Christoph is a native of Switzerland, where he studied, as an undergraduate, psychology, philosophy and religion. At age twenty-five, he left his country and arrived in the United States with the intention to become a Zen Buddhist monk. Two years later, he was compelled to leave that path and thereafter took up the study of Sufism under the tutelage of an Iranian master teacher. This was followed by a year-long sojourn through India and his engagement with Tibetan Buddhism. Read more on his website sourcepointintegral.com

Putting "Integral"
into Language

Or the Mind-Space of Consciousness

Christoph Schaub

Language is the water of human life that speaks to the numinous nature of the mind. In order to gain insight into the numinous nature of the mind, we have to let language take its own course, which is much harder to do than it sounds, because letting-be cannot be done.

Introduction

A human holon represents a phenomena that is whole in itself (our individual person), while it is equally part of another phenomena (our shared reality). The defining characteristic or quality of a human holon is language, which is the matrix of the mind-space. The mind-space is the perceptual organ of consciousness that, as Ken Wilber defines it in Integral Spirituality, is not “a content or a phenomena. It has no description. It is not worldviews, it is not values, it is not morals, not cognition, not value-MEMEs, mathematico-logico structures, adaptive intelligences, or multiple intelligences. Consciousness is the emptiness, the openness, the clearing in which phenomena arise” (p. 68).

Our awareness of consciousness—the emptiness, the openness, the clearing in which phenomena arise— reaches as far and deep as our in-sight into our human reality of being goes, to which our language speaks. Language, being the matrix of the mind-space—the perceptual organ of consciousness—is the pattern that connects, to use a term coined by Gregory Bateson. Language, in other words, is consciousness in-action; language not only speaks to, but also defines our awareness of consciousness. We are aware of consciousness due to language and not the other way around. Language is to consciousness what the different spheres of creation are to our human life; those sphere being the physioshere, biosphere, noosphere and theosphere, which we have become aware or self-conscious of due to revealed in-sights that speak to and equally define their mind-space. These in-sights of our natural, biological, humanistic and spiritual or transcendental sciences define the mind-space of the physio-, bio-, noo- and theosphere respectively, as illustrated in the following diagram:

Consciousness is to language what perspective is to re-cognition, or our phenomenological experience is to our conceptual understanding; neither of which exists without the other. They are, in other words, interdependent and tetra-emerge together; and the same applies to the four spheres of life we are currently aware of as a people. Consciousness is not only the overarching or underlying emptiness, the openness, the clearing in which phenomena arise, consciousness is equally a quality of life. Consciousness is the matrix of our interdependent relationships; consciousness and matter are one; or, put differently, matter is the gross-manifestation of consciousness, just like re-cognition, language and consciousness are the subtle, casual and non-dual apprehension thereof. The mind-space of consciousness is trans-disciplinary; the mind-space of consciousness does not relate to one of the four spheres into which our human life can be distinguished. The mind-space of consciousness is what “integral” is about, as defined and articulated in language by such luminaries as Jean Gebser, Sri Aurobindo and Ken Wilber. Wilber's articulation of “integral” is the most fundamental and, to that end, also the most accessible. His articulation of the integral mind-space of consciousness relates to the gross level, while that of Jean Gebser and Sri Aurobindo relate to the subtle and casual levels, respectively. None of these levels is more accurate or inclusive than another; they are simply different in relation to each other. Natural science is not more accurate or inclusive than biological, humanistic or spiritual sciences and the same applies to language, perspective, re-cognition and consciousness, or “we,” “I,” “me” and “it” that signify the four fundamental dimensions of the integral mind-space of consciousness, into which our human apprehension of being can be differentiated.

When we say “I” in language, we speak to our phenomenological experience, not to be confused with our cognitive apprehension thereof, which correlates to “me.” “I” is subjective in relation to “me,” which is objective in relation to “I.” This doesn't imply, however, that “me” is the objective reality of “I,” because “I” doesn't signify the same reality as “me.” In contrast, “it” speaks to our shared reality, as does “we.” The shared reality of our inter-subjective mind-space is language, whereas the shared reality of our inter-objective mind-space is consciousness. The inter-objective reality we were aware as Neanderthals, for instance, was different than the inter-objective reality we share nowadays; not because we live on a different planet or reside in a different cosmos, but because our integral mind-space of consciousness has evolved; it has become more differentiated. When we speak of consciousness, we don't talk about our sensate perspective, or “I;” we don't talk about our cognitive apprehension, or “me;” nor do we talk about our shared understanding, or “we.” When we speak of consciousness, we speak of our integral mind-space of consciousness that defines and informs our shared reality.

Consciousness isn't the inside of language, but the emptiness, the openness, the clearing in which language arises. Consciousness is to language what in-sight is to the mind-space. In-sight is derived from being aware of “what is;” in-sight doesn't prove anything, because in-sight doesn't speak to that. In-sight is neither fact nor construct; in-sight arises where meeting takes place and seeing happens; in-sight emerges where we touch into the source of creation. In-sight speaks to the luminous nature of the mind-space, the perpetual organ of the interdependent relationships of consciousness, as expressed through language.

The Quadrants in Perspective

Thinking that we know what we are talking about when we express ourselves in language is different than seeing the structure our verbalized thoughts are based on and speak to. Our thoughts have us believe that we know who we are, which is why we think that we know what we are talking about when we express ourselves in language. Our thoughts give us a base to stand upon, but our thoughts are not the person we consider ourselves to be. Our thoughts are a construct, in contrast to our felt-sense experience, which isn't conceptual, but phenomenological. “I” and “me” speak to two different realities of our human being. While “I” is the first-person perspective of our felt-sense, the second-person perspective of such can't be “me;” because “me” is conceptual. “Me” doesn't speak to our phenomenological experience, but to our cognitive apprehension of our individual person. Similarly, confusing “me” with “it” is like confusing a holon with an artifact. The difference being that we can work on a car, but if we try to do the same in relation to our body, it will be very painful, without anesthesia, because our body isn't an artifact; our body isn't an “it,” our body is a “me.” “It” speaks to artifacts concerning our exterior life, as well as our shared worldviews, truths and consciousness in relation to the interior dimension of the mind.

“It” is not the objective reality of “I,” that is the designation of “me;” “it” is the objective reality of “we,” which is both intra- and inter-subjective, depending whether we look from the individual or collective perspective that defines a human holon. “It” is also both intra- and inter-objective, yet “it” never represents objective truth. Truth of any kind is inter-dependent; thinking otherwise is the root of dualism, which has us believe that we and life are two different things. Neither we nor life are things; life isn't an artifact; if it were, we could separate ourselves from it, which we can't. Life isn't the thing we think it is and the same applies to us; we are not a thing, even if we are used to thinking so. Things don't feel, talk, suffer and smile; things are the artifacts we create, as a people, to make our life more comfortable; these are the only things that exist from the perspective of the mind-space of consciousness.

What are we talking about when we talk about life? We talk about us and no one else. We don't talk about a thing that exists out there, or a reality that is separate from us, unless we are dead, which we would have to be in order to objectively talk about life. Whatever we can say about life is shared; which speaks to the dialogical principle of language—the matrix of the mind-space. Mind isn't a concept, but the perceptual organ of consciousness. Mind is what our thoughts are based on; mind is from where our ideas are derived that speak to our in-sight of consciousness. Denying the reality of mind is like disputing that we are capable of insight. Denying the reality of mind is like arguing that we are devoid of self-awareness, or claiming that humanity doesn't really exist. Humanity can neither be reduced to biology, nor made sense of in relation to God. Biology doesn't define our human nature and neither does the reality of God. We self-define our humanity in-the-making. Our humanity isn't a finished product; it evolves and develops, like life, because life and our humanity are one. This isn't a construct, but a fact.

Looking at life from the same perspective as everyone else does doesn't enable us to look at it differently. Looking at life differently than we are used to, requires that we change our perspective and look at life from a different angle. If we look at life from the perspective that everyone else does, it shouldn't surprise us that we see, more or less, what everyone else does. How could it be otherwise? Looking at life differently means that we have to change our perspective, because we can't look at life differently from the same perspective we always look at it. This makes sense, doesn't it? Looking outside from a window inside our house is different than standing outside our house to look at the outside. From inside the house, everyone wants us to look out through the same window and, in order to belong, most of us will do exactly that. If, on the other hand, we stand outside the house and see, through the window, children inside playing with matches, who ignore our arm waving and shouts of warning, then we may have no other choice but to break the window and run the risk of being charged as a child molester.

We inquire into life to the degree it serves us, which is like lighting a camp fire and leaving it unattended; such is the state of our humanity. In effect, we try to extinguish the fire we caused in our absent-mindedness, by fanning the flames. Or, to use another metaphor, we all run to the same exit door in a movie theatre when someone shouts “fire;” remaining seated in this situation goes against our human conditioning, which is why everyone runs to the same exit door in spite of knowing better. The next day, those who made it can read in the paper the number of people who were trampled to death when a fire was announced in a movie theatre; each one of them will think the same, namely “Thank God I wasn't one of those.” And then we carry on with our life as if nothing ever happened and complain about how boring our life has become. In turn, we project our hopes, dreams, fears and morbid thoughts onto a movie screen, to be entertained and further hypnotized by them, while the fire we once lit still burns. But who cares about that? We care about life to the extent is serves us and everything beyond that we choose to ignore. This is how deep our compassion goes. This is how inclusive our compassion is for our humanity; and we wonder why we are in conflict with each other, because we are in conflict with ourselves. We endorse a life which we are not really a part of; we look at life as if we were excluded from it; hence, we strive for all the things we want and consider important to us. This is the prison we live in and even though the prison door is open, we won't leave, because we feel safe therein and, to that effect, we learn to cope. Coping doesn't lead to happiness, or fulfillment; coping is like trying to swim with a big rock bound to our foot. Coping is derived from fear; coping has us swim like a dog whose only objective it is not to drown, but that isn't the purpose for which human life has emerged, after millions of years of evolution. Human life hasn't arisen so that we can spend it treading water like a dog, metaphorically speaking. If the only pursuit in our life is not to drown, then what is the point of living in the first place? Is it to suffer, because we believe that life is suffering, as Buddha proclaimed? Is it to hope to achieve our dreams, so that we can live a better life than the one we have—or are had by?

Just reflect for a moment: What does being alive amount to for you? Why do you live and for what purpose? What informs your decision-making and what defines your meaning-making? What is it that you hope to achieve and to what end? Does being alive mean to live only for ourselves, or look out for ourselves alone? We may truly believe that we watch out for others as well, but to what extent? If we had to decide between “us” and “them,” who would we choose and why? Failing to ask such questions causes us to create circumstances where we are faced with them. Life isn't a recess or vacation; it's a learning-in-the-making, if we are willing to step into the river of life rather than simply judging its current from the shore. Life isn't some thing we study and learn about; life and we are one; life and we are inter-dependent and co-arising. Life isn't out there, nor in here, for life is at both places at once. Life is neither subjective, nor objective; life is inter-objective, just like language is inter-subjective. Language is inter-personal; language happens between you and me, us and them, and all of us. Language is always about “we” and, to that end, language is always culturally conditioned, in contrast to mathematics. There is no language-neutral expression of words, unless we believe in this myth. Language is always inter-subjective and, to that end, is conditioned by the perspective we hold. We can't step beyond language, unless we are silent; that's the only way we can step beyond language; stepping beyond language involves the cessation of all our thoughts. Language is of the perceptual organ of the mind-space. Language's brother is mathematics, her mother is Eros; her brother's father is called Logos. The handmaid of Eros is Chairos; and the advisor to Logos is Telos. Charios' home is the ego; Telos' residence is self-consciousness.

Language isn't simply a container in which we can put whatever stuff we want to talk about, because such a structure-less container doesn't exist. In other words, all content has a structure, whether or not we are aware of it. When expressing ourselves in language, we usually focus exclusively on the content or the subject matter in question; we seldom, if ever look at the structure on which our verbalized thoughts are based and speak to. Looking at the structure of our verbalized thoughts isn't the same as analyzing or de-constructing them, which is what a linguist does. Looking isn't analyzing; looking at the sea of language or the ocean of words, metaphorically speaking, doesn't mean we analyze its letters, syntax, grammar et cetera. Looking is visual, while analyzing is thinking. Thinking compares; looking contrasts. Looking isn't the same as thinking; looking transcends and includes it. Looking is aperspective in nature; it puts our perspectives into perspective. Looking cannot be imagined, because looking has to be seen in order to understand what it represents. Looking is like seeing our reflection in a mirror without having to look into it. Looking is like seeing our own echo while we speak.

Seeing and Thinking

Seeing isn't a construct and the same goes for our phenomenological reality of being. Seeing isn't thinking, feeling or imagining; seeing is different. In the mind-space of consciousness, seeing is to re-cognize the structure our verbalized thoughts are based on and speak to. The seeing spoken of here isn't that of our physical eyes, which relate to our biosphere; the seeing referred to here is that of the eyes of the mind-space of consciousness. Thinking is blind, because thinking doesn't see. Thinking that we see is a delusion of the mind. Thinking isn't what the vision of the mind's eyes amounts to; thinking is blind, which is why we believe that our constructs, which are derived from own thinking, are real. Thinking has its place, like everything else that has arisen in this universe. Thinking isn't right, wrong or something that we have to overcome. Thinking is foundational to seeing, but seeing isn't thinking. Seeing involves thoughts, which are the structures language is based on or, put differently, language is the structure our thoughts consist of. Thoughts are to our mind what the breath is to our body and what seeing is to our phenomenological reality of being. Seeing transcends thoughts, but we have to see that in order to understand it.

Seeing is an integral aspect of any forth person or fourth dimensional perspective; seeing puts anyone who is capable of assuming a forth person or fourth dimensional perspective in a paradoxical position, because seeing isn't personal, it's trans-personal. Seeing doesn't invalidate our personality, but it equally includes and transcends it. Seeing doesn't focus on our opinions, philosophies, concepts and theories; instead, seeing focuses on the structure of our thoughts, as they are expressed in language—the relational dimension of our human being. Seeing isn't a self-defined construct; seeing isn't a thought-product. Seeing is like talking, the only difference being that seeing is non-verbal. Seeing is to talking what language is to thought. We don't say that we're “going to the sky” after we depart from here, we say we're “going to heaven”, should we believe in this particular kind of after-life. Heaven and sky don't signify the same thought and the same applies to language and consciousness, and every other word there is. Words aren't simply defined by the context in which they exist; words have an ontology of their own, they aren't empty; they have a root and history like we do; they co-evolve with us and speak to our consciousness in-the-making. Words aren't merely a signifier, a mental representation, an abstraction of, or metaphor for our embodied life; words aren't a thing from which we can separate ourselves; words are the blood of our mind, the bones of our re-cognition and the nerves of our perspective. Words speak to the reality of consciousness in-the-making; words are a reflection of the inter-dependent arising of creation; words are the hardware of language and the microchip of consciousness. Words are the information that the reality of mind consists of; words are the mirrors in which we see the mind-space reflected. Words are the foundation of our human nature.

Words are to our mind what the blood in our veins is to our heart. Words are the only picture or negative we have of consciousness and without them, consciousness wouldn't be known to us, because we wouldn't be cognizant, or aware of it. We know of consciousness due to our ability to talk and self-define who we are. Language is the stuff our thoughts are made of. Language is the matrix of the mind, just as the body is the matrix of our embodied consciousness, which is, in turn, the matrix of spirit, or that which resides beyond consciousness. Body, mind, spirit, and our re-cognition thereof tetra-emerge; they are, in other words, inter-dependent. Spirit is unborn, unconditioned and uncreated, because the reality of life begins and ends with consciousness; spirit, or whatever we want to call it, transcends it. The forth-person or forth dimensional perspective of language is self-aware of its own reality in-the-making, which is impossible to imagine without having reached there, because all our imaginations are self-constructed; all of them are derived from our own self-projected thoughts. We can't imagine, by ourselves, what lies beyond ourselves, even if we think we can. We cannot imagine what that which transcends our self looks like, because whatever we imagine is derived from our self-based or self-constructed imaginations. Assuming a forth-person perspective of language comes at the price of our self-constructed identity and is similar to walking on water, or trying to catch our shadow or a fish with our bare hands. Bidding farewell to our self-constructed identify is, quite literally, mind-boggling; it is like falling in a bottom-less well, or becoming immersed in space, lacking any concrete form. It is sur-real, at first, until we start to re-cognize that previously we were sleep-walking; this doesn't mean that we are awake upon departure from our self-constructed identity, which puts us in a no-man's-land where we belong neither there nor here. Not belonging anywhere is when we learn to understand and see, from the inside-out, that the fourth-person perspective of language is trans-personal; trans-rational; trans-literal and aperpective in nature.

Thinking that we can assume a forth-person perspective of language is different than actually taking it. Taking a forth-person perspective of language enables us to see thought-patterns, which is similar to observing how someone thinks. Speaking to a person's thought-patterns is different than responding to their stories, concepts and philosophies that they communicate in language. Speaking to a person's thought-pattern comes at the risk of being accused of not understanding or listening to them; when, in fact, we are seeing not what, but how they think. Seeing happens much faster than our thoughts can comprehend, because seeing is immediate, in contrast to thinking, which requires a lot of work on our part; although a lot of work is also required if we attempt to appropriately translate our seeing into language without causing an uproar. This was demonstrated by Jesus, for instance, who challenged the thought-patterns of his compatriots, because he could see them. He challenged their linear thinking and put it into a circular perspective, which is self-referential; circularity cannot be argued with a linear mind. Circularity is paradoxical, which is what seeing and the bidding farewell to our self-constructed identity are about, in that they require us to die to ourselves. This is not as easy as it may sound; it isn't as easy as simply pulling a plug and being done with it. Dying to ourselves is what our human life is about, which doesn't mean that we begin our life by dying to it. Dying comes after we have self-actualized ourselves; dying comes after we have self-defined who we are. Dying to ourselves is the process that awakening to our true nature amounts to. Dying to ourselves comes at the price of our own self-defense. Dying to ourselves happens to us naturally, if we allow life to take its course. We can't die to ourselves while grasping after it; this is not what dying to ourselves entails. Dying to ourselves is what Jiddu Krishnamurti's teaching is about. Dying to ourselves is to let go of what we want, but not because we want to let go of it, but because we can no longer hold on to it. Dying to ourselves is like being banned from whatever life has to offer us, because whatever life offers us no longer fulfills, satisfies and contains us. Dying to ourselves happens in relationship. Dying to ourselves is an exercise in patience that, for some, can feel like hell.

Hanging onto ourselves can be a different sort of hell. For instance, re-acting indignantly if someone questions our constructs is, in essence, indicative of our own unacknowledged arrogance or disowned narcissism rather than to any kind of second-tier level of human development. However, re-acting indignantly is a natural, meaning conditioned, response to someone questioning our self-defined constructs if they don't first explain to us why they do that. It is natural to re-act this way, because it is human to defend our position and argue our mind-set or perspective; it is a necessary step or behavior concerning our human development, because we are not born to be like lemmings, nor are we meant to die like sheep that blindly follow the butcher to slaughter. Defending our position and arguing our perspective is healthy; unless we pretend that we don't argue our mind-set or claim that we don't defend our position; in which case we pretend to know the truth, while the opinions we have of ourselves actually prevent us from seeing what we are prevented from seeing. Seeing isn't derived from our own opinions, thoughts, pictures and constructs; seeing doesn't care about us; it doesn't care what we think about ourselves or how we are viewed by others; seeing doesn't focus on that, nor even look at it. Seeing has its own blindness; seeing doesn't mean that we have reached enlightenment. On the contrary, seeing enables us to see how self-delusional our self-defined constructs are. Seeing is a very humbling experience that continuously forces us to decide whether we want to buy into our self-delusional constructs or whether we are willing to look at them for the benefit of all of us. Seeing isn't developmental, because it does not pertain to our humanity in-the-making; seeing speaks to our true nature; seeing speaks to how we express ourselves in language; seeing listens to how we articulate and define ourselves. Seeing, the forth-person or forth dimensional perspective of language, isn't informed, nor defined by thinking, but rather by listening; seeing isn't imaginative or metaphorical, it is quite the opposite; seeing is devoid of content.

Seeing is cultivated through listening, introspection and inquiry. Seeing isn't derived from knowledge, but knowledge is needed in order to listen, from which seeing is derived. Knowledge, as in learning, facilitates cognitive development, which involves more than thinking. Cognition isn't something that we can cultivate, as such, for cognition is intrinsic to creation, like language, perspective and consciousness. There are myriad lines of cognitive development; as many as there are genes in our body. Mozart's genius, for example, speaks to his cognitive development in terms of music, while Magic Johnson's artistry in basketball speaks to his cognitive development in terms of athletics, whereas Einstein's theorem of physics speaks to his cognitive development in terms of mathematics. Wilber's integral theory speaks to his cognitive development in terms of consciousness, while Picasso's paintings speak to his cognitive development in terms of perspective. Gandhi's non-violent activism speaks to his cognitive development in terms of relationship, just as the current Dalai Lama's contentment speaks to his cognitive development in terms of our phenomenological experience. In contrast, the revelations of the bearers of our spiritual traditions speak to our cognitive development in terms of our ontological awareness as human beings. Said differently, Mozart expressed his cognitive development through music, Picasso through his paintings and Gandhi through his non-violent activism. Cognition isn't limited to thinking, yet we are used to thinking so, even if we claim otherwise. Mozart's music wouldn't be perceived as beautiful if it hadn't been logical and the same goes for Picasso's painting and Gandhi's non-violent activism.

Cognition is intrinsic to creation and, therefore, innate to all aspects of life. Just as we can't divorce re-cognition from our phenomenological experience, so we can't divorce language from perspective-taking, or relating from the world we share together as a people. Relating is being-in-language, just like inter-acting is being embodied. Awareness is being-in-consciousness, just like meaning making is being-in-cognition. This can be challenging to understand without the proper foundation, which is what the rest of this essay is about. The perspective taken and presented herein transcends and includes the subject-object division, which is central when looking at life from an observant, or biologically-based, perspective. Assuming a perspective that is different than our own requires that we step into the shoes of the person whose perspective we attempt to take; assuming another person's perspective requires some effort on our part, which is, in part, the process of taking off our own shoes. Assuming another person's perspective from our own perspective isn't what perspective-taking entails. Taking the perspective of another person is not as easy as it sounds. All most of us ever do is take another person's perspective according to our own perspective, but this is not perspective-taking. Perspective-taking depends on our willingness to take off our own shoes. In the world we live in, the less educated are usually the ones who are expected to walk in the shoes of others, while the more educated people tell them how to do it; this is like burdening a child with the unresolved issues of his or her parents—this is the world in which we live, yet we act surprised when we run into conflicts. Leading others involves role-modeling, not buying the biggest house on the market. Earning a billion dollars doesn't make us a leader, it merely means that we are rich. Leading is bowing down to those who entrust us with their leadership; as, for instance, role-modeled by Jesus, Jimmy Carter and Nelson Mandela, the latter serving a good part of his life in prison in order to lead his people out of apartheid.

Leadership isn't derived from the social role we occupy in our life; if this defines our leadership, we are merely following our self-defined constructs, which isn't what leadership is about. Leading entails following our insights to the extent we can logically communicate them to the people we lead. Invading others for the sake of our own security may make sense to us rationally, but it logically amounts to suicide, because security isn't derived from causing harm to others, but through cultivating peace within ourselves. Dropping a bomb on those we don't like isn't how peace is cultivated, but how we start an endless war. Peace necessitates that we transcend our self-based constructs from which our conflicts are derived. Peace, like language, consciousness, perspective and re-cognition isn't merely an idea, but an intrinsic qualify of life; if it were otherwise, we wouldn't long for it. Peace speaks to our thirst for harmony, which isn't a construct, but, like love, an innate quality of life. Harmony isn't a self-defined idea, nor a self-based ideology; harmony isn't to be confused with unity or insight. Harmony isn't a thought, feeling or picture, but an experience. Harmony arises when we no longer grasp for the things we want in body, mind and spirit. Harmony is the result of transcending our self-directed life, yet this isn't something that we can do, because none of us owns our life. Being alive is conflictual, which is how we grow and evolve, both as an individual and a people. Being alive is being-in-language; being alive is dialogical and co-creative. Being alive is to be of service, according to the role we occupy in life. Being alive is collaborative; being alive is about sharing. Being alive is about learning—learning who we are; who is this human being we call “I,” “me,” “you,” “we,” “they,” “us” and “all of us” Who are we in body, mind and spirit? What is the purpose for our being-in-this world?

