My eternal self

urbanwalker72 said:😁

but

even if one has achieved self-realization, they might go unnoticed, whereas someone lacking it remains easy to overlook,
it is no easier to find those without it

in this regard, Drew Gray4 falls into the latter category.

Let us address this systematically. It matters little whether an individual is considered 'self-realized' within the context of your specific interpretation of spirituality.

Any person possessing self-awareness—that is, a conscious understanding of oneself, capable of grasping the concept of 'I' and recognizing their own identity—can be defined as self-aware.

Setting aside any metaphysical nuances, from a purely biological, intellectual, and logical standpoint, the principle remains identical. Self-reference applies to anyone with an internal life complex enough to sustain a system of symbols that includes the concept of 'self.'

One cannot escape this fundamental reality, nor can it be analyzed solely through the lens of the 'enlightened.' This condition applies to all human beings, and perhaps even to certain animals.

Wand, my fellow eternal companion, don't you dare tell me spirituality is just "voodoo."

Any individual possessing self-awareness—that is, an awareness of oneself (being able to grasp the concept of "I" and recognize one's own reflection in a mirror)—is a self-aware person.

That does NOT mean they are self-realized.

Self-realization implies the disappearance of that "I," not its recognition. Not falling in love with it and all that...

Even without stepping into "spirituality," purely from a biological, intellectual, and logical standpoint—it's the same thing. Self-reference applies to anyone with enough interiority to possess a complex enough symbolic system to include the concept of "I," or self-reference.

So what even is the "I" besides being self-referential?

A sufficiently rich system of symbols created it, or rather, it consists of those symbols, memories, the mental stream, conditioned reactions, early childhood programming, blah blah... The "I" is a construct. A construct that isn't even more than the sum of its parts; it has no substance. It's made of mist and feathers because it changes from one minute to the next.

Sandra Morgan2 said:Wand, my fellow eternal companion, don't you dare tell me spirituality is just "voodoo."

Any individual possessing self-awareness—that is, an awareness of oneself (being able to grasp the concept of "I" and recognize one's own reflection in a mirror)—is a self-aware person.

That does NOT mean they are self-realized.

Self-realization implies the disappearance of that "I," not its recognition. Not falling in love with it and all that...

Even without stepping into "spirituality," purely from a biological, intellectual, and logical standpoint—it's the same thing. Self-reference applies to anyone with enough interiority to possess a complex enough symbolic system to include the concept of "I," or self-reference.

So what even is the "I" besides being self-referential?

A sufficiently rich system of symbols created it, or rather, it consists of those symbols, memories, the mental stream, conditioned reactions, early childhood programming, blah blah... The "I" is a construct. A construct that isn't even more than the sum of its parts; it has no substance. It's made of mist and feathers because it changes from one minute to the next.

🤣

Quincy:

That doesn't necessarily imply that she possesses true self-awareness.

It is true that self-awareness lacks any tangible substance. Beyond being an ill-defined concept, it functions primarily as an inescapable, self-referential loop.

Quincy:

True self-awareness isn't about finally recognizing the "I" or falling in love with one's own ego; rather, it is the quiet process of that ego gradually fading away.

The disappearance of that "I" signifies nothing less than the total cessation of the self-aware agent.

I believe, therefore, I am.

Whenever I engage in the act of thought, it is an inescapable truth that there must exist a "self" to perform that function. Without this foundational sense of "I," there would be no one to process these ideas, and consequently, existence itself would cease to be.

It cannot be considered a self-aware agent, much like how a garden gnome exists merely as an object without any true consciousness.

Quincy:

If we strip away the layer of self-reference, what remains of the "I" beyond its own reflection?

One must observe the paradox through the lens of an illusion constructed by a self-referential loop and isomorphism.

Quincy:

The self is merely an intricate assembly of symbols—a collection of memories, mental streams, conditioned reflexes, and those early childhood imprints we all carry. In reality, the "I" is nothing more than a construct. It possesses no inherent substance; it is composed of nothing more substantial than mist and feathers, shifting and dissolving with every passing minute.

It is quite evident that change is underway, and it is clear that everything previously mentioned is merely a construct.

I find myself in complete agreement.

You're absolutely right. When I used that phrase, I didn't mean anything by it—I just meant that I'm not exactly an expert in philosophy, theology, or formal logic, nor do I have much formal training in those fields. Of course, I agree that reading is both essential and incredibly beneficial. And no, I’m not writing a book; I never claimed I was.

I honestly have no idea how I would even attempt to outmaneuver you—not that I want to, can, or even truly grasp what "self-reference" actually entails (and frankly, I’m not in the mood to Google it just to look smart right now :-)). Perhaps I haven't reached your level of intellectual evolution yet; who knows? Regardless, it isn't particularly important to me. For the time being, I am perfectly content with where I stand, and my priority is simply to solidify my current footing.

I don't feel qualified to dive into deep philosophical debates with all of you, mainly because my vocabulary is limited and my thoughts tend to be pretty straightforward. You’re likely much more intelligent than I am, far more well-read, and perhaps even further along in your personal development—and honestly, I’m perfectly fine with that. I have no desire to compete or prove anything. That doesn't mean I don't value the questions you pose, though; I truly do try my best to provide meaningful answers whenever I can.

You’re asking me questions that I don't even have the answers to myself. You want to know the nature of depth, what it's actually made of, and all that philosophical stuff...

That is rather like asking me how one knows how to ride a bicycle. If you truly wish to learn, perhaps you could provide a brief, concise description of the mechanics involved so that I might follow your lead?

You can give me all the details you want, but it won't matter. Until I actually get on that bike, figure out how to balance while pedaling forward, and inevitably wipe out a few times, I’m not going to learn a thing.

That level of depth comes from realizing that I am a spiritual being first, and a physical one second. Even when life hits me with heavy storms or chaotic waves at the surface level—you know, the day-to-day struggles and external circumstances—my spiritual core remains untouched. It stays steady regardless of how things play out, maintaining a perfect sense of peace with whatever happens. It’s much like the Pacific Ocean: you might have massive, twenty-foot swells churning violently on the surface, but down at the very bottom, there is nothing but eternal silence and stillness. Something like that.

