International Transpersonal Conference (Moscow, Russia)

I am honored to be included to the list of presenters at the International Transpersonal Conference 2010 (Moscow, Russia). The list of presenters also includes Stan Grof, Alex Grey, Stanley Krippner, Dimitry Spivak, Jim Garrison, Bernard Lietaer, Andrew Cohen, Jenny Wade and others.

I will be giving two presentations (on June 24 and June 26). The first will be about the altstates.net project (one of the few projects of that kind in the field of altered states of consciousness research that is supported by a mainstream scientific organization) and the second will be about the Global Dialogue: Russian Contribution program I have been co-developing together with Dr. Mark Tourevski, Dr. Joachim Faust and others for more than a year.

Unfortunately, I couldn't visit Alex Grey's seminars and he leaves on the day I come to Moscow but I wrote a letter that I gave to my friend in Moscow so he would pass it to Alex.

Everything happens so quick in Russia (and the brand new world at large)...

Bosques de mi mente

Very beautiful, inspiring music video.

The musician whose music is featured in the video offers all his albums to download for free under the Creative Commons license.

The bus episode

I took a bus to get home from the gym this evening. I like to use public transport even though I live within a walking distance from that place. In Russian buses there is usually a special person, the ticket collector, who both sells tickets and checks whether you have one. As I was standing inside the bus looking into the window I suddenly heard the ticket collector's yelling at someone.

She screamed, "Get off the bus now! You want the entire bus to smell like you?"

I looked there and saw that the ticket collector was yelling at an old homeless man who sat there; and there was indeed that garbage stink of a person who haven't washed himself for weeks. The homeless man looked at her and said stubbornly and somewhat fearfully, "But I have paid for a ticket! I can leave where I want."

As the bus was approaching the bus stop the woman started to scream hysterically in the loudest way possible, "GET OFF NOW, YOU STINK! IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO BEAR YOUR STINK ANYMORE! DO YOU WANT ME TO CALL THE BUS DRIVER NOW TO GET YOU OFF THE BUS BY FORCE?"

To which the homeless man repeated, "But I bought the ticket. I can leave where I want. I will leave on the next stop."

The woman continued yelling; and the man said, "Calm down, I'm leaving on the next stop anyway." The ticket collector understood that she can do nothing to get rid of this dirty old man and went to the farthest part of the bus.

The man left the bus on my bus stop. This particular old homeless man looked intelligent, he might even had a university education (as many people who lost their homes do), and I wonder how hard it was for him to get money to pay for one ticket to use the privilege and ride wherever he wanted. I also wonder whether he left the bus on the bus stop he originally intended or he just felt uncomfortable and didn't want to annoy the ticket collector.

In Russia, as in so many parts of the world, homeless people have no rights at all. It is in  a huge contrast with the developed Western countries such as Finland where homeless people receive money from the government (about €500 per month in case of Finland). Once, when I was in Helsinki, my friend pointed a person in the street to me and asked whom do I think he was. I had no clue; and he said that's a hobo. I was shocked because most Russian professors dress worse and look poorer than this Finnish "hobo." (In fact many Russian professors barely receive €500 per month while the prices are not that different.)

When I told someone about this bus episode I had tears in my eyes.

What about the day we stop slaughtering our finest impulses?

A beautiful quotation I read a few minutes ago in the blog of one of my favorite fiction writers and magicians Johnathan Carroll. Carroll quotes Henry Miller who said,

Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. There is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.

In my observations we most certainly do slaughter our finest impulses on a day-to-day basis. It doesn't necessarily refer to writing a poem or painting something beautiful. The finest impulses that we suppress may include the things we want to say, the moves we want to perform, the feelings we want to express. In some cases it emerges as a blockage in the throat, as if you were about to say something but then started to clear your throat and remained silent. In many cases we don't claim the destiny for greatness that belongs to us and settle due to our damaged self-esteem, an attachment to a false self for a lesser path or a path that is alien to us.

