Contemplative states come in different varieties. In today’s culture, we tend to privilege an alert language of mindfulness, presence and awakening. Through these tools, we learn take more responsibility for our own experience – not so much for what happens (though our effective agency may improve), as in how we respond. At a deeper level, we learn to embrace the gift of experiencing, even when specific experiences are unwanted or painful. We lean in to the at times heart-breaking miracle of human life.
There are other, also potent, ways to contemplate. In the following extract from his magical realist novel Atlantis (1) John Cowper Powys presents an archaic, more than human world, with a very different take on consciousness and our place in the cosmos. We are on the island of Ithaca, in the later life of its King Odysseus, following his belated return from the siege of Troy and resumption of control at home. We begin in a moment of great collective foreboding – something terrible is happening or about to happen. This is coincident with the old king planning a final voyage. In this place and time, a young boy encounters Atropos, oldest and most powerful of the three Fates. He intuitively grasps that sentient beings help to weave their own destiny simply by falling into states “wherein we simply escape for a moment from the trouble of being a conscious creature at all”.
“The longer Nisos Naubolides looked into the eyes of Fate and the longer Fate looked into the eyes of Nisos Naubilides the more clearly did the later realize that the imperishable frame of Atropos, the ‘one who could not be turned’, was made of a substance drawn from a level of existence outside both time and space, though cunningly adapted to play its part in each of them.
“The boy proved how ‘clever’ he was by imbibing, like an inexhaustible draught of timeless experience, much more at that moment than the mere physical nature of the oldest of the Fates; for there came over him in a trance that was more than a trance the surprising knowledge – and this … was really with him to the day of his death – that Atropos helps us in the creation of our individual fate by an infinitely long series of what some would call nothing but blind, stupid, dull dreamy, moon-struck ‘brown studies’, many of which take place inside the walls of houses, and others when we are moving about on our ordinary errands outside.
“In these interruptions of our ordinary consciousness we fall into a brainless, idea-less moment of dull abstraction in which we cease to think of anything in particular but just stare blindly and dully at some particular physical object, no matter what, that happens to be there at the moment. This object, in itself of no particular interest, and never selected for its real purpose is merely an object to stare at, lean upon, rest against and use as a trance=background, or brown-study foreground, or, if you like, a shoal beneath a stranded consciousness, or a reef of brainless abstraction, wherein we simply escape for a moment from the trouble of being a conscious creature at all.
“Nisos showed how born he was to be an interpreter if not a prophet by his complete acceptance – as from the trunk of his spruce-fir he faced the Mistress of Fate as she leaned against the trunk of her spruce-fir – of the revelation that our individual destiny is made up of an accumulation of brainless, uninspired brown-study moments of abstraction wherein we cease to be organic living creatures and almost become … things of wood and stone and clay and dust and earth, almost become what we were before we were intelligent of instinctive creatures: almost – but not quite!
“For, as our young friend looked Atropos in the face, there was permitted to him what is permitted to few among us mortals during our lifetime, namely the realization of what actually happens to us when we fall, as we all do, into these day-dreams. At that moment as Nisos Naubolides now knew well, all over the surface of the earth there were living creatures, many of them men, women and children, many of them horses, cattle, lions, wolves, foxes, wild asses and tame pigs, sheep and goats, rats and mice, who were standing or crouching, lying or sitting in one of these brooding trances when dazed or dreaming, we are asleep and yet not asleep.”
(1) John Cowper Powys Atlantis London: Faber & Faber, 2011 ebook edition.
NOTE: John Cowper Powys (1872-1963) grew up mainly in the English West Country, went to Cambridge University and then became a teacher and lecturer, mostly in the USA where he lived for about 30 years. On returning to the UK, after a short spell in Dorset, he settled in Wales in 1935 where he lived for the rest of his life. His best known works are Wolf Solent, A Glastonbury Romance, Maiden Castle, Weymouth Sands, Owen Glendower, Porius and his Autobiography. His literary editors describe him as having a “weird, mystical, brilliant and obsessive imagination.”
See also:
JOHN COWPER POWYS: PORIUS AND TALIESIN
THE BLESSINGS OF TIME