THOSE of us who are aware of the manifold dangers of technology usually appreciate that some circumstances are more conducive to the expansion of human consciousness than others. A hermit, for example, who has chosen to isolate himself with a minimum of comfort – perhaps even a modicum of obligatory hardship – is far more likely to experience some kind of shift in awareness than the city-dweller who is surrounded by a continual torrent of external stimuli.

There is little doubt that the purveyors of technocracy are seeking both corporate enrichment and human enslavement on an unmitigated scale, but in order to achieve these self-seeking objectives there is also an undeniable conspiracy to prevent us from acquiring the necessary space in which to think. Not merely because freedom of this kind would allow us to cogitate on the fundamental nature of existence, or reflect on how far the modern world has fallen out of step with reality, but as a result of the fact that we may well take the next logical step and cease thinking altogether.

Ironically, establishing our place in the universe often involves a degree of environmental containment and this, on our own terms, can lead to the expansion of the Self. If one considers how Dr. Ewen Cameron and other agents of CIA-sponsored torture used sensory deprivation to blur the lines between pleasure and pain, it is clear that when it comes to deciding which forms of sensory input are acceptable one must have total control over the faculties of taste, smell, sound, touch and sight. This, in a modern city, is impossible and that is why true liberation lies on the periphery. The consensual restrictions of the monastic cell, or lonely retreat, permit a much larger degree of emancipation than conditions in which one must capitulate to the noise and inducement that is artificially-engineered by others.

The process of reclaiming one’s valuable head-space may be felt in the immense wave of relief one experiences whenever somebody turns off a loud television set, or when the traffic dies down and you can finally have a conversation without having to shout. This innate sensitivity is no accident, but it is not merely a reaction to those things we find unpleasant. On the reverse side, sensitivity is a means of identifying our own levels of consciousness and tuning ourselves into situations that are less involuntary. Creating spatial boundaries, away from the pandemonium of modernity, is crucial in the quest for personal development.