I’ve been thinking about acceptance lately and trying to write about the what it means to accept or reject our experience.
But I got stuck, and, as often happens when I’m stuck, I checked the meaning and etymology of the key term: experience.
I was using ‘experience’ to mean the sum total of one’s impressions. But the origin of the word makes it closer to ‘experiment’, with the implication of knowledge gained from a test or trial.
One of my untested theories is that the etymology of words can have unconscious implications. We don’t need to know what ‘experience’ really means to be influenced by its etymology. And even though the use of words changes over time, the real meaning is never truly erased.
Maybe it’s just me, but the moment I thought about it I realised that the ‘ex’ prefix meant ‘experience’ was coming out of somewhere. Intuitively it doesn’t have the ring of an all-encompassing state of affairs, does it?
So what do we call the sum total of our impressions, if not ‘experience’?
We could call it ‘reality’ but that somewhat begs the question. Reality means the quality of being real, from res meaning matter or thing.
But we don’t really know if these things are real, or if our impressions are things, do we?
Even if we call them impressions, we’re still assuming there’s something external making an imprint on our minds.
Other words like thought, think, ken, know, cognise, consciousness, and so on are all quite basic. They point to the everyday experience of people having mental states that represent to themselves the world around them.
The language is not really built for skeptical introspection. So we have to talk around it, pointing out that we do not know on the basis of thoughts and impressions what the true nature of reality is – the external world that presumably leaves these imprints on our minds (assuming that we have minds).
That’s why nondualists end up simply positing “consciousness” undergoing endless forms.
One source I’ve been reading lately asserts that there are three things: formless consciousness, the discriminating power, and the distinguishing forms that arise through this discriminating power.
At the same time, these three things are not separate. They may be different functions of the same thing, or in Buddhist terms: form is emptiness, emptiness is form.
Why this power would bother to create forms that resemble the author sitting at his desk mired in the illusion of a biographical existence while pondering his own unreality is a bit of a mystery.
Regardless, that’s the nondualist answer. You are not really you, just a collection of passing forms. Consciousness alone is unchanging and real, and capable of knowing itself.