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Chapter 3: Welcome to the Wholeness

 

In “Chapter 1: Recognizing and Sensing Beyond the Masks,” I briefly introduced you to the greatest, most burdensome and bothersome external mask, humanity’s sense of superiority. I also mentioned that it’s next to impossible to eliminate this mask and that managing it is a journey rather than a destination. Finally, I wrote that managing it would require you to align the two halves of a seeming paradox: being aware of your status as an important, independent entity, yet relishing in your much more humble role as an integral part of the Wholeness. Humility, maybe, is the whole book summed up in one word — a gracious humility in the face of the Wholeness, which is far greater than the sum of its parts.

 

This chapter will set your feet on a new path, one that delves into the Wholeness and your place within it. In “Part II: The Philosophy of Observation,” I will walk this path with you for some distance, answering your questions as we go. After that, whether you continue along this path will be up to you. But for right now, this chapter will introduce you to the almost omnipotent power you wield as the controlling center of your own universe, and it will initiate you into the Wholeness of which you are an integral part. This is not a choice or a value judgment, but an actual state of being. You are an integral part of the Wholeness, just as you are human and are male or female. Whether you choose to relish your role in the Wholeness and participate consciously is your choice.

 

Yesterday afternoon (as I write this) I saw a film entitled Tuesdays with Morrie. The title character was an elderly university professor who loved life and was dying of Lou Gehrig’s Disease. He spent every Tuesday for the last several weeks of his life talking with a former student about life’s ups and downs. During one of those talks, he related a story that’s a perfect illustration for this spot in this book. I’ve paraphrased the story here:

 

 

There once was a small, young wave in the ocean. It traveled and traveled over hundreds of miles and finally neared a beach. As it watched with some interest, the waves ahead of it seemed to crash against the beach, then disappear. In horror, the young wave glanced at an older wave nearby and said, “I’m scared! I don’t want to crash into the beach and die! I enjoy being a wave!”

The older wave replied calmly, “But you aren’t just a wave; you’re part of the ocean.”

 

 

The Wholeness is like that. You are a human — an independent, very important entity in your own right — but you’re also part of something much greater, much more spectacular. You’re part of the Wholeness.

 

To Writing for a Moment

 

Most of us are all too aware of how important we are, and we do feel in control much of the time. Many of us even take classes on Empowerment, Self-Assertion, and other, even more aggressive-sounding topics. But we tend to forget that we’re part of something much greater. We forget that we have a basic role to play, not as writers or plumbers or teachers or janitors, not as husbands and wives and sons and daughters, but as living, sentient beings on a planet full of living, sentient beings.

 

You’ll remember from Chapter 1 that sentient beings are those “who can sense and respond to external and internal stimuli.” All sentient beings are alive and in a symbiotic relationship with the Wholeness. And of course, whether or not we’re consciously aware of it, we are involved in that symbiotic relationship as well. We take from the Wholeness what we require in order to survive, and we give to the Wholeness what it requires from us. Learning to enjoy this symbiotic relationship on a conscious level — that is, being aware of it and participating fully — will fill you with an unparalleled sense of belonging and calm.

 

In order to write effectively, in order to truly live, you must observe, and this chapter will lead you to that ability. You can observe without learning anything in this book, of course — if fact, you observe all the time, even when you’re asleep — but you are aware of only a fraction of what you observe. When you become at peace with your place in the Wholeness, both as the most important being within your own universe and as an integral part of something much greater than yourself, two things will happen: a new, vibrant world will open up to you, and you’ll be more intimately involved in that world.

 

Finally, the more intimately you observe, the better you can write what you observe. And the more intimate you become with the Wholeness and your place within it, especially relative to the places of the other beings within the Wholeness, the more easily you can go beyond mere reporting, all the way to the act of creation. Through intimate observation, you can create the world you want your readers to see, then take them there. You can write the world.

