Actual Freedom – Selected Writings from Richard's Journal

Some of the many and various people I have discussed these matters with at length have recalled somewhat similar experiences—most common in childhood—and which are referred to by more than a few as a ‘peak experience’ (i.e., a ‘nature experience’, a ‘jamais vu experience’, or even an ‘aesthetic experience’). As to be somewhat similar is not the same as or identical with this pristine purity I have coined the term pure consciousness experience (PCE) to distinguish the qualitative distinction betwixt the pristine purity experience and the more generic peak experiences.

To explain: in the phrase ‘pure consciousness experience’ (PCE) the word ‘experience’ refers to a sentient creature participating personally in events or activities; the word ‘consciousness’ refers to the condition of a flesh and blood body being conscious (the suffix ‘-ness’ forms a noun expressing a state or condition), as in being alive, not dead, awake, not asleep, and sensitive a.k.a. sensible, not insensitive aka insensible (comatose); the word ‘pure’ in this context, being synonymic with ‘unadulterated’, ‘uncontaminated’, ‘unpolluted’, and so on, refers to being completely selfless, as in, sans any identity whatsoever (just as ‘penniless’ means sans any money whichsoever).

Thus when reading about pure consciousness experiencing what is being conveyed is the condition of a flesh and blood body being conscious sans identity in toto —both ego-self (the thinker) and the soul-self (the feeler)—participating personally in events or activities; which means any and all perception is unmediated perception (bare perception) or an apperceptive awareness. The term ‘apperceptive awareness’ is but another way of referring to this direct, or simple, perception (aka naïve perception) and being thus direct it is non-separative (not separated from the physical world).

The opening-up of the non-affective memory-banks enabled me to recall having had experiences of pristine purity on many an occasion, while growing up, where there would be a ‘slippage’ of the brain, somewhat analogous to an automatic transmission changing into a higher gear too soon, and the magical world where time had no workaday meaning would emerge in all its sparkling wonder, where I could wander for extensive periods in gay abandon with whatever was happening.

They were the pre-school years: soon such experiences would occur of a weekend (at school I became known as ‘the dreamer’ and had many a rude awakening to everyday reality by various teachers) so much so I would later on call them ‘Saturday Morning’ experiences where, contrary to having to be dragged out of bed during the week, I would be up and about at first light, traipsing through the fields and the forests with the early morning rays of sunshine dancing their magic on the glistening dew-drops suspended from the greenery everywhere; where kookaburras are echoing their laughing-like calls to one another and magpies are warbling their liquid sounds; where an abundance of aromas and scents are drifting fragrantly all about; where every pore of the skin is being caressed by the friendly ambience of the balmy air; where benevolence and benignity streams endlessly bathing all in its impeccable integrity. (Richard’s Personal web-page).

For instance, there was a long-lost recall of reading aloud a child’s storybook tale (by virtue of being able to read before being sent to school at age five) upon being asked to by a platinum-haired girl a few months older than me.

She was one of the several daughters born of a farmer and his wife some miles away and was quite special in the way she locked onto my reading eyes, drinking in each and every uttered word and meaning, as if being able to be reading for herself. With her wide-open eyes lustrous in excitation, her features alive with an eager anticipation, her whole being absorbed by intense comprehension, the simple tale unfolding soon drew us inexorably closer and closer together.

This expansive togetherness thusly engendered, along with the sensitive closeness by-now ensuing, soon segues into a delicate tenderness blossoming, which is flowering as this luscious richness now opening up, out of which splendid exquisiteness the magical realm, where separation has never been nor ever will be, is oh-so-sweetly manifesting in all its wondrous splendour.

Looking up over the pages of the booklet, gently gazing into those velvety eyes gazing softly back into my own, there is the mutual recognition of fellow travellers in this (normally) faraway land where time stands eternally still.

She is the first to come with me, into this altogether other world, this ever-fresh alterity, and her naive delight at this haply event is a wonder in itself. Here is a female, my favoured of the human kind, who has never hurt me nor ever will, as here is a female who has never been hurt nor ever will be.

For here, where separation has no subsistence at all, both hurting and being hurt never happen, thusly here is a female who is ever with me, with her fresh femininity pervasive, just as is ever the same with me for her, with my mint masculinity immanent.

There is no modesty here as we are fully out-in-the-open, in total exposure, having nothing to hide and the very daring of doing so has rendered no privacy undisclosed for our naked ambition to be exactly as we are has revealed all. We can no longer pretend, upon any association hence, to again be someone we are not as our most intimate secret has outed itself.

Her soft gaze shows, in this eternal instant of mutual showing, how she knows we both know what she too is knowing. Nary a word is expressed of this most precious revelation—indeed five year-old children know naught of these manner of words—as our very outing is speaking for itself in a language of its own.

She asks, instead, where Kalamazoo and Timbuktu are. (Richard’s Personal web-page, tool-tip after “four exquisite hours”).

Many Experiences Of Pristine Purity During That Ten-Day Vacation

There is nothing of an ostensive nature to explain why those many experiences of pristine purity would have occurred during that ten-day vacation; the respite obtained from disembarking after a long flight with four boisterous children, the delight of vacationing after several years of non-stop working, the keen anticipation of the only family reunion since childhood, the freshness of being on the other side of the continent again, and so forth, are not so peculiar as to have precipitated such outstanding experiences. Indeed, my then-wife was similarly relieved to have arrived, glad to be on holiday, looking forward to the partying, buoyed by the novelty, and so on, as well.

There is something of a portentive nature, however, as during the previous night (in an inner-city hotel room prior to departure on the early-morning flight) an intimation had come from deep within—a powerful sense of the unfolding of destiny—which had placed great significance upon the trip; a signification such as to be well beyond the norm expected of a typical familial gathering.

I can clearly recall stepping off the aeroplane’s mobile stairs to walk across the heated tarmac, in the blazing hot air of the high-summer day, towards the dazzling white terminal where a maiden aunt and a female sibling would be awaiting our arrival as planned. Due to such atmospheric conditions the aeroplane had abruptly lurched and plummeted, on several occasions during its descent into the airport, and a distinct inquietude—with a feeling of foreboding—had lodged itself in the pit of my stomach.

Yet those distressing feelings had all vanished, now, as if they have never existed; I am a serenely mellow adult, being exactly my biological age, strolling easily along at the cutting edge of reality and stepping, almost nonchalantly, through into the utterly other world of actuality. Moreover, all through the drive away from the airport, in the passenger seat of my maiden aunt’s car (all the others having been whisked away in my sibling’s vehicle under a privately prearranged strategy), this magical maturity is persistent and there is simply two fellow human beings conversing intimately and thus easily about my status as a proverbial black sheep of the family.

(It has been becoming increasingly evident how currently being the personification of this pristine purity has a meliorative effect because the prepensed proprietous lecture regarding my oft-decried lifestyle, vocational and conjugal choices—she had not only been the headmistress of an all-female college for many a year she is also never hesitant to reprise the matriarch-of-the-clan rôle as befits the eldest of the four siblings of my genitor’s generation—is not forthcoming and an actual intimacy is rendering any rôle-playing redundant).

The purity of the perfection experience subtly dissipates over lunch—so softly its gradual disappearance is not initially noticed—and it was not until the following morning, whilst reminiscing with my sibling and her husband about childhood adventures, that it emerged once more. Again its mellowing effect on others became apparent and the conversation readily turned to matters intimate—such as our pubescent experimentation into areas of an uncompromisingly sexual nature—with a matter-of-fact easiness made all the more evident by its typical deficiency in real-world interaction. (Richard’s Personal web-page, tool-tip after “always would be, perfect”).

On Many An Occasion While Growing Up

As the memorable four-hour experience of pristine purity in mid-1980 was inadvertently precipitated by psylocibin—given to me by a well-meaning but somewhat misguided colleague, at the time, who told me it was similar in effect to tetrahydrocannabinol only much stronger—I was quite rightly concerned about that aspect of it as a drug-induced dream-world was most certainly not the stuff of a judicious and practical workaday life. Accordingly, in the days which followed, I wracked my brains to recall such moments of perfection before any substance ingestion whatsoever.