I hope an occasion will emerge to write extensively about Jonathan Carroll's magical novels that  helped me to rediscover my soul and make my soul presence stronger. His books have been very influential in my life—and I'm speaking of the magnitude of influence that at some point equals to that which, for instance, Ken Wilber's ideas have had on me (which is huge). Incidentally, in one of the older blogs Carroll writes about Wilber the following:

I was listening to a lecture by Ken Wilber about consciousness. He mentioned something I had never thought about. Yet as soon as I heard it, my mind jumped on its horse and rode off in all sorts of interesting directions. Wilber said one of the profound differences between mankind centuries ago and today was that in the past because a person was born, raised and usually died in one community and rarely left, their exposure to religious/spiritual ideas was limited to what was taught or believed only in that community. In modern times, particularly now with the ubiquity, width and breadth of the internet, a child in a remote community in, say, Mali, can learn in an instant about Buddhism, Christian Science, or Zoroastrianism. Sure, in the past missionaries from the various religions were sent out to the four corners of the earth to try and convert the heathen. But they were only individuals here and there. Now all that's needed is a computer and a modem and huge numbers of people can have their most fundamental beliefs challenged or changed—in an instant. I have always been fascinated by the idea of what we might be or have been if we were simply exposed to it. We would have been firm Catholics if we'd learned about that belief when we were most receptive to religious teaching. Or a great chess player if someone had only taught us how to play as children. How about a world class baker if we hadn't had a Mom who hated to cook and anything to do with the kitchen. Wilber extends that idea way way out—to God. Never in a million years would I (says the person in Mali, for example) have thought God or religion could be conceived in ways that contrast so hugely with my own. But now that I have learned about some of them, my world view and life could change profoundly (June 28, 2009).

I remember how amused I was when I accidentally opened Carroll's blog and found this post. I even spontaneously wrote him an email expressing my gratitude for his books and a joy that he, too, is getting somehow influenced by integral ideas as expressed by Wilber. Don't know if the email ever reached him though for I haven't received a reply (probably, it got lost among the tons of other fan mail). Let me quote most parts of it here:

Dear Jonathan Carroll:

I'm clinical psychology student from Russia (if I manage not to drop out on my senior year, of course). But that's not the point of this letter. The point is rather different. I'm in love with your books. I read everything I could find translated in Russian… and I'm waiting for an opportunity to buy your English books and re-read everything once again. It also happens that I'm scholar of Ken Wilber's works. It also happens that my life, my dreams, my soul, and the fabric of whatever happens in my world seems to me as being closely interlinked with the things I read. And I still can't quite figure out whose works influenced my today's consciousness more -- yours, Ken's or Neil Gaiman's. (Sorry, but I gotta admit that I'm a big fan of Neil's works, too.)

Anyway, during these two weeks, among other things, I finished reading three books. Your Bones of the Moon, Neil's InterWorld (actually, finished reading it just an hour ago), and Ken's One Taste and The Marriage of Sense and Soul (it was the first time I read those in English [and I read the former some years ago in Russian]). Freaky enough, I find that the taste of all these books is somewhat similar. I have that bad habit of immersing into whatever I read and attempting to intuit the possibilities towards greater and deeper dimensions of psyche and consciousness in it. For instance, I always sense a lot of transpersonal and transrational stuff (which doesn't look prerational to me) going on in your books, not to mention the play of Jungian-like archetypes and so on; and when I read your books, Neil's books, and Ken's books there's that unmistakable state of deeper translucence that makes all the dimensions of dream-and-reality dialogically interpenetrate—at least in my worldspace. For me your stories are keyless gates to deeper, broader states of consciousness. Believe it or not, this unmistakable recognition of the great story narrative supportive towards awakening of one's own deeper potentials is what I have always found as striking features in both your, Neil's and Ken's books. And it's even that I have been wondering whether it is possible that the art you're all working on is essentially of the same transcendental and transformational nature, pointing towards deeper dimensions and depths of the soul.

I am pretty sure that what both you and Neil are doing as artists is what can be called a contemporary transcendental art, transcendental because it transcends and integrates fragments of realities, be it the realities of waking & dreaming or realities of persona & shadow or realities of ordinary and transordinary. Ken Wilber, when speaking of integral art (you can find an essay on art here and there; see also two beautiful chapters in his The Eye of Spirit), said an interesting formula: Bad Art Copies, Good Art Creates, Great Art Transcends. Alex Grey, a famous integral artist (whose paintings have been of guidance for me), writes:

Ken has stated numerous times, and I agree, that art is an essentialized worldview, or as Bachelard called it, "a metaphysics in a moment." Over the millenia, culture has embodied worldviews that both express and guide the attitudes of the people. As artists, we need to be conscious of and responsible for the views we transmit through our work. We need to use all the tools available to re-invent and invigorate our field, and to my mind, Ken provides the amazing tool of a worldview that makes peace between the quarrelsome territories of science, art and religion. After the dissociation and alienation of artists and their communities over the past 120 years, Wilber's integrative approach holds much promise. He has lead the way beyond current post-modern thinking toward an integral approach to art, toward an art of the soul.

I would say that your art has done exactly that to my injured Russian soul that wanders in the wastelands of a collapsed country which has been experiencing a cultural disaster for more than 100 years. Your stories have been very helpful in terms of healing my soul and awakening it towards the deepest potentialities of its individuality. I remember thinking: there's gotta be something in common among these guys, I feel it with my heart, now what I need is evidence that I'm not making this up... So it was quite a surprise to read your CarrollBlog 6.28, in which you mention "listening to a lecture by Ken Wilber about consciousness." I was very delighted, because synchronicities play a very profound role in my life stream. It was "an accident" that I decided to browse your website (which I usually don't do), after reading that Neil's book in the period where everything I do is closely intertwined with Ken Wilber's philosophy. This is no accident that Ken calls himself not a philosopher... but a storyteller, a Kosmic storyteller. And I think of the universes you unfold in your stories as of the Kosmic stories as well; for me, they are visionary stories that open doors to something which is ready to emerge but is not yet here. . . .

I hope this email reaches you; and you'll have time to read it and perhaps even to respond, if it touches you. As for myself, I'm relieved, for I knew that I'm not crazy in sensing that what you do isn't simply an art confined into its own boundaries, and what Ken does isn't simply a cognitive philosophy confined to its own boundaries... everything becomes fluid, dialectical, and translucent. Which is groovy, indeed! Whenever I get your book or Neil's book or Ken's book, they always and instantaneously become my top priority in reading list; and I basically stop doing everything else besides reading, because these stories always offer gems of a deeper awareness. This is why I'm very grateful for being able to enjoy the brilliance and writing genius of all of you.

Kind regards,
Eugene Pustoshkin

Now I'd like to come back to the first point about slaughtering our finest impulses. After I posted what you have hopefully read above I went on reading Carroll's blog. There is one post that he wrote that I find right on money, so I am going to quote it:

I was reading an issue of MEN'S JOURNAL magazine. The lead article was "100 Things To Do Before You Die." On the list were things like climb Mt. Everest, parachute from a plane, hand feed a shark, etcetera. I skimmed the other things they suggested should be on everyone's list. I had no desire to do even one of them. So then I thought is there anything I'd like to do before I die that I haven't done yet? Hypothetically if someone is living fully, they're doing what matters (or is important) to them whenever and however they can. There's something pathetic about having to make lists of tasks to do before you die so you can be sure that by doing them, you will have really "lived." The Japanese say "live every day as if your hair was on fire" and within realistic bounds, that sounds just about right. Most of the time we know almost as soon as a situation arises whether we will later regret not doing it. We also know most of the time that despite the many fearful, well behaved inner voices telling us not to do something, that we should ignore those voices and just go ahead and do it. Because when we do it and it works, it makes us bigger and life richer. If it fails, we hurt for a while but generally then heal and move on. You don't need to climb Mt. Everest to have led a fulfilled life. You only have to have the courage, and usually it is only small courage, to say yes. Say yes and do something when your first, second and third instincts may be to say no because that frightens me (March 18, 2010).

Indeed.

Anaesthesia psychica dolorosa

In order to complete my graduation research I interview and conduct psychological testing of depressive patients at the V. M. Bekhterev Psychoneurological Research Institute, which is situated in an industrial district of St. Petersburg, Russia, the city where I live. Some time later I want to tell here the story of Vladimir Bekhterev (1857—1927), the founder of this institute, who in the beginning of the 20th century embraced a truly integral framework, attempted to integrate individual and social psychology, neurology and behavioral studies, materialism and spirituality in a unified gesture of his works. Bekhterev was a person of profound spiritual insight, possibly having a stable access to witnessing consciousness; he is also known for his studies on the subjects of telepathy, clairvoyance, hypnosis, and  other altered states of consciousness. He was a founder of some of the major schools of the Soviet psychology. It is rumored that he was murdered by Joseph Stalin after assessing him as mentally ill. But all of this in a hopefully forthcoming post; right now I want to speak about something else.

