In the hylotropic mode of consciousness, and individual experiences himself or herself as a solid physical entity with definite boundaries and with a limited sensory range. The world appears to be made of separate material objects and has distinctly Newtonian characteristics: Time is linear, space is three-dimensional, and all events seem to be governed by chains of cause and effect. Experiences in this mode support systematically a number of basic assumptions about the world, such as: matter is solid; two objects cannot occupy the same space; past events are irretrievably lost; future events are not experientially available; one cannot be in more than one place at a time; one can exist only in one temporal framework at a time; a whole is larger than a part; or something cannot be true and untrue at the same time.
In contrast to the narrow and restricted hylotropic mode, the "holotropic" variety involves the experience of oneself as a potentially unlimited field of consciousness that has access to all aspects of reality without the mediation of senses. Holotropic literally translates as aiming for totality or moving toward wholeness (from the Greek holos = whole and trepin = moving in the direction of). Experiences in this state of mind offer many interesting alternatives to the Newtonian world of matter with linear time and three-dimensional space.
Monet Refuses the Operation
Doctor, you say there are no halos
Around the streetlights in Paris
and what I see is an aberration
caused by old age, an affliction.
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
to soften and blur and finally banish
the edges you regret I don’t see,
to learn that the line I called the horizon
does not exist and sky and water,
so long apart, are the same state of being.
Fifty-four years before I could see
Rouen cathedral is built
of parallel shafts of sun;
and now you want to restore
my youthful errors: fixed
notions of top and bottom,
the illusion of three dimensional space,
wisteria separate from the bridge it covers.
What can I say to convince you
the Houses of Parliament dissolve
night after night to become
the fluid dream of the Thames?
I will not return to a universe
of objects that don’t know each other,
as if islands were not the lost children
of one great continent. The world
is flux, and light becomes what it touches,
becomes water, lilies on water,
above and below water,
becomes lilac and mauve and yellow
and white and cerulean lamps,
small fists passing sunlight
so quickly to one another
that it would take long, streaming hair
inside my brush to catch it.
To paint with the speed of light!
Our weighted shapes, these verticals,
burn to mix with air
and change our bones, skin, clothes
to gases. Doctor,
if you could only see
how heaven pulls the earth into its arms
and how infinitely the heart expands
to claim this world, blue vapor without end.
Lisel Mueller