If we reply to those questions by referring to a construct, whether it's a map of consciousness or a revelation from on high, then we disown who we are, because we aren't a construct…are we? Believing in maps of consciousness and revelations from on high defeats the purpose for which they came into existence. Believing is what we do when we dispense with inquiry; believing is what we do when we refrain from questioning our own assumptions, constructs and philosophies we subscribe to. Believing is what we do when we let others carry our own responsibility for being human. Our beliefs speak to the stage of consciousness we have evolved to, be it as an individual or a collective. Believing that rationality is the alpha and omega of life is no different than believing that Jesus died for our sins. Believing that “integral” is the answer to our worldly problems is no different than believing in the arrival of some superhuman being who will resolve all our conflicts. Believing is what we do to cope with “what is.” “Coping,” to cite Robert Kegan's In Over Our Head, “amounts to directing one's energies to live better in the world as one constructs it, rather than directing one's energies to reconstructing it.” If we consider “integral” a map of consciousness, we can't simply learn and teach it as a construct, for that is what a belief system amounts to, not a map of consciousness. We can't have it both ways; we can't believe that we are highly evolved, yet act utterly indignant if someone questions our unexamined worldview. “Integral” deludes many of us into thinking that we are more highly developed than we actually are, which doesn't serve anybody, save for those who blindly subscribe to integral philosophy, as articulated by Ken Wilber. “Integral” is both a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because it inspires collaboration across disciplines and fields of knowledge; a curse because it can prevent us from inquiring into “what is,” which we don't do if we already have a belief or concept about it. Inquiry is the opposite of what we already know. Inquiry isn't explanatory, but inquisitive. Inquiry begins with the question “If...”

High Altitude

If we believe that we have evolved to turquoise, to use one of the colors of Wilber's altitude markers what do we mean by that? It is easy to answer with an explanation of what Wilber's altitude markers represent, which he references in Integral Spirituality “as a general marker of development [that] allows us to refer to general similarities across the various lines” (p.67-8). However, it's a different affair to name what these altitude markers signify (see Center of Gravity—Or Questioning the Obvious for a more in-depth elaboration on this subject). Thinking that we have evolved to turquoise doesn't mean anything, unless we believe that our center of gravity can be reduced to lines; but then where does that leave the quadrants, which are more fundamental than lines? Prior to talking about developmental lines, we have to know what dimension of awareness or sphere of reality we are we talking about; otherwise, we are bound to reduce life to our particular perspective and, to that end, explain the entirety of life according to the one-dimensional perspective we hold; which is equally done in science, spirituality, philosophy and art. Sciences reduce the entirely of life to matter; spirituality to God or the transcendental; philosophy to reason; and art to love. Wilber's monumental and breathtaking work, his integral philosophy, in short, addresses those one-dimensional perspective wars by putting them into an all-quadrant framework or map of consciousness. What Wilber doesn't address is the perspective his map of consciousness assumes, given that every map presents a particular perspective and “integral” is no exception to this rule.

If “integral” is a map of consciousness, as claimed, then consciousness needs to be defined, which Wilber did, as cited above. But what does his definition of consciousness amount to? We may not want to ask ourselves such questions, but this is what inquiry entails. Inquiry isn't simply believing in a construct; regardless how complex or mind-boggling it is, or how inclusive and all-embracing it presents itself to be. Every map, of whatever kind, is partial. This is why we need to define the territory our map is supposed to represent, otherwise our map amounts to next to nothing more than a construct or mind-fuck. While this certainly doesn't apply to Wilber's integral map of consciousness, which we can't really understand without having evolved to the level of consciousness it is derived from, it means that, simply put, we have to translate it for ourselves, otherwise claiming that we actually comprehend it is rather preposterous. Wilber's integral map is to consciousness what Einstein's theorem of relativity is to physics. Claiming to comprehend Einstein's theory of relativity by simply reading Fritjof Capra's book about it is as accurate as thinking that Wilber's integral theory can be understood by merely studying his books.

Wilber's map of consciousness isn't beyond or without any flaws; no construct is, because none of us are infallible. This doesn't mean that our contributions aren't valid; it simply means that we don't gain anything by blindly believing that a construct accurately depicts “what is;” no construct does. When we talk about consciousness, what sphere of consciousness do we refer to, which begs the question what consciousness is? Consciousness is the empty space in-between relationships; consciousness is the awareness of “what is.” Defining consciousness is a paradoxical undertaking, because we are embedded in it, which doesn't mean that consciousness is a container; just the opposite; it's the open space within it. Consciousness signifies the mind-space, of which we are aware in language. The mind-space of the Egyptians, for instance, looked different than the mind-space we nowadays share as a people; this doesn't imply that all of us look at life in the same way, but all of us are informed and defined by the same mind-space we share and co-create as a people. For example, the Aboriginals in Australia don't belong any more or less to our shared mind-space than the yuppies around the world, even though both are aware of life in entirely different ways. In other words, we have evolved to the point where this diversity or complexity of awareness isn't merely a thought or an idea, but an actual reality, which wasn't the case even a few hundred years ago when we believed that one day everyone would look at life in the way we do; a belief many people still subscribe to today. This belief is derived from the mind-space of modernity, where we distinguish life into us and them and where we are unable to re-cognize that human life cannot be separated in such a way.

From the perspective of the mind-space of the physio-, bio- and noosphere, the life we can observe is an “it,” as in the case of a cell, a rock or the dust of the universe. “It” is whatever we look at from the perspective of the mind-space of the noosphere. The same “it” becomes “me” in the context of the mind-space of consciousness, because what we look at through the eyes of language is “me.” Put differently, when we look at a cell in the context of language, we don't look at the cell, but the word it represents; we are looking, in other words, at an aspect of ourselves, because whatever we can name relates back to ourselves. From the perspective of the mind-space of consciousness, “it” speaks to the truths or validities we share as a people; “it,” in that respect, isn't objective, but inter-objective. In other words, “it” and objectivity don't go together, because “it” pertains to the lower right, whereas objectivity relates to the upper right quadrant, as will be further discussed in this paper. The things we consider valid, as a community, are inter-objective. Said differently, all the truths we subscribe to as a people are constructed. There is no objective truth out there independent of ourselves; the truths we refer to as objective are actually inter-objective, because they are shared; otherwise we couldn't refer to them. The truths we re-cognize as an individual, on the other hand, are the only objective truths there are; and they don't exist independent of us. The objective truth we are used to thinking about is really a myth, from the perspective of the mind-space of consciousness; it's a construct that is derived from dualism, which is the result of separation, not differentiation. Differentiating energy and matter, life and death, subject and object is not the same as separating those distinctions. Life cannot be separated from death; the same applies to energy and matter, subject and object. There is no objective truth out there independent of us, unless we believe in this construct. Becoming aware of the mental delusions we have created in the course of our evolution is not as easy as clutching constructs that have us believe that nothing happens to us after death, or that we go to heaven, or that we are reborn as, perhaps, another human being. Becoming aware of our mental constructs doesn't happen by subscribing to another one; this being the focus of Jiddu Krishnamurti's teaching—which never has, and probably will never be very popular because there is nothing to hang on to, believe in, practice, or do.

Human development, from the perspective of the mind-space of consciousness, is facilitated through inquiry; it doesn't happen by simply learning a theory to cope with “what is.” Knowing how to explain integral theory doesn't mean that we have ever inquired into it; just like being attracted to integral theory doesn't mean that we operate from turquoise, or that we have evolved beyond the mythic-rational or rational stage of consciousness. Human development is a highly intricate affair, much more complex than we are used to thinking and Wilber's integral theory speaks to this. Re-constructing our lives involves more than learning a construct or studying a map; re-constructing our lives is an undertaking we can't accomplish by ourselves, although there is always an exception to the rule. Re-constructing our lives happens in relationship and necessitates a teacher or a guide. Thinking otherwise ties us to our self-created constructs like a donkey that walks circles around the pole to which it is tied. “Integral” can't answer for us the question of who we are, be it as an individual or a collective; inquiry does.

Inquiry is the opposite of explaining. Inquiry holds space for the unknown to arise in all our relating, be it in body, mind or spirit. In contrast, believing doesn't leave any space for the unknown, because believing has us think that we already know who we are. Believing only holds space for our opinions, judgments and self-based thoughts, feelings and pictures. Believing is the antidote to, or inhibitor of inquiry and growth. Believing is how we cope with fear; believing is how we ward off God from entering our lives, for God doesn't reveal itself to us as long as we pretend to know what life is all about. Believing prevents learning from arising, because it stops with the known, or myths of the given. Believing isn't wrong; believing is necessary in order to evolve; believing, like language, is a double-edged sword. Before we can inquire into language, we have to learn its words, in the process of which we may become attached to them and, in turn, choose to forget all about the purpose language serves. Language isn't self-serving and the same applies to all our theories, concepts, maps of consciousness and revelations from on high.

I & Me

Life evolves in stages; life doesn't come into existence as a finished product; life is something in-the-making, according to how we approach, look at, are aware of and experience it. Life represents the sum total of all our activities; to make sense of them, we have to distinguish them accordingly, otherwise we are bound to invalidate one aspect of life over another. Such is the case of science and spirituality, which are equally true or valid yet pertain to different dimensions of our human existence. Science can't prove the truths found in spirituality, just as spirituality can't dispute the discoveries made in science; spirituality and science relate to different aspects or different realities of our human emergence. Spirituality is to science what “I” is to “me.” While we can easily understand that spirituality and science cover different aspects or truths of our human existence, comprehending the difference between “I” and “me” proves to be more difficult, which, from a certain perspective, lies at the root of the struggle between science and spirituality.

