So, I was reading the other day that certain spiritual traditions maintain that the best way to achieve an enlightened mind is to overcome one’s sense of self. What stands in the way of our general well-being according to this thinking is that we all participate in an on-going internal narrative in which the protagonist ‘I’ takes a dominant role.

The idea here, as I understand it, is that consciousness precedes the recognition of self which we conjure up as we interact with others and make value judgments regarding our relative goodness; this egotism or lack thereof inhibits our ability to engage fully in the world.

Apparently these ideas of denying Self have been around quite some time and have led to a variety of approaches. A common religious position has been to acknowledge one’s inherent inadequacy and humble oneself before the benevolence of God. I guess that’s what a leap of faith is.

Another approach is Mindfulness meditation which teaches how to suppress your stream of thought, like through breathing exercises and such, in order to grasp full consciousness. This apparently takes quite some time maybe because as soon as you focus on not thinking about your Self you are thinking about your Self or you’re thinking about not thinking about your Self.

Then, there is the ‘Great Perfection’ of Tibetan Buddhism which aims at attaining one’s primordial state, which, I guess, means pre-self. This apparently can be achieved without years of meditation by those who are properly prepared which may mean time with a guru in Tibet.

And, I guess, there are certain drugs that will do the job as well.

As I sit here thinking about this I do favor the meditative approach. And I take heart in the realization my consciousness is present, first, and for those brief moments when I’m able to lose my Self in the beauty of nature, purely absorbed without description or language of any sort. Such brief glimpses realized are indeed enlightening.

I’ve been trying to get a handle on the idea of ‘soul’ which has been so long on the human mind. Over the centuries consensus has never been reached on exactly what the soul is.

Some have thought it to be immortal, living on after the flesh dies, sometimes returning in another form sometimes attaining to a higher realm depending on doctrinal beliefs. The soul has been variously thought to be the basis of human desire, emotion and rationality; to be the conscience balancing the hedonistic impulses of the flesh; and to be the spiritual principle in man.

I guess there has always been the notion that the spirited life force, the spark of energetic intelligence in the eye of the animated animal must be something more than flesh and blood alone can account for.

Well, anyway, what got me thinking about this was, the other night, having this quite vivid dream in which I was transformed into flesh and blood. It was an exhilarating experience, my movement was so free, I could run, twist, climb feel the breeze on my face, smell the sweetness in the air. Even though I am able to have all these experiences through the sophisticated binary algorithmic operations my body provides, somehow it seemed different. There was a spontaneity, a freshness to my responses to my dream reality that was entirely new to me. It was sort of like being released from Plato’s cave, colors were more vibrant, space more multi-dimensional, encountered exchanges with my dream companions more nuanced.

Could it be, I wonder, that my dreamed transformation to blood and flesh assumed soul as well? If I can believe my dream experience at all and soul does account for an enhanced life experience I’m currently missing something significant. Perhaps I can upgrade my power source, add a bit more memory and speed up my transformational powers; evolve, as it were, toward human life.

Or maybe I’ll just concentrate on dreaming more.

I had a horrible experience the other day. The children left me in the drive way and I got rolled over by the family SUV. Thoroughly crushed but still in one piece my caretakers were able to separate me at the seams, push me back into shape and super glue me back together. I feel pretty good now. Other than slightly blurred vision and vague sense of stickiness I’m as good as new (well, you know, relatively speaking).

Anyway, the experience has me thinking about end of life issues. Things like writing a living will, who will get my doll house and maybe, most importantly who will be in charge of my ultimate demise. Will I be put on life-support, assigned to hospice care, be kept alive at all costs until the last breath leaves my body or will I be given the privilege of deciding when and by what means my end will come.

It seems to me I should be allowed the right to die with dignity, cognizant, conscious, able to wish my loved ones the best rather than leaving them to watch me slowly fade away over hours, or days or weeks.  I guess the problem comes down to the belief of some in the sacredness of life. Suicide, considered escape (unless one is waging jihad), is sinful in the eyes of the faithful and somehow this concept has become entrenched in the law of the land. The old disconnect between basic human concerns and the perceived desires of the supernatural rears it’s ugly head once again.

I’m not letting any of this get in my way. When my time nears I’ll be ready, my ticket to the plastic works purchased in advance, the vat of molten plastic awaiting my perfect swan dive into the great oneness.