Intoxication and the Self

From early on, I've had a somewhat ascetic view on drugs. The simple understanding that drugs tend to be used in escapist ways was obvious from the beginning; even when they are used for practical purposes, they often cloud the mind. While that perspective still seems "correct" to me, it now seems correct in a somewhat narrow or rigidly disciplined way. After too many years of back pain, drinking, and a (somewhat) recent interest in the effects of LSD and marijuana--certainly influenced by living in California--I'm revisiting that narrow view (with a glass of wine in hand).

While much of my attitude has a tongue-in-cheek feel, I really appreciate the deeper tones involved in revisiting the subject of drugs. And, as far as I'm concerned, we can throw dietary restrictions into the same category of external physical things used for psychological purposes like substituting ice cream for love. Not surprisingly, wine has softened the militaristic edge that youth put on my early perspective. That's been both good and bad--good in that it has made me a little easier in how I approach many of my own and other people's downfallings, and mostly bad in how it has fuzzed my sense of focus and purpose along with the judgemental edges.

The reason I am writing tonight is that I think I have found for myself the center of how all intoxication of whatever kinds keeps one (in this case, me) off the meditative point or lifestyle. At the same time, intoxication can help one get beyond the strict boundaries of the relative ego or jiva. But just like happiness, meditation can't really be avoided into. Avoidance and a balanced awareness of suchness are mutually exclusive. So we may have to use a "dirty" method of moving forward before dropping or minimizing that method. Shoshaku jushaku.

As usual for me, this particular insight or consolidation came along from a sort of low level or background consideration of a few different messages. The first is a comment from Ramana Maharshi that the intellect is valuable insofar as to direct the ego to return to the Self, original self, or original state. Once there, he tended to recommend staying there. As with many spiritual aspirants, this seemed reasonable to me but I didn't know what it meant. (Yes, it's fine if you're laughing at me:) And maybe there is more for me to glean from this comment, but I get it at a deeper level than before. Another comment that took a few years to sink in was Trungpa's discussion of the five buddha families. The gist is that people have different styles (families) of enlightenment. It took a long time before I took this as more than just Trungpa's favorite sort of astrological or personality classifications. Again, I had a hint that there was something valuable there, but I couldn't tell if it was mostly just a joke or a sham.

One more thing to throw in, since I like triangulations. As a counseling intern, I related with folks who had addictions, psychoses, severe depression, phobias, and eventually I encountered mania too. (I don't know that traumatic stress responses fit in this commentary, but those were interesting as well, to say the least.) The point of mixing in these states is that, whether the major influences are internal or external, we can be quite fascinated with various forms of intoxication. In a crude sense, we can see intoxication or attachment to these sorts of states as the complex forms of a basic ignorance which is the opposite of awakeness. And, as we all have different families, experiences, and personalities, we prefer different forms (or allegorical "families", you could say) of intoxication. Getting stuck in philoosophy has also been described as one of these forms.

The breakthrough with Ramana's comment about returning to and resting in the Self came when I was reading James Austin's ZEN-BRAIN REFLECTIONS. He mentioned the phrase "preattentional resources", and the lightbulb went on. PRE-attention...I'd heard that from numerous meditation presentations. Before your awareness reaches out for something or attaches to anything, the brain or our basic awareness already has existing processes and resources which function as noticing. But it is noticing and aware-ing before it becomes concentrated or directed enough to be considered attention. For years, people would tell me to just relax into meditation and I'd respond that I was willing to try as hard as necessary to relax. The problem with their commentary and my interpretations was that this basic awareness is phenomenologically prior to the trying. So attempting to "relax" into it was like trying to relax into being human--how? And Ramana stuck to this idea of going before anything reaches out and dwelling there. Oh, what a relief once you get it!

But even now, it isn't deep for me. It's obvious and light and clear, but it will probably take some time for me to really take it deep. That's okay, the obviousness and the relief make the timeframe perfectly workable. This preattentive, pre-self (pre-small self) state doesn't strike me as being prajna, but it is nice to be able to connect with it as a basis of consciousness and a place of rest, a place of denuding the self of itself--or more accurately, a place where the bare thing needs nothing added or subtracted...prior to any complication.

From a sense of familiarity with this standpoint, everything that is not peaceful, obvious, and clear all feels the same in some way. It's all unnecessary, all extra. Because there are no personal interests in justifying or projecting, no solid, relative, desiring self around which to hang justifications and projections, everything is simple on its own. It is like this state, then, is the doorway to prajna. In this state, there is no reason to go out and look at things and interact. But there is also no reason not to go out and look at things and touch and interact. If one does more than "rest in the Self", it seems to me that prajna arises in this fundamental space or from this fundamental space. Tranquility and insight.

Ramana also said, "Peace is the state of utmost activity." I wrote that one down because I knew that it was beyond me. I wasn't impressed by it--rather I felt, "Well, I know all those words. What the f#%k?!" The amazing thing is that this preattentive state seems to allow one to "go into" any situation without losing this state. Being able to say and feel that I have my own buddha style or family let me separate out other styles that I can't pretend to pull off. It's not "my" style because it comes in somewhere before the individual "I" does. But, like the family that includes my brother, sister, mom, and dad, it doesn't matter whether or not I want them or choose them--they're already family. It's a little strange to think of peace that way--that you're already in that state whether you choose it or not. I don't really know what the neurological correlates or signifiers are, and I may never care.

It is wondrous to feel the phrase, "I know I do not know" as praise and utter simplicity.