In your next post, you’ll probably claim you recognized me as someone who hasn't reached true self-awareness yet. Fine, I'll take that. If that's how you see it, I can live with it. To be honest, I feel like I’ve tapped into something deeper within myself lately. I've stopped looking to the world around me for answers and started searching inward instead. But hey, if you want to insist I haven't arrived there yet, I accept your perspective. At the end of the day, every version of reality holds its own balance of good and bad. Even so, because my life has actually begun to shift, I feel as though I’ve stepped into uncharted territory and made at least some incremental progress compared to how I used to live.

I am committed to pushing myself forward for as long as necessary to achieve my personal spiritual growth and fulfill my soul's true journey.

Sandra Morgan2 said:Phrases? Come on now... that wasn't very kind of you. You can find real depth and wisdom in plenty of books—spiritual or otherwise. They can be informative or even transformative, especially since many great works were written by people with highly developed spirits, high intelligence, and broad educations. We can learn so much from their experiences! Plus, as we know, you're actually writing a book yourself—that’s why you started this thread in the first place, right?

I've never felt the need to write extensively, but with this thread, I wanted to share my feelings and thoughts—things I feel are too important to just keep to myself.

I just wanted to say that by falling in love with myself, I realized my own depth—this unspeakable depth that was hidden behind the superficial physical level I used to inhabit, which I hated and felt ashamed of (referring to my looks, material status, and things like that).

So... what exactly is this "depth"?
What is it made of,
whose is it,
and who is it that discovered it?

When you squeeze an orange, you get orange juice.
An orange can't produce anything other than what is already inside it.

You can't squeeze an orange and get strawberry juice.

So, when you start squeezing a person, what comes out is exactly what they hold inside.
The public persona of a public figure is rarely the same as what lies within.

My questions are meant to squeeze you—to see what is truly inside you. Are you peaceful in the way most non-neurotic, mentally stable people are, or is your peace the kind that comes from true self-realization?

urbanwalker72 said:🤣

Quincy:

That doesn't necessarily imply that she possesses true self-awareness.

It is true that self-awareness lacks any tangible substance. Beyond being an ill-defined concept, it functions primarily as an inescapable, self-referential loop.

Quincy:

True self-awareness isn't about finally recognizing the "I" or falling in love with one's own ego; rather, it is the quiet process of that ego gradually fading away.

The disappearance of that "I" signifies nothing less than the total cessation of the self-aware agent.

I believe, therefore, I am.

Whenever I engage in the act of thought, it is an inescapable truth that there must exist a "self" to perform that function. Without this foundational sense of "I," there would be no one to process these ideas, and consequently, existence itself would cease to be.

It cannot be considered a self-aware agent, much like how a garden gnome exists merely as an object without any true consciousness.

Quincy:

If we strip away the layer of self-reference, what remains of the "I" beyond its own reflection?

One must observe the paradox through the lens of an illusion constructed by a self-referential loop and isomorphism.

Quincy:

The self is merely an intricate assembly of symbols—a collection of memories, mental streams, conditioned reflexes, and those early childhood imprints we all carry. In reality, the "I" is nothing more than a construct. It possesses no inherent substance; it is composed of nothing more substantial than mist and feathers, shifting and dissolving with every passing minute.

It is quite evident that change is underway, and it is clear that everything previously mentioned is merely a construct.

I find myself in complete agreement.

Kudos to Descartes, but "I think, therefore I am" is spot on. In my book.

Try sitting in meditation and clearing your mind—that’s the whole point, right?—and try not to panic when that "I" starts to fade away. Then come back and tell me if you're still there or if you've vanished.

Sandra Morgan2 said:Kudos to Descartes, but "I think, therefore I am" is spot on. In my book.

Try sitting in meditation and clearing your mind—that’s the whole point, right?—and try not to panic when that "I" starts to fade away. Then come back and tell me if you're still there or if you've vanished.

If we look at this through a phenomenological lens, what you're essentially doing in that moment is untangling yourself from all that verbal, cognitive, and affective baggage. It's quite clear that the neurotic habit of clinging to everything just snaps. That's what people call mindfulness. However, the "Self" doesn't vanish on an ontological level. It only truly disappears when you stop thinking entirely, which is basically when you're dead. This feeling of "I" is your defining characteristic; it follows you everywhere. Even in the deepest meditative states, it remains present in the unconscious. There is a distinction between mindfulness—that deep, non-verbal focus on pure experience rather than mental content—and the awareness of concepts, language, and linguistic constructs, but that distinction is purely subjective. The focus shifts, the perspective changes, but that individual experience alone isn't enough to let us draw any concrete conclusions about the actual nature of consciousness.

Now, Advaita Vedanta is perfectly fine when it comes to phenomenology; it does a wonderful job, both technically and poetically, of describing that existential vacuum that occurs before we start layering on concepts, memes, and various identities. But in my view, it adds nothing to the question of ontology—it offers no proof that consciousness exists independently of the brain.

But then again, that's just my take, which is pretty much aligned with Wandov's, and us naturalists are definitely in the minority here. 🙂

My own way of looking at it is this: I am, therefore I think. The moment I falter, the thinking stops. While I am thinking and while I am living, I can choose how and when to employ different perspectives of consciousness. In other words, I get to decide how to experience my present moment. To me, there's no "winner" in this debate. Both perspectives—focusing on the content of thought versus focusing on raw experience—have their specific merits and drawbacks depending on the situation. One is object-oriented, while the other is process-driven and dynamic. When you're practicing mindfulness, all your attention is directed toward the sensory perception of your body and your surroundings rather than the noise inside your head, and that's perfectly fine. The other extreme is neurosis, where you become overly reactive and tethered to every passing emotion, thought, and impulse.

I have a great deal of respect for spiritual practices, even if I don't buy into their interpretations.