Eventually, I was able to locate such an occurrence which not only pre-dated the earliest teenage tobacco experimentation but even tea and coffee intake (and the concern was indeed as pressing as that because the most radical shift in values ever possible was quite dependent upon it). It was in my preteen years and I was sitting on an old farmhouse veranda—my boyhood mother had taken me with her while visiting a neighbouring farmer’s wife—gazing entranced at the glistening white of a full glass of milk in the early morning sunshine only to discover, upon looking up from the double-crescent shadow impeccably cast by the rim, that to my surprise the world about had also become impeccable.

The reason I was taken aback is because I really did not like milk back then, and usually refused to drink it, but when the farmer’s wife had politely offered to me either that or a glass of lemonade (as they were about to take tea and no youngsters were ever permitted tea in those days) then, as the words ‘lemonade please’ were trembling on my relishing lips, a stern parental eye had caught mine and impelled me to lamely say ‘milk please’ instead. As lemonade (the sparkling store-bought variety) was a rare treat for a boy on the farm, I had smarted from the injustice of always having to be noble and had glumly sat there, gazing blankly into the hated milk whilst vainly trying to gather the nerve to just down the lot (another no-no as etiquette dictated polite sipping) and be done with it.

This childish delaying tactic (sipping merely drew out the horrid taste) precociously transformed itself into a fascination with the silent paradox of a circular rim casting a double-crescent shadow and a stillness began to descend all around. The clacking tones of those gossiping mothers faded off into the middle distance and the myriad of farmyard sounds came refreshingly to the fore.

The warming rays of sunlight are a skin-caressing beneficence; the very air itself is a gentle embrace all around the globe; the pungent aromas, as are befitting the rural life, drift fragrantly past the nostrils; a gaily-marked butterfly, flip-flopping so colourfully along just above the verandah rail, is now deftly alighting in amongst the foliage of a clambering rose-vine and ... and it is actually a magnificent morning, in all respects, as everything is perfect once again.

Just as it already has been, all along, and always will be.

A delight in looking around this veritable paradise shows the farmer’s wife tipping the teapot again, offering a generous platter of newly-baked biscuits, and she is chuckling gutturally at some trenchant witticism. A waft of her lavender perfume drifts by and the sweet, crunchy texture of the biscuit is simply delicious and goes so well with this cool draught of milk, this quite tasty milk, which that confused kid in a bad-dream dimension regularly made out he detested so much. ’Tis such a strange thing to happen, upon going to sleep, to so often vanish into that bad-dream world and then wake up in it—become dream-awake in it—and thus have to live out another dreary time in a drear existence, not knowing either the way back to here or even, mostly, whether here actually has ubiety.

For I have been here before on many an occasion—and have in fact been here all along—and am always bemused when that world-shift takes place and this magical domain fades away as if it has never been. (Richard’s Personal web-page, tool-tip after “four exquisite hours”).

In spite of the fact that every single human being has had at least one pure consciousness experience – and usually more – in their lifetime, they somehow cannot differentiate between that peak experience of apperception (wherein ‘I’, the thought and felt ‘being’, temporarily quits the scene and the actual world becomes apparent) and their pre-conceived notions that everyday reality is an illusion disguising some metaphysical Greater Reality. The Glamour and the Glory and the Glitz of the Altered State Of Consciousness have a tenacious grip upon the minds and hearts of a benighted ‘humanity’. It is indeed strange, to the point of being bizarre, that so many persons will turn their backs on the purity of the perfection of being here now – of being fully alive – at this moment in time. Here in this actual world, which is where this body is living anyway, is the peace that everyone says they are searching for. All that is required is that one comes to one’s senses – both literally and metaphorically – and spend the rest of one’s life without malice and sorrow. One will be blithe and benign … that is, carefree and harmless.

It is, of course, a bold step to forsake lofty thoughts, profound feelings and psychic adumbrations and enter the actuality of life as a sensate experience. It requires a startling audacity to devote oneself to the task of causing a mutation of consciousness to occur. To have the requisite determination to apply oneself, with the diligence and perseverance born out of pure intent, to the patient dismantling of one’s accrued social identity indicates a strength of purpose unequalled in the annals of history. It is no little thing that one does ... and it has enormous consequences, not only for one’s own well-being, but for humankind as a whole. With an actualism spread like a chain letter, in the due course of time, global freedom would revolutionise the concept of ‘humanity’. It would be a free association of peoples worldwide; a utopian-like loose-knit affiliation of like-minded individuals. One would be a citizen of the world, not of a sovereign state. Countries, with their artificial borders would vanish along with the need for the military. As nationalism would expire, so too would patriotism with all its heroic evils. No police force would be needed anywhere on earth; no locks on the doors, no bars on the windows. Gaols, judges and juries would become a thing of the dreadful past. People would live together in peace and harmony, happiness and delight. Pollution and its cause – over-population – would be set to rights without effort, as competition would be replaced by cooperation.

