Earthlings

At some point during my early teens, I realized that I did not naturally or spontaneously regard myself as an earthling—but as some kind of being who dwelt inside an animal body 𝑜𝑛 the Earth. My deepest ‘self’ seemed to say, “I ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒—or use—a body,” not “I 𝑎𝑚 this body.” I was shocked by this ‘revelation’ simply because I had never before deeply reflected on this rather fascinating topic. But there it was—this shock of realizing that I did not think of myself as having grown 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ, like trees and bugs and other life forms. Instead, I have always felt more like a temporary visitor or even an interloper here. Not an alien from another planet. I felt no recognizable kinship with creatures—real or imagined—from another part of the physical universe. My feeling was that the true center or foundation of my consciousness was rooted on a different 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑒—a subtler, intangible level. My body and the Earth seemed dense and bulky and crude compared to this immaterial dimension that still feels like my true home and source.

At first—when I had the initial realization—I thought that I may have just uncritically swallowed such a notion from ‘spiritual’ or philosophical teachings (I was raised Catholic, I studied Plato and Indian philosophy, etc.). If these ‘metaphysical’ doctrines—which also hold to a position that resembles the one I have sketched here—had simply been planted in my young, defenseless brain when I was a little child, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 might adequately account for this (now) ‘spontaneous’ set of ‘unearthly’ assumptions and ‘naturalized’ feelings I have about being a visitor to, rather than a mere product of, the Earth. But after years of seriously reflecting on this matter, I continue to experience the core of my consciousness—and therefore, my awareness of myself and the world and other persons—as a kind of light that shines 𝑜𝑛 or into the Earth, but not 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 the Earth.

Startled by my discovery, I naturally began to ask my friends, family members, and even strangers whether or not they felt similar inklings. I found that some persons strongly inclined in the same direction as me, but there were plenty of persons, male and female, young and old, who felt quite certain that they were one hundred percent earthlings. Moreover, these persons perhaps unsurprisingly identified their core sense of personhood or existence with their bodies. And just as their human bodies had evolved from earlier, simpler organisms, these distant ancestral life forms had undoubtedly emerged from inorganic matter—i.e., 𝐸𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑓𝑓. For them, nothing essential has changed: we remain entirely earth-born and earth-bound creatures. Consciousness and culture and metaphysical beliefs all have their foundations in our ‘animal’ instincts, just as our capacity for language and conceptual thought is brain activity—and brain = matter.

When I would protest that, despite their arguments and all the scientific theories that reduce life and consciousness to material factors, my compelling intuition (of being a temporary user or inhabitant of the body instead of simply being the body) persisted, I would be told that my ‘intuitive certainty’ was just ‘wishful thinking.’ Because the body is destined to age and die, they would argue, my fearful ego rebels against this unwelcome, inconvenient fact. I am suffering, they would insist, from a delusion. I relax my usually strict and rigorous criteria (for what constitutes the likely truth) when it comes to this particular issue—precisely because the likely truth is so intolerable, so unacceptable, to me.

Of course I see—and respect—where they’re coming from. Nor will I boast 100% immunity from the fear of dying and leaving behind those I love. But such fears are tempered—so far as I can honestly tell—not by some ‘idea’ or ‘concept’ (that I am not only my body), but by ongoing, direct experience of the core of my consciousness as ‘an independent witness’ that looks 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ these eyes, hears through these ears, thinks by means of this brain, this acquired language, these conceptual artifacts. It is so simple, so immediate, and so unquestionably real, that it would be harder to think this immanent-transcendent witness 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 existence than to (wishfully or artfully) think it 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 existence.

In the quietest, stillest moments I have experienced, there is even a dis-identification from the mind itself—or at least from the busy, intensive thinking it is frequently ‘caught up’ in. In such serene and extraordinarily blissful moments there is a kind of surrender or ‘letting go’ that is accompanied by a feeling of connectedness with everything. Nothing is resisted, all is accepted. There is literally 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 in such divine or motionless moments—for the will, the passions, the restless mind are stilled and freed, as it were, from time’s flow. My personal self is miles away in such uncanny moments of beauty and peace. If this is what death of the busy body and the restless mind is like, then ‘death, where is thy sting?’

So, back to my initial question: Are you an earthling or a visitor in/on the Earth? Does it matter? It’s certainly not worth fighting over. Better, perhaps, simply to be still and observe what is happening with an attentive, calm eye.

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