Maps of Consciousness, Ancient Tibet, and a New Psychology
“For the most part, today’s individual wants his spirituality to sit there like a plum on a tree. He doesn’t want it to be highly dynamic. He certainly doesn’t want to make it intensely personal and unique to himself.” (The Magician Awakes, Jon Rappoport)
This is my natural tendency, but it’s also the result of 30-plus years of research into a number of “sacred cows.” The findings of my research have shown me that civilization supports numerous false realities, and this extends to so-called mental, spiritual, and metaphysical foundations.
There are wide cracks and leaks and large holes.
I have enormous faith, long-term, in the individual. Not in the group. I see the individual as the future, no matter how long it takes, no matter how deep his potential is buried under a mass of propaganda and misdirection.
Over the years, I have written several articles describing the underpinning for my 3 Matrix collections.
This is another one, based on my investigations of: Tibet, modern “consciousness writing,” and the role of psychology in a controlled society.
To begin with, psychology, in theory and therapeutic practice, has a way, over time, of “settling in” to the society around it. With some exceptions, it more and more mirrors the values of society.
To sum it up, mainline psychology considers the individual as having key relationships, and seeks to strengthen, repair, and normalize them.
(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)
This is all very well for the patient who already considers himself to be living inside fairly conventional boundaries. But when the boundaries themselves are the issue, psychology tends to waver, wobble, tap dance, and even cast doubt on the mental health of the patient, as if his challenging the limits were somehow a sign of “inner imbalance” or neurosis or misperception.
The “playing field” of society is taken as the fundamental ground of operation, and the person who is walking outside those lines, looking in, assessing what is going on, is suspect. He may “require help.”
You won’t get a psychologist to admit what I’m pointing out here, but this conformist aspect of his work has come all the way down from the early, wide-ranging, fantastical ramblings of Freud, to a comfortable and even smug, small narrative.
Why? Because psychology has been determined to establish itself as an institution within the context of society. Smallness of conception is the fate of all such efforts.
For the past 75 years or so, a counter to psychology has emerged and gained popularity. I call it “consciousness mapping.” It begins by acknowledging that normal and average perception is grossly limited, and then moves on to offer an alternative.
However, the emphasis has been placed on explaining a structure or an ultimate object which consciousness, in its elevated state, would apprehend: a pot of gold; a cosmic entity; a universal connectivity.
“This is where you will arrive, and this is what it looks like, and this is what you will know.”
The Big It.
Well, this is attractive, because many people want to hold on to a Big It. They want to know what lies at the end of the road before they step foot on the road for the first time.
The metaphysical calculus of religion is transferred to consciousness itself.
In my search for a different approach to the power of individual consciousness, I came upon the history of early Tibet, before the society hardened into a theocracy.
Several sources were particularly helpful. The work of author John Blofeld (The Tantric Mysticism of Tibet), the writings of the intrepid explorer, Alexandra David-Neel, and a quite unconventional healer, Richard Jenkins, with whom I worked in the early 1960s in New York.
Jenkins once wrote to me: “There are people who want to tell us what consciousness should perceive. They’re blind to the electric, alive, and free nature of awareness. They’re wrapped up in content and addicted to it. Their biggest mistake is omitting the creative nature of human beings…”
That creative nature was the intense focus of the early Tibetans.
These practitioners, teachers, and students, some 1500 years ago, realized that most people viewed consciousness as an accumulator of knowledge. A searching tool, or a receiving apparatus.
Instead, the Tibetans embarked on a far more adventurous course.
Their many images (e.g., mandalas) weren’t meant as depictions of what finally exists in higher realms. Those realms were just as provisional and changeable as the physical world. You might call the multiple locales and dimensions representations of “what humans in certain Asian cultures would expect to encounter in their journeys of spirit.”
In other words, the Tibetans consciously treated their pantheons of gods and semi-gods as convincing illusions.
Several of their key exercises and techniques were all about having students mentally create these illusions in voluminous and meticulous detail. That was difficult enough, to be sure. Far more difficult was the next aspect of their practice: get rid of these creations.
Put them there; take them away.
The Tibetans were committed to living life on the level of imagination, with all that implied.
And what does it imply?
A person’s past, his history, his problems, his relationships are all framed against the wider context of what he can imagine and then invent, create, in the world.
Living through and by imagination long enough, the individual discovers that his prior relationships are transformed. They no longer set themselves up as questions or problems.
He is operating from a platform that affords an utterly different, original, and unexpected outcome.
A psychology of possibility not only looks forward to the future, it has a reason to do so. Bringing electricity back into life depends, initially, on viewing possibilities in the space of one’s own imagination.
It may strike you at this point that our current civilization is bent on lowering possibilities; and that is true. That is the psychology of the psyop.
There is a good reason for this programming, as well as the staging of events that seem to give the programming validity. Those who aim to control the destiny of humankind want to shrink the “size of humans.” That is their intent.
A psychology of possibility would reverse that trend and expose it.
That last sentence could serve as a summary of what I’ve been doing in my writing for the past 30 years.
To the casual observer, the weight of this civilization and all its accoutrement seems enormous. But the creative potential of the individual outstrips that structure by light years.
How does the individual realize that fact? What is the spark that ignites his understanding? It all begins in imagination, which is the home of possibility.
If you truly wanted to gain insight into the basis of a person’s problems, you would find it in an area of his imagination where he stored all those things he considered impossible.
Over the years, the “impossibles” build up. And so the future diminishes.
He carves down the size of his journey. He even turns around and tracks backward, revisiting the places he has already inhabited.
What will he find? Basically, what he already knows.
He becomes like the painter who repeats the same theme over and over.
Whereas the blank canvas actually stands for unlimited open space, unlimited possibility.
In the arena of The Group, we see all manner of problems presented along with their solutions. Replace the free market with government control. Conduct a religious revival to wean populations away from their consumerist addictions. Eliminate money altogether, in favor a more “equitable” plan. Provide monetary compensation for every group who has ever been wronged in the past. Achieve better education by reducing it to a Pavlovian series of stimuli and responses. Track and observe every human, 24/7, in order to curb anti-social behavior. Hook all brains up to a super-computer which has trillions of important data. Genetically alter humans, to make them more talented and healthy. And so on.
Each and every solution winds around and ends up against a brick wall, where the outcome is worse than the original dilemma, where suffering is compounded.
If only we were smarter. If only we were more ingenious. If only we had a better plan. But no, I’m afraid that isn’t the difficulty. The difficulty stems from considering humans as groups in the first place.
The secret to the labyrinth is at the beginning, where the individual surrendered to the idea of the group. It was all downhill from there.
As the future of society plays out over the next few hundred years, there will be a return to the individual.
And then he will decide what happens next.
He will decide whether he should remove the filter, through which he sees all remedies as collective and mass remedies.
He will decide whether to breathe life back into his infinite imagination.
He will decide whether to take his own power as seriously as he now takes centralized spirituality
About the Author
Jon Rappoport – The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at NoMoreFakeNews.com or OutsideTheRealityMachine.
**This article was originally published at No More Fake News.**
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