With depressive patients I conduct a simple semi-structured interview that I designed based on The Integral Intake form created by Andre Marquis. Since I am doing an empirical research at this point and, therefore, am not working with the patients as a consultant or a therapist I significantly shortened the number of questions. In general, however, I am attempting to make a survey that touches some points that are essential to my research in all quadrants (psychological, behavioral, social, and cultural, including inquiries regarding patient's current state of consciousness, education, professional background, sleep behavior, destructive and self-destructive tendencies, sociocultural activities, religious attitudes, the meaning of life, and so on). (Initially, I wanted to do a different kind of research involving the state of consciousness assessment but it appeared that I didn't have enough time, tools, and support to complete such an investigation prior to graduation. As you may see, I still inserted some of the questions regarding the first-person experience into the qualitative part of my study.)

In the beginning of the week I interviewed a patient diagnosed with recurrent depressive disorder. A woman, 27 years old, has two kids. One of the striking features of her current state, based on her first-person account, was acute depersonalization, a condition that was historically called anaesthesia psychica dolorosa. This condition is characterized by painful mental insensibility, apathy, anhedonia, alienation from the self and others, lack of emotions, feelings, and concerns for oneself and relatives (in this case, including husband and children). She characterized her state as the state of "emptiness," "lack of feelings," "lack of love." This lack of feelings causes acute psychic pain, an overwhelming feeling of loss, of missing something important. This leads to intensifying questioning of the purpose and meaning of life and whether it is possible to continue living in such a disturbed state of consciousness.

During the clinical interview I asked a usual question in this case, which is about whether she currently experiences suicidal thoughts. She replied affirmatively and stated that in February (before being hospitalized) she actually made a suicidal attempt (took some pills) because she didn't want to live anymore, life was meaningless. After the interview, when I read her case file, I haven't found any mention of suicidal attempts or dangerous self-destructive tendencies, which was surprising because these are foundational data that must be gathered during the medical history examination by a psychiatrist (and, in the case, it is repeated over and over that there are no dangerous behavioral tendencies observed). I informed the local clinical psychologist, a graduate student with whom I collaborate on this research, and asked her to tell the doctor about these findings of mine, that this woman's behavior should probably be observed more closely. I also rated her very high on the clinical depersonalization scale (it was actually the first time I used that scale); and the tests results came also with very low scores in all essential indexes. All of it I sent by email right away. The response I got was that the doctor was aware of the suicidal attempt and "it was demonstrative" (no mention of it in the case file) and he was also aware of her suicidal thoughts (while the case file stated no dangerous behavioral tendencies). Today, I received an email from the clinical psychologist saying that in the morning the patient attempted a suicide by cutting her wrists (fortunately, unsuccessfully), so I was right when raising my concerns regarding her current psychoemotional condition. The patient is now under a special observation. 

Now I'm left with mixed feelings. It was the first patient whom I interviewed of whom I am aware that she attempted a suicide afterward. In fact, I read a case file of another patient whom I interviewed on the same day in which there was a doctor's note (dated the next day after my interview) that the patient feels better. Obviously, I don't think that the simple interview and attention of psychologist (i.e. me) was the crucial factor, but I think the change was at least in some ways supported by the interview because usually by the end of the interview patients leave seemingly in a better state than that which I observed in the beginning (as in that particular case). In the case of the suicidal patient she was very fixed on her depressed emotional state and showed little, if any, improvement by the end of the interview. (Pharmacotherapy, according to the patient's subjective account, didn't seem to help alleviating her interior pain either.)

Every time I meet patients for an interview it is always a challenge for me, because on the subtler level of communication I become increasingly aware of the qualia of the state of consciousness the patients are in; and I attempt to give full space to this state in my awareness. Most of the time after meeting especially strong cases I recognize shifts in my own mood and state of consciousness. I haven't learned yet how to minimize these effects; and I am not sure they must be minimized. As one my friend said, in the process of any kind of healing the most valuable gift is the pain one suffers. Pain is what is usually an authentic connection to experiencing reality; anything else may be more of an illusion.

The writer's block?

In the mandala of our consciousness we are all in a sense artists. This is something that Alex Grey has recognized in his famous "The Vast Expanse" psalm:

Create perfection wherever you go with your awareness. That is why this teaching is admired by artists—they sense the correctness of the response to life as creative. Life is infinite creative play. Enjoyment and participation in this creative play is the artists profound joy. We co-author every moment with universal creativity. . . .