 

Beginning the Journey

 

The Wholeness, you will remember, is everything: it is earth, dirt, loam, clay, sod, sand, and dust; it is air, including all the gasses and moisture particles; it is water, rivers, ponds, lakes, streams, oceans, seas, and ice; it is fire, heat, and flames; it is stones, rocks, pebbles, boulders, and mountains; it is trees, forests, woods, plants, shrubs, grasses, herbs, weeds, and flowers; it is all the animals, flying, walking, crawling, hopping, or slithering; it is all the insects, flying, crawling, hopping or slithering; and — well, you get the idea. Anything you are able to see, taste, touch, hear, or smell is part of the Wholeness. The Wholeness is everything.

 

We are an important, integral part of that everything, yet we believe ourselves somehow more important than the other animals on the planet, and obviously more important than the insects and plant life. Our collective human ego, and by derivation, our individual egos, know no bounds in this regard. But the problem isn’t that we consider ourselves superior, as if we were comfortable and secure in that assessment. It’s important to us to consider ourselves superior. Therein lies the mask, and therein lies the problem.

 

Many scientists believe that few, if any, other beings are self-aware, but I must stress, Those scientists are humans, looking through the eyes of humans and from the experience of humans. That fact alone is enough to cast doubt on their assertion. After all, other than slapping around our collective insecurity complex a bit, how does it harm us to grant that all other living beings are sentient and self-aware? It doesn’t, except that such an assertion would mean all other living beings are our equals within the Wholeness, a concept that makes many of us squeamish to say the least. That’s all right. As I said earlier, overcoming this mask is almost impossible. But we can manage it.

 

To begin managing it, try always to remember — to be aware — that all the other sentient beings in the Wholeness give according to their strengths (as we do) and take according to their needs (as we do). And just as we are the center of our own individual universe, sensing all things within that universe from the center out, so is every sentient being the center, the nucleus, of its own universe. Likewise, every sentient being wields the power of “I am,” the ability to maintain its place at center.

 

When you find yourself in a mixed social setting, you can’t help feeling at least slightly superior to others in that setting, even if those toward whom you feel superior are the wait staff or the bus persons in a restaurant. At an art showing, you might feel superior to someone whose comments you’ve overheard. After all, they obviously don’t know as much about that particular artist as you do.

 

In our everyday lives, we also feel superior to other races of humans, although much of that foolishness is beginning to wane. The problem even seeps into our religious institutions. The members of each religion, and even the members of the individual sects within a given religion, believe their manner of worship and their way of gaining Truth or Light or Eternal Bliss is the only right way. Since one overriding theme of this book is the importance of the Question, let’s examine our religious mores for a moment. If my way, whatever it is, is the only right way and I will go to Heaven or whatever other reward when I die regardless of what happens to everyone in those other religions, then why does it matter to me how or whom they worship? It matters because if I can convince you that my religion or sect is the right way — if I can convert you — then I’ve just validated my own beliefs. If you switched over, then I must have been right all along.

 

Now, please don’t think this book is anti-religion. What others do with their own time, if it doesn’t directly affect my paycheck or my time off, is none of my business. I’m not anti-anything, other than spite and parasites. If you allow it to, this book will expand your beliefs, not diminish them. The thought on religion in the preceding paragraph is just one more example of how our rampant self-aggrandizement tends to skew our view of each other. Think for a moment how much more strongly that same over-inflated sense of ourselves affects our view of the other creatures on this planet.

 

At our finest, we humans use our vaunted intelligence, our allegedly exclusive ability to communicate, our sense of moral values, and our opposable thumbs to provide stewardship to each other and to the other beings on the earth. We take animals into our homes; we feed our flowers and lawns; we water our trees; we strive to preserve other species of animals and protect them from extinction. At our worst, we destroy plants and animals and each other indiscriminately and for no useful purpose. Most of us, most of the time, lie somewhere between those extremes. We are haughty stewards. We get the sense that all other beings on this planet are somehow beneath us, that they couldn’t survive without us and that we would do just fine without them. But the simple fact is, we and they are equally important within the Wholeness. We each have different strengths and different needs.