It would be the stuff of pipe dreams come true. Richard’s Journal, 1997, Foreword

Can he remember any pure consciousness experiences? Can he remember experiencing a moment – or moments – wherein everything falls into place correctly and perfectly? Wherein everybody, oneself included, and everything, is utterly pure? There is an ambience of total peace and harmony. Kindliness and spontaneous generosity of character come spontaneously and easily. One knows, with an absolute certainty, that it is possible to be free of all the ills of humankind … to become free of the ‘Human Condition’ is the only solution to life’s troubles worth pursuing. In the PCE, ‘I’ temporarily abdicated the throne and I knew, by direct experience, that freedom was already actual. It was ‘me’ that was the problem, not the absence of perfection. When ‘I’ ceased to be, perfection became, as always, apparent. One sees that there is only one person who can actually manifest your own freedom from failure in human relationship. Me, myself ... yours truly. It is very important to have confidence in one’s own ability to discriminate between current ‘human’ knowledge and what one personally knows from the PCE’s. This will give one that essential optimism and assurance ... it is the ability to plough on regardless of whatever stands in one’s way until one evokes one’s destiny. It is all to do with a certainty … the solid knowing, born out of the PCE, that it is here for oneself and anyone ... if only one will act upon this sureness. Can he relate to this?

He can. He starts hesitantly, but gaining assurance goes on. He has never told this to anyone before, not even to his wife, because it was a very precious experience to him ... afraid to be made fun of. It happened back before he was married, when he was single and living out in the bush in an old shack. He had hitch-hiked back from town and was dropped off at the nearest intersection. He was walking the last two kilometres ... minding his own business and not thinking of anything in particular ... he remembers seeing some cows in a paddock on the right-hand side of the track ... they were black and white ... and they were especially vivid that day. As he went around the curve in the track ... past a big old tree ... the valley opened up before him. He knew all this as he had walked this track many times before ... but on this occasion he and the trees and the cows and the valley ... were ... sort of ... transformed. It was all as I had just described to him: everything and everybody is in its place, utterly correct and simply perfect. There is this total contentment with life as-it-is inside of him ... and outside, too. And all this has nothing to do with anything ... meaning that it is not precipitated by something. It just happens.

Everything is absolutely wonderful exactly as-it-is. It is an amazing experience. Richard’s Journal, 1997, Article Six

This is actuality, this, the world as-it-is, this is what you actually are. Richard’s Journal, 1997, Article Twenty-Nine

These pure consciousness experiences (PCE’s) which usually occur in a ‘peak experience’, as they are sometimes called, change one’s lives forever. In a PCE everything is seen, with unparalleled clarity, to be already perfect ... that humans are all living in perfection ... if only one would act upon one’s seeing. In these moments, ‘Good’ and ‘Bad’, ‘Love’ and ‘Hate’, ‘Generosity’ and ‘Parsimony’, ‘Fear’ and ‘Trust’ ... all these and more, are simply irrelevant. Gods and Goddesses, Devils and Demons, all the battles that have raged throughout the ages are but a nightmare of passionate ‘human’ fantasy. There is a marked absence of hierarchy; no Religious Figure can match the matter-of-fact equality that pervades everything. A quality of kindly understanding prevails, dispensing forever with the need for Authority and Love and Truth and Beauty. And ... of course man and woman live together in perennial peace and harmony.

These pure consciousness experiences are so actual, so ultimate yet immediate, so relative yet so absolute, that they cannot be ignored. They leave a lasting impression upon one … which can take the form of a pure intent. Pure intent is a palpable life-force; an actually occurring stream of benevolence and benignity that originates in the perfect and vast stillness that is the essential character of the infinitude of the universe. It is no longer a matter of choice … it is an irresistible pull. This pure intent is so impelling that it has kept us together for virtually twenty-four-hours-a-day from the moment we met on that sunny beach, a few short years ago ... and we are utterly pleased to have found one another. To have as a companion someone who shares the identical goal in life to oneself is occasion enough in itself for celebration. Then to have the success after success that we have had throughout our time together, is proof indeed of the benevolence and wisdom of a life well-lived.

