oicu812: i think i know what you're talking about. it sounds like something that used to happen to me with some regularity, in particular with one person.
to me it felt like this (and pardon me if this seems overblown, pretentious, or whatever):
let's say that language/cognition is the stuff of which you build your "reality." it's not a model, per se, but the actual thing. or, rather, there can be no difference between the "model" and the "thing" because the model is the only thing you can experience directly since every experience is mediated through language and consciousness.
the only way i can describe what happened to me, is by saying: let's treat my "reality" at the time as a house built of language. using language itself, we took the house apart, carefully, lifting off each brick, considering it, and setting it aside, until the whole house has been taken apart and inspected. then, each brick is chipped down into component parts. then each piece of brick is taken apart. then the pieces of the brick are smaller and smaller until they are smaller than any tool available, and it gets down to microscopic levels, and that's when the distinction between hand and brick starts to become untenable and collapses into a free play of particles, endlessly constructing and deconstructing reality.
and then you just sit there, making tiny verbal gestures which are like ripples in the water of thought/being/language/cognition/psychology/reality, feeling like you're watching the action of causation itself.
here's where i went wrong:
the whole thing was a very profound, paradigm-shifting sort of experience for me, and as such very emotional on some level. plus, in our case, the whole process of tearing down our houses brought out waves of repressed emotions which had been packed into the "basements" so to speak (we both had "issues").
another issue was the TOTAL immersion in the experience. we spent about two months in a small room in Massachusetts in the dead of winter, leaving only to go to class, get food and run minor errands, and once or twice to see friends. combine this with the weird exhiliration and profundity of the experience, and the fact that this was a person i was romantically involved with...
we got married. and we shouldn't have. we really, really shouldn't have.
we made the twin mistakes of obsessing over and trying to re-live the experience, and (crucially deadly) of identifying the experience as something related to each other as much as to language in general, as if this was something we were only able to achieve together. put together with the obsessive grasping at the experience and a bunch of goth/romantic hoo-hah and a really bad relationship, it rapidly became a total nightmare that not only completely fucked my life for about four years, but completely retarded any real pursuit of insight which may have been gained from the experience.
after she left, i was able to piece together a lot of what happened and work it out in my mind, to separate the experience from the baggage we added to it. i kind of had to crash out of the world for a while and do a lot of writing and thinking and talking to purge me of the bullshit and get my head back on straight.
here's what it did for me and where i am now:
i think that the whole experience was analogous to the way you think about and drive your car differently if you take the engine apart and rebuild it from the ground up. you just know the whole thing and how it works better and that changes every aspect of your relationship in subtle ways which can't be easily pointed to or explained.
i don't chase after it anymore and i don't think that i would gain much from it if i did. the paradigm shift happened, and despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, i think that's the biggest and best result i could have hoped for. i'm no longer the same person i was before it happened, but i'm also no longer the person i was when it was happening, either.
that said, it feels like the state of mind that that happened in seems to have become the sort of "substratum" of my conscious, everyday mind, and, as such, it's very useful to me. i feel like it adds a certain density of thought, and i've been known to slip into an awareness of what i learned there and then from time to time. this is especially true when i'm on psychedelics (note, please, that we were stone sober during the time in question, though we both had reasonably extensive experience with psychedelics previously).
i would encourage you to try to pursue it, but be cautious about getting too attached to the experience itself and to try too hard to make it happen.
i think that cusm's point about interlocking/interdependent cognitive systems is right on, and i think that part of the experience for me was an intense experience of the experience itself as a microcosm of infinitely larger and smaller systems of interdependence (from subatomic particles to nations of people to solar systems etc...) like a fractal.
maybe we should name this. fractal language experiences, perhaps?
i think the recorders are a good idea, and i think you're right in thinking that you would forget about them very quickly. some friends of mine used to live in a webcam house where everything was streamed online to a number of paid subscribers and i rarely, if ever, thought about the cameras. |