I go back and forth, trying to decide whether being conscious and being aware are the same thing, or different things. Sometimes I equate the two. But I recall someone (Ron E.?) expressing a different opinion in a comment on one of my posts.
At the time I discounted that idea. But after what happened to me in my Tai Chi class yesterday -- which wasn't all that different from what has happened to me many times before -- I'm more inclined to believe that being conscious and being aware are indeed distinct mental processes.
We were doing a form that I was very familiar with, the 37 Form, or Cheng Man Ching form. Near the beginning of the form I suddenly felt that our instructor, Warren, had missed some moves. After that, the form seemed normal.
When we were done, Warren said something like he often does. I think it was "Any questions or comments?" I blurted out, "Well, we skipped high pat, followed by three kicks." Instantly several other people said, "No, we did that." So did Warren.
At first that surprised me, as I had no recollection of doing that part of the form, even though I was told that I had indeed done the moves. Then I said, "I remember trying to decide what to have for dinner, Amy's Pad Thai or Veggie Loaf. Guess that thought was more powerful than paying attention to the form."
So I was undeniably conscious, because I had done the entire form and I wasn't sleepwalking. Yet there was a gap in my awareness of doing the form.
I think my Tai Chi experience of being conscious, yet not aware of a physical action, was unusual only in that I'd spoken of this to a group of people, who let me know that this is what happened. Otherwise, it was basically the same as when I close the door on my car, walk away, and then go back to check to see if I'd locked the door.
I do this fairly frequently. Not once, I'm pretty sure, have I ever found that I didn't lock the door. It's such a habitual action -- touching the door handle of my Subaru Crosstrek after turning the car off -- that I do it automatically, which frees my mind to be aware of other things.
Also, when I do a Tai Form on my own, as happens at the end of my exercise routine at our athletic club, it isn't unusual for me to be unsure if I'd done all the moves of my favorite lengthy Water Boxing form. Since I know that if I do the entire form, almost always I end up in just about the same position as where I started, if I finish the form and am in that position, it's a strong sign that I did all the moves.
Yet my awareness was elsewhere while I was doing part of the form. That "elsewhere" was some thought, most likely, because when I'm aware of what my body is doing, there's no gap in my awareness. Same with locking my car.
In Susan Blackmore's book, Ten Zen Questions, her first question is "Am I conscious now?" Here Blackmore seems to be equating "conscious" with "aware." At least that's how this passage sounds to me.
Am I conscious now?
Of course I am. Yes, I am conscious now.
But something odd happened. When I asked myself the question it was as though I became conscious at that moment. Was I not conscious before? It felt as though I was waking up -- coming to consciousness when I asked the question -- because I asked the question.
What is going on? (Calm down. Take it slowly.) Am I conscious now?
I can remember what was happening just before I asked the question, so it seems that someone must have been conscious. Was someone else conscious a moment before -- as though the waking up is a change in who is conscious?
It certainly didn't feel as though it could have been me because I just woke up, but surely it wasn't anyone else, for who else could there be in here?
Another possibility is that I wasn't really conscious before I asked the question. This is deeply troubling. For I've never asked this question before. Surely I cannot have been unconscious, or semi-conscious, all my life, can I? Perhaps there are lots of things that make me conscious apart from asking this particular question.
Even so, this is rather scary. It certainly seems as though I must spend a lot of my time unconscious, otherwise I could not have this definite sensation of coming awake when I ask "Am I conscious now?"
It's interesting how this simple question of being conscious (or aware), or being unconscious (or unaware), points to profound philosophical and neuroscientific issues. Seemingly this supports a contention that "I" does not exist as most of us think it does, given that the entity we call "me" can exist in so many different states.
In one of her final chapters Blackmore says this.
So I reject many of those common assumptions and would say instead the following:
There is nothing it is like to be me.
I am not a persisting conscious entity.
I do not consciously cause the actions of my body.
Consciousness is not a stream of experiences.
Seeing entails no vivid mental pictures or movie in the brain.
There is no unity of consciousness either in a given moment or through time.
Brain activity is neither conscious nor unconscious.
There are no contents of consciousness.
There is no now.
I am not claiming to provide a coherent alternative, much less a new theory of consciousness, but here is my best attempt to describe what I think we should be trying to explain.
At any time in a human brain there are multiple parallel processes going on, conjuring up perceptions, thoughts, opinions, sensations, and volitions. None of these is either in or out of consciousness for there is no such place.
Most of the time there is no observer: if consciousness is involved at all it is an attribution made later, on the basis of remembering events and assuming that someone must have been experiencing them in the past, when in fact no one was.
If this doesn't make sense to you, don't worry. Remember: her book is called Ten Zen Questions. The questions are easy. It's the answers that are difficult.
Recent Comments