“Me” isn't the second-person perspective of “I;” “me” relates to an entirely different reality than “I.” “I” and “me” are co-dependent, which means one doesn't exist without the other; “I” and “me” belong together. “I” speaks to our phenomenological experience of being; like “me,” “I” is subjective. Our moment-to-moment experience in body, mind and spirit constitutes the first-person perspective of “I.” The second-person perspective of “I” is our self-conscious awareness of our phenomenological experience; while the third-person perspective relates to the witnessing of our immediate experience, as it arises and dissipates in each moment of life; whereas the forth-person perspective of “I” transcends language. “I,” in other words, resembles the fundamental perspective we have of life. Said differently, take “I” away and our perspective of life is gone as well. “I” is the veil through which we see life, and we experience life according to the color of our veil,, which doesn't mean that the first-, second-, third- and fourth-person perspectives of “I” ever change. The first-person perspective of “I” always pertains to our immediate experience of life; the second-person always relates to our self-conscious experience thereof; the third-person always speaks to our witnessing and the forth-person perspective of “I” always goes beyond language. “I,” simply put, represents our subjective perspective, in contrast to “me,” which speaks to how we make meaning of our perspective and how we put it into perspective. “I” answers to the question How am I?, which speaks to our sensate awareness of being, while “me” responds to Who am I? “I” and “me” address different realities of our human being; “I” speaks to our phenomenological experience; “me” to our cognitive interpretation and apprehension thereof.

Phenomenology and re-cognition are as distinct from each other as science and spirituality, or “I” and “me.” “Me” isn't a reality that we can access through our senses, because “me” is objective in relation to our phenomenological experience. “Me” is conceptual; “me” is conceptual. “Me” is the cognitive interpretation of our being-in-the-world, to which our representation of “me” speaks. The re-cognition of “me” is what distinguishes us from all the other sentient beings on this planet, which lack this particular ability to re-cognize themselves. Animals don't have a “me,” but rather are had by their “I,” which is why they can't put their own reality of being into perspective; and the same applies to a newborn baby, whose reality is all about “I,” although doesn't imply that “I” is all there is. “I” and “me” aren't merely linguistic distinctions; they also represent two entirely different, but interdependent, dimensions of life. “I” speaks to our phenomenological experience, while “me” expresses our cognitive apprehension thereof. If it were otherwise, we couldn't talk about either of them; as is the case with animals, which are unable to objectively look at themselves. Animals can't do so for lack of cognitive development, which is not to be confused with our phenomenological experience of being. Animals sense, taste, touch, breathe, smell and listen, in their own ways; animals have feelings and, to a certain degree, even think, but they cannot re-cognize themselves, due to their lack of cognitive development. In other words, what distinguishes us from animals is that we can re-cognize ourselves—what our “me” speaks to, according to the cognitive stage of development we have evolved to, as an individual person and a people.

The second-person perspective of animals is the human beings' ability to re-cognize itself and, to that end, we are more evolved than animals, as they lack this perspective; at least, to our knowledge and especially since no animal claims otherwise. Put differently, as an animal we have evolved to where we can assume a second-person perspective, which doesn't seem to be the case for any other animal on this planet. Claiming that we are a thinking animal implies that all other animals are devoid of thinking, which is similar to asserting that all animals, save for ourselves, lack a brain. The brain's function is to process information, which involves thinking, regardless of whether we are aware of it or not, as in the case of animals. What distinguishes us from animals is not so much our ability to think as it is our being aware of ourselves. Becoming aware of our self-awareness is the next step of human evolution; becoming aware of our self-awareness is to see beyond our constructs without invalidating them or simply judging them as a mirage—which is like stating that life is a dream while we are sleep waking. Our constructs inform us of what we are aware, just as they define the mind-space of our age. Dissing our constructs is similar to burning all our books and libraries; dissing our constructs is to not only negate our history, but also our ancestors who defined their constructs as meticulously as we define ours. Our mental constructs have us look at the world in a certain way; they define our perspective to the same extent that we define them. Our mental constructs don't reveal truth to us, because truth isn't a construct.

Stating that the second-person perspective of “I” is “me” is about as nonsensical, from the perspective of the mind-space of consciousness, as saying that the second-person perspective of spirituality is science, or that the second-person perspective of our phenomenological experience is re-cognition. When speaking of “me,” we talk about our interpretation of “I,” which means we talk about our cognitive apprehension of “I” and not of our objectified experience of “I.” The objectified experience of “I” relates to our witnessing of it, not to our interpretation thereof. In relation to “I,” or our phenomenological experience, “me” is objective in that “me” is conceptual and interpretative; “me” isn't derived from our sensory being-in-the world, but our re-cognition of it. “Me” doesn't speak to our experience, but our re-cognition. “Me” doesn't involve feelings, because “me” is conceptual and no concept of any kind involves feelings, even if we like to believe otherwise. “Me” is a construct of the mind rather than a reality of embodied life. “Me” is what numbers are to language, or what re-cognition is to feelings. Re-cognition is feeling-neutral. Re-cognition isn't the same as intelligence and can't be reduced to intellect, because cognition is their cause. Re-cognition is the defining principle of “me,” just like perspective is the defining principle of “I.” Re-cognition puts our perspective into perspective. Re-cognition can't be apprehended directly, like all principles or fundamental qualities of life, like, for instance, love. Re-cognition isn't a construct; it's the structure that defines constructs. Re-cognition isn't a concept; it's the quality that puts our concepts into perspective. Re-cognition is to “me” what experience is it to “I,” all of which co-arise. Take “me” away and “I” is gone as well; take our embodied experience away and re-cognition vanishes with it. This doesn't mean that “I” and “me” are the same; they are different, but interdependent, like man and woman, earth and sky or time and space.

Action-Logic in Perspective

The first-person perspective of “me” reflects how we put our cognitive apprehension of life into perspective. The first-person of “me” is as immediate or subjective as the first-person perspective of “I.” The first person of “me” is interpretive, which doesn't speak to how we experience life, but how we make meaning of it. The second-person perspective of “me,” which we can't re-cognize for ourselves because we are embedded in it, speaks to how we conceptualize life, or how we construct it in terms of our cognitive apprehension of “me.” In short, the second-person of “me” is self-referential. In other words, the second-person perspective of “me” relates to our action-logic, to use a term from Swiss scholar, Susanne Cook-Greuter—one of the leading authorities in the field of adult human development. The second-person perspective of “me” speaks to the structure on which our perspective-taking, not meaning-making, is based. This structure can be seen, as demonstrated by Cook-Greuter's research, which is not to be confused with her sentence-completion test that isn't value-neutral; no test of whatever kind that is based on language can make this claim, for language itself is culturally conditioned. Even if we don't pay attention to the content of language or what is communicated therein, but instead focus on how we articulate ourselves in language, this structure can change according to the question asked. What doesn't change, however, is our ability for perspective-taking, to which Cook-Greuter's action-logics speak. Our ability for perspective-taking doesn't change whether we talk about our family, country, worldview or what have you. We don't assume a one-dimensional perspective on our family while taking a three-dimensional one in regard to our morals or psychosexual development.

We essentially look at the world from the perspective by which we are had. For example, if we have evolved to the autonomist level in Cook-Greuter's development model, we approach life from this particular action-logic. This doesn't mean that we can't assume the perspective of a ”conformist,” but we will do so from the perspective of our autonomist action-logic and the same applies to higher levels of adult human development. We fundamentally look at the world from the perspective we have evolved to and we assume other people's perspectives from our own perspective as well. Taking another person's perspective involves more than simply walking in their shoes—or seeing where they are coming from; it also means conversing with them in such a way that they can understand us, according to their own level of development. This is an art that, like any art, requires of us a lot devotion to cultivate. Being highly cognitively evolved doesn't make us an artist; it doesn't mean that we can assume the perspectives of others simply due to our above average cognitive development. Introducing stage-structures to the uninitiated tends to lead to comparison and striving to operate from a higher action-logic than we do, which defeats the purpose of gaining insight into our perspective-taking. Put differently, we cannot become aware of the constructs that define our perspective by simply studying another construct that puts our perspective into perspective; to do so is like exchanging one's belief-system with another. If the only methodology we know is the Enneagram, Astrology, Cook-Greuter's action-logics or Beck's Spiral Dynamics, we are prone to conceptualize “what is” according to our methodology, which we have to hold lightly, because none of them encompass the whole; this also applies to “integral.” The subtleties of our mind are such that we easily attach ourselves to our constructs in order to feel secure and in control. Consciousness, however, isn't a construct; becoming aware of our self-awareness is to step beyond our thoughts, beliefs, opinions and philosophies that define and, in so doing, limit our awareness of “what is.”