 

So that we can more intimately observe the world around us, we must first observe ourselves and learn our place within the Wholeness. This process will seem a paradox at first. We will learn that we are not high and mighty, that we must step down from our self-erected pedestals so we can observe the rest of the Wholeness honestly, openly, eye to eye. In the other half of the seeming paradox, we’ll learn that we are extremely important. Do you know the difference between a goose being splattered on the windshield of a 727 and a human being splattered on the windshield of a 727? The human didn’t know his place. The moral? It’s good to know your limits. This seeming paradox will illustrate those limits.

 

Paradox, Part 1: Climbing Down from the Pedestal

 

We need to learn first and foremost that we are not superior to the other beings in the Wholeness. We’re neither better nor worse, greater nor lesser than they. We have different strengths than the other beings, but we also have different weaknesses. If you and a friend happen across a cheetah in the wild, you won’t outrun it on foot, though you might remember to take the time to put on your running shoes. Of course, that won’t help you outrun the cheetah, but it might help you outrun your (former) friend, and that’s all you have to do — at least until you meet up with the next cheetah.

 

Remember always that every being within the Wholeness contributes what it can and takes what it needs. It’s just that simple. As an introductory example, let’s look at an oversimplified version of the symbiotic relationship we have with trees. We first learned about this back in grade school, remember? We breathe oxygen and emit carbon dioxide; trees use carbon dioxide and emit oxygen. Trees also provide shade, beauty, lumber, nutrients, and in some cases, food and a pleasing aroma. Okay, so if it’s a symbiotic relationship, what do we provide in return? Well, if the tree is in your yard, you might provide a little water and the occasional dose of plant food, but otherwise, nothing really. But that isn’t the point… or perhaps it’s exactly the point. The symbiotic relationship exists between the trees and the Wholeness, not between an individual tree and an individual human, or even between the trees collectively and humanity. It exists between each individual human and the Wholeness, between each tree and the Wholeness, between each ant and the Wholeness, and so on.

 

On the other hand, can you think of situations in which you and another living being enjoy a symbiotic relationship? Let’s expand the previous example and look at a more intimate symbiotic relationship between a human and a tree. Let’s say a man lives in the Sonoran Desert and a small, lone fruit tree grows near his dwelling. Imagine that each day, the man draws a bucket of precious water from his well and treks the 50 or 60 yards to the tree. He pours the water carefully around the tree, then upends the bucket and sits for a few minutes. He picks a piece of fruit from the tree for his lunch, and he eats while resting in the blessed shade of the tree. The man has provided water for the tree, and the tree has provided food and shade for the man. Let’s take it a step further, into spirit. The man picks a piece of fruit and eats while sitting in the shade of the tree, not because he’s either hungry or tired, but as a way of showing the tree it’s important to him, a way of paying respect to the tree for what it gives to the Wholeness. The man is consciously aware of the tree as a living, sentient being, its place in the Wholeness, and his place in the Wholeness. Multiplied millions of times over, this is the essence of our symbiotic relationship with the Wholeness and with the other beings within it.

 

Once you’ve become comfortable with your place in the Wholeness, once you can accept your own abilities, limitations, and needs, you will feel less of an urge to express your ego outwardly. To answer the concern of one confidant, no, that doesn’t mean you have to start wearing shades of grey when you long to wear fuchsia. It doesn’t mean you can’t express your personality outwardly, but that you will naturally, comfortably feel more a part of something much greater than yourself. You will feel less inclined to force your will on others, less inclined to boast, less inclined to talk about how wonderful and powerful you are. Those who truly are comfortable with their place in the Wholeness know they are in control of their lives and their destiny. As a result, they begin to shed the inferiority complex and the urge to make sure everyone else knows how very in-control they are.

 

As one who practices observation, you will become more deeply, intimately aware of the abilities, limitations, and needs of other sentient and even the place of non-sentient beings. It is this “fitting-in” process that will enable you to know when and how to influence the Wholeness and when to simply go with the flow. Most of the time, you’ll go with the flow — and all of the time, you’ll observe. For example, as you walk an overgrown path through the woods, you’ll gently brush small branches aside (respecting the tree as your equal in the Wholeness), allowing them to bend under the gentle pressure of your hand rather than snapping them off or otherwise rudely forcing them aside. You’ll go with the flow of the Wholeness rather than stomping through it like the arrogant, self-righteous, inconsiderate, allegedly superior being you once were.

