Content, Context, Container of Consciousness

There are moments that move me out of center. A phrase said in passing, a tone, a memory that catches me sideways, and suddenly I'm no longer here. I'm somewhere inside the reaction. (Remember the one I wrote about my coworker?) For most of my life I assumed those reactions were simply mine. I assumed they were “my thoughts”. Yes, we tend to claim them as our own. I assumed my feelings were my feelings. The bare fact of being me. But sit long enough with any of them and a different realization starts to surface. If you’ve not done this before. All you have to do is sit long enough in silence and you’d notice this fascinating thing. You begin to notice that the reaction is not one thing. It has layers. And underneath the layers, quieter than any of them, something is holding the whole arrangement. Three of those layers are worth naming in a framing I’d call: content, context, and container.

In this exploration of who we are — who we truly really are, even these triggers are a part of the journey. A very interesting tool of conceptualization to use for this investigation is to pull out from the linearity in which we engage with experience, pulling it into the three layers: content, context and container. And here’s how:

Content

Most of us originally think we are trapped by what we think. To be honest, we believe that our thoughts are our own thoughts. We believe that we can shape them, change them, mold them, stop them. Despite our constant failure with these projects of control, we still stay adamant about our belief that we can. We have not investigated closely enough how thoughts create the coloring of meaning. That coloring is what is responsible for two people to see the same thing but experience them differently. Let’s call this layer the content layer. It is where thoughts play. It is where our emotional states lay. It is in fact where the experience of experiencing lives. Can you verify it? Then it’s there. Can you witness thoughts? Yes. It’s content. Can you witness sensations? That’s content.

Context

How about the context layer? It is the lens in which the content of experience is filtered. Imagine if two people heard the sentence, “you need to change.” For one person, it lands as encouragement. Maybe for the other person, it lands as rejection. Why? Because the content is identical.The context is different. The first person may have grown up around mentors who challenged them with love. Their context interprets change as growth, possibility, or movement. The second person may have grown up around criticism and conditional approval. Their context interprets change as “you are not enough.”

Same words. Different world. That invisible interpretive field is context. Or let’s put it in a contemplative frame. Imagine if you witnessed a thought that said, “I am alone.” The content itself is that thought. The context can be an interpretation of abandonment, of freedom, of peace or even failure. Well, maybe even solitude. Or see even silence as an example. Silence in a monastery feels sacred but in an argument it feels threatening. Meanwhile silence at the ocean feels expansive. The silence was still silence. But the context is different. Got it?

Container

Now the container. Let me put it this way. If you could imagine for a second that you’re at the theater watching a movie. The content is the movie itself. All the explosions(if you’re like me stressing myself out with action packed movies), the dialogue, the sappy romance…all of it is the content. The context then will be the genre and interpretation of it. If you believe it is a comedy you would probably laugh when some crude jokes are made. Same words that may move you differently in a different context. Now, the container becomes the screen. I have a little sketch here to illustrate what I’m trying to communicate.

Because our association with experience is trained on the senses and perception, we tend to find only solidity in it, denying the reality of the other layers. In particular, the entire container in which and WHAT WE ARE.

My dear explorer, first of all, don’t you just see that this is just absolutely weird. I mean all of THIS. It is so unexplainable, mysterious and generally humbling to think that anything exists. No, I’m not talking about just the heady sense of awe. Not turning it into another spiritual idea. I mean stopping long enough to recognize the sheer impossibility of experience itself. Look around you for a second. A sound appears in consciousness. A memory appears and then disappears. Examine the sensation of your hands. That tingle tingle hushy tingle feeling that YOU are not generating. Or the image of these words and how you can understand the symbols that is the letters. Or the feeling of being a person reading an essay right now. Where is all of this appearing? Not metaphorically. Truly! Where is it appearing in?

What is this space in which experience is unfolding? And stranger still, what is it that knows experience is happening? We move so quickly through life that we rarely pause long enough to encounter the raw fact of being here at all. Yet beneath our every thought, beneath our interpretations of anything whatsoever, beneath every identity, there is this open and inexplicable field in which the entire drama of existence unfolds.

The ancients called it spirit. Some call it awareness. Some call it consciousness. Others remain silent because language collapses when you realize it’s not even an object. All objects arise in it. And honestly, silence might be the most accurate response. You cannot step outside awareness to examine awareness the same way an eye cannot fully turn around and see itself directly. Yet somehow, unmistakably, it is THIS. RIGHT HERE. Before every thought. During every emotional outburst. After every emotional drama. After every experience.

Quietly present.

Holding the entire universe of life. Do you see it? Is that not what eternal life is?

A Small Experiment

Set the essay down for a moment. You don’t need to close your eyes.

Notice one thing that is here right now. A sound. The pressure of your body against the chair. A thought passing through. Whatever shows up first. That is content.

Now notice how you are meeting it. Is there a leaning toward, or away? A faint judgment, a flavor of welcome or resistance? You don’t have to change it. Just see that the meeting has a quality. That is context.

Now, the harder part. The sound is happening. The leaning is happening. Both are appearing somewhere. Not in your head, exactly. Not in the room, exactly. Somewhere more intimate than either.

Don’t try to find it. Just notice that something is already aware, without effort, without your having to arrange it.

Rest there for one breath.

That is the container.

Contemplative Currents is a free (bi-weekly) newsletter that aims to shed light into our daily experiences as opportunities for contemplation of this glorious Mystery. If you’d like to support my work, please consider subscribing and/or sharing this free Substack. If you’re looking to monetarily support, buying my book, This Glorious Dance: Thoughts & Contemplations About Who We Are, is enough. I’m grateful for your support in whatever capacity.

Thanks for reading Contemplative Currents! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.