My eternal self
in Spirituality ·
Sandra Morgan2 said:But that isn't the "I" anymore. Or, at least, it isn't the "I" we recognize. It becomes a field of consciousness—empty and untainted by content.
Even if the content remains—even if thoughts continue to drift through that internal space—there is no longer anyone there to identify with them because the mechanism of identification has completely broken down.
Can we even call it "I" if there are no traits, no qualities, no definitions? If it is utterly empty, much like the sky serves as the backdrop for birds flying by, yet the sky has nothing to do with the birds; the birds don't touch it, nor do they define it.
Since consciousness itself is empty, it can be neither "self" nor "non-self." Now, I can speak from my own experience up to that point, but beyond that, I have no idea what it is—and I certainly don't know what happens after death.The focus is different, the perspective is different. But that experience alone isn't enough to draw any concrete conclusions regarding the actual nature of consciousness.
Advaita works fine regarding phenomenology; it describes that feeling of existential vacuum preceding conditioning, memes, and identifications quite well, both technically and poetically. However, I don't think it adds anything to ontology—nothing that serves as proof that consciousness is independent of the brain.
You're right. On the other hand, even without hard evidence, there are certain indications that suggest it might be so.My personal take: I am, therefore I think. The moment I falter, the thinking stops. As long as I am thinking, as long as I am living, I can choose how and when to utilize different perspectives of consciousness.
There are no "perspectives" of consciousness. It is always one thing—singular and formless. Only the content changes.
Solipsism? Honestly, I suspect that's just a bit of linguistic gymnastics. The real issue lies in our attempt to weave raw experience into the fabric of words. From my own perspective, that sense of "I" tends to sink away, or perhaps it remains incredibly fragile; even when I spend thirty minutes or more in deep meditation, I always find myself hitting that "WTF" sensation—a strange cocktail of existential vacuum, discomfort, relief, and my favorite way to describe it: "blissful ignorance."
It all sounds quite beautiful and profound, doesn't it? But if someone were to walk up and shoot me with a shotgun or hit me with a chainsaw, all my talk of consciousness and spaces-within-spaces wouldn't do me much good. My consciousness would simply flicker out; it would perceive the world in a distorted, fragmented way until the lights go dark completely. That is, until I lose the "I" entirely through death. While consciousness might serve as the subjective starting point for my experience of the world, that doesn't mean consciousness acts as the foundation for material existence. At least, there's zero evidence for that, and frankly, everything seems to point away from both dualism and idealism.
There are no perspectives within consciousness. It is always singular, a single formless thing. Only the content changes.
I constantly get the impression that you are treating "consciousness" as if it were an object. You're viewing it as something sitting behind everything else. That right there is the subtle trap of linguistic dualism. Tell me, where was this consciousness before I was born?