Bruno Vilela

Consciousness observing the observer observe

Her escape is her mystery, and her path is key to all depths. But she acknowledges neither her enigma, nor all secrets because she knows everything, and knowing is not existing.

Fernando Pessoa, The way of the Serpent

The language of the unconscious, of dream, is an empty theater. On stage, we see a desert covered by the noonday sun. A deep voice announces: 'It is the blue sleep of Vishnu'. From emptiness and silence, Brahma, the Absolute, arises carrying the book of knowledge on top of a lotus flower, which needs the lake's darkness and mud for it to walk towards the sunlight. It is by integrating light and shadow that the Serpent transits between worlds. The embrace within the Jungian shadow is only possible because of the Anima. The serpent is, at the same time, soul (as it slides over its womb) and spirit (as it is Ouroboros), but it must take over this abandoned stage, this blank screen. The bride yearns for her dress. Such character who establishes the connection between worlds may have several names: Eshu, Hermes, the Pythia of Delphi and the Witch. “The scarlet one, that with fish scales on her feet.”

Ananta, the archetypical memory, is the vestige of an old civilization in this new Samsara spectacle with no audience. The thousand-headed serpent, bed of Vishnu’s sleep. The infinite and unnameable eternal blue. The snake is, at the same time, being and not being.

Western Physics and dozens of traditional ancestral philosophies, from Eastern to Amerindian, point toward a notion that the emptiness—chaos—is, indeed, the source of all possibilities. Heisenberg's Principle of Uncertainty; of creation and continuous annihilation of pairs of particles and antiparticles, is analogue to the description of how Shiva is both the God who destroys and transforms. Even in the void, there is a residual amount of life drive. In this effervescent state, anything could potentially emerge. Vishnu is the sentinel of time. His sleep is nonetheless vigil.

The cassette tape opens a portal to Alice's rabbit hole. Making peace with time is the goal of meditation. That which is above is like that which is below. It is the micro pause between one breath and the next. 

In 2005, the 125th edition of Science journal presented a dossier on the 125 greatest issues in science. Among them, one of the questions was: 'What is the biological basis of consciousness?'

“For centuries, debating the nature of consciousness was the exclusive purview of philosophers. But if the recent torrent of books on the topic is any indication, a shift has taken place: Scientists are getting into the game.”

Until then, 'getting into the game' was frowned upon by physicists. If Descartes said that body and mind are made of completely different substances, why not integrate mystical architecture to scientific engineering? Dialectics therefore seems like a reasonable philosophical path in this case.

The fact that some orthodox Freudians and Lacanians needed to deny Jung in order to assert their own stance has always caught my attention. As if analytical psychology could be reduced to mysticism without scientific basis. Without a solid, technical basis, there can be no art. Intuition and inspiration are phenomena which derive from such 'deeper consciousness'; they require a strong crane—or technique—to lift such weight from the depths. To me, artists and philosophers seem more open to using both engineering and the toolbox underlying the process, aiming at the artwork's final goal. 

In the final scene of the last episode of the second season of Twin Peaks, David Lynch delivers a masterclass on the meaning of integration. When Dale Cooper strikes his head against the mirror and sees BOB on the other side—who promptly takes over his soul—, Lynch shows us that the hero archetype, the detective, is merely the other side of the coin of his antagonist; the serial killer. 

Lynch's alter-ego, Cooper, much like his author, is a meditation enthusiast. He is always between the epiphany of nature and the naive pleasure of his next cup of coffee. But, without the melancholy of love lost in the past, and the search for understanding Evil—revealed in the dream—, the journey would have no meaning. For “obstacles themselves are the clarion for advancement”.

Another example of integration is when filmmaker Robert Eggers turns TheLighthouse into a metaphor for the human soul, and the sea for the spirit. The lighthouse is the spine, connecting the root chakra (Muladhara) to the crown chakra (Sahasrara). It is the thriller of the poetics of space. Digging at the basis, Thomas Wake uncovers the alcohol which makes him an animal. As he rises toward the lens, Fresnel, the lighthouse keeper, is burnt by the absolute. Although internal, light also glows over the blue sea desert afar, where Vishnu Matsya emerges in the shape of a Siren. 

“Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil”, a word that comes from the Greek διάβολος (diábolos); that who divides. We are trapped between Hamlet’s to be or not to be. Between the fish (the soul) and the school (the spirit). The devil offers Jesus a 'divide', a decay, instead of “the infinite blue sleep”.

Jiddu Krishnamurti says that experience implies an experiencer, and such observing experiencer is the past; that which is already known. Therefore, what is experienced is not sacred. The sacred may only take place when the experiencer does not exist. And “knowing is not existing”.

From the same point of view, psychoanalyst Ticiana Porto speaks of 'consciousness observing the observer observe'. It is as if they channeled their own unconscious.

Likewise, you, spectator and reader, are consciousness. Here you cease to exist and become this very text. In the cinema room, you are the film. In the face of a canvas, you become the painting. You observe the film, the text and the painting. The observer is my narrator, who observes (observing) their own journey.

“Separation, at last. Light is faith, Lucifer.”

Bruno Vilela

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“The joy of reading appears to be the reflection of the joy of writing, 

as though the reader were the writer's ghost.”