The development of consciousness is not a mass sport

When the line “there is no spoon” from The Matrix became a catchphrase, the theory of developing consciousness suddenly found its way to the general public. The essence of the sentence is not that the spoon does not exist, but the realization that it is not the world we need to shape (or bend); rather, we need to treat our ideas about reality much more flexibly. Our limitations do not lie in physical reality, but in our own thinking. Of course, that raises another question: did everyone who wore a long leather coat and cyberpunk sunglasses for years as a fan of the film actually work on developing their consciousness?

What does all this have to do with cycling? Suddenly, quite a lot—when we roll into a situation or challenge that feels almost impossible. What seems nearly impossible is different for everyone; the point is what we can do with it. Do we smash our heads into our own limits like into a wall, or do we push those limits farther away? Do we break ourselves, or experience a certain ease while doing it?

The story is extremely long, just as long as humanity has been thinking about consciousness. For centuries, both philosophy and psychology have dealt with it, each theory adding something to the previous ones. Consciousness is proof of existence, the process of self-experience, and it can even be understood as a sense organ. It can be developed and fine-tuned every time we reach some kind of boundary. A consciousness put to work supports our capacity to act, helps us out of stuck states, difficult feelings, and self-limiting spirals.

Concretely: it has been raining for the fourth day, and moving on feels painful and pointless. Or perhaps the food has run out, the body is exhausted, