The
following article is based on a presentation made during the Second International
Conference on Integral Psychology, held at Pondicherry (India), 4-7 January
2001. The text has been published in:
Cornelissen, Matthijs (Ed.) (2001) Consciousness and Its Transformation,
Pondicherry: SAICE
Working in matter
Aster Patel
Friends, in the wake
of the preceding invocation this morning, we have a long, indescribable
journey to undertake—from the Silence... to the Word... to Matter! How
we shall traverse this seeming distance is a little hard to say at the
start. But let’s try.
This is the concluding
session of the four-day seminar. And as such, one wishes to spend some
time on what one has learnt during these three days of exchanges. What
has come through very strongly is the almost pervasive love of “wholeness”,
of “integrality” and “integration”. It is interesting to see that this
happens at a time when, on the one hand, physics with its study of matter,
and on the other, biology and its study of the living organism, have arrived
at a point where they discover “wholes”, indivisible, organic wholes which
go beyond the ken of both the sciences and their methodology. At the same
time you have the psychological sciences, the social sciences, the medical,
the environmental—in fact, all that one can think of—where the seeking
for a “wholeness” of perspective is dominant. Even the patterns of lifestyles
feel this need of wholes.
In this first year of
the new millennium it sets one thinking. In the last century what we developed
to an extreme of perfection was the capacity of the mind which reached
a zenith of effectivity. Mind applied itself, with its characteristic
methodology to all problems—whether physical, scientific, sociological,
even spiritual—leading to tremendous psychological results.
But where are we today?
Mind which is basically analytic in its approach, constructive in its
methodology, arriving at aggregates in its results—is now arrested in
the presence of “wholes”—not as in distant spiritual experience but in
matter, in the living cell. How is it going to deal with this “whole”?
This is a very critical, urgent, relevant, pertinent question. It has
been of concern to me personally like it must have been to everyone else.
In fact, there are two
concerns I wish to share. Obviously we cannot pursue this kind of frenetic,
analytic, mental activity much further if we really want to arrive at
an experience of the “whole” and to be able to live it. We know that it
is in the very nature of mind to seek wholes but it cannot seize them.
It seeks harmony but can’t arrive at it. So what must happen? We must
psychologically prepare ourselves for another mode of being, for another
mode of consciousness. There may be two possibilities—one doesn’t yet
know—we will have to explore a great deal. Maybe, that the mind itself
opens up to another consciousness that can seize a “whole” in a kind of
intuitive grasp yet see all the details of structure and relationship
within that “whole”. Not an amorphous “whole” but a structured, detailed,
relationed “whole” and to see how it functions. Or, as an interim step,
it may be of help—and I think a lot of us have tried it already as is
evident by the beautiful presentations we’ve had in these last three days—if
the analytic mind gets grounded in the depths of being, its deeper profundities
of consciousness, then its function can begin to change. It was visible
in some of the presentations made earlier, that the functioning had already
undergone change. If this preparation is not done, then to give up the
old, all of a sudden, for something new would be a painful, traumatic
exercise for mankind as a whole. Thus to prepare ourselves seems to be
a very urgent necessity.
The second concern,
I must say, has been with me for about fifteen years with no clear answers
yet! But one would like to share the question nonetheless—and this is
a question of “methodology”. The dualistic, reductionist method of science
followed so successfully since the Renaissance, the European Renaissance
of the sixteenth century, has arrived at a point where it has discovered
a reality that it is incapable of pursuing further in its investigation.
How will a “reductionist” method proceed further in, let us say, a knowledge
of “wholes”, the handling of “wholes”. How will it do so? It goes almost
without saying that this method has reached its limit. But what is the
new method? If we don’t embark upon that discovery of the new method we
go into the doldrums, scientifically speaking—for a long time to come—and
land ourselves in complete confusion. Technology will, of course, keep
itself repeating—for its cycle is repetitive in nature—but it will not
be “breakthroughs” because the method is no longer appropriate to its
subject-matter, it is no longer of the measure of its own findings. This
is a significant statement to ponder over. Sri Aurobindo’s formulation
of this underlying truth is very succinct: “Our way of knowing must be
appropriate to that which is to be known.” (Sri Aurobindo, The Life Divine, p. 323)
How shall we set out
in search of “another” method? Shall we venture to suggest a possible
direction which can be pursued? There is only a sense of “direction”,
no more—but even that is like taking a further step. It seems important
to accept—which in itself isn’t easy— that “another” poise of consciousness,
other than the habitual mental form of activity, is now needed. A poise
of consciousness that knows, that feels and acts in a manner other than
what we have been accustomed to. The present psychological makeup of our
personality divides these three functions—of cognition, affection and
volition—into distinct ones. They are almost always at war with one other
or, at best, tend to go their own way and have to be reined in so as to
offer some semblance of order! But can these three be “unified” in one
process, one effective movement of consciousness? A poise of consciousness,
in which to know and to feel is to act—for the “power” at source is one
but triune in its manifestation. Can we arrive at such a wholeness and
integration in our very being that makes us capable of seizing other “wholes”
of reality?
We would like to make
a further suggestion in this regard. At a time when we are “globetrotters”—both
in the geographical and cultural sense—we could examine the history of
all great cultures of the past and their contemporary creations and look
for indications for these other “methods” that might have been known to
them. Not that we could adopt them as such, but they might give us valuable
clues as to how to proceed further. This question of a new methodology
and our earnest search for it, is, I think, urgent. We must look far and
wide, if need be, in our world’s sum of culture and knowledge and, very
perceptively, pick up those strands that could lead us in the direction
of the future.
Having made a round
of the three days of the seminar and shared two concerns that pertain
to it, we must come to the theme listed in the programme, Working in Matter.
The very wording requires that we draw upon experience! In a sense, nothing
is more meaningful than sharing an experience—and, in this case, though
the experience, in its initial contours, seems to be that of an individual,
are we not here, as a collective, all part of it? In the very act of sharing,
the two merge—to create a larger identity and to give it a greater relevance.
As embodied beings,
matter is the very stuff of our existence. It is the matrix in which we
live and move and work. We may soar with the spirit, plane on high with
the mind—but it is here in the body, in this physical world, that we have
to come to terms with the “personality” that is ours. In order to come
to terms with it, to seek a perfection of it—which is a big word!—but
even some change in it, some degree of integration, it is right here that
we have to do it. This realisation takes a bit of sinking in! As mental
beings we do not easily accept it. We accept it theoretically perhaps
but we do not accept it in life. It takes a very, very long time to do
so, a very long time indeed. It is then that we realise how completely
rooted in materiality we are.
The
body, of course, is our first base and our first environment, our entire
life part is rooted in matter and so many levels of the mind too are rooted
in matter. When we arrive at that point it comes as a great shock. We
tend to think that the “mind” is way above. It isn’t. Some levels, of
course are—but the fact of rooting is right here.
How do we handle this
personality of ours rooted in matter? And also the matter “outside” of
us, so to speak,—in the world, other people, matter itself? At a certain
point we find that the two are contiguous, that the matter that is ours
is also outside. It is not broken up. We discover, in the process, that
there are two distinct ways of handling matter. We all have that experience
but perhaps letting it flow through words and sharing it with others,
we may render it more concrete.
Habitually we handle
matter from the “outside”. We see it laid out in space. We see its bits
and pieces, we see its objects, we run into its hard, opaque, impenetrable
surfaces. We know there are days when we move around the room and we feel
awkward and everything jars and jostles—chairs, tables, people... just
everything! And there are days when things flow. But when we try to put
bits of matter together in a given space what do we do? We establish spatial
rapports between these bits and pieces—rapports which are extraneous to
one other—and we arrange a space beautifully, with each object in its
place.
Our collective habit
of dealing with matter in this way—what we might call the “organizational”
way—is so deeply ingrained in us, as mental beings, that we deal with
our own personality in the same way. This has been the foremost problem
of our modern civilization in psychological and sociological terms! We
see our external personality in bits and pieces. We look at ourselves
from “without”. Since some time, however, there has been a change of perspective
and we are more attuned to looking at ourselves differently.
