Right!
There's existence for everyone that isn't dead...
but you after death, not likely
Well THIS is the exact thought that's been frying my brain... What is the I who dies and ceases to exist? Am I consciousness itself?
I am the one who experiences pain when pinched, or pleasure at a good meal - I don't experience the pain or pleasure of any other, I wouldn't even experience the sensations of a perfect copy of me, because all my perceptions are emergent. I have a brain and nervous system, so I feel, perceive and think. The materialist in me has it nice and simple: awareness is also emergent, and once that too is lost, this unique vantage point on existence will disappear forever. The idealist in me is a little more perplexed...
See, the idealist likewise notes that each of us experiences reality as
us and not someone else. This consistent perception of self is a result of memory processes; in reality I am 'dying' in every single moment, to be replaced by a slightly different copy of me, because the past is non-existent (except as an idea) and that former version of myself no longer experiences. So, here's the headspin:
What happens if most or all of those memories get changed dramatically? Change my identity so I'm no longer Flickering, I have a different personality pattern, I perceive the world through different senses. (Indeed ALTERED senses - this is all especially interesting to consider for those who've done psychedelics, and I for one often think that the sober me has 'died' and the LSD-me has 'come alive' and will soon die again!) Naturally, with even a completely different set of memories, experience must continue - but whose is it? Mine? Of course not - 'I' am only a consistently transient concept of identity. So if I can cease to exist only to be re-invented every moment, in which I continue to exist, what happens when the vessel making this identity-memory complex possible collapses for good?
What happens to consciousness?
Even if everything 'I' am fades to nothing, there are others still experiencing reality, and that experience is consciousness. What happens to it?
The idealist would like to posit Aldous Huxley's mescaline-induced hypothesis: that the body is not a creator of consciousness, as we implicitly assume, but is actually a suppressant of consciousness. I quote from
The Doors of Perception:
Aldous Huxley said:
According to such a theory, each one of us is potentially Mind at Large. But in so far as we are animals, our business is at all costs to survive. To make biological survival possible, Mind at Large has to be funneled through the reducing valve of the brain and nervous system. What comes out at the other end is a measly trickle of the kind of consciousness which will help us to stay alive on the surface of this Particular planet. To formulate and express the contents of this reduced awareness, man has invented and endlessly elaborated those symbol-systems and implicit philosophies which we call languages. Every individual is at once the beneficiary and the victim of the linguistic tradition into which he has been born - the beneficiary inasmuch as language gives access to the accumulated records of other people's experience, the victim in so far as it confirms him in the belief that reduced awareness is the only awareness and as it bedevils his sense of reality, so that he is all too apt to take his concepts for data, his words for actual things. That which, in the language of religion, is called "this world" is the universe of reduced awareness, expressed, and, as it were, petrified by language. The various "other worlds," with which human beings erratically make contact are so many elements in the totality of the awareness belonging to Mind at Large. Most people, most of the time, know only what comes through the reducing valve and is consecrated as genuinely real by the local language. Certain persons, however, seem to be born with a kind of by-pass that circumvents the reducing valve. In others temporary by-passes may be acquired either spontaneously, or as the result of deliberate "spiritual exercises," or through hypnosis, or by means of drugs. Through these permanent or temporary by-passes there flows, not indeed the perception "of everything that is happening everywhere in the universe" (for the by-pass does not abolish the reducing valve, which still excludes the total content of Mind at Large), but something more than, and above ah something different from, the carefully selected utilitarian material which our narrowed, individual minds regard as a complete, or at least sufficient, picture of reality.
I hope someone will decipher and reply to what I've written, as this thought interests me greatly and I don't feel I've gotten it across to most readers yet. It's a difficult concept and my wording has been clumsy. I myself remain divided about what philosophical conclusion, if any, it points to. The idealist is comforted at the thought of life and experience continuing forever, even if it's removed from my identity and everything I value, while the materialist holds some pride in being able to face the reality that the universe effectively ends when I do. The seesaw teeters.