The key to chronic ecstatic awareness is to continually cultivate altered states. I don’t think we need psychedelics for that, though I’m all in favor of that technology for those who find it helpful.
For me, the playful work of getting into altered states is not just an either-or thing. It’s not a matter of either being in routine, mundane consciousness or else tripping one’s brains out. There are a trillion in-between altered states.
We can create altered states from moment to moment with our beginner’s mind unfurled—being willing to play with and love whatever’s in front of us. The fun trick is to be in a state of full-body readiness in which we are surpriseable and receptive to the possibility of being delighted, influenced, educated.
Pure perception is our ever-available entry into altered states. If we open our eyes, open our ears and become fully welcoming to what’s in front of us, we’re going to be changed. Every moment brings something we’ve never experienced before.
An example right now would be how your question germinated in me a stream of revelations and ideas.
Meditation practitioner and molecular biologist Jon Kabat-Zinn said, “Mindfulness is wise and affectionate attention.”
Borrowing from the Hindu school of Lila, I’m very much immersed in the understanding that life is the divine play of God and Goddess. We are participants in a sublime, mysterious art project.
At the core of the action is relationship and interplay. The intimate back-and-forth constantly reinvents and reinvigorates and reveals. As we improvise and transform, responding to each other’s improvisations, we have the blissful power to be each other’s muses.
Elizabeth Gilbert said, “You need to learn how to select your thoughts just the same way you select your clothes every day. This is a power you can cultivate.”
I choose to be inclined toward coalescing altered states of awareness that override and outwit my habit mind.
My habit mind tends toward progressive political ideas. That’s fine. If my habit mind happens to be conditioned by something noble and beautiful, I approve.
But I remind myself not to be continually enraged about the toxic culture that evangelical Christians create and its danger to human life. I can’t live with grace if I’m pumped up with overwhelming indignation, for one thing.
And though the wrath might motivate me to take action on behalf of social justice, which is a good thing, too much anger can be draining and demoralizing.
Talking with my therapist, I came to a useful realization: The right-wing bigots and haters are acting out of primal terror. They are scared to death of the beautiful new world that’s coming. I saw and felt this in a visceral way because I was willing to momentarily set aside my fury, my habit mind, so as to behold their naked depths.
This realization doesn’t make me any less fervent about neutralizing the bigots’ toxic effects. But it enables me to relax into a more visionary and strategic understanding of what I’m up against.
I admire the Buddhist practice of adopting detachment from turmoil and angst. It’s healthy for me to cultivate a serene, poised center of gravity in the midst of chaos.
But the objectivity I strive for in my detachment is very warm and wet. It’s imbued with love and empathy. That’s the only way I can truly understand anyone or anything.