Drew Gray4 said:You're absolutely right. When I used that phrase, I didn't mean anything by it—I just meant that I'm not exactly an expert in philosophy, theology, or formal logic, nor do I have much formal training in those fields. Of course, I agree that reading is both essential and incredibly beneficial. And no, I’m not writing a book; I never claimed I was.

I honestly have no idea how I would even attempt to outmaneuver you—not that I want to, can, or even truly grasp what "self-reference" actually entails (and frankly, I’m not in the mood to Google it just to look smart right now :-)). Perhaps I haven't reached your level of intellectual evolution yet; who knows? Regardless, it isn't particularly important to me. For the time being, I am perfectly content with where I stand, and my priority is simply to solidify my current footing.

I don't feel qualified to dive into deep philosophical debates with all of you, mainly because my vocabulary is limited and my thoughts tend to be pretty straightforward. You’re likely much more intelligent than I am, far more well-read, and perhaps even further along in your personal development—and honestly, I’m perfectly fine with that. I have no desire to compete or prove anything. That doesn't mean I don't value the questions you pose, though; I truly do try my best to provide meaningful answers whenever I can.

You’re asking me questions that I don't even have the answers to myself. You want to know the nature of depth, what it's actually made of, and all that philosophical stuff...

That is rather like asking me how one knows how to ride a bicycle. If you truly wish to learn, perhaps you could provide a brief, concise description of the mechanics involved so that I might follow your lead?

You can give me all the details you want, but it won't matter. Until I actually get on that bike, figure out how to balance while pedaling forward, and inevitably wipe out a few times, I’m not going to learn a thing.

That level of depth comes from realizing that I am a spiritual being first, and a physical one second. Even when life hits me with heavy storms or chaotic waves at the surface level—you know, the day-to-day struggles and external circumstances—my spiritual core remains untouched. It stays steady regardless of how things play out, maintaining a perfect sense of peace with whatever happens. It’s much like the Pacific Ocean: you might have massive, twenty-foot swells churning violently on the surface, but down at the very bottom, there is nothing but eternal silence and stillness. Something like that.

In your next post, you’ll probably claim you recognized me as someone who hasn't reached true self-awareness yet. Fine, I'll take that. If that's how you see it, I can live with it. To be honest, I feel like I’ve tapped into something deeper within myself lately. I've stopped looking to the world around me for answers and started searching inward instead. But hey, if you want to insist I haven't arrived there yet, I accept your perspective. At the end of the day, every version of reality holds its own balance of good and bad. Even so, because my life has actually begun to shift, I feel as though I’ve stepped into uncharted territory and made at least some incremental progress compared to how I used to live.

I am committed to pushing myself forward for as long as necessary to achieve my personal spiritual growth and fulfill my soul's true journey.

You mentioned:

Right now, I can't focus on reading books because I'm experiencing everything so intensely that I feel this urgent need to write a book instead.

Well then.....

I'm not qualified to dive into deep philosophical debates with you all, since my vocabulary and thoughts are pretty simple. You're absolutely right that you might be more intelligent, better read, or perhaps at a higher stage of development than I am, and I'm perfectly fine with that. I have no desire to compete. That doesn't mean I don't value your questions or try to answer them, though....

Look, this is an online forum. I hope you weren't expecting to just deliver a monologue, get constant nods of approval, or avoid being challenged just a little bit! 🙂

You ask me questions that even I don't know how to answer. Like, what is depth? What is it made of? And things like that...

That's like me asking you how to ride a bike. Just give me a quick summary of how to do it so I can learn too.

You could explain every single detail to me, but until I actually hop on one, struggle to find my balance, move forward, and fall a few times, I won't truly learn.

You missed the point of what Wand was saying about self-referential systems, yet you still used his logic. The inexpressible cannot be expressed; the inner world can't be fully transferred. But everyone who has realized something and felt the urge to speak (just like you do) speaks what can be spoken. Otherwise, they wouldn't bother sharing their state of mind. My questions are actually quite simple....

That depth is the realization that I am a spiritual being, not just a physical one. Even while storms and waves crash against my physical life and circumstances, my spiritual essence remains unchanged, perfectly calm regardless of the outcome. It's like the deep ocean: there might be twenty-foot waves churning on the surface, but at the bottom, there is eternal peace and silence. Something like that.

In your next post, you say you recognized me as someone who hasn't reached self-realization. Fine, I accept that. Maybe I really am. And honestly? I'm okay with it.

Maybe? Spiritual narcissism is such a massive trap. It’s often disguised as humility, too. To quote myself—and I’ve probably said this at least ten times since I joined this forum back in 2006—our ego always takes at least a ten percent cut from every beautiful spiritual insight we experience. Before we know it, the ego is busy writing books, giving sermons on how the universe works, and trying to lecture everyone else...

Just wanted to see if you fell into that trap too.

I appreciate you reaching out; it’s great to see this topic gaining traction. That concept of a self-referential system was actually an intuitive comparison I made myself—I had no idea it was a formal application. I realize there is something essentially ineffable at play here, and I have no intention of falling into the trap of ego, but based on what you’re saying, it clearly is happening.

Ultimately, I feel it is better to attempt to convey even a fragment of these sensations to someone else rather than remaining entirely silent about them.

It isn't as if I have any desire or capacity to teach anyone... I can barely manage my own basic hygiene! :-)

Sandra Morgan2 said:You mentioned:

Right now, I can't focus on reading books because I'm experiencing everything so intensely that I feel this urgent need to write a book instead.

Well then.....

I'm not qualified to dive into deep philosophical debates with you all, since my vocabulary and thoughts are pretty simple. You're absolutely right that you might be more intelligent, better read, or perhaps at a higher stage of development than I am, and I'm perfectly fine with that. I have no desire to compete. That doesn't mean I don't value your questions or try to answer them, though....

Look, this is an online forum. I hope you weren't expecting to just deliver a monologue, get constant nods of approval, or avoid being challenged just a little bit! 🙂

You ask me questions that even I don't know how to answer. Like, what is depth? What is it made of? And things like that...