 

Remember that you are neither more nor less important than any other sentient being on the planet. All have a role to play in maintaining the balance of the Wholeness, all are integral to the Wholeness, and all are integral to that flow. Once you realize that, you’ve begun to eradicate the first big mask that affects how you view the world.

 

Again, what’s most important to remember is that every sentient being brings its own strengths and weaknesses to the table. Every sentient being, without even realizing it, provides what it can to the Wholeness and takes what it needs from the Wholeness.

We, too, participate in this way, but we’re also the only species who believe ourselves separate of nature, and on a larger scale, separate of the Wholeness. Most of us aren’t even consciously aware of our participation. The first step toward becoming an observer is to be aware of the Wholeness and of your place within it, both individually and communally. The good news is that once you are fully self-aware — that is, once you’re at ease with your place in the Wholeness — you will be able to see, taste, feel, smell, and hear things with much greater clarity. You’ll begin almost immediately to slice through those masks to sense what’s actually there, beneath the veneer. You will write the world.

 

Paradox, Part 2: Your Vantage Point at Center

 

Okay, we’ve begun to realize that maybe we aren’t superior to the other beings in the Wholeness. But as I mentioned before, that realization is only the first part of a seeming paradox. To truly understand your place within the Wholeness, you also must realize that, as an observer and in every other way, you are vastly important. After all, you are an individual entity. To be sure, you are no lesser or greater than any other individual entity, but as an individual entity you are also at the center of your own private universe, a universe that is of your own creation.

 

Humans often employ a kind of false modesty — not that they know or would admit it’s false — muttering No, I’m not at the center of anything. Sometimes they even become defensive: Are you saying I’m self-centered? Are you saying I think the world revolves around me? I’ll have you know, nothing could be further from the truth! After all, we’ve been taught all our lives that being at the center is not a good thing. It seems conceited and self-serving. And of course, we do believe being self-centered is conceited and self-serving, but only because we’ve learned that being self-centered is somehow the equivalent of being haughty. If we’re self-centered, surely we must believe everything and everyone around us is beneath us.

 

Remember, earlier I said we must be self-aware — aware of our place in the Wholeness, and aware of everything within the Wholeness. Recognizing that you are the center of your own universe is the beginning of that process. Think about it for a moment. Can you see, hear, taste, smell, feel, imagine, intuit, or otherwise sense anything from any perspective other than center-out? Of course not. Someone else can point out something to you, but that’s them giving you their take on it from their vantage point at the center of their universe. Consider that for a moment. You are the center of your own universe. Gives you a little rush of power, doesn’t it? If it does, that’s all right. You are all-powerful and in complete control of your own universe. Just don’t climb back up on that pedestal. Remember that every other sentient being also is the center of its universe.

 

The Power of “I Am”

 

The center, the nucleus, the ego, the self, is indicated in human thought as “I.” And of course, like being at center, “I” is another thing we’ve learned is at least semi-bad. We’re taught it’s bad manners to begin a correspondence with “I.” We’re taught to use “I” less when we talk or write because… yes, it makes us seem self-centered. It makes us seem as if we believe we’re more important than the person to whom we’re writing the letter or email or the person to whom we’re talking. Using “I” too much in poetry or fiction gives the attuned reader a sense that the poet or writer believes himself a bit more important than the reader. Of course, both the implication and the inference are most often subconscious.

 

But when it’s used inwardly, within your universe, as an expression of acceptance of yourself and the strengths you bring to the Wholeness, “I” is a powerful tool for maintaining self-awareness; awareness of your abilities, limitations, and needs; and awareness of your more humble, overall role in the Wholeness. Humans, collectively and as individuals, can provide certain things to the Wholeness that nobody else can provide, and that makes you special; the things you can provide comprise your abilities, your value to the Wholeness. There are certain things you are not equipped to provide; those are your limitations. There are some things you require from the Wholeness in order to survive; those are your needs.