The third-person perspective of “me” consists of the re-cognition of our own perspective. Re-cognizing our own perspective is like a mirror beholding its own reflection, which beholds its own reflection according to its shape. A round mirror beholds its own roundness, while a square mirror beholds its own squareness. Simply put, each mirror beholds its own shape or perspective, which means that each one of us, essentially, is capable of beholding or re-cognizing our own perspective according to the level of development we have evolved to as an individual person. At a lower level of development, the perspective we can behold is less complex or dimensional than at a higher level of cognitive development, which doesn't imply, however, that we can't re-cognize our own perspective at a lower level. Beholding our own one-dimensional perspective is no less or more valid than re-cognizing our own two-, three- or four-dimensional perspective. This is not to say that a one-dimensional perspective is equal to a two-dimensional perspective. Just like two apples feed more people than one, a two-dimensional perspective isn't better, but includes more and is more complex than a one-dimensional perspective. One-dimensionality is flat, whereas two-dimensionality is composed of height and width. Three-dimensionality also includes depth; and a four-dimensional perspective involves vision or the ability to see, which goes beyond language and, therefore, cannot be accurately described. A fifth dimensional perspective includes listening, or the ability to hear. Hearing is derived from the same source language originates. Language isn't separate from us and the same applies to hearing; language is to hearing what thoughts are to thinking.

Our ability to re-cognize our own perspective has to be distinguished from our action-logic, in the same way we distinguish second-person from third-person perspective in language. At each level of adult human development we have to learn to re-cognize the perspective we hold, which doesn't necessitate that we are cognizant of the currently mapped levels of conceptual development, nor does it imply that if we are aware of them that we can identify the level we operate upon ourselves; however, knowing about the map and identifying our own level can tremendously support our process of re-cognition. Gaining insight into our action-logic, facilitated through Cook-Greuter's sentence completion test, or leadership development profile (LDP), benefits us deeply, because it puts our immediate, cognitive apprehension of being or “me” into perspective for us; something we cannot do for ourselves, because we are embedded in it. Seeing the forest requires us to step out of it and climb to a higher elevation where the forest can be viewed. Neither being in it, nor simply stepping out of it gives us perspective on the forest; and the same applies to looking at “me” from a second-person perspective. We don't need to rely on a trail map to climb Mount Everest, nor do we have to listen to the weather report in order to do so, yet our chances of reaching its summit are exponentially greater if we consult the weather forecast and use a map for orientation in our ascent. Listening to the weather report and/or relying on a map for orientation doesn't make our journey easier or take anything away from our climbing experience, but they are advantageous for the successful accomplishment of our mission.

Gaining insight into our action-logic isn't done to determine how highly evolved we are, which is far more intricate to even roughly evaluate than we like to think; evolution can't be reduced to cognitive development. Re-cognition is one aspect of evolution; it isn't the whole—it's a quarter, at most. Gaining insight into our action-logic helps us to take a second-person perspective of how we put our cognitive apprehension of life into perspective; it helps us understand how we self-organize and facilitates our re-cognition of how we operate as a person. Gaining insight into our action-logic is similar to knowing our blood type, in that it isn't something that we can access according to how we act in the world. Knowing about our action-logic doesn't mean that we know how we make meaning; nor does it speak to our values, morals or worldview. Cognition doesn't evolve, as such, but our apprehension or re-cognition thereof does, which is important to keep in mind. Cognition, like love, is an intrinsic quality of life. Life's intrinsic qualities don't evolve, which doesn't imply that they are static; they aren't material, nor are they a mental construct. Life's intrinsic qualities simply are. We can't think of them as things; we can't picture them imaginatively, because all of life's intrinsic qualities are, in essence, empty. A quality isn't defined by its content, but by its insight; a quality, simply put, is trans-mental; we can name, but we cannot describe it, because whatever we say about it doesn't express it. Wisdom is a quality of life, but we cannot describe what wisdom is and the same applies to re-cognition, perspective, language and consciousness.

Re-cognition is value-neutral; no cognitive developmental level we operate upon is, essentially, better than another; they are simply different. A higher developmental level is more complex and more inclusive, but it isn't better. Better and worse are relational categories; they don't correspond to our individual being, but to the relational space we share and co-create with each other—given that we are not an island, nor the cause of our own existence. If we were, we could express who we are, something none of us can because our human nature transcends our individual person. Our human nature isn't self-caused; if it were, we could change it at will. That is a freedom of choice we don't have, for we are not self-caused; we neither gave birth to ourselves, nor do we exist independent from life; we are as an interdependent manifestation of creation, just as everything else there is. We aren't simply a thought of mind; we are equally embodied in flesh. We don't float around in space, but reside on this planet earth, as human beings who are self-conscious of our body-mind. “I” isn't independent of “me,” just like “me” isn't independent of “we” or “it.” “We” is the inter-subjective space we share and co-create together. “We,” intra-subjectively speaking, is to our individuality what “I” is to our phenomenological experience and what “me” is to our cognitive apprehension and interpretation thereof. “We” is both inter- as well as intra-personal. “We” is equally individual and collective, depending whether we look at ourselves from the individual or collective perspective of our human nature.

The Myth of Objective Truth

Objective truth, as we are used to thinking of it, exists in the land of modernity; objective truth doesn't reside in the context of postmodernity, where the thought of objective truth is a fallacy of belief, as Heissenberg demonstrated in the field of physics with his uncertainty principle. Truth, any kind of truth, isn't objective; it's either intra- or inter-objective, because anything that qualifies as truth is shared. The truth of science isn't more objective than the truth found in spirituality, because there is no objective truth to begin with. Science and spirituality each address different truths of our human existence. Invalidating one truth in favor of another doesn't make one truth truer. Trying to disprove the good from the perspective of the beautiful doesn't render the good invalid, but rather points to our lack of differentiation and re-cognition of the true, the good and the beautiful. Knowing about these distinctions, as an individual or a people, doesn't mean that we have re-cognized them; merely distinguishing life into the true, the good and the beautiful, as Plato apparently re-cognized, doesn't indicate that we, ourselves, have re-cognized what these distinctions actually entail. If it were otherwise, we wouldn't dispute the reality of God in the field of science or our scientific discoveries in the context of spirituality. Wilber wrote extensively on this subject, which isn't the focus of this essay; suffice is to say that we can't simply allocate these three distinctions to the four quadrants, because the good, the true and the beautiful are intrinsic qualities that reside in all of them.

Truth, the truth we share as a people, is inter-objective and, to that end, co-evolves with our development. Any truth we believe in or consider true as a social holon is constructed and, in that sense, relative; because absolute truth is for us to realize as an individual. No one, but us alone, can realize absolute truth, which becomes relative the moment it is shared, because none of us realize absolute truth in the way someone else does; the realization of absolute truth is an individual affair, which is why we can't simply pass it on to another, even if we are called Jesus, Mohammad or Buddha. Walking on water doesn't prove that we have realized absolute truth and the same applies to raising the dead back to life. Absolute truth cannot be proved, because it is an individual affair. Death, in relation to life, is the ultimate truth where life comes to an end, which doesn't make death the absolute truth of life's end, because who knows what lies beyond death's threshold? In relation to stone, water is considered fluid, just as in relation to darkness, light is considered bright. There is nothing fluid in water, just as there is no brightness in light. Water isn't wet, by nature, just like we don't exist due to our own self. Life is inter-dependent; co-creative and in constant flux and metamorphism. Nothing in life exists by itself; life has no nexus agency; life is selfless. Life only exists in relationships and the same goes for the truths we share as a collective, which are always inter-objective.

Relative and absolute truth go hand-in-hand; they only exist in relation to each other and the same applies to the truths we re-cognize and discover as an individual holon and the inter-objective truths we consider valid as a social holon. The only objective dimension of a social holon is its inter-objective reality; in other words, claiming our objective truths we share as a people as objective is misleading, because the only truths we share as a people are inter-objective. “It” represents equally the inter-objective reality we share as a people, as it speaks to the intra-objective or second-person perspective of our human being. “It” comprises the consciousness that contains us, both as an individual and collective. Consciousness is neither subjective, nor objective, but contextual; consciousness, like language, is inter-connective. Consciousness is the matrix of the interdependent arising of creation, as acknowledged in language, which is the patterned mode of consciousness. Consciousness signifies the mind-space of which we are aware and share. The mind-space is to our humanity what the earth or the universe is to us as a people. The mind-space isn't a construct, but the patterned mode of consciousness to which language speaks. The mind-space is where consciousness and language meet; the mind-space is the pattern that connects. The mind-space equally contains and defines our humanity-in-the-making. The mind-space of consciousness is the sphere or reality that Wilber's integral map of consciousness relates to. Thinking that Wilber's map relates to the openness, the clearing in which phenomena arise, is like thinking that we can map the empty spaciousness of the sky. Emptiness cannot be mapped and to claim otherwise is to create confusion, from which suffering is derived.