The river-washed stones of the gravel path, which we have laid from the shed to the veranda, make a satisfying scrunching sound under my feet. Depositing the basket of eggs and tomatoes on the table in the miniature kitchen of the quaint little caravan that is home, I busy myself with the domestic tasks I enjoy so much. It is exquisite to be always doing things together, for my relationship is eminently satisfying. Soon enough, the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee is filling the air, enhancing the atmosphere.

There is time aplenty for our morning cup. Richard’s Journal, 1997, Article Four

‘I’ cannot get outside of ‘I’ by thinking about it or feeling it out, for ‘I’ am the ‘thinker’ and the ‘feeler’. Nevertheless one needs to get outside of ‘I’ in order to have an objective standpoint to view ‘I’ from. So how is one to approach this dilemma? How is one going to arrive at the verifiable fact of independently viewing this elusive ‘I’? Imagination? Intuition?

It is actually simple. One starts from the other end, from the viewpoint of the pure consciousness experience … which all humans have had at some stage in their life. A PCE is a spontaneous moment wherein everything and everyone is seen for what it is, including oneself. All is suddenly revealed to be already perfect and in its rightful place ... ‘I’ and ‘my’ world-view have become irrelevant and there is no longer a sense of ‘being’. Everything is simply here as-it-is, no longer needing the support of any ‘presence’. The ‘Mystery of Life’ has been penetrated, albeit briefly. It is important to realise that a peak experience is not to be confused with an Aesthetic Experience, a Spiritual Revelation, a Religious Vision, an Intellectual Insight, or an Emotional Intuition. It is in a category of its own. It may last for only a few seconds or it may stretch into minutes ... many people have had it last for hours. It does not matter how long, what matters is what one does with it. The experience is indelibly locked away in memory but is generally overlooked in the press of everyday life. Yet it works away, giving rise to thoughts such as ‘there must be more to life than this’, or something similar. It is what drives ‘humanity’ on to seek a better way of living, a better way of doing whatever it is that humans are all doing whilst being here on this planet. The search for fulfilment stems from the PCE, for humans all know, or hope, that it must surely come about some day. Why not make that day now? Why not stop procrastinating and putting it off into some imagined future? Richard’s Journal, 1997, Article Fifteen

One can induce a peak experience – with practice on a daily basis – by pure contemplation based securely on the previous PCE’s. One of the main characteristics of the peak experience is purity. An unimaginable purity permeates the whole of existence, showering its blessing over all and sundry. From the condition of being ‘human’, one can plug into that purity with a pure intent. Pure intent is the connection between the intimate aspect of oneself, that one usually keeps hidden away for fear of seeming foolish, and the purity of the peak experience. In ‘normal’ life one avoids acting in a way that invites scorn from the insensitive philistines, who would rather perpetuate misery than admit they were wrong in their judgement on life, but the time eventually comes when one can stay quiescent no longer. The urge wells up to penetrate into the ‘Mystery of Life’, to find that ultimate fulfilment, and to achieve peace-on-earth. Pure intent is the highway to this utter freedom, to one’s destiny ... and it is a wide and wondrous path.

The peak experience provides an objective standpoint to view the identity from. It is easily seen from here that ‘I’ stand in the way of ultimate fulfilment ... of ‘my’ destiny. Pure contemplation is the means to provide one with repeated opportunities to make this examination thorough; all doubt is removed and only surety remains. This is the only way one will be convinced that ‘I’ must vanish altogether. This is why I can say, confidently, that the ‘death of the ego’ is not sufficient, for it only means substituting an impersonal ‘I’ – now called ‘Being’ – for the personal ‘I’. ‘Being’, whether it goes with a capital to denote Divinity or not, means an ‘I’ is still in existence. Therefore the ‘death of the ego’ people’s ‘discoveries’ about the fate of ‘humanity’ are questionable, to say the least, and their ‘solutions’ to life’s problems are equally suspect. Unless there is an end to ‘being’, which is what death is, one cannot say one has penetrated into the ‘Mystery of Life’, one has not found ultimate fulfilment, one has not achieved peace-on-earth. One is only fooling oneself – and some other gullible people – if one is so easily satisfied. Richard’s Journal, 1997, Article Fifteen

