'subconsious mind' is an expression created by psychotherapists; any non-physical structure seems to have been disallowed. When you do allow this it becomes obvious (well to me at least..) that the subconscioius mind is the astral body. of course it now makes sense why it should be infinite - as a spirit, you connect up to the whole.
Here's a beautiful piece from Robert Wolff's 'original wisdom', as he is initiated by the local malaysian shaman:
Original Wisdom
Robert Wolff
ISBN 0-89281-866-2
p153 onwards.
The morning was especially beautiful, I thought, crisp with a chill
in the air. It felt good being out in the jungle again and I was
looking forward to the walk.
I made a firm resolve not to have any expectations. Whatever happened
would happen. I wanted to have all the wonder a child has at the
beginning of the day. We walked. I was thirsty and very tired - I was
sadly out of shape after a month of inactivity. In the early
afternoon, the hottest part of the day, when it might be cool in the
shade but very humid - we came to a big clump of bamboo about twenty
feet ahead. Bamboo tends to bunch together, forming an impenetrable
barrier.
Ahmeed stopped, listened, turned to me (I was walking behind him),
and motioned: Be silent.
I opened my mouth to ask a question, but he gestured quite firmly,
motioning with his hand: No talking, stay still, quiet.
We stood frozen for what seemed a long minute when from the right a
large light-coloured snake came from under some bushes, slowly crossed
in front of us, and passed out of sight into the trees on our left.
...
I asked him, "Did you know that snake was coming?"
"Yes" was all he would say.
I tried to phrase the question differently: Had he heard it, seen it?
No, but he knew.
We walked on, my thoughts falling over each other. I returned to the
evening when he had introduced us to the Lord of the Great Ocean. That
had been a similar mystery. He had seen the ocean - and only the
surface of the ocean at that. He had probably not even put his feet in
the water, but he had known many things about the ocean that he could
not possibly have known.
"When we were in Port Dixon, did you walk into the ocean?" I asked.
No, he confessed, he did not get his feet wet.
"Is the ocean rainwater?" I questioned him, thinking I would trap him.
"Salty," he said.
"But how did you know?" I burst out.
He smiled his childlike smile.
...
The next day, after walking an hour, I realized that I was thinking so
much that I did not pay attention to where we were, to what was going
on in the environment. I was trying to figure things out in my head,
making lists, weighing probabilities as if Ahmeed's talents were a
problem in statistics. I decided instead to really open my ears, my
eyes, my nose, my skin to whatever I could pick up in the jungle
around us.
I stopped abruptly.
The jungle was suddenly dense with sounds, smells, little puffs of
air here and there. I became aware of things I had largely ignored
before. It was as if all this time I had been walking with dirty
eyeglasses - and then someone washed them for me; or as if I were
watching a blurry home movie - and then someone turned the focusing
knob. But it was more than that - much more. I could smell things I
had no name for. I heard little sounds that could be anything at all.
I saw a leaf shivering. I saw a line of insects crawling up a tree.
Ahmeed noticed that I had been walking slower and slower, while
paying intense attention to the world around me. He too stood still.
"Sit?" he asked.
"Well, no . . . not really . . . perhaps . . . I don't know," I
stammered.
"Drink?" he asked.
Afterward I realized that he had spoked very softly, so as not to
intrude on what was going on inside me, and he had used simple, single
words: Sit? Drink? Yes, I was very thirsty. I looked at him, thinking
he would find a water vine. He was the person who knew the jungle,
after all. He looked back at me with a perfectly blank expression. He
was not helping. He was not talking.
Suddenly, a new thought burst in on me: maybe I could sense water. In
my mind I made a sort of list: seeing water, hearing water, smelling
water. I might smell water, or even hear it if it was dripping on a
leaf perhaps. I looked around.
"Do not talk," Ahmeed said - I knew he meant "Do not think." "Water
inside heart," he said next, with a gesture of his hand on his heart.
I knew he meant I should sense inside - not with my mind, but from the
inside.
It is sad to have to use so many words to say something simple.
As soon as I stopped thinking, planning, deciding, analyzing - using
my mind, in short - I felt as if I was pushed in a certain direction.
I walked a few steps and immediately saw a big leaf with perhaps half
a cup of water in it.
I must have stood there for a full minute, in awe. Not in awe of
anything in particular, simply in awe.
