A modern man lives in sleep

“And by came an Angel who had a bright key,

And he opened the coffins & set them all free;

Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run,

And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.”

— William Blake

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Yesterday, I climbed on my roof to view the repairs that had been done on our chimney and I enjoyed seeing the neighborhood from a higher vantage point. As I came back down the ladder again, this experience reminded me of my moment-to-moment struggle with staying in a higher state of consciousness. I make an effort to arise and awaken only to descend and find myself asleep again, and this tedious cycle continues throughout my day.

In a poem by William Blake “The Chimney Sweeper” there is a glimmer of light amidst the bleakness of soot and sleep imagery. (The full text of the poem can be found at the end of this post.) Blake begins this poem with a stark reminder of the shadowy world we are all born into: we are the chimney sweepers. Certainly, Blake was commenting on social issues in England about child labor in his time, but as is common in all good esoteric literature, it has meaning on many levels. “For those who have ears to hear,” all of us live in our dark “coffins” of sleep while completing our mundane daily tasks without being present to our lives – sleep walking, so to speak – up and down the ladder.

P.D. Ouspensky tells us, we live the majority of our lives in the “second state or waking sleep” of consciousness, which has little difference from our consciousness during “first state” in our beds at night. The “bright key” to “shine in the Sun” is to awaken to the fact that we can live our lives in a more awakened state with self remembering – in the “third state” of consciousness. But again, Ouspensky reminds us that “a man cannot awaken by himself.” He needs the help of those who have already awakened and then, eventually, with great effort he can make higher states permanent under the conditions of a School which has a conscious Teacher.

Ouspensky goes on to explain, “A modern man lives in sleep, in sleep he is born and in sleep he dies.” That phrase and repetition of the word “sleep” is hauntingly reminiscent of Blake’s poem where he states, “while yet my tongue/Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"

If we could grasp Ouspensky’s observation of our sleep in its fullest sense and apply this alarming understanding of sleep to ourselves, we would rightly experience an existential crisis. Ouspensky goes on to say that, “the chief feature of a modern [wo]man’s being, which explains everything else that is lacking in him, is sleep.” He encourages us to ask this question of ourselves, “What knowledge can a sleeping [wo]man have?” What do you think, dear reader?

Another hopeful esoteric source tells us, “Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye.” Strengthening that one solitary real “I” with self remembering begins to awaken our Soul from sleep and then we can truly change our being. This is not something to wait for after death, but available in our lives now.

The following musical selection is in keeping with the theme of sleep and consciousness. Please listen with presence to the music of J.S. Bach by following the link below [6:28 duration]. It is related to sleep and consciousness because Bach wrote 30 variations for Count Kaiserling, who suffered from insomnia, and these variations were to be played by the Count’s harpsichordist, Johann Gottlieb Goldberg, to entertain the Count during his sleepless nights. These variations are called The Goldberg Variations and I cannot help but think that Bach was trying to awaken him rather than put him to sleep.

Goldberg Variations, BWV 988: Variation 13 performed by David Fray. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a75XUxAAeuI

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The Chimney Sweeper

By William Blake

When my mother died I was very young,

And my father sold me while yet my tongue

Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"

So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head

That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved, so I said,

"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare,

You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

And so he was quiet, & that very night,

As Tom was a-sleeping he had such a sight!

That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack,

Were all of them locked up in coffins of black;

And by came an Angel who had a bright key,

And he opened the coffins & set them all free;

Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run,

And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.

Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,

They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.

And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,

He'd have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark

And got with our bags & our brushes to work.

Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;

So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

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The River of Life, William Blake