“A Tisket a Tasket, a Green and Yellow Basket”

(From Intuition: An Aquarian Adventure pp. 169-175)

NOTE: I have gotten many requests asking, What is a Tisket?
A Tisket is as a tissue: a small textile or woven material

Intuition

AnAquarian Adventure

By Bob Hoernel

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“A profoundly emotional experience, yes. But it was so much more than that. There is a physical explanation, and the phenomenon of tidal bores in the Gulf of Panama are not unheard of, but there is no desire to imply a miraculous transport to my destination. Yet there is something about that night, and the awareness it brought, which I’ve a great desire to communicate.

Certain previous attempts have given the impression that it was a religious experience. In a manner of speaking, perhaps it was. What it implied was a great awakening which has had an enormous impact upon the conduct of my life from that moment to the present. If a religious experience, it must be considered highly unusual, as my response was accompanied by laughter. I laughed. I laughed at it all; at everything, but mostly I laughed at myself and my own seriousness. The comprehension, like the circumstances which enabled it, had to do with currents and layers . . . it had to do with perception and perspective; and to do with what might accurately be termed a random order. The irony is that it was all astonishingly simple, yet enormously cleaver and difficult to explain. Nothing had been ‘figured out’, and yet I had learned something which appeared to permeate all things. And I cried with a happy heart, for it now seemed that I had been relieved of a great sadness and burden.

More than his Theory of Relativity, it was Einstein’s Equivalence Principle which served to influence the way scientists looked upon their universe. In the context of perspective, it literally turned physics upside down. He came to his new awareness not while studiously and laboriously pondering some abstract formula, but while playing with his famous toy and the concept of gravity. Since his ‘discovery’ had nothing to do with intelligence, it would not be unpardonably egotistical of me to suggest a similarity between the two experiences. The two are really not as dissimilar as they might at first glance appear.

In the new science of chaos, as well as in quantum physics, there exists an interest in imposing a kind of order and predictability upon variables which, by their nature, appear to be random. Take weather forecasting as an example. Fifty years ago a five day forecast was about the extent of our capacity to predict. Today, although with greater confidence, we can predict no further into the future. This is because of the compounding effect of variables within the ‘system’. We like to view process in terms of systems and component sub-systems; and we like to assume that we have some control over them. The science of cybernetics is all about control over systems, and the word literally translates as ‘helmsmanship’. It is an apt term, as it implies an ability to steer process to arrive at a particular result (destination). While sitting becalmed off Cabo Malo my capacity for helmsmanship turned out to be minimal. In effect, I had given up my destiny to the variables . . . and willfully.

Ocean currents have a great effect upon weather, and weather upon ocean currents. A small shift in El Niño (the inshore counter- current which had impeded my progress off the coast of South America) can have enormous effects upon weather in the North Atlantic. Any system can become perturbed, and (as with individuals) a perturbed system suggests process which does not result in the expected or desired result. More importantly, a very small and seemingly insignificant event can have a disproportionate impact upon any given system or process. Someone in the back hills of Kentucky lights up a brier pipe, and is partly responsible for the loss of an Israeli citrus crop. It was Einstein who quipped that God plays dice with the universe, and now it would appear that the universal question revolves about this issue of random chance and predictable result.

As the dice are repeatedly thrown a pattern emerges, and probabilities can be calculated; but the capacity to predict each particular roll of the dice is only slightly improved. Science complains that the dice are loaded, and appears determined to figure out precisely how. The purpose, of course, is to develop a better capacity for control and direction . . . helmsmanship. Whether or not that would be a good thing is a complicated philosophical issue, which will probably be avoided. But are the dice loaded, or are we just trying to improve our odds?