Artistic response (rather than conditioned reaction) to life is at least one-third of what we are as human beings. Integral philosopher Ken Wilber points out that virtually every greatest thinker in the history of humankind (from Plato to Kant to Habermas) acknowledged the Big Three, the triumvirate of perspectives—the Good, the True, and the Beautiful in the philosophy of Plato, for instance—to be the essential dimensions of our being-in-the-world.

Yes, it is important to subject ourselves to the oughts and shoulds of what must be done by us so as to fulfill our destinies (moral). Yes, it is important to subject ourselves to the truths and facts of coming to terms with the cruel reality—and not escaping from it into the vertigo of fantasies and illusions and false hopes (knowledge). But, as Kant argues in his concluding Critique of Judgment, without a cornerstone dimension of aesthetic response to life these other dimensions remain detached from each other. To embody our life as a play of creativity (as a form of art), as I see it, is a foundational component of a healthy and integrated existence.

Playfully writing one's own narrative of life and transcending a writer's block, the blockage that leads to copy&pasting of an old habitual storyline that we learned at some point and that makes us non-existent to ourselves, always looking for new ways of self-expression in the seemingly limited context of our life's framework, constantly searching for new tools for transcending that frame and finding new perspectives to it seems to be a way to balance the Big Three in one's own life. If I deny myself of this courageous creative response to life, I deny myself of life itself.

It is important to embody the Spirit's creativity in a canvas of the individual levels of our being, including the Soul, the ego, the adaptive personae, and the body. It is important to trust one's own artistic feeling that arises in the depths of the Heart. It is important to learn in action how to be a better artist of life than the moment before, to keep searching for new curves and touches in life, to keep looking for novel ways of self-expressing perfection while always already being a manifestation of the ultimate Stillness.

Otherwise life becomes a dull and in/efficient affair of a robot-like human mechanism that keeps self-replicating old constellations of patterns and occasionally passes the Turing test strictly by an accident.

And, as Elizabeth Gilbert wonderfully points out, when undertaking any form of art it is crucial to recognize that one's own creativity is not a private property or a selfish achievement, it manifests rather like a gift of Spirit. Even if your art is your life story (and it always is) the same writer's block rule still works; and you can get stuck, as we all do. Your life as a work of art doesn't belong strictly to your individual being, most certainly not to your personae or ego or even Soul, even though the latter comes closer to the essential Source. You can't force it, you have to let it grow.

P.S. And if you are forgetting both the dignity of being an artist and the humility of being a work of art by falling, e.g., into the dominance of either shoulds or facts I ought to wake you up by asking a simple question, the question that highlights the importance of your qualia or subjective joy of being:

"Why so serious?"

(A still from a highly recommended movie on the topic, The Dark Knight.)

Architectonics of the Self

If the sky were to suddenly open up... there would be no law... there would be no rule. There would only be you and your memories... the choices you've made and the people you've touched. The life that has been carved out from your subconscious is the only evidence by which you will be judged... by which you must judge yourself. Because when this world ends, there will only be you and him... and no one else.
— Donnie Darko (2001)

Who am I? There are always many ways to be answering this question. Every moment in life I am this or that, such and such, that's me, that's not me, this is mine, and this is not. Everywhere I go the sense of self follows my footsteps closely and generates the I-ness and the me-ness and the mine-ness of my being-in-the-world. The sense of identity can be very concrete for some people and it can be quite fleeting for others, but even when that which I am identified with changes rapidly there is always an intimate self-sense present to the sacrament of life, however big or small, strong or fluid, convenient or unconvincing, conscious or unconscious, personal or depersonalized and so on. It can be very dynamic, flaky even, and yet it undeniably exists.

The overall pattern of the self's manifestation as it is seen by a witness looking from the outside can be called personality (in a somewhat narrow meaning of this term); the overall pattern of the self's manifestation as it is seen by a witness objectively looking inside can be called self-system. The total kaleidoscope of fluctuating identities and self-perspectives I would call architectonics of the self, and it is a penetrating look into the mystery of the architectonics of the self that could bring forth a first glimpse for a satisfying answer to the question of self-identity. This is even more evident if one encounters the complexity dilemma of simple, however experientially grounded, answer "there is no I" being as much unsatisfactory as defining the self-sense in a reductionistic static way as something concrete—indeed, as some thing at all.

