Write about attention here.
Attention is one of the major parameters of one's experience ongoing. Attention seems to be the arena, the stage spotlighted items brought out of the forest of surrounds lurking in the seething shadows made of impressions of things past, formerly observed. Observed in that they each were a hodgepodge of sensory inputs strobed together into a fixated thing made up of other things, a pencil rubbing on memory paper from a grooved physical surface. Now that they have been sieved up out of the seething morass of memory stuff and plopped onto the spotlighted stage by attention, somehow the intention is to try some currently ongoing thought train's shape on for fit, maybe is sufficiently similar, so as to predict probable outcome similar to outcome of that past event? And yet, who controls the stage of attention? The RAS can pre-empt the stage, if something has declared fight-or-flight decisions immediately needed. Exactly what commands the RAS is not yet fully known to me, either. Mostly my attention rambles along like the image of the sidewalk path I follow, going somewhere. Sitting here at computer desk, sometimes tapping with fingertips on the keyboard, reaching over to wiggle the mouse around a bit, looking up at the display screen, the path I follow right now is an effort to introspect what "attention" is to me; yet there are many distractions. Lots of clamboring at the gates of my attention's stage, with intruders jumping on and off the stage lie a swarm of hornets trying to sting around my eyes after I had accidentally stumbled into their nesting place. Altogether more nuisance than I want to deal with right now. Yet this is the time and place for me to explore what "attention" is for me. The biblical phrase "Get thee behind me satan" seems appropriate here, to be said to all those intruders demanding their say on my stage of attention right now. I could say to them "go do your own thing" but most likely that is what they are doing when putting on their show on my attention-stage. Somehow others' stuff has gotten into my flock of mental sheep memories, wolves in sheep's clothing hiding among my flock. Yuck. Yet surely I know my own and can help them take their place for my intention on my stage of attention, correct? "Attention! is also a sound I recall, from back in the drill field of college Army ROTC days, a sound I was conditioned to respond to with immediate shutdown of what was my focus of attention and clear my stage of attention to let the commandant's words and actions be the focus of my attention. In fact, lots of people and less-human things can impact upon my attention-stage, booting off why own invited guests and usurping my attention, without it having been my intention to happen. Attention is what I am consciously aware of at the moment. It is written that each person, including myself, has a sensory data rate of a million bits per second, mostly visual, but one's awareness can encompass only a small fraction of that - maybe a dozen bits per second - so something else has to do the filtering down to prevent overloading of the stage of my attention awareness. Asperger's Syndrome is said to happen to those who cannot adequately shrink down that megabit data rate enough to be able to fit the pieces together on the stage; too many new pieces of data keep coming on stage of attention to be able to adequately match it all up to something that adequately matches stuff my subconscious can bring up fast enough before some new data has popped in and the overall set of awareness is now changed, oops. So it is easy to get into the brakes on, hold it, don't move, wait till the storm subsides, kind of mode ... but non-Aspies somehow are motoring right on through it all. On rare occasions I can see they are headed toward ruin doing that, but most of the time they are OK and it is me that is pushed off into the gutter sidelines by the crowd, me in their way. My interest in things is my favorite inviter of impressions onto my attention's stage, and normally it is my intention to only let things of my own interest onto the stage; but as mentioned above, sometimes there is a humongous amount of intruders from somewhere else, often the where of them is only guess-able and the how and why they come here is even more baffling. Some is like suddenly being in the hot-seat of an interrogator's chair, bright hot lamp in my face, foul breath words urging statements on and out of me, assault on me. But when such brutes have had their moment and gone to amuse themselves somewhere else, I strive to clean my attention stage of the crud the others left behind, and once again set up a set which is interesting to me, some fun, enjoyable, beautiful and love filled pattern for my attention's focus creation, see what then develops. Then once again that which is supposedly uniquely mine, that which is called my attention, the flow of my mental being, begins to do its rightful thing, which often happens. Is my attention-stage actually a public place? Seems to be, although seems only fair that if they can romp on my stage I ought to be able to similarly do so on theirs ... although I have no desire to do that. Teach them to stay out of my space thereby? Yucky activity. What is it that is pulling at the doorways to my attention-stage? Although I creatively can allow input from a larger set in my subconscious mind, many of those things seem to have strings attached to things beyond that which is mine; maybe all are ringing each other's bells by those strings previously unseen or at least ignored. The "Universal Unconscious Mind" reported by Carl Jung, seems to match all this enough to wonder if my subconscious mind is not really all mine, it is a collective ownership with who knows who and what. So my attention is not just a processing station belonging to me, but is also something else ... like a public train station? The process called "meditation" directly affects my attention's focus, and IMM's Dr Masters urges each person to meditate daily so as to ... link with God ... so likely pure God can also appear on my train station attention stage if and when I can get the rabble off it for a few minutes. Surely the proper maintenance of my attention-stage, such as it is mine to do with as I please, ought to get more of my responsible effort, so as to clean up my experience ongoing as much as I can. Dr John Cullen surely would teach me that I am not my attention, that I have an attention but I am more than my attention.
By J E D Cline on 20080225 in Ephrata WA 98823-1713
Copyright © 2008 James E. D. Cline. Permission granted to reproduce providing inclusion of a link back to this site and acknowledgment of the author and concept designer James E. D. Cline.