That's like me asking you how to ride a bike. Just give me a quick summary of how to do it so I can learn too.

You could explain every single detail to me, but until I actually hop on one, struggle to find my balance, move forward, and fall a few times, I won't truly learn.

You missed the point of what Wand was saying about self-referential systems, yet you still used his logic. The inexpressible cannot be expressed; the inner world can't be fully transferred. But everyone who has realized something and felt the urge to speak (just like you do) speaks what can be spoken. Otherwise, they wouldn't bother sharing their state of mind. My questions are actually quite simple....

That depth is the realization that I am a spiritual being, not just a physical one. Even while storms and waves crash against my physical life and circumstances, my spiritual essence remains unchanged, perfectly calm regardless of the outcome. It's like the deep ocean: there might be twenty-foot waves churning on the surface, but at the bottom, there is eternal peace and silence. Something like that.

In your next post, you say you recognized me as someone who hasn't reached self-realization. Fine, I accept that. Maybe I really am. And honestly? I'm okay with it.

Maybe? Spiritual narcissism is such a massive trap. It’s often disguised as humility, too. To quote myself—and I’ve probably said this at least ten times since I joined this forum back in 2006—our ego always takes at least a ten percent cut from every beautiful spiritual insight we experience. Before we know it, the ego is busy writing books, giving sermons on how the universe works, and trying to lecture everyone else...

Just wanted to see if you fell into that trap too.

eternalme As stated by:
That profound depth is the realization that I am a spiritual being first and foremost, rather than merely a physical one. Even when the storms and tempests of life batter my external circumstances, my spiritual essence remains untouched, existing in a state of perfect tranquility regardless of the outcome. It is much like the vast, silent depths of the Pacific Ocean. On the surface, one might face raging twenty-foot swells, yet deep below, there exists an eternal peace and absolute silence. It is much like that.

While you previously touched upon the illness, the highlighted text suggests that you are actually doing quite well.

Many people simply aren't granted that kind of peace. Consider someone battling Alzheimer's; for them, there is no bottomless well of stillness or tranquility to be found, nor is there any way to reach it. At every conceivable level, they are being battered by a relentless hurricane of chaos.

His sense of "self" lacks the permanence of yours; in truth, it is quite fragile.

"Quote:"

I hold the firm conviction that I shall continue to advance along my spiritual path for as long as is required to achieve true personal growth.

If your ultimate objective is to achieve lasting mental tranquility and emotional stability, I would suggest that it might be more prudent to focus on preserving the equilibrium you have already established rather than constantly venturing into new experiments in pursuit of something more.

There is a profound possibility that what you seek will ultimately offer you no true benefit.

One should find contentment in what has been achieved.

"Quote:"

Sandra Morgan2 As stated by: I find myself inclined to agree with Descartes; the old adage "I think, therefore I am" remains fundamentally sound in my estimation.

It is entirely possible that your perspective holds merit. 😁 He simply couldn't afford to rely on circular definitions right from the jump. It is difficult to characterize his approach as true philosophy, given that a philosophical inquiry ought to be anchored in logic—and here, the logical foundation is fundamentally broken from the very beginning.

One cannot simply embed a conclusion within the initial premise of a first assumption. While such a structure might possess some inherent mysticism or perhaps a value that remains obscure to me, the formulation itself is ultimately hollow; it fails to offer any real explanation and serves no functional purpose in the pursuit of clarity.

There exists an inherent function in concealing and mystifying information, though I find little practical value in such tactics when it comes to meaningful discourse. While such obfuscation might serve a purpose within the realm of spiritual practice, it offers nothing to the clarity of our discussion.

"Quote:"

Attempt to reach a state of total mental stillness—which is, after all, the true objective of meditation—and try to remain composed when that sense of "self" begins to dissolve. Once you have reached that threshold, tell me whether you still exist, or if you have truly vanished.

That is a perfectly valid observation; such phenomena are certainly not confined to the practice of meditation alone, but manifest just as readily during sleep, under general anesthesia, or through various neurological conditions and the influence of certain substances.

Daniel Castillo11 explained it quite well—your meditation doesn't imply an ontological disappearance of the "I" agent, but rather its temporary dormancy, a quietening of that central symbol due to the transient shifts in brain function. An ontological disappearance of the "self" would only occur if the capacity to evoke it were permanently and irreversibly disabled.

Daniel Castillo11 said:If we look at this through a phenomenological lens, what you're essentially doing in that moment is untangling yourself from all that verbal, cognitive, and affective baggage. It's quite clear that the neurotic habit of clinging to everything just snaps. That's what people call mindfulness. However, the "Self" doesn't vanish on an ontological level. It only truly disappears when you stop thinking entirely, which is basically when you're dead. This feeling of "I" is your defining characteristic; it follows you everywhere. Even in the deepest meditative states, it remains present in the unconscious. There is a distinction between mindfulness—that deep, non-verbal focus on pure experience rather than mental content—and the awareness of concepts, language, and linguistic constructs, but that distinction is purely subjective. The focus shifts, the perspective changes, but that individual experience alone isn't enough to let us draw any concrete conclusions about the actual nature of consciousness.

Now, Advaita Vedanta is perfectly fine when it comes to phenomenology; it does a wonderful job, both technically and poetically, of describing that existential vacuum that occurs before we start layering on concepts, memes, and various identities. But in my view, it adds nothing to the question of ontology—it offers no proof that consciousness exists independently of the brain.

But then again, that's just my take, which is pretty much aligned with Wandov's, and us naturalists are definitely in the minority here. 🙂

My own way of looking at it is this: I am, therefore I think. The moment I falter, the thinking stops. While I am thinking and while I am living, I can choose how and when to employ different perspectives of consciousness. In other words, I get to decide how to experience my present moment. To me, there's no "winner" in this debate. Both perspectives—focusing on the content of thought versus focusing on raw experience—have their specific merits and drawbacks depending on the situation. One is object-oriented, while the other is process-driven and dynamic. When you're practicing mindfulness, all your attention is directed toward the sensory perception of your body and your surroundings rather than the noise inside your head, and that's perfectly fine. The other extreme is neurosis, where you become overly reactive and tethered to every passing emotion, thought, and impulse.

