Consciousness is Felt Uncertainty

On occasion, I’m captivated by a theory of consciousness when it is consistent with the lived insights of my practice. Mark Solms, a neuropsychologist from Cape Town, proposes a “felt uncertainty” theory, that consciousness is the illumination of where the mind isn’t sure yet, a sense that something important remains unresolved.

A popular topic for devoted meditators is jhāna or meditative absorption. For the jhāna junkies fixated on cultivating these enjoyable but fragile states outside of retreat, practice can feel like a heroic effort of attainment, building one’s skill and capacity to “get jhāna.”

Of all the things to desire, jhāna is pretty good. But what’s lost in the fixation on getting jhāna is this: it isn’t a gain. It’s a loss.

What’s lost? Classically, what’s lost are the five hindrances: greed, agitation, craving, aversion, and torpor — all the ways the mind says, “Something’s not quite okay yet.”

Why do these inhibitions arise in the first place? Because some part of the mind is uncertain—uncertain whether we have what we need, whether we’ve gotten what’s best, or whether we’ve successfully pushed away what’s undesirable.

From the felt‑uncertainty perspective, each hindrance is a different flavor of “I’m not sure this situation is safe or satisfying yet.” If uncertainty ceases, uncertainty‑consciousness also ceases, and awareness no longer runs on crisis management.

What’s left is a wise kind of certainty. Its qualities are described in the mystical side of every world religion. In Buddhism, expressions like Buddha-nature, the deathless, and bodhisattva compassion come to mind. In Christianity, a peace that passes understanding. In Islam, the heart at rest in God.

At its heart, then, practice is discovering what life feels like when we trust, even for a moment, that nothing is uncertain.

Does that give you doubt?  Then try this: uncertainty and concern are fundamental to knowing. Why add worry to worry? 

With certainty,
Upali