 

To more firmly establish ourselves at center, let’s go a step further and explore the concept of “I am.” According to the Christian bible, the god of Abraham introduced himself to Moses as “I am,” saying “I am that I am.” Okay, let’s invoke the power of the question: Why? Why did he say it in those words? Why did he say it in such a simple way? We can read all sorts of things into it, interpreting it to fit our particular method of worship or belief system, but if we listen to the statement without trying to read into it — if we read it without looking through the mask of expectations  — I believe it becomes clear. He said it in precisely those words simply to affirm for Moses that he existed.

 

Most of us already either have learned or intuited that negative “I” phrases are self-defeating. Some of us remember our parents reminding us that “I can’t never did anything.” Why, then, were we never taught the inherent power of positive “I” phrases? Because, again, positive “I” phrases often are considered an indication of conceit, and at times, they might well be. If I say “I am” and my intent is “I am better than …,” it’s a mark of conceit. As such, it’s also a waste of a powerful tool. But if we use it as the god of Abraham used it — “I am that I am” — it’s a simple, all-inclusive statement of fact, an affirmation and acceptance of our place in the Wholeness. We aren’t saying we’re better than anyone else or superior to anyone or anything, but merely affirming that we exist and are capable, that we are here, part of the Wholeness, able and willing to give what we have and take what we need. In that light, to more easily and fully sense the power of “I am,” let’s compare it with other positive “I” phrases.

 

Before you begin, I suggest you employ your favorite relaxation technique. If you don’t know one, try this simple exercise:

 

Close your eyes and take a deep breath, completely filling your lungs, then release it slowly through your slightly parted lips as you count silently from ten to one.

 

Take another full, deep breath and repeat the process, releasing it slowly through slightly parted lips, again counting silently from ten to one.

 

Finally, repeat the breathing exercise a third time, inhaling all the way to the bottom of your lungs, then slowly releasing the air through your slightly parted lips as you silently count backward from ten to one.

 

When you’ve fully released the breath, breathe normally, then open your eyes and say the following clauses aloud, pausing a few seconds between each and slightly emphasizing the second syllable. Try to sense the meaning, the power, of the words as you say them:

 

 

I can.

 

I might.

 

I could.

 

I will.

 

I am.

 

 

If the difference in the power of these phrases wasn’t readily apparent, try it again, more than once if necessary.

 

Notice that first three evoke a sense of uncertainty. “I will” might feel a little stronger as it invokes willpower and evokes a sense of forthcoming action. But even it lacks the ultimate feeling of power that occurs as we utter “I am.” “I am” is the ultimate positive affirmation. It isn’t just a possibility or a likelihood. It isn’t something that might or might not occur. It is right now, seeming to engage past, present, and future at once. That is the power of “I am.”

 

“I am” invokes the ultimate power of self-confidence and self-realization. “I am” is true self-awareness, the first key to observation. When we utter “I am,” even silently, we feel in control of our self, our universe, and our place within the Wholeness.

 

Consider, you are at the center of a universe of your own creation, your own perception. Everything within your universe is as you perceive it to be. Sitting at the center of your universe, observing from the center of your universe, you are in complete control. Your vantage point from center changes occasionally as you move, of course, and your universe changes and fluctuates as other beings continually enter and exit your sensory range, but you control the effect they have on you just as you control your perception of other beings and events in your universe.

 

Some of you probably are thinking that others actually control your life, but make no mistake: If you believe other beings are controlling your actions or your perceptions, be it pet, husband, wife, relatives, friends, or enemies, they are able to do so only because you made the decision to give them control over you. Even if another being coerces you, the decision to relinquish control is still yours.

 

I can’t stress this point strongly enough. Even if you feel that you’re doing what you have to do to maintain peace, or to avoid feeling selfish, or to keep from causing pain for someone else, or to avoid litigation, or to avoid losing property or friends or even your children, you’re still making the decision. And it works both ways. If you coerce another (please don’t do that), whether he acquiesces also is his decision. In every case, relinquishing control over your universe, your life, is a matter of personal decision.