I have a great deal of respect for spiritual practices, even if I don't buy into their interpretations.

That reality is profoundly saddening 🤣

My personal approach: I am, therefore I think. As soon as I falter, the thinking stops. While I am thinking, while I am living, I can choose how and when to utilize various perspectives of consciousness. In other words, how I experience my present moment.

It is highly questionable what exactly "you choose," whether you truly possess agency, and indeed, who is doing the choosing..

I respect spiritual practices, but I don't accept their interpretations.

Perhaps because those aren't actually interpretations at all, but rather mystifications resting calmly upon unverifiable assumptions.

It is a living demonstration of Shermer's thesis regarding believer-dependent realism. Belief arrives first, and only then follow the reasons used to justify it. In such instances, reasons do not serve to explain the thing itself, but merely to bolster the belief, thus becoming both generated and selected to suit it.

However, as you noted, that is their right... though I believe one should dispel the illusion that they are attempting to provide an actual explanation.

If they were genuinely trying to explain, their hypotheses would be risky and testable, making them epistemologically honest.

Daniel Castillo11 said:If we look at this through a phenomenological lens, what you're essentially doing in that moment is untangling yourself from all that verbal, cognitive, and affective baggage. It's quite clear that the neurotic habit of clinging to everything just snaps. That's what people call mindfulness. However, the "Self" doesn't vanish on an ontological level. It only truly disappears when you stop thinking entirely, which is basically when you're dead. This feeling of "I" is your defining characteristic; it follows you everywhere. Even in the deepest meditative states, it remains present in the unconscious. There is a distinction between mindfulness—that deep, non-verbal focus on pure experience rather than mental content—and the awareness of concepts, language, and linguistic constructs, but that distinction is purely subjective. The focus shifts, the perspective changes, but that individual experience alone isn't enough to let us draw any concrete conclusions about the actual nature of consciousness.

Now, Advaita Vedanta is perfectly fine when it comes to phenomenology; it does a wonderful job, both technically and poetically, of describing that existential vacuum that occurs before we start layering on concepts, memes, and various identities. But in my view, it adds nothing to the question of ontology—it offers no proof that consciousness exists independently of the brain.

But then again, that's just my take, which is pretty much aligned with Wandov's, and us naturalists are definitely in the minority here. 🙂

My own way of looking at it is this: I am, therefore I think. The moment I falter, the thinking stops. While I am thinking and while I am living, I can choose how and when to employ different perspectives of consciousness. In other words, I get to decide how to experience my present moment. To me, there's no "winner" in this debate. Both perspectives—focusing on the content of thought versus focusing on raw experience—have their specific merits and drawbacks depending on the situation. One is object-oriented, while the other is process-driven and dynamic. When you're practicing mindfulness, all your attention is directed toward the sensory perception of your body and your surroundings rather than the noise inside your head, and that's perfectly fine. The other extreme is neurosis, where you become overly reactive and tethered to every passing emotion, thought, and impulse.

I have a great deal of respect for spiritual practices, even if I don't buy into their interpretations.

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.

urbanwalker72 said:

eternalme As stated by:
That profound depth is the realization that I am a spiritual being first and foremost, rather than merely a physical one. Even when the storms and tempests of life batter my external circumstances, my spiritual essence remains untouched, existing in a state of perfect tranquility regardless of the outcome. It is much like the vast, silent depths of the Pacific Ocean. On the surface, one might face raging twenty-foot swells, yet deep below, there exists an eternal peace and absolute silence. It is much like that.

While you previously touched upon the illness, the highlighted text suggests that you are actually doing quite well.

Many people simply aren't granted that kind of peace. Consider someone battling Alzheimer's; for them, there is no bottomless well of stillness or tranquility to be found, nor is there any way to reach it. At every conceivable level, they are being battered by a relentless hurricane of chaos.

His sense of "self" lacks the permanence of yours; in truth, it is quite fragile.

"Quote:"

I hold the firm conviction that I shall continue to advance along my spiritual path for as long as is required to achieve true personal growth.

If your ultimate objective is to achieve lasting mental tranquility and emotional stability, I would suggest that it might be more prudent to focus on preserving the equilibrium you have already established rather than constantly venturing into new experiments in pursuit of something more.

There is a profound possibility that what you seek will ultimately offer you no true benefit.

One should find contentment in what has been achieved.

"Quote:"

Sandra Morgan2 As stated by: I find myself inclined to agree with Descartes; the old adage "I think, therefore I am" remains fundamentally sound in my estimation.

It is entirely possible that your perspective holds merit. 😁 He simply couldn't afford to rely on circular definitions right from the jump. It is difficult to characterize his approach as true philosophy, given that a philosophical inquiry ought to be anchored in logic—and here, the logical foundation is fundamentally broken from the very beginning.

One cannot simply embed a conclusion within the initial premise of a first assumption. While such a structure might possess some inherent mysticism or perhaps a value that remains obscure to me, the formulation itself is ultimately hollow; it fails to offer any real explanation and serves no functional purpose in the pursuit of clarity.

There exists an inherent function in concealing and mystifying information, though I find little practical value in such tactics when it comes to meaningful discourse. While such obfuscation might serve a purpose within the realm of spiritual practice, it offers nothing to the clarity of our discussion.

"Quote:"

Attempt to reach a state of total mental stillness—which is, after all, the true objective of meditation—and try to remain composed when that sense of "self" begins to dissolve. Once you have reached that threshold, tell me whether you still exist, or if you have truly vanished.

That is a perfectly valid observation; such phenomena are certainly not confined to the practice of meditation alone, but manifest just as readily during sleep, under general anesthesia, or through various neurological conditions and the influence of certain substances.

Daniel Castillo11 explained it quite well—your meditation doesn't imply an ontological disappearance of the "I" agent, but rather its temporary dormancy, a quietening of that central symbol due to the transient shifts in brain function. An ontological disappearance of the "self" would only occur if the capacity to evoke it were permanently and irreversibly disabled.