When one attempts to speak of the architectonics of the self, it is absolutely crucial, in my opinion, to mention the name of Vasily Vasilyevich Nalimov (1910-1997), a truly unsung hero of our time. In his numerous works, published in Russian, English, and German, Nalimov was tackling different issues all related to the basic question of science, existence, personality, and consciousness. A member of a Moscow mystical anarchist circle back in 1920s, ex-prisoner of Stalin's concentration camps, the last and lonely knight of the Eastern wing of Templars; a renowned mainstream mathematician and a physicists who worked in the laboratory of A. Kolmogorov; an influential transpersonal philosopher, a gnostic, and a truth-seeker, he shined throughout his life with profound intelligence, adamant will, and a commitment to knowledge, honesty, and freedom. In 1970s and 1980s, many years before Soviet people were able to learn about the West and its recent cultural trends, he was writing about such transpersonal authors as C. Castaneda, S. Grof, Ch. Tart, and K. Wilber; in a thoroughly fundamentalistic-atheistic society he was openly asking the questions of meaning, life, God,  the universe, and the Ultimate Reality—something that had long been forbidden in the USSR and, probably, is still unprecedented in the Post-Soviet countries. (For more information on Nalimov see, e.g., Wikipedia article, Eugene Garfield's web page, and Thompson, 1993.)

In his book The Spontaneity of Consciousness (Спонтанность сознания [Spontannost' soznaniya], 1st Russian ed., 1989/2nd Russian ed., 2007), Nalimov attempted to draw what he called  architectonics of personality or self. Now, in the Russian language the word personality (личность [lichnost']) has many meanings; and it can be translated to English basically both as a personality and as Self (in its broadest sense). Most certainly, Nalimov's probabilistic vision of language would require taking into account the total variability of the word's semantics.

Nalimov writes the following about the intention of the book in question:

In this work we want to focus on the problem of architectonics of the Self with the hope that this way the nature of the Self will appear before us as an ultimately accessible manifestation of reality—the manifestation in which reality discloses itself through ourselves. First of all, we will consider the Self to be a carrier of meanings, thus exploring its linguistic (semantic) nature.

We fully recognize that any attempt to build such a model of the Self includes not only and mainly knowing but rather not-knowing. The deeper and clearer we are drawing an image of the Self, the clearer the patterns of that which we do not know appear. Not-knowing is always richer than our knowing. Not-knowing—the not-knowing contours of which we can delineate—provokes us, makes us seek, makes us look at the World and our own being with wonder. In this wonder life becomes full of meaning. That which modern psychiatrists tend to call existential emptiness disappears.

Before we continue I should note that it is always very hard to describe views of a thinker of such high altitude and magnitude as V. Nalimov in a short essay. He was a strong proponent of postformal thinking (which he called a probabilistic vision); he was a founding father of the field of scientometrics; he developed a probabilistic view of language that includes both discrete and continual aspects; he tried to create a postformal panoramic view of the universe and consciousness so as to find meaning in the fact that there is something rather than nothing. In his writings he was dialoguing through books with Plato, Aristotle, Plotinus, Buddha, Christ, St. Augustine, Meister Eckhart, Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, Kant, Hegel, Nietzsche, Freud, Jung, Heidegger, Sartre, Derrida, Popper (with Sir Karl Popper he actually exchanged correspondence), early Ken Wilber, and so on. In an oppressive state of the Soviet Union he was a liberated thinker, a free soul whose transtemporal and transspatial flight couldn't be held by physical or social restrictions and boundaries.

In my opinion, the best of his approach that we can take may not be the concrete ideas themselves but the span and the depths of the questions and problems he inquires into. In The Spontaneity of Consciousness he quotes Maeterlinck: "The greatness of a human being is measured according to the greatness of mysteries that perplex him or that make him surrender." (I didn't find the quotation as it is translated in English, so I translated it from Russian; the phrase in original Maeterlinck's language and the way it is translated to English can differ significantly.)

