transform our world.
We move toward ritual as a tree moves toward the Sun. Ritual is the source of qualia just as the Sun is the source of the tree’s light.
To explore the inner body, all we need to know is that matter moves over into qualia, simple as that. A drug, for instance, is not so much a chemical substance as a chemical shape. It is qualia, a pattern to which some of the matter the body is attracted. An idea is much the same; it moves certain matter in the body to action.
Imagine being able to take a medicine and to notice it working immediately, instead of waiting days or weeks for results. Imagine swallowing an idea…
From the standpoint of conscious ritualing, the insides of our bodies are unexplored landscapes. Seascapes of psychology — self, spirituality and soul; landscapes of physiology — healing, medicine and drugs. No matter what route we choose to follow, it merely saves appearances; none actually threatens our ignorance. When it comes to our inner landscapes we might as well still believe the Sun revolves around the Earth.