That reality is profoundly saddening 🤣

My personal approach: I am, therefore I think. As soon as I falter, the thinking stops. While I am thinking, while I am living, I can choose how and when to utilize various perspectives of consciousness. In other words, how I experience my present moment.

It is highly questionable what exactly "you choose," whether you truly possess agency, and indeed, who is doing the choosing..

I respect spiritual practices, but I don't accept their interpretations.

Perhaps because those aren't actually interpretations at all, but rather mystifications resting calmly upon unverifiable assumptions.

It is a living demonstration of Shermer's thesis regarding believer-dependent realism. Belief arrives first, and only then follow the reasons used to justify it. In such instances, reasons do not serve to explain the thing itself, but merely to bolster the belief, thus becoming both generated and selected to suit it.

However, as you noted, that is their right... though I believe one should dispel the illusion that they are attempting to provide an actual explanation.

If they were genuinely trying to explain, their hypotheses would be risky and testable, making them epistemologically honest.

It’s also quite similar to what people call the "flow" state. It feels rather akin to a mindfulness experience, though it possesses its own distinct character.

That fact is deeply lamentable.🤣

Goodness gracious, we are on a Spirituality forum, after all. One would naturally assume that the naturalists are in the minority here.🙂

It is highly questionable what one actually "chooses," whether true choice exists at all, and indeed, who exactly is doing the choosing...

Now, I wasn't attempting to dive into the complexities of free will, or the whole free will versus free won't debate, and those other rabbit holes. I simply wanted to touch upon how one functions day-to-day—as a practice, one can choose to ruminate or one can choose to meditate. While one might experientially preclude the other, it is only a temporary state. I believe it is healthy to blend these perspectives. I mention this because it seems to me that some of the more radical spiritualists tend to favor one while reflexively judging the other. To them, reason is seen as a perversion; they view logic as stemming from the devil or the ego, suggesting one should merely live and feel.🙂

It is likely because those aren't actually interpretations, but rather mystifications that sit comfortably upon unprovable premises.

Precisely.

It is living proof of Shermer's thesis regarding belief-dependent realism. The belief arrives first, and only then are the reasons for that belief manufactured. In such instances, the reasons don't serve to explain the reality of the thing itself, but rather to bolster the belief, which is why they are generated and selected in that specific way.

They are correct. I find it quite obvious when you observe how language is manipulated and how there are constant attempts to rationalize something that has already passed its point of no return.

However, as you noted, that is their right... I just happen to think we should dispel the illusion that they are actually attempting to provide an explanation.

I couldn't agree more. Personally, I think the less "woo-woo" nonsense we have to deal with, the better life becomes.

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?

Drew Gray4 said:I appreciate you reaching out; it’s great to see this topic gaining traction. That concept of a self-referential system was actually an intuitive comparison I made myself—I had no idea it was a formal application. I realize there is something essentially ineffable at play here, and I have no intention of falling into the trap of ego, but based on what you’re saying, it clearly is happening.

Ultimately, I feel it is better to attempt to convey even a fragment of these sensations to someone else rather than remaining entirely silent about them.

It isn't as if I have any desire or capacity to teach anyone... I can barely manage my own basic hygiene! :-)

You are so sweet, truly... eternalyou 🙂

urbanwalker72 said:

eternalme As stated by:
That profound depth is the realization that I am a spiritual being first and foremost, rather than merely a physical one. Even when the storms and tempests of life batter my external circumstances, my spiritual essence remains untouched, existing in a state of perfect tranquility regardless of the outcome. It is much like the vast, silent depths of the Pacific Ocean. On the surface, one might face raging twenty-foot swells, yet deep below, there exists an eternal peace and absolute silence. It is much like that.

While you previously touched upon the illness, the highlighted text suggests that you are actually doing quite well.

Many people simply aren't granted that kind of peace. Consider someone battling Alzheimer's; for them, there is no bottomless well of stillness or tranquility to be found, nor is there any way to reach it. At every conceivable level, they are being battered by a relentless hurricane of chaos.

His sense of "self" lacks the permanence of yours; in truth, it is quite fragile.

"Quote:"

I hold the firm conviction that I shall continue to advance along my spiritual path for as long as is required to achieve true personal growth.

If your ultimate objective is to achieve lasting mental tranquility and emotional stability, I would suggest that it might be more prudent to focus on preserving the equilibrium you have already established rather than constantly venturing into new experiments in pursuit of something more.

There is a profound possibility that what you seek will ultimately offer you no true benefit.

One should find contentment in what has been achieved.

"Quote:"

Sandra Morgan2 As stated by: I find myself inclined to agree with Descartes; the old adage "I think, therefore I am" remains fundamentally sound in my estimation.

It is entirely possible that your perspective holds merit. 😁 He simply couldn't afford to rely on circular definitions right from the jump. It is difficult to characterize his approach as true philosophy, given that a philosophical inquiry ought to be anchored in logic—and here, the logical foundation is fundamentally broken from the very beginning.

One cannot simply embed a conclusion within the initial premise of a first assumption. While such a structure might possess some inherent mysticism or perhaps a value that remains obscure to me, the formulation itself is ultimately hollow; it fails to offer any real explanation and serves no functional purpose in the pursuit of clarity.

There exists an inherent function in concealing and mystifying information, though I find little practical value in such tactics when it comes to meaningful discourse. While such obfuscation might serve a purpose within the realm of spiritual practice, it offers nothing to the clarity of our discussion.

"Quote:"

Attempt to reach a state of total mental stillness—which is, after all, the true objective of meditation—and try to remain composed when that sense of "self" begins to dissolve. Once you have reached that threshold, tell me whether you still exist, or if you have truly vanished.

That is a perfectly valid observation; such phenomena are certainly not confined to the practice of meditation alone, but manifest just as readily during sleep, under general anesthesia, or through various neurological conditions and the influence of certain substances.