The odds of my catching that wave, indeed of that wave even being there, were something on the order of a million to one. A branch of the Counter-Equatorial Current and a twig of the Humboldt Current sometimes flow into the Gulf of Panama. They flow in along the coasts. One warm and one cold, they flow in layers into the Bay of Panama until their volume can no longer be contained. The exiting waters, now mixed, travel back up the center of the Bay and back into the Gulf. Such currents are constantly shifting, not unlike the jet streams aloft, but under optimum conditions a considerable volume of water can be exiting the Bay in precisely this manner. When this is happening in conjunction with a particularly strong inflowing tidal stream the result is such a wave as I was so fortunately delivered by. The result, while quite unpredictable, was serendipitous to say the least. What then was it which moved me so?

If I had to select a single word to describe my voyage it would be luck. Why the Lady smiled upon me so I have no idea, but smile she did. And the great awareness of which I speak had to do with what was behind another smile . . . that of La Gioconda. You know what it is about the Mona Lisa’s smile which so captivates us? It is a knowing smile which communicates neither a loftiness nor an arrogance, but a sense of pity and and frustration. Imagine yourself looking down upon a group of mice in a maze. Some methodically search, and others frantically scurry about looking for a clue to unlock the mystery of their circumstance. Looking down upon them, you know the nature of their predicament and how easy it would be to get out. Yet, there is no way you could hope to communicate it to them. That is what is behind the Mona Lisa’s smile.

An awareness is something quite distinct from a fact, and is much more difficult to describe or define. I shall tell you what it was that I became aware of, but I am not at all confident that you will comprehend. In a way, it is all just a game . . . a necessary fiction if you prefer. And a central part of the game is precisely to figure out that it is all just a game. Hence the irony of our seriousness; yet I wouldn’t want to imply that games have no value nor meaning. We have been known to get quite wrapped up in, and serious about, the games we play . . . and indeed, they sometimes cease to be fun. At the center of this particular game is a riddle; it is the essence and it is essential. The purpose of the game? Well, amusement of course. If you had all the time in the world, what would your greatest problem be? On one level of evaluation nothing really matters; and on another everything has its effect upon the whole. Which brings up the whole extremely interesting notion of value.

You may recall my having said something about all things being not only relative, but also interpretative. Included in ‘all things’ is that thing which we refer to as reality. Whether or not something ‘matters’ is dependent upon our perceptions of its value in relation to some project or desire to which we have attached importance. When my son was missing the only thing which mattered was that he was alright. When in love with Max, the value of all things (money included) came to be calculated in terms of assisting in either my ability to be with her or in my ability to make her happy or well again. Had I approached the task of getting myself and my boat to the Canal with single-minded determination, the value of all things would have been established in relation to my perception of their ability to assist in that task.

Forgive me. I wouldn’t be going on about this at such length if I didn’t consider it important. That is my evaluation . . . the value of what I became aware of that night is as great as my desire to successfully communicate it. All that we see and do is interpretative, and the way that we interpret it has a great deal to do with what is most important to us. Not only is this order of significance distinct for each of us, but it changes like the tides.

Two exact biological twins are walking down the same path together. They share the same visual field, and yet their interpretation of what they see is distinct. Moreover, they actually see quite different things. What each sees, and what each fails to see, is very much related to what is important to the individual at that moment. It is even possible for us to ‘see’ or ‘hear’ things which are not a part of the circumstance if the desire or need is sufficiently great. While perception and definition are basic to mental process, even more fundamental is our need to see and apprehend in a context of meaning.

That context determines all significance, value, and (hence) all subordinate meaning in our respective worlds and ‘realities’. If you are asking whether or not there is some intrinsic value or meaning to life, I would answer in the negative. But that does not, and should not, imply that all life or any particular life is void of meaning. What it does suggest is that we, each one of us, are obliged to define the context and establish meaning.

Just as there is no universal and static ‘reality’ or universe which can be carved up, analyzed, and understood as an objective ‘thing’, there is no universal purpose or objective; yet it (life, Being) is undeniably happening and our circumstance constantly changing. It is quite like a game, and often the game comes to resemble that of follow the leader. A certain competitiveness arises, and along with it a degree of seriousness. As each of the ‘players’ entertains a distinct sphere of interest and meaning, the game can easily be perceived as, and become, a conflict. When the players no longer do their own evaluation and accept systems of meaning (rationalizations of the point of view) their thinking becomes ideological, and what they see and do becomes more predictable.

