I am starting to think there are three kinds of people, or rather three types of consciousness, and I’m really liking this idea. Of course you could see more than three, but I’m finding this scheme useful.
What I am seeing is that there are people who are solar (or going through a solar phase), and people who are lunar. The lunar has a wildness and an expanse of feeling and imagination to it, and it is both more inclined to go with the flow and also get stuck in attachment to the biographical past. In has both vision and personal phobias. One of its shadows is a kind of unenlightened consensual consciousness. Xenophobia is an essentially lunar phenomenon, but so are the wonders of trance, imagination and enchantment. There is something miraculous about lunar consciousness, but it can settle into the ignorance of emotional prejudice if it is never disturbed or awakened properly.
Solar consciousness is brilliant, and has the idea of individuality and freedom, progress and “civilization”. It dries out and warms our awareness, and gives us standards, criteria to judge by, the spark that goes into changing how we do things. But it can develop its own dogma, not the emotional dogma of lunar herd mentality, but the dogma of inculcated righteousness, or a black and white moral universe, a day irreconcilably opposed to a night.
These two, solar and lunar, are associated with fire and water consciousness in Richard’s scheme, and in the world of mass patterns and mass assumptions, they are conventionally associated with men and women respectively.
I was very lunar in my younger days, and I am just starting to really enjoy that quality again. I had to also go through a solar phase. But Sun and Moon are not all there is in the world.
A third consciousness also arises. A consciousness that spans both, travels between both, and yet belongs to itself as well, once you recognize it. This consciousness I will call Mercurial, and it is the alchemical, magickal consciousness. Here is lightness that does not shrink from darkness, morning that rejoices in night, dry crispness that lingers at the lake’s edge, women and men who are woman and man enough to not be man or woman at all. Here is the court beyond the king and queen, and a smile that floats in the delicately scented air of twilight.