When I leaned over to drink from the leaf, I saw water with feathery
ripples, I saw a few mosquito larvae wriggling on the surface, I saw
the veins of the leaf through the water, some bubbles, a little piece
of dirt. Reaching out, I put a finger in the water, then saw that one
of the wriggling mosquito larvae had been trapped in a tiny bubble on
my finger. How beautiful, how perfect. I did not put the finger with
the water droplet in my mouth, but looked back at the leaf.
My perception opened further. I no longer saw water - what I felt
with my whole being was a leaf-with-water-in-it, attached to a plant
that grew in soil surounded by uncounted other plants, all part of the
same blanket of living things covering the soil, which was also part
of a larger living skin around the earth. And nothing was separate;
all was one, the same thing:
water-leaf-plant-trees-soil-animals-earth- air-sunlight and little
wisps of wind. The all-ness was everywhere and I was part of it.
I cannot explain what went on inside me, but I knew that I had
learned something unbelievably wonderful. I felt more alive than I had
ever felt before.
All of me was filled with being.
What this other sense is, I do not know. For me it is very real. I
think of it as a sense of knowing. It probably is a quality we all
have to a greater or lesser degree. For me it works when I can get out
of my mind, when I can experience without having to understand, or
name, or position, or judge, or categorize.
It is a quality that has to be used or it fades away; just as one has
to exercise muscles, so too knowing must be exercised.
I am saying this after the fact, trying to describe something that
does not fit into our Western concepts, and therefore there are no
words. At the time I did not think anything. I was learning how to put
my mind aside and use some other sense to know.
Standing over a leaf with a little water in it, somewhere in the
jungles of Malaysia, I did not think in words. I did not think. I
bathed in that overwhelming sense of oneness. I felt as if a light was
lit deep inside me. I knew I was radiating something - love, perhaps -
for this incredible world, this rich, varied, and totally
interconnected world of creation that, at the same time, gave love to
me. And with the love, I also felt a very deep sense of belonging.
After a while, I slowly woke up. I came to, so to speak, and was in my
body again. I looked around. Ahmeed was not where I thought he was. In
fact, he was not anywhere in sight. He must have walked on, I thought.
And as soon as I thought, I panicked. I realized that I was alone,
that Ahmeed had left me in a strange place. I had no idea where I was,
or how to get back to Three or to find Ahmeed. My first reaction was
to shout, to yell, to call him. But the sense of being part of this
wonderful whole was so strong that I could not raise my voice. I
opened my mouth and tried to make a sound, but no sound would pass my
throat. I could not possibly disturb this oneness by yelling, by
feeling panicked. I could not be afraid - after all, I was part of
this all-ness.
My life changed in that moment.
And then I knew I need not shout for help, I need not run after
Ahmeed. I knew with great certainty that all I had to do was put my
mind aside and know where he was. Almost immediately I knew: He was
not too far away. I had an impression of him walking leisurely in that
direction. He sauntered as if he were deep in thought, or perhaps he
was thinking of me. In my mindless state of being I sent him a
voiceless hello, and it was easy to imagine recieving his slight smile
that barely stretched the corners of his mouth.
Part of me wanted to join Ahmeed, go back to Three to eat and drink.
But another part wanted to stay here and know this new world more
intimately. I stayed.
I was certain I would find my way back to Ahmeed and the village
later, when it grew dark perhaps.
...
I had frequent flashes of what I then called oneness, that magical
sense of being one with literally everything in creation. Each time I
had the oneness experience, it became more natural, more a part of me
- not something that I knew, but something I am.
Today I no longer wonder at the things I say when I let my inner
knowing speak. My mouth may surprise me, but, when, after I say the
words, their meaning penetrates my consciousness, my consciousness
admits that my mouth spoke truth.
The knowing I learned is not the same as consciousness. It is far
deeper. I have found that sometimes I know something that I cannot
possibly know, much as Ahmeed knew about the ocean. That kind of
knowing does not fit into the Western view of what is real. Scientists
need to measure, dissect, analyze, and prove harmless before they can
accept that a plant has valuable properties, for instance - and, of
course, the properties of the plant have to fit into current theories
of Western medicine.
Anthropologists and other scientists have occasionally, and wth great
reluctance, studied herbs that people in out-of-the-way places have
used for millennia, forgetting that a healing system is just that: A
system. Pharmaceuticals cannot be considered separate from the healing
system in which they were developed.