When contemplating such complex subject as what the actual meaning and structure of the Self is, I believe, it is absolutely crucial to adopt the most panoramic and integral vision one can, otherwise the attempts of knowing would be childish and reductionistic. In the spirit of this approach facing reality means facing its ultimate mystery and pure silent not-knowing which is the ultimate knowledge itself. Immanuel Kant said: "Two things awe me most, the starry sky above me and the moral law within me." Gazing at the stars and contemplating the depth within can bring nothing else but the state of profound awe and not-knowing, not-knowing that is self-liberating. I resonate a lot with this stance of Nalimov and most mystics, the perspective that sees and feels the universe as a constant unfolding of the Mystery.

The first Mystery that we encounter is the mystery of our own existence. Most people in the world go on in their lives ritualistically thinking and perpetuating the thought that what they think is what they are. In fact, as long as they continue ritualistically doing whatever they are doing without asking this profound question of who am I and what does it all mean in some ways they don't even exist. By saying that they don't even exist of course I don't say that they are zombies without consciousness, what I am saying is that they are not fully aware of their existence. Most of our adult lives we are running away from the very fact that we are here, from the fact that there is the starry sky above us and the moral law within us, we are numbing ourselves to our being. We constantly dissolve ourselves in our personalized me on, which is Greek for non-being, by habitually pursuing the games we learned to play and telling each others limited stories we learned to narrate.

The most obvious example of this running from one's own authenticity can be encountered in a therapist office (and actually in any occasion where there is an opportunity for a field of intersubjective resonance to arise). Sigmund Freud was one of the first to show that we are not what we rationally think of ourselves or even how we feel about ourselves, that there is much more in our personalities, in our selves hidden beneath the iceberg of that which we are used to be aware of. Further advancements in the science of therapy and healing demonstrated that most of our lives we live according to a matrix of experience that has been forming during the early and not-so-early years of our lives. In fact, our life is grounded in the illusory feeling of knowing, in a feeling that we know what our life is about with all its upsides and downsides. We think that this—whatever this that happens to be entering our conscious awareness—is what life is about. We constantly run in circles in the self-built corridors of our "known life" and recreate on multiple levels the limited story that we learned about ourselves and the world; and there is no space for not-knowing in this story. The basic mystery of existence is something that shatters our house made of cards and brings terror to our life because in our selves we are used to identify with a limited range of possibilities and experiential realities.

And then suddenly it strikes us that we are getting divorced three times in a row, that we keep losing friends and alienating people, that our beloved children don't want to talk to us, that we have cancer, that we are going to die today—and then, at the moments like this, we look into the face in front of us with awe and not-knowing-ness: who is this person in front of me, whom I have always thought I have known? At whom does this face look? Who am I, really?

Something else can happen that will disclose this basic gap between our conscious self and the overall self, between the relationships that we picture in our minds and actual totality of processes happening around us, involving us as participants and transforming us constantly, every minute, every second, every moment of Kosmic existence. A policeman takes a gun and kills ten innocent people in a supermarket; a schoolboy does the same at school. Anomaly arises in our minds; something tells us that we are not seeing a crucial aspect of reality and it is killing us or makes us anxious and we desperately want to wake up. As we are gradually waking up we look in astonishment at the unconscious processes, scripts, stories, and scenarios we were so used to follow, the patterns that constantly recreate and magnify suffering in us and others. The emerging sense of amazement and wonder brings us closer to the determination to become truly liberated, truly conscious, truly wise so as to participate fully in the festival of life and co-creation.

Every human being has a profound depth hidden in his or her consciousness and self. An old homeless person taking care of her pushchair with bandboxes and empty bottles that for months has been her last resort. An imprisoned oligarch who declined to leave the country because of his pride and dignity. A president who looks sicker and sicker with every year he is in power. A young university teacher who keeps wondering about her life while living in a dry academic environment. A psychiatrist who suffers more than some of his patients. A schoolboy who passionately fell in love with the Goddess for the first time. A detective who ruins his career because he can't stand corruption anymore...

The architectonics of the Self that I am talking about includes not only what we think of ourselves in our minds. We ourselves are a mystery. We are what we eat, we are what we talk, we are what we think, we are what we see, we are how we move, we are what we feel, we are the scripts we play, we are the light we shine, we are the darkness we emit, we are everything that happens in this particular manifestation of our individual being-in-the-world. Our self includes everything, from the birth to the death; it goes through time and space; it weaves together aspects of  Kosmic being and experience like wind gathers together clouds in the sky. We are the Witness and the Witnessed in its many ways of manifestation and interconnectedness.