Consciousness. I know I have it, but have no idea what it is or where it comes from (nor does anyone else, whatever they may say). I am equally sure that I have a soul, but again have no idea what it is or where it comes from. Are consciousness and soul the same thing, or aspects of the same thing? Is soul perhaps a deeper form of consciousness, one that somehow connects with a reality beyond time and space? Both consciousness and soul seem identical with our ultimate selves. We inhabit consciousness, and infer everything else.
These are deep waters. Over to you, Emily Dickinson –
This Consciousness that is aware
Of Neighbors and the Sun
Will be the one aware of Death
And that itself alone
Is traversing the interval
Experience between
And most profound experiment
Appointed unto Men—
How adequate unto itself
Its properties shall be
Itself unto itself and none
Shall make discovery.
Adventure most unto itself
The Soul condemned to be—
Attended by a single Hound
Its own identity.
Of Neighbors and the Sun
Will be the one aware of Death
And that itself alone
Is traversing the interval
Experience between
And most profound experiment
Appointed unto Men—
How adequate unto itself
Its properties shall be
Itself unto itself and none
Shall make discovery.
Adventure most unto itself
The Soul condemned to be—
Attended by a single Hound
Its own identity.
This poem was sent to me by my friend, the Emily Dickinson maven, who regards it as one of her most profound. I agree – it's a gem.
In regard to "consciousness" and, especially, "soul," a long quotation. I will omit the source of this quotation because of its Russian author’s deservedly bad reputation. (He died in 1907.) I endorse nothing that he thought, said, or wrote, except (with a little reservation, but not much) this: “Only fools have clear conceptions of everything. The most cherished ideas of the human mind are found in the depths and in twilight: around these confused ideas which we cannot easily classify revolve clear thoughts, extending, developing, and becoming elevated. If this deeper mental plane were taken away, there would remain but geometricians and intelligent animals; even the exact sciences would lose their present grandeur, which depends upon a hidden correlation with eternal truths, of which we catch a glimpse only at rare moments. Mystery is the most precious possession of mankind. Not in vain did Plato teach that all below is but a weak image of the order reigning above. It may be, indeed, that the greatest function of the loveliness we see is the awakening of desire for a higher loveliness we see not; and that the enchantment of great poets springs less from the pictures they paint than from the distant echoes they awaken from the invisible world.”
ReplyDeleteYes, I think there's a lot of truth in that. I wonder who the author is....?
DeleteThe author is the antisemitic Tsarist government official Konstantin Pobedonostsev. When passing on that passage, I like to withhold the author's name long enough for people to consider it on its own merits, which I too think are great.
DeleteFascinating. I'd never heard of him...
DeleteThat passage came to mind, and I wondered what put me on to it, since I have Reflections of a Russian Statesman but haven't read more than a couple of pages. I think it must be that I saw the same passage I've quoted, cited somewhere, maybe in somebody's blog comment. Can't say now.
DeleteIt's now quite common for people in cardiac arrest to be restored to life e.g. by an electronic defibrillator or by a mechanical shock to the chest.
ReplyDeleteHas this led to any poems or prose about the experience of being dead briefly?
I wonder... I guess 'My life closed twice before its close' doesn't count. The chances of a good writer having a near-death experience must be pretty low.
DeleteFor Larkin life itself seems to have been a near-death experience...
Maybe my question was a bit naive. You could argue that parts of the New Testament involve a chap who recovered from cardiac arrest.
DeleteThough my preferred explanation was that he was an alien being recalled to his mothership, never to return among those violent humans.
Aha! Fun with every thirteen-year-old's favourite poet.
ReplyDeletehttps://www.deadlanguagesociety.com/p/the-canterbury-commute