We tend to forget that
though our external personality is so completely rooted in matter, it
is still supported by an inner reality which is non-material, which is
a content of consciousness. Therefore this way of handling our personality
runs into such serious trouble that we cannot even list the problems that
it gives rise to. When we try to organise these bits of ourselves, to
integrate them—it just doesn’t work. For we are a “whole” in spite of
our dualities, our multiplicities. We are a “whole” by virtue of that
which upholds us from within. If there is a pervasive sense of helplessness
that we suffer from today—whether as individuals or with regard to social
units, big or small,—it is a result of this way of handling personality:
“organisationally” as matter seen from the “outside”.
But we also come across
another way, a second way of handling matter—from “within”. It is true
that the normal formation of personality is—to use the ancient word from
the Upanishads—bahirmukh. It is outward oriented. It looks out as a fact of
habit and formation.. The senses and the very body relate outward. But
there is an inner consciousness that is in-gathered and we have experience
of it in many ways—through music, love of beauty, of harmony, other states
of consciousness, also through deep emotion. There are many ways of experiencing
the inner reality.
The entire formation
of the external personality, which is outward directed, feels the attraction
of the inner consciousness and can “turn itself around” to go within.
A long preparation is needed but this is a very tangible, concrete experience.
The various parts of personality are gathered within and fuse, in slow
stages, with the inner consciousness—not losing their essential characteristics,
but retaining and heightening and enlarging their functioning. The disparate
elements are kind of absorbed in that inner consciousness—we may call
it a stream or a body or a flow of consciousness for it can change its
forms also. And a total reversal of the poise of personality takes place:
it becomes antarmukh, turned and gathered within.
Then, one discovers
that there is an “inner” core of matter, the “consciousness content” of
matter. It is matter in its inner and true reality. One’s action in the
material world then begins to proceed in another manner and to arrive
at a different result. The touch becomes sure, action inter-penetrative,
and the result in the objective field is more effective. Matter becomes
pliable, supple. It has density but a soft density—not hard, resistant
surfaces against which we knock. We find that there is a within to matter
as there is a without to matter. Maybe one day we’ll discover the totality
of matter. But that there is a within to matter and one can live and act
from that poise—in the midst of the world—this is an experience of such
ease and simplicity and a smoothness of flow And, at the same time, at
the risk of repeating oneself, of such effectivity as one doesn’t otherwise
know.
This
manner of being has its own norms, its own fluctuations—it happens, it
doesn’t happen—but the fact remains that one can, one might say, almost
slide into matter and live the perfectly normal life that one has ever
lived and find that the personality, in its entirety is undergoing a change.
It is almost as though, by the fact of looking at matter from within and
handling it so, something of the inner consciousness has permeated the
pores or layers of matter. For it seems to have layers. There is a term
that comes repeatedly—the contiguity of matter. Seen from “within”, matter
is one. The distinctness of form, of object, its identity is not lost—
but there is a basis of contiguity. And yet there is form. There is distinction,
there is difference. There is still what one may call a rapport in space.
But there is no sense of separation, no hard surfaces. How to express
this? It is like “another” way of being in matter.... It is true that
it doesn’t always last. It fluctuates. One move away from it. One go back
to it. Perhaps one needs to be stabilised in it. But slowly one begins
to sense that wholeness of being and of life in matter is a possibility.
So if we are looking
for a concrete unity of life and people, a diversified unity which alone
can be the basis of multiplicity, then this work has to be attempted.
One also has a feeling that this work is being done by many people, each
in his own way. But sharing of it is a help—because like there is a contagion
of a spiritual vibration, a contagion of mental awareness and activity,
there is too a contagion of working in matter. And, in a sense, unity
there is more stable because one has a feeling that matter has no ego.
Matter has no ego. That is the way it comes.
A few words of Sri Aurobindo
come to one forcefully. He says that the “joys of matter”—not in the sense
of material sensory pleasures—are “more intense than the joys of the mind”.
As we enter this new millennium, this is something that we, who have been
mental beings and still are in large parts of our personality, will perhaps
find it useful to remember. Matter, not as we have known it, but a new
kind of matter that makes the Spirit palpable by its touch—giving it body
and substance and a sure “footing”.