By Chris Condon
What is it to be conscious? Scientists, philosophers, theologians, and countless others have pondered this question for centuries. But do we know any more about consciousness today than we did long ago? Does this question – what is it to be conscious – even matter?
I believe the key question is actually not so much what consciousness is, but how we experience it. What is it to be here now – alive in this moment?
I was reminded of this question just the other day on my morning walk to the park. I started out with my mind entangled in its usual web of worried thoughts, busy plans, and lingering problems, one immediately following the other. However, as I reached the park’s edge, my attention began to relax and open. Now aware of the trees shimmering in light, their leaves casting shadows that trembled and swayed, the sparrows all singing brightly – I was suddenly a dance partner in the springtime jazz.
In his recently published, delightfully accessible book, The World Appears, Michael Pollan (citing the work of psychologist Alison Gopnik) describes two primary modes of consciousness, one being like a “spotlight”, and the other a “lantern”. When in spotlight mode, we narrow our focus to a particular topic or concern, often a problem to solve. This mode of thinking is clearly invaluable, as there are many problems needing our attention. If used excessively, though, it can become a problem in itself. We become prone to being chronically stressed, emotionally detached, irritated, discouraged, sad.
However, in the so-called lantern mode, our minds open and expand – like my moment in the park. Illuminated with a kind of 360 degree awareness, the world appears as playful, wonderous, even child-like. Our senses now vibrant and alive, we become like explorers of an unknown world, discovering everything as new.
It is this world to where the magnificent Irish philosopher and poet, John O’Donogue invited us to return, the world of our own awareness, when he wrote, “Awaken to the mystery of being here and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence. Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses.”