Much of this I had intuitively been aware of for a number of years, and it formed the basis for the deep sadness of which I have written. Not that there is anything intrinsically ‘bad’ about violence, the sadness came from an awareness of the attendant suffering and an almost epidemic depression attending the decay of ideologies . . . an extreme poverty of purpose which by now extended beyond all national boundaries. The full consequences of this love affair with ourselves, and the mode of egotistical rational thought which underlay it, have yet to be witnessed. That was the source of my sadness, and the thing which I had to search out from within my deepest self.

Max had helped me to appreciate the importance of play, and the dolphin served to accentuate a lesson I was slow to learn. By the time of my departure from Eden I had rediscovered this capacity for play, and along with it the romance of my youth and of illusions. Yet I remained constantly aware of how easy it was to fall back into that mode of pragmatic concern [and the common place]. If the frown had passed from my continence, it had yet to be replaced by a smile. The significance of my most memorable night, the very nut which I have been valiantly trying to communicate here, is that it restored a smile to my face. And what has become my own fundamental intention or desire, that which gives all meaning and value in my life and provides the incentive to persevere in it, is to assist in bringing one to your face. Perhaps the basic concept, that which is prior to all others (even justice), is the desire to share . . . in a gam e, in an awareness, in one’s good fortune.

Was it merely chance which brought all these currents, perceptions, myself and my boat together at the precise location and time which allowed the experience and its full appreciation? Or was it something more? It effected me greatly and deeply; and a part of the response was laughter. On one level of interpretation the whole experience was just downright ridiculous. That is what brought on the laughter, and it (ironically) remains as one of the few things about which I am serious. At the time my sense of the ridiculous was sufficiently developed to at least partially appreciate what I had witnessed. That sense implies an ability to appreciate the unfolding of circumstance in a manner not defined by pragmatic need or systemic analysis. Neither does it suggest an emptiness or Sartre’s absurdity from which there is no exit. No. At the very core of this Game, life, Being, can be seen a Great Riddle. Of course it cannot be seen by all, as what we se e remains a function of what we are looking for. Nevertheless, it is there; and it constitutes the basis of my belief, and the essence of all religion.”

Indeed, it is the Essence of everything; and everything is related to It . . . the Riddle. Hence, my Sense of the Ridiculous. My great will (and the intension that drives it) is to enable that smile to broaden, so as to light up her face (as well as the countenance of all our faces). All that is required is for me to manage a capacity to maintain such awareness as I have so painfully gained __ to be able to visit common places without getting trapped within their streets and avenues. Yes, I am a slow learner; it has taken me twenty years to realize that such as I so ardently and genuinely wish to share cannot be explained; such is not to say that there is no manner in which I can sufficiently share this awareness with every person so as to light up their faces, lighten their burdens, and render Mona Lisa's smile full and broad. The Riddle will always remain . . . even after its Essence is comprehended and fully appreciated. For how else might we divert ourselv es so as to fill the font of Eternity?

I have now done all that is within my surprisingly extensive capacity to do with regard to that intent (to manage a means by which to share). I am content that, at the very least, I have managed to keep 'Max' from passing too soon (and maintain hope that my other great love might again be restored to her former grace and integral dignity). As for passing my remaining hours upon this stage, I am content to watch Mary's garden (her plants, as well as all that she has brought into this garden of hers) . . . whilst I also continue hoping that the gardens that I have sown may one day come also to smile fully (as the Daisy who knows its place within space . . . “and takes me for a child.”  (John Clare). In the meantime, I continue to amuse myself.

Ride your waves to their fullest, however keep yourself from getting too wrapped up in the arts of wave-riding.

"El Navigante Solitario"