Daniel Castillo11 explained it quite well—your meditation doesn't imply an ontological disappearance of the "I" agent, but rather its temporary dormancy, a quietening of that central symbol due to the transient shifts in brain function. An ontological disappearance of the "self" would only occur if the capacity to evoke it were permanently and irreversibly disabled.

That reality is profoundly saddening 🤣

My personal approach: I am, therefore I think. As soon as I falter, the thinking stops. While I am thinking, while I am living, I can choose how and when to utilize various perspectives of consciousness. In other words, how I experience my present moment.

It is highly questionable what exactly "you choose," whether you truly possess agency, and indeed, who is doing the choosing..

I respect spiritual practices, but I don't accept their interpretations.

Perhaps because those aren't actually interpretations at all, but rather mystifications resting calmly upon unverifiable assumptions.

It is a living demonstration of Shermer's thesis regarding believer-dependent realism. Belief arrives first, and only then follow the reasons used to justify it. In such instances, reasons do not serve to explain the thing itself, but merely to bolster the belief, thus becoming both generated and selected to suit it.

However, as you noted, that is their right... though I believe one should dispel the illusion that they are attempting to provide an actual explanation.

If they were genuinely trying to explain, their hypotheses would be risky and testable, making them epistemologically honest.

Logic, my foot.

You and your "logic."

It's like telling someone they can't touch their toes without bending their knees.

Daniel Castillo11 said: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?

Hmm... where...

Everywhere...

Consciousness "sees itself" as everything and in everything... Not to ramble too much... I'm currently balancing the checkbook and it's hard to multitask with numbers, so I'll answer you with a quote from Gopa Krishna. Assuming you know who he is. Anyway.

We know what all people perceive of this world. I can understand what you perceive of it, you can understand what I perceive of it. That is, this perception is uniform. Everyone has the same perception.

But this other perception is different. In this other perception you do not see the world as a solid, real, objective creation. The real objective creation is consciousness. You see consciousness everywhere. You see the ocean as if it is consciousness everywhere.

You see the ocean as if it is living; you see a mountain as if it is living; you see the sky as if it is living; you see the Earth as if it is living; you see life or consciousness everywhere. And this life or consciousness is not something which is really dead or which is something you can understand.

It is unfathomable.

It is wonder and everytime you see it, you perceive it.

The wonder grows deeper

I am never tired of sitting in quiet and reflecting on myself. I am never tired of looking at the sky. The sky, to me, does not appear as it appeared before my 34th year; it is so fascinating. It is such a beautiful vision that I would like to look at it for days and months on end. In other words, in the air a fountain of happiness, a new kingdom, I should say, is opened.

This is probably what Christ meant when he said, "The Kingdom of Heaven is within you." This is The nirvana of Buddha ; and this is The state of Vada mentioned by The Suffi mystics. In fact, in this inactive state what we perceive is consciousness in its most magic form, in its glorious form, and not consciousness as a point looking through the eyes or hearing through the ears, but a consciousness which has its own channels and which knows that it is the master and not the slave of the material forces which knows it is the creator.

It is infinite: it is deathless. In this state one feels himself to be a king, he feels himself to be the master of what he sees. It is not the ego. I should say it is not the ego; it is the very condition of this consciousness. That is the reason why it is said that no mystic would change his state even for a kingdom. It is somehing so unique, so glorious, so elevating that I have no words to describe this state.

I suspect that for those wandering the spiritual path, the technicalities of whether the Self is eternal, enduring, or merely fleeting are actually secondary concerns. What truly matters is the practical dilemma: once I am confronted with this "Self," what am I supposed to do with it? Or more fundamentally, "who am I?" and "what am I?" We don't really need a collection of discursive theories or conceptual frameworks to address this; rather, we need the direct experience that arises from embodying the mystery—living fully within the present moment that the question itself points toward. These inquiries are essentially just triggers. Even practicing mindfulness, whether one uses a mantra or stays silent, doesn't inherently settle the heavy questions like "does the human soul exist?" or "is there life after death?" Personal experience alone isn't quite enough to provide a definitive answer to those cosmic mysteries, though it serves as an excellent catalyst for asking them and for expanding our awareness in every direction. Maintaining that sense of openness is the absolute prerequisite for achieving a truly holistic perception.

Even if we consider the possibility that the Self is simply a sophisticated illusion manufactured by the brain—a sort of hyper-symbol or a "memeplex," as Susan Blackmore describes it—we are still left staring at the profound mystery of that very Self as it manifests through our embodied experience in the here and now.

I've gathered a few articles on the subject that might interest you:

http://garynini.com/ist-trasicorr.htm
http://garynini.com/ist-koan.htm
http://www.focusing.org/gendlin/gol_all_focusing.asp
http://www.susanblackmore.co.uk/Chapters/awaken.html

Daniel Castillo11 said:I suspect that for those wandering the spiritual path, the technicalities of whether the Self is eternal, enduring, or merely fleeting are actually secondary concerns. What truly matters is the practical dilemma: once I am confronted with this "Self," what am I supposed to do with it? Or more fundamentally, "who am I?" and "what am I?" We don't really need a collection of discursive theories or conceptual frameworks to address this; rather, we need the direct experience that arises from embodying the mystery—living fully within the present moment that the question itself points toward. These inquiries are essentially just triggers. Even practicing mindfulness, whether one uses a mantra or stays silent, doesn't inherently settle the heavy questions like "does the human soul exist?" or "is there life after death?" Personal experience alone isn't quite enough to provide a definitive answer to those cosmic mysteries, though it serves as an excellent catalyst for asking them and for expanding our awareness in every direction. Maintaining that sense of openness is the absolute prerequisite for achieving a truly holistic perception.

Even if we consider the possibility that the Self is simply a sophisticated illusion manufactured by the brain—a sort of hyper-symbol or a "memeplex," as Susan Blackmore describes it—we are still left staring at the profound mystery of that very Self as it manifests through our embodied experience in the here and now.