In order to facilitate a peak experience happening, one needs to see the place pride and humility plays in one’s life. ‘I’ am proud of ‘my’ major achievement … which is maintaining ‘myself’ as an identity. ‘I’ will do anything but relinquish ‘my’ grip on this flesh-and-blood body, including humbling ‘myself’ before some God in order to ameliorate the pernicious effects of pride. However, humility is merely the antidote to pride … and they feed off each other, continuously. For example, one cannot but feel proud of one’s accomplishment of self-abasing humility ... it is in the nature of the entity to do so. A humbled self is still a self, nonetheless, leaving one proud of one’s performance. When one realises how silly all this is; when one sees that pride and humility are standing in the way of freedom from all self-centred activity, something astounding occurs. ‘I’ vanish. I am simply here where I have always been ... and pride, with its companion in arms, humility, has disappeared along with all the other feelings. I am free to be here now in the world as-it-is. Unadorned and unencumbered, I can stand on my own two feet, owing allegiance to no-one.

Although each pure consciousness experience brings a fresh beginning, an absolute newness, the condition of freedom from ‘I’ has indubitable character traits ... each time discovered anew with the same delight as if it were the first time. With each experience one finds oneself here in this ever-fresh, never contaminated moment. Here is an atmosphere free from ‘human’ feelings, from ‘humanity’s truisms, from religion’s morals and from civilisation’s mores ... all of which are humanistic and cultural coping-mechanisms and agreements. There is a delicious surprise to be found in actualism: it is so liveable. It is living, here on earth, as this actual body, simply brimming with sensory organs … yet completely devoid of emotions and passions manifesting as hallucinatory thoughts and utopian idealism. It is indeed possible to live peacefully, at ease and undisturbed by these futile feelings and delusive thoughts. Richard’s Journal, 1997, Article Seventeen

Apperceptive awareness can be evoked by paying exclusive attention to being alive now. This moment is one’s only moment of being alive … one is never alive at any other time than now. And, wherever one is, one is always here … even if one starts walking over to there, along the way to there one is always here … and when one arrives ‘there’, it too is here. Thus attention becomes a fascination with the fact that one is always here … and it is already now. Fascination leads to reflective contemplation. As one is already here, and it is always now … then one has arrived before one starts. The potent combination of attention, fascination, reflection and contemplation produces apperception, which occurs when aware happens of itself. Apperception is an awareness of consciousness. It is not ‘I’ being aware of ‘me’ being conscious; it is the mind’s awareness of itself. Apperception – a way of seeing that is arrived at by reflective and fascinating contemplative thought – is when ‘I’ cease thinking and thinking takes place of its own accord. Such a mind, being free of the ‘thinker’ and the ‘feeler’ – ‘I’ as ego and soul – is capable of immense clarity and purity.

All this is born only out of pure intent. Pure intent is derived from the PCE experienced during a peak experience, which all humans have had at some stage in their life. A peak experience is when ‘I’ spontaneously cease to ‘be’, temporarily, and this moment and place is here and now. Everything is seen to be perfect as-it-is. Diligent mindfulness paid to the peak experience gives rise to pure intent. With pure intent running as a ‘golden thread’ through one’s life, reflective contemplation rapidly becomes more and more fascinating. When one is totally fascinated, reflective contemplation becomes pure awareness ... and then apperception happens of itself. With apperception operating more or less continuously in ‘my’ day-to-day life, ‘I’ find it harder and harder to maintain credibility. ‘I’ am increasingly seen as the usurper, an alien entity inhabiting this body and taking on an identity of its own. Mercilessly exposed in the bright light of awareness – apperception casts no shadows – ‘I’ can no longer find ‘my’ position tenable. ‘I’ can only live in obscuration, where ‘I’ lurk about, creating all sorts of mischief.

‘My’ time is speedily coming to an end, ‘I’ can barely maintain ‘myself’ any longer. Richard’s Journal, 1997, Article Eighteen