We push and we push, in various ways, through our science and our not-so-science. We push to the outer limits of the universe, discovering what’s possible, inventing around it and through it, in search of… in search of…. In search of what?
In search of someone or something to communicate with. Aliens. Life. Intelligence.
But aliens, though? Really, are we searching for aliens? Or are we searching for ourselves cloaked in different forms?
When we reach to the stars we think there is something that needs to reach back. We think that impulse is universal and evolutionary. We think that even if aliens are made of completely different stuff, we will be able to communicate with one another because we want to. The aliens, too, are looking for a way, and so we will find one. The subtext here, even if the scientific researcher won’t state it bluntly the way the not-so-scientific searcher will, is that we believe consciousness is universal, even if forms are not.
If consciousness is universal but forms are not, then forms are illusions. Illusions wrapped around consciousness, some say. The religious call this consciousness soul. The materialists deny soul and any other version of consciousness not being produced by the brain, but if they are seeking contact with aliens who are completely different from us in every way, then they haven’t thought through what they’re actually saying. If you can’t relate, you can’t have relationship. Heck, if you can’t relate, you can’t even recognize because you can’t perceive the other properly. For relationship to span the universe, some qualities of consciousness must be universal. Intention, for starters.
But, of course, we undoers know better than the searcher and the researcher, the religious and the materialist, because we see clearly. We see clearly that forms and strains of consciousness exist from and within one singular consciousness that transcends and includes all. The soul, in this context, is but an appearance no different from the body. Real, yet unreal. Real enough, with rules you can abide by, if you decide that’s all there is and put on the blinders the way materialists have. Take off the blinders and you’ll see: you can have your cake and eat it, too. Rather, you are you, the cake, and the eating of cake all in one.
Unless you’ve fallen for the label “undoer” and settled on the fact that you know better. Such a one takes off blinders only to find that the room is pitch black. Such a one tends to shout “Hello!” in the dark, which produces an echo. And that echo is an alien.
The abandoned search begins anew.