When we talk about stages of consciousness, we refer to the lower right quadrant in integral theory. When we talk about levels of cognitive development, we're talking about the upper right quadrant. In other words, whenever we reference the upper right quadrant, we talk about re-cognition, in one way or another, which involves meaning-making, action-logic, self-representation; in short, the re-cognition of our individual being, which is objective in relation to our phenomenological experience. Similarly, when speaking about perspective, we essentially talk about our phenomenological experience, or our sensate awareness of being. Becoming aware of our sensate-being-in-the world is different than conceptually defining who we are as a person. Being highly cognitively evolved, for instance, doesn't mean that we can withdraw our sensate awareness from our body; something a person at advanced stages of phenomenological development is capable of doing. Speaking of “I” isn't the same as speaking of “me.” “Me” is cognitive, “I” perspective, “we” dialogical and “it” contextual. “Me” without “I” is blind, or devoid of insight; “me” without “I” is a mere object that doesn't really exist; “me” without “I” is fictitious; it's a delusion our mind creates in an attempt to control “what is.” Hence, our mind separates “I” from “me” and “we” from “it,” and this, in turn, has us believe that we are a figment of the mind, or that we exist because of our ability to think.

Thinking, however, is not the defining characteristic of a human being, as this is a quality we share with other sentient beings. Thinking is innate to life; thinking is the effect of cognition, which is its cause. Thinking is to cognition what language is to relating that takes place in the “we-space.” Relating is meeting in language, which is the perceptual organ, or the matrix of the mind-space of consciousness. Language is dialogical and, to that end, it is not only about you, or me, or all of us; language is also about “we.” Take “we” away and the dialogical reality of our human existence is gone as well. “We,” “me,” “I” and “it” signify the four fundamental dimensions of the mind-space of consciousness, into which our human reality or awareness of being can be differentiated. Failing to include “I,” “me,” “we,” or “it” in our study of human development results in suffering, because life is not about extremes, but rather the containment of opposites; holding two truths at once without invaliding either of them. Believing that we create our own reality is as extreme a perspective as thinking that we create our own suffering, for life is always a little more than we can imagine; life is always greater than our own comprehensions and realization of it, because life is the reflection of Spirit, God, the Unknown, or what have you, which is without end and beginning. Life, the reflection of Spirit, is uncreated, unconditioned and, ultimately, incomprehensible.

Becoming aware of or awakening to our true nature doesn't make us literate; it doesn't mean that we understand the workings of Quantum physics, or that we know how to fix a car or bake a pie. Awakening to our true nature doesn't make us all-knowing; it only signifies that we know who we are, ontologically speaking. Awakening to our true nature doesn't make us a great negotiator, lover, artist or orator, because awakening to our true nature has nothing to do with all that; it pertains to our own phenomenological awareness of being. Similarly, being highly cognitively evolved doesn't render us enlightened; it doesn't means that we possess any insights into our true nature; nor that we are compassionate or benevolent; nor that we have evolved to an equally advanced stage of consciousness. We can be highly cognitively evolved at each level of consciousness. However, we can't operate from a high level of consciousness while being cognitively inept. In other words, our cognitive development can't be less evolved than the stage of consciousness that informs and defines our conceptual apprehension of life.

Given these distinctions, it should be self-evident that when we talk about another person, we don't talk about them as a person, but we refer to their “me.” For instance, if we talk about Wilber, we don't talk about Wilber as a person, we talk about his writing, his action-logic or self-representation, which is not be confused with him as an individual. “Me,” in other words, is the “you” we refer to when talking about someone else when we don't know them. The only way to get to know someone, as a person, is to directly interact with them, because we can't know another person without having met with them face to face. Meeting doesn't happen in the “me-space,” it happens in the “we-space,” which is inter-personal. This doesn't mean, however, that all meeting takes place in the “we-space.” Although, fundamentally speaking, all meeting occurs in the “we-space,” the focus or telos that informs our inter-action may not reside there. For example, the telos that informs and defines psychotherapy and spirituality relates to our phenomenological and ontological awareness of being, respectively; while the telos of education and philosophy pertains to our conceptual and cognitive apprehension of “what is.” In contrast, the telos of our market-economy is informed and defined by the shared space in which we live as a people. In other words, our market-economy is about the exchange of goods and not about the mutual understanding we share as a people, to which religion, in its broadest sense, speaks. Religion is the cultural worldview we endorse and believe in as a collective. For the sake of religion, we may work ourselves to death while the world in which we live goes to pieces. Changing our religious connotation is as difficult as becoming aware of our cultural identification; as Wilber puts it, “Growth is hard, regression is easy.”

Meeting happens in each quadrant, depending on the telos that informs our inter-action. Meeting isn't exchanging one belief, story or picture for another; this isn't what meeting is about. Meeting takes place where we transcend ourselves; where you and I, I and me, we and them, or all of us become one; meeting is trans-personal, be it in body, mind or spirit. Meeting is what orgasm is to the body; what insight is to the mind and surrendering is to spirit. Meeting occurs effortlessly, we cannot make it happen; meeting happens on its own accord. Meetings are the few moments where we are alive; where we meet life face-on; these are the moments we recall in the process of dying. Meeting is where life becomes manifest; it isn't a construct. Meeting is what life is about; it is the coming together of I & Thou. “I,” “me,” “we” and “it” tetra-emerge in each moment of life and the same applies to perspective, re-cognition, language and consciousness. To allocate them in one of the four quadrants doesn't mean that they aren't included in all the others. Once we know the alphabet, we no longer have to ponder letters. Learning the alphabet isn't achieved by thinking about it, but by the practice of sounding-out and writing its letters. Learning the alphabet isn't accomplished by talking about the alphabet; children know and talk about the alphabet before they have learned. Speaking about integral theory doesn't mean that we understand its alphabet, so to speak. Knowing about integral theory doesn't imply that we have evolved to the level of vision-logic. Similarly, having learned the alphabet doesn't prevent us from misspelling certain words, nor does it keep us from mispronunciation.

Language In-Action

Consciousness is language-in-action. If it were otherwise, we couldn't claim to be self-conscious of what we are talking about. Consciousness, like all intrinsic qualities of life, isn't a thing; it isn't something that resides in the brain, or can be found in the heart. Consciousness is the matrix of the interdependent arising of relationships, or the overarching principle of our different spheres, to which we speak in language.

Language is the perceptual organ of consciousness, which is language's metaphor— expressed in the worldviews we subscribe to, as an individual or a people. In other words, we know of, or have gained insight into different stages of the mind-space of consciousness due to the worldviews we have become aware in the continuous process-of-our-making. Our worldview speaks to how we view the world; in other words, how we view our being-in-the world. Our worldview is inter-objective, not individualistic, because our worldview is shared, or it doesn't really exist. For example, Buddha's enlightenment realization is a re-cognition he himself attained, not a worldview; however, his re-cognition was expressed in his teaching and that defines the Buddhist worldview. That worldview consists of many different perspectives, because a worldview is shared; and because it is shared it is inter-objective. Our worldview doesn't speak to our relational ability, or to how intimately we understand each other. Our worldview, in other words, doesn't say anything about our inter-subjective space; it addresses how we view our being-in-the-world, and that is shared. Worldview relates to the inter-objective space of the lower right quadrant in integral theory; worldview is what the methodology of Spiral Dynamics pertains to.

Our worldview, or philosophy of life, speaks to the stage of the mind-space of consciousness we have evolved to, be it as an individual or a collective. Not too long ago, we believed that the earth was flat and that the sun revolves around it. We no longer subscribe to this worldview, as a collective, but, in his time, Gordiano Bruno was burned to death for questioning it. He questioned the credo of the Roman Catholic Church, which, at that time, determined our worldview. For instance, believing that Moses parted the sea speaks to a particular worldview; and it is a particular worldview that has us believe that reason is the alpha and omega of life. Gaining insight into the stage of the mind-space of consciousness that informs and defines our worldview comes through inquiry into our philosophy of life. Our worldview doesn't speak, as such, to our values or our morals; our worldview, simply put, speaks to the story we have about life; it's the metaphor we subscribe to, according to the stage of the mind-space of consciousness to which we have evolved.

