The hermit lived on a mountain high above a small village. The villagers rarely saw him, but as people often do, they started telling tall tales about him and his reclusive habits. One of the more popular stories concerned a treasure he had supposedly buried. The village thief was particularly interested in this fable and one evening he decided to investigate the hermit’s abode. The thief didn’t have to pick the lock or break a window, for the hut had neither. However, much to his disappointment, the hermit’s hut was empty, except for a thin blanket, stretched over some cedar branches. While the thief was engaged in his fruitless search, the hermit was busy collecting some berries and roots for dinner. When he returned home, he saw the stranger and knew exactly what he was up to.

“How kind of you to visit me!” the hermit greeted his guest, “But you’ve come such a long way, it wouldn’t be right for you to go home empty handed!” Then he took off his garments, wrapped them in his thin blanket and handed them to the befuddled thief. Subsequently, the naked hermit sat down in front of his hut. A full moon was rising over the crest of the hill, illuminating the forest and he smiled and said, “Poor thief, I wish I could give him this moon.”

Although few people would be as complacent about a thief or an intruder in their homes and I seriously doubt any of us would give him the clothes off our backs, the hermit had reached that rarefied state of detachment, where the beauty of the moon was far more valuable than a few rags. Perhaps he was justified in considering the thief poor, since poverty, like love, contentment, and greed is simply a state of mind. In a world obsessed with property rights, social status and the accumulation of material wealth, the hermit might be considered insane. On the other hand, his life script and sense of self might not include material possessions or moral judgements. Possibly he had retreated from such concepts or had evolved past the ordinary priorities of everyday life. He might even have imagined himself rich or maybe his isolation had made him delusional. It is hard to speculate on any one’s state of mind, motives or values, but each of us has the ability to decide what is important in our lives and what is meaningless.

If you accept the notion that we only live one life, the drama, comedy, or tragedy of the Self begins with birth. The little human-to-be is about 60% blind, has no sense of memory, time or ownership. Neither is she aware of her individuality, gender, or race. Our pseudo person’s primary consciousness is fixated on the condition of her body. Is it fed or hungry? Is it comfortable or not? As the newest addition to the human race she craves human contact, faces smiling into hers, weird semi-human noises uttered by proud fathers, the pleasure of being rocked by mother and will react very strongly and noisily to any painful stimuli.

However, along with its rapid physical development, the quasi-human is undergoing the occasionally frustrating process of socialization. At ten days she can recognize her mother’s face, at two months she will smile, at six months she will know the difference between male and female faces, and at eight months she will actively seek out company and show signs of a natural curiosity about everything and everyone.

The infant’s primary fear is that of being alone. Deep down she may understand that her very survival depends on the care and nurturing of others. This fear could be our primary motivation for creating and belonging to social groups. However, along with fear, curiosity and affection also motivate human beings and imagination plays a major role in ensuring their growth and acceleration.

Imagination is intimately tied to the process of language acquisition. Humans are hard wired for language. It doesn’t matter if the language is English, French, Greek, or the sign language of the hearing impaired. One way or the other, little Johnny is going to erect an intellectual scaffold of symbols and signs. He will step beyond the boundaries of grunts and gestures and become part of a language community. He will struggle with the ‘right way’ of expressing his feelings and sharing his ideas. He may even come up with an original idea and enter the creative world of literature, or the experimental domain of science. Language makes it possible for us to create imaginary worlds, share opinions and beliefs, perpetuate our ideals and build that most wondrous of things, our very own magic dream machine.

What is this dream machine? What does imagination have to do with language, consciousness and memory? Language is the means by which we formulate, convey and record thoughts, feelings, information and values. Like consciousness, language creates an external space for the development and projection of an idea or feeling. It helps us differentiate internal processes from external stimuli. It sharpens the mind and makes it possible to create abstract and imaginary scenarios.

Language allied with imagination can convince us and others that a thought or an ideal is no less real than the rain on our faces or the scent of a rose. Language, be it literary, verbal, musical, or mathematical provides our imagination with the tools to build a worldview. Imagination utilizes whatever tools it possesses to create the Dream Machine’s mental and emotional context. It provides us with a sense of meaning and purpose.

Memory plays a distinct role in this process, since it is the means by which we transfer knowledge of the past to the present. The content of memory is selected, edited, and deleted according to current perceptions, beliefs and needs. Imagination plays a role in this process by interpreting our recollections and suggesting possible alternatives. Finally, consciousness is the means by which we can perceive our imagination, our languages, and ourselves and gain perspective on our world, our lives, and the person we think we are and the person we dream of becoming.

Whether the Self or what I think of it, is any more than an illusion projected by the electrical activity of the brain is irrelevant. It is not beyond the realms of possibility that we have dreamed ourselves and our world into being. No one can be absolutely positive that the person who went to sleep last night is the same person who gets out of bed in the morning. Much of the real world or our true selves must be taken on trust. However, whether one subscribes to the theory of random electrical impulses, the dictates of personal history, or cultural hero’s as agents responsible for our existence and self-image, the influence of imagination and consciousness continue to play their role.

As Shakespeare wrote, “We are such stuff as dreams are made on” and Thoreau reminds us, “This world is but canvas to our imagination.” None of us is ever likely to know for certain if the canvas of our lives can reflect the aspirations of our magic dream machine. However, I believe it is preferable to rely on the power of imagination, consciousness and individuality, than simply conform to the decrees of chance and circumstance.

In Defence of the Dark Side

Saving Your Soul