I've gathered a few articles on the subject that might interest you:

http://garynini.com/ist-trasicorr.htm
http://garynini.com/ist-koan.htm
http://www.focusing.org/gendlin/gol_all_focusing.asp
http://www.susanblackmore.co.uk/Chapters/awaken.html

It feels like a variation of Chalmers' hard problem. To my mind, it is something that is inherently unsolvable, a question that will eventually fade into irrelevance as our understanding evolves..

Look, I don't care what kind of massive, sweeping global theory some genius comes up with—the actual pieces of the psyche and the raw character traits that make us who we are? That stuff isn't going out of style. Period. Sure, you can try to map it all out from thirty thousand feet, but at the end of the day, everyone’s gotta go through their own personal grind and express themselves just to figure out what's actually going on inside their own heads.

Daniel Castillo11 said:I suspect that for those wandering the spiritual path, the technicalities of whether the Self is eternal, enduring, or merely fleeting are actually secondary concerns. What truly matters is the practical dilemma: once I am confronted with this "Self," what am I supposed to do with it? Or more fundamentally, "who am I?" and "what am I?" We don't really need a collection of discursive theories or conceptual frameworks to address this; rather, we need the direct experience that arises from embodying the mystery—living fully within the present moment that the question itself points toward. These inquiries are essentially just triggers. Even practicing mindfulness, whether one uses a mantra or stays silent, doesn't inherently settle the heavy questions like "does the human soul exist?" or "is there life after death?" Personal experience alone isn't quite enough to provide a definitive answer to those cosmic mysteries, though it serves as an excellent catalyst for asking them and for expanding our awareness in every direction. Maintaining that sense of openness is the absolute prerequisite for achieving a truly holistic perception.

Even if we consider the possibility that the Self is simply a sophisticated illusion manufactured by the brain—a sort of hyper-symbol or a "memeplex," as Susan Blackmore describes it—we are still left staring at the profound mystery of that very Self as it manifests through our embodied experience in the here and now.

I've gathered a few articles on the subject that might interest you:

http://garynini.com/ist-trasicorr.htm
http://garynini.com/ist-koan.htm
http://www.focusing.org/gendlin/gol_all_focusing.asp
http://www.susanblackmore.co.uk/Chapters/awaken.html

Personally, I feel like the whole debate about whether the SELF is permanent or just passing through is just as important for everyone else, not just the "spiritual seekers." Just as much as it is to figure out what to do with that "I" once you realize it's there.
Once someone has that personal breakthrough, they hit a level where those old questions don't even matter anymore. The real choice is whether they want to stay in that headspace or... well, like Sandra Morgan2 once pointed out, what's the actual payoff for the individual? In the end, we all have to make a call: do we ditch the ego entirely and go live like hermits in the desert, or do we just get smart about it, take the reins, and actually enjoy the ride?

You hit the nail on the head here:

Being open is the absolute baseline if you want to see the full picture.

As someone who considers themselves semi-enlightened, I imagine you work quite a bit with your "self." Do you identify with it directly, or do you observe it as something separate—like an Uber-self or some other version of "I"? Or perhaps you just find peace in pure consciousness. Is there ever a need to deny the self? Then again, it would be YOU doing the denying, or at least a part of you. For my part, I tend to view us as pure consciousness and love; that’s how I describe it because it’s when I feel most relaxed and secure with myself whenever the question of "who am I, really?" starts to get confusing.

electrictinker26 said:As someone who considers themselves semi-enlightened, I imagine you work quite a bit with your "self." Do you identify with it directly, or do you observe it as something separate—like an Uber-self or some other version of "I"? Or perhaps you just find peace in pure consciousness. Is there ever a need to deny the self? Then again, it would be YOU doing the denying, or at least a part of you. For my part, I tend to view us as pure consciousness and love; that’s how I describe it because it’s when I feel most relaxed and secure with myself whenever the question of "who am I, really?" starts to get confusing.

Look, I’m not an enlightened person. I’ve said that a million times already. Sure, I’ve had those moments where I experienced pure consciousness—those times where the ego basically dissolves into nothingness—but eventually, I started putting it back together. Why? Because if everything is just one big illusion, then this specific illusion is actually pretty beautiful and holds its own weight. There are real people in here who might not get much out of us just merging into a single cosmic consciousness. That feeling of perfection is incredible; it's this state where you don't feel the urge to change a single thing or do anything at all because everything is just... perfect. Exactly as it is. But then, you either go full hermit in the desert, or you look around and see people you actually give a damn about—you see kids looking to you for actual, tangible things—and suddenly you're caught in a massive tug-of-war. So, you end up choosing your "self" all over again. You make the choice while simultaneously watching yourself make it. But once you've made that call? That constant, overwhelming sense of bliss and perfection fades. What's left is just living out the life you chose.

Elizabeth Castillo87 said:Look, I’m not an enlightened person. I’ve said that a million times already. Sure, I’ve had those moments where I experienced pure consciousness—those times where the ego basically dissolves into nothingness—but eventually, I started putting it back together. Why? Because if everything is just one big illusion, then this specific illusion is actually pretty beautiful and holds its own weight. There are real people in here who might not get much out of us just merging into a single cosmic consciousness. That feeling of perfection is incredible; it's this state where you don't feel the urge to change a single thing or do anything at all because everything is just... perfect. Exactly as it is. But then, you either go full hermit in the desert, or you look around and see people you actually give a damn about—you see kids looking to you for actual, tangible things—and suddenly you're caught in a massive tug-of-war. So, you end up choosing your "self" all over again. You make the choice while simultaneously watching yourself make it. But once you've made that call? That constant, overwhelming sense of bliss and perfection fades. What's left is just living out the life you chose.

I see where you're coming from. What I don't quite grasp is whether you view yourself as being "serious" when someone tells you, "you did this," or even when I say, "I will do this." I mean, while you are in this state of being a functional ego—much like I am, an individual with my own distinct personality, emotions, and actions. Is it possible for you to move from the ego into pure consciousness by choice? Can you actually distinguish between the ego and pure consciousness while still operating within that ego state?