Our worldview speaks the truth we believe in, not how highly evolved we are cognitively, phenomenologically or relationally. Distinguishing our personal or objective truths from the shared, or inter-objective, truths of our social organism is crucial, because it helps us to more collaboratively co-exist with each other as a people. If our shared truth only acknowledges the truth of science, then, indeed, there is something out of balance; and the same applies if spirituality were the only truth that is considered valid. Truth is collaborative and has to account for all aspects of our shared reality; all the different spheres—the physiosphere, biosphere, noosphere and theosphere. Postulating the truths of the physiosphere, our natural sciences, as the only valid truth is like thinking that happiness is derived soley from the fulfillment of our physical needs. Similarly, propagating the truths of the biosphere, our biological sciences, as the only truth that matters is like believing that sex only serves as a means of procreation. In contrast, considering the truths of the noosphere, our humanist sciences, as the only truth that informs and defines our life is similar to thinking that we will reach enlightenment or awaken to our true nature by blindly pursing our dreams and actualizing our self-created visions and hopes. And to only value the truths of the theosphere, our spiritual sciences, is like believing that we can awaken or gain insight into our true nature through some sort of technique or practice. Seeking enlightenment isn't what Buddha sought; his inquiry was driven by the quest to find the cause of suffering, in the course of which he happened to become enlightened, whatever that means.

The tetra-defined truth of our social organism informs and limits us, as does to our genetic make-up. The same applies to our worldview and relationships, from which our sense of belonging is derived. Worldviews don't speak to our shared understanding, but to our beliefs we consider true and for which we render our life, if necessary. Our worldview is not to be confused with our faith, which speaks to how we view our after-life; in other words, worldview and faith are not the same. Worldview is to our shared perspective what mutual understanding is to dialogue, which, in turn, is to our mind what sex is to our body and faith to our spirit.

Worldviews aren't the same as the levels of the mind-space of consciousness that they relate to and the same applies to Cook-Greuter's stages of adult human development, which are not to be confused with the cognitive levels they are based on. In contrast to worldviews and action-logics, which can be researched, studied and witnessed, levels of the mind-space of consciousness, or stages of re-cognition, are purely idea-based, which doesn't mean that they are less valid, but rather that they are more fundamental. Consciousness and re-cognition, just like language and perspective, are ideas in which we are embedded. Ideas are phenomena or objects of in-sight that the mind apprehends, much like the eye apprehends light. Ideas are more fundamental to the mind than the action-logics that speak to how we experience, re-cognize, relate to and witness our being-in-the-world. Ideas are not to be confused with thoughts. Thoughts are the product of information-processing or thinking, in contrast to ideas, which are derived from in-sight. In-sight is the result of realization, not thinking; it is derived from the unification of spirit and creation, emptiness and form, language and consciousness, re-cognition and sensation. Ideas speak to our in-sight, which we can't point to in the way we can point to a tree, but which we can see once we have verbalized them. Without verbalizing our in-sights, we can neither own nor integrate them, nor can we look at them; just as we can't look at a tree without knowing that the object we are looking at is, in fact, a tree. In-sight is the vision or eye of mind; it is what ideas are made of, which are neither qualities nor constructs of life. Ideas are the realization of mind; they cannot be properly defined, because we have to see them in order to understand their in-sight. Ideas propel us to evolve; ideas are the guiding light of the luminous nature of the mind.

Structures and Action-Logics

Structures are to action-logics what in-sights are to ideas; structures are primary, action-logics secondary. Realizing a great in-sight doesn't mean that we have any ideas about how to express it; in other words, in-sight and idea don't co-arise and the same is true of structures and action-logics. For example, while we must have evolved to the cognitive structure of vision-logic to assume an autonomous perspective, operating from vision-logic doesn't mean that we actually hold an autonomous perspective; for this, ultimately, is not only dependent on our choice, but also on our development in all the other quadrants. For instance, as illustrated in the following diagram, if our felt-sense, or phenomenological experience of being, is no further evolved than the narcissist level, we probably don't operate from an autonomous perspective, even though we have evolved to vision-logic, cognitively speaking.

Having evolved to the mythic-rational level, as a people, doesn't mean that we automatically subscribe to the collaborative worldview that correlates to this developmental level of consciousness. Having evolved to a certain stage of consciousness, such as the mythic-rational level—where we reside as a collective, gives us the choice to subscribe, as an individual, to any worldviews that this stage of consciousness supports; these being survivalist, reproductive, doministic, legalistic, competitive, collaborative, which, in Beck's Spiral Dynamics model of evolutionary emergence, translate to the colors beige, purple, red, blue, orange and green. The integral stage of consciousness, at present, is merely an idea derived from the in-sight of Ken Wilber's philosophy. Integral isn't yet a stage of consciousness that actually exists, but is rather a level that the forerunners of our evolutionary emergence are in the process of designing. There are, for instances, enclaves of collectives that operate from the rational stage of consciousness, such as higher educational institutions and certain organizational bodies such as the United Nations, given that their action-logic is collaborative in nature, transcending and including their own nationalist interests. Individually speaking, operating from a construct-aware action-logic necessitates that we have evolved to the cognitive structure that supports this level of operation, referred to as trans-global in Wilber's model. Being highly evolved cognitively doesn't mean that we are equally developed phenomenologically or relationally. Spending our life meditating in a cave doesn't imply that we apprehend the complexities of our worldly affairs, which might the case if we've studied international relations at a university. Our self-awareness correlates to the levels of our phenomenological structures, and the action-logics thereof are indicative of how we perceive or look at life phenomenologically, which is not to be confused with how we put our phenomenological perspective into perspective; perspective-taking is not the same as putting our perspective into perspective, just as assuming a first-person perspective is not the same as apprehending life from a three-dimensional perspective. In contrast, how we relate in language speaks to the levels of our linguistic structures, both as an individual and a people, and the action-logics thereof denote the patterned mode of interaction on which our dialoging is based and expresses.

Distinguishing our relational from our phenomenological development and our cognitive apprehension of life from the levels of the mind-space of consciousness we have evolved to helps us to more integrally make sense of our human emergence in-the-making. Human development is an extremely complex affair, which begins by accepting that neither life nor our human creation manifest as a finished product, but evolve in stages. What is true for us today might be a source of embarrassment for us tomorrow, but this is what human life entails, namely containing two truths at once—like two sides of one coin. Reducing life to empirical truth is as extreme as reducing it to interpretative truth. Truth, in essence, is always a shared, because nothing in life is self caused. Truth isn't a revelation of its own, even if we are tempted to believe so.

At the root of our phenomenological experience, or our ontological perspective, lies the ego, which is the incarnate aspect of God in flesh. This doesn't mean that the ego is God or that God is our ego, but that at the root of each one of us lies the incarnate aspect of God, in the form of our ego, which transcends life and death. Referred to as bodicitta in Buddhism and fitra in Sufism, the ego is the spark of our intrinsic wakefulness of consciousness; without the ego, we wouldn't re-cognize ourselves in a mirror. The ego is to us, as a person, what Eros is to the interdependent arising of creation. Eros is its driving force. Eros drives us to evolve and awaken to our true nature, of which we are already and always aware; believing otherwise prevents us from gaining insight into it; believing otherwise has us continuously grasp for things we think we need and must have in order to be content and at peace. Grasping is the root of fear, which is life's shadow. Fear drives us to insulate ourselves and prevents us from showing up. Fear causes us to cope with life rather than gain in-sight into it; fear has us cling to our constructs, which then, in turn, we consider real. Fear makes us blind, deaf and numb. Fearing fear is how we become enslaved by it; for fear isn't our enemy, it is simply our shadow. Fear resents Eros, and battles Logos, the intrinsic orders of creation. Logos is to God what the ego is to us as a person and Eros is to us as a people. We apprehend Logos through our sense of direction, or Telos; we experience Eros through our sense of embodied existence, or Chairos. Without our sense of direction, our life would be in utter chaos, and without our embodied existence, order would be a mere pipe dream. Telos is to perspective what Logos is to re-cognition; and Eros is to language what Chairos is to consciousness. The highest level of Eros is Agape, while the highest level of Logos is self-realization. Gaining in-sight into the mind is what the other side of language is about; it is not only communicative, but also the signifier of the mind. Language is the water of human life and speaks to the numinous nature of the mind, the perceptual organ of consciousness that reveals God's ideas in form.