Whatever name we give it, there is a place in all of us which understands everything, which operates upon principles and tendencies that became a part of the “real” us at some point, usually in ways we cannot recall. We mimic our parents, of course. We mimic movie characters, teachers. We choose our behavior fully only rarely, and only if we can identify and account for all the latent patterns within us which force us one way or another.
We need to recognize this. I was listening to a book on CD on “Why we make mistakes”, and one point they made is that when people change their minds about some fundamental issue, they often change their MEMORY of their PAST opinions, such that they were ALWAYS adherents of whatever belief with which they now identify.
Likewise, experiments have been done with hypnotic suggestions that are very mild, such as “scratch your chin whenever you hear the word ‘elf'”. What they find is that when asked why they did such and such, they believe that it was their intention.
For this reason, I think it is important to have this category “don’t know”. I don’t know why I said that. You must be OK with this ambiguity, if you really don’t know, as the alternative is abusing the truth. You are not just not telling the truth: you are creating a real, nearly ineradicable false reality when you insist on clarity and consistency that is NOT THERE.
A metaphor I have often used for myself is from traditional Japanese kenjutsu, which is the art of the sword, specifically (normally) the katana. When you swing, it is nothing like the motion of a baseball bat. With a bat, you need power. With a razor sharp blade, you need the right sort of motion, which needs power, but far more importantly a quality of motion of the blade. When you swing, therefore–and strike or attack may both be better words–you swing through the target, but only barely. If you were trying to cut someone’s torso, you swing perhaps 6″ at most–and that’s likely too much– past where the opposite side of their body would have been if you had hit. This prevents you from falling off balance, and from creating an opening for an attacker by foolishly offering up a weaponless, undefended target.
The point here is that you move, then you stop, all while retaining a clear sense of balance and rhythm. Perception is like this. I was thinking about this yesterday, and I think for me a perhaps accurate metaphor for my engagement with perception–with the pursuit of truth–is that of a hunter, or a swordsmen chasing down endless opponents. Musashi taught that the essence of his teaching was to always think of cutting. For someone cultivating the process of perception you must always be looking for the essence, the detail or generalization that will grant greater understanding; and you must always be learning to ignore the trivial and/or misdirections with which the universe and the people around us perennially confront us.
Done properly, this is a daily battle that makes life interesting. That’s my view, at any rate.