Western scientists seem surprised when they find that some herbs and
potions work. The next step then is always an elaborate, high-tech
chemical analysis of the herb to identify the active principle. The
active principle is then recreated from chemicals so that it can be
commercially produced without the many "impurities" of the original
plant material (although now nobody will ever know whether perhaps one
or more of those impurities plays an important part in the
effectiveness of the natural herb).
...
The explanation Western scientists give for how people all over the
world discovered the healing qualities of plants without the benefit
of our sophisticated science is always the same: trial and error - as
if primitive people tried this tree bark, or that leaf, and perhaps
experimented with cooking it, eating it raw, shredding it, baking it
until, in the end, they kept what worked.
In reality, the preparation of many native foods and medicines is
often so complicated, requiring so many steps, that it is hard to
imagine how people would use trial and error to learn what is good and
safe to eat, or which herbs prepared which ways prove to be medicinal.
How would people discover through trial and error that curare, a
quick and deadly poison that can be applied to blow darts or arrows,
must be prepared by collecting the sap of the plant and cooking it
down to a thick paste, being careful, the whole time, not to touch it
with their hands?
...
All through history there have been people who knew with an inner knowing.
Once, while walking up the steep and very narrow trail that goes into
Hanakapi'ai Valley on the island of Kaua'i, I had an almost disabling
sinus headache. Each step pounded in my head. As I trudged up the
steep trail, I looked up and saw a plant I did not know, maybe twenty
feet above me on the side of the cliff. As I looked at the plant, I
knew what it would feel like (hairy, but not stinging), what it would
smell like (aromatic), and I knew that if I could get even one leaf of
that plant, crush it, and put it in my nose, it would clear my
sinuses. A friend reached up with a long stick and managed to break
off a leaf of the plant. It felt as I knew it would, and it smelled as
I knew it would. I put it in my nose. It cleared my sinuses, as I knew
it would.
The plant, I later learned, is a wild species of oregano. Hawaiians
know it for its medicinal properties.
Another time, in the mountains of Luzon in the Phillipines, walking
from one Igorod village to the next with two Igorod guides, I slipped
perhaps thirty feet down a very steep slope of scree and badly scraped
the insides of both hands. I knew that I had better not get an
infection on the inside of my hands: We were at least two days from
civilization. I looked for water, but the landscape was dry and sere
and there was no water near us. I saw a plant that grew all around,
and again I knew what the leaf of that plant would feel like (hard,
harsh, prickly), what it would taste like if I chewed it (bitter). The
knowing came in a set. I also knew what to do with these leaves: I had
to chew them to make a poultice that would clean out the dirt from the
many scrapes on my hands and perhaps even disinfect the wounds.
Ever notice that dumb expression on the faces of maniacs and the subjects of stage hypnosis? It seems to me that the Conscious Mind is just a prop in an awful play with bad actors.
to be honest, your subconcous really isent that smart. i mean, it is, but in some subjects it is a complete idiot. it is gullibal and extremely mechanical. take advantage of that if you learn to communicate with it.
The subconsciousness is quite chaotic. Sure, it has fragments which are ordered, but most of it is chaotic nonsense. Simple case of information overload.
My grandma when she was a kid spoke fluent german, but all the time I knew her she only remembered a few words and would joke around saying the few sentences she remembered. She had passed away early this year. Before she passed away she was having strokes, and a few times she would have one then shake out of it and start talking fluent german like everything was just dandy until she's snap out of it. so it seems all that knowledge is kept in there somewhere even though we can't access it.
Not sure if this is the correct post to type this.
Anyway, for the past few weeks I've been studying the subconscious mind. So far I'm astonished with it's infinite intelligence.
Is it true that the universal knoweldge is within the subconscious mind. All the infinite knowledge we know is within us?
I have noticed when people get hipnotized that they can speak a certain language fluently even though they have never learn't it before getting hipnotised?
Since we are all connected with each other, and our real communication is telethapy we can access each other's knowledge and wisdom?
Look how a the Internet is setup. We have a mainframe (server) computer serving information while the clients have access to it.
The Mainframe can be consiousness and clients are us, we have access to that energy. Nobody is left out.
Is this all true? I'm not sure I've read this in spirituality and learning about the power of the subconscious mind so far.