 

Control, which emanates from the ego, resides in the mind, and that’s the one place that’s absolutely private. We’ll discuss control in much greater depth in Part II of this book. For now, just please realize that only your decisions, whether they concern how you perceive an object or event or how you react to the requests and demands of other beings, can control your universe.

 

Because a writer must not only perceive her world but convey it to a reader, understanding that central control is especially essential. It renders us at once omniscient and limited. Consider, as the center of your particular universe, you are omniscient in that

 

 

only you are at the center of your universe — no one else can share your particular vantage point even if you want them to;

 

only you can determine whether and how much and with whom to share your universe;

 

only you can determine whether and when to share your unique point of view, and with whom, and decide the angle; and

 

only your view from the center is your truth, and it remains your truth until you adjust it, whether or not anyone else buys in.

 

 

On the other hand, you are limited as the center of your particular universe, in that

 

 

your view, your truth, is the only view you can possibly know, though you can believe anything you want to believe — as you continue in life, your view will grow and change, having been transformed by the knowledge you’ve received from new experiences.

 

 

When we are fully self-aware, the importance and even the concepts of superiority, self-righteousness, and ego fall away as unimportant shells of our rebirth into the self-awareness of our place in the Wholeness. We are at once comfortable with the power we wield within our own universe and humble in the knowledge that we’re part of something much greater than ourselves. When we are fully self-aware, we can lower the shield we’ve built around us because we finally, finally have come home to rest and be at peace in the welcoming arms of the Wholeness.

 

Stones, Ponds, Ripples

 

We’ve discussed our place at the center of our individual sensory universe and our place in the Wholeness. We’ve talked about the symbiotic relationship that exists among ourselves and the other sentient beings on the planet, and we’ve explored the power of “I am,” which we can use as necessary to maintain our self-awareness. In Part II of this book, we’ll also discuss how non-sentient things — inanimates — affect us and how we affect them, how they also fit into the flow of the Wholeness.

 

For now, we need to look at the effect we have on the Wholeness itself and the effect the other beings in the Wholeness have on it and on us.

 

Given that every sentient being is at the center of its own sensory universe, and given that there are other sentient beings within each being’s individual universe at all times, we begin to get the sense of how those individual universes overlap. This leads to another statement: Everything every sentient being does has the potential of affecting every other sentient and non-sentient being within its sensory universe. In other words, the Wholeness comprises millions of overlapping, ever-changing, fluctuating individual universes. But for now, let’s expand our discussion of the individual sensory universe itself by concentrating on yours.

 

Everything within sentient range of you, at center, is within your sensory universe. That universe fluctuates, of course, as the center changes physical position, whether vertically or laterally. Put simply, you sense things differently from different physical perspectives. You sense the things within your universe in a different way if you’re walking across a pasture or meadow than if you’re on the back of a galloping horse or flying across the country in a Boeing 727. Of course, as new stimuli come into sentient range you observe different textures, scents, sounds, and sights, and those new stimuli often will affect how you perceive other objects or beings that were already within your sensory range.

 

Finally, mental and emotional concerns affect your perspective, too. If you’ve just lost a close friend or relative to death, you sense the things within your universe in a different way than if you’ve just received a major promotion at work. It’s important to remember to be aware of your physical, mental, and emotional perspective as you observe what lies within your ever-changing universe, not so you can make allowances for your mental or emotional state, but so you can fully experience what you sense from your physical vantage point in light of your mental and emotional perspectives.

 

The key point is that when individual universes overlap — and they overlap all the time unless, for example, you’re in a closed elevator by yourself — they affect each other to some degree. Everything you do affects your universe and the universes in which you exist as a peripheral part.

 

When a stone hits the surface of a pond, it creates ripples than emanate out from the center. The size of the ripples and the ensuing disturbance varies depending on how hard the stone hit the water. You create ripples in your own sensory universe and in those through which you travel with every word you speak and every action you take. Some believe you can even affect your universe with unspoken thought. The size of the ripples, the effect, depends on the impact (harsh, funny, crass, hateful, spiteful, joyful, light, dark, heavy) of that word, action, or thought. And of course, any effect your ripples have on other beings will almost certainly affect their ripples which will affect others. This ripple effect is part of the interconnectivity among all things in the Wholeness.

 

Whether and how strongly you affect the universes through which you travel depends on the observer, the center, of that universe. Within your own universe, however, the impact is up to you. As you gain practice in the art of observation, eventually you will see that your task is to observe while affecting as little as possible. Your task as an observer always is to notice, study and question — intensely, not just peripherally — what lies within your sensory universe at any given moment. You will naturally pay closer attention to those things, events, and beings within your universe that lend themselves to the story on which you’re currently working or to things or events that spark a poem, story, essay, or article, but you should continually practice being intensely aware of everything within your universe.

 

Now, let’s have a few definitions. Your vantage point is the physical aspect from which you sense your universe: upright, lying down, sitting, with your head turned in a particular direction, facing a particular direction, etc. Here’s the most important thing to remember about the vantage point: You control the vantage point, and the vantage point controls your destiny, your future. In this way, you control your future.

 

Your perspective is your physical state of being — your human-ness — and your mental and emotional state at the moment of observation. Your viewpoint or point of view is what you bring to the reader. Your vantage point always is at center, and your perspective (like the reader’s) originates at center. Your viewpoint comprises the limits the reader will experience as he attempts to sense your world through your writing, through your senses. In viewing your world through your viewpoint, he can sense only what you allow him to sense.

 

As an aside, this becomes even more interesting when you remember that the reader is reading through your viewpoint but from his own vantage point and perspective. This is one of the reasons I maintain that the reader is always correct in his “interpretation” of a poem. (I use only “poem” here because nobody ever talks about how a reader interprets a short story or essay or novel.) The poet begins the poem but the reader finishes it. The poet writes the poem, which is filtered through the writer’s experiences, good or bad — that is, it’s written from the writer’s vantage point and filtered through his perspective — but as the reader reads the poem, it’s filtered through his own perspective and experiences, not the writer’s. So who am I to tell the reader that what he got out of my poem is wrong? Obviously it was right for him, for his set of experiences.

 

Self-Fulfilling Ripples

 

I mentioned earlier that you control your vantage point, and that your vantage point determines your future. As an example, think of walking through a field. Every actual, physical step you take, every individual placement of your foot, leads to an alternate future that gives you a new set of choices — everything from where you will place the next foot to how the placement of that foot will affect your vantage point. Each foot placement also determines what you will be able to sense from that particular vantage point.

 

If you’re in a field searching for arrowheads, for example, each step you take determines what you are able to sense from the new vantage point you created by taking that step. If you take one step to the right, you’ve erased the future that might have ensued had you taken one step to the left instead. Your center, your vantage point, is changed with every such seemingly minor decision. If you’re searching for arrowheads or a stray golf ball, you might well consider the decision a minor one. If you’re in a combat zone in an area suspected of being a mine field or suspected of containing trip wires and booby traps, perhaps the placement of your foot isn’t so minor.

 

No matter where you are or in what situation, try to be conscious and aware of the Wholeness around you and move through it gracefully, fluidly, purposefully. As you become more in tune with the Wholeness and more comfortable with your place within it, you instinctively will pay more attention to the placement of your foot, the physical attitude of your vantage point, and the sense of oneness with the Wholeness. As a result, you will more often be where you should be when you should be there.

 

In order to follow a smooth path, to be where you should be when you should be there, you must be ever aware of yourself as both the center of your sensory universe and as a stimulus or point of interest in the other universes through which you travel

 

Observation is the basis of all art. Observation spurs imagination, imagination keys inspiration, and inspiration moves the writer’s pen, the artist’s brush. Now that we have begun to think of ourselves and the other beings in the world as integral, necessary parts of the Wholeness, we will observe them from the same vantage point but with a different perspective, one of appreciation, curiosity, and interest rather than disdain.

 

The next, very brief chapter will suggest specific recommendations and exercises that will provide practice in using your imagination and developing negative capability. Finally, it will offer recommendations that will spur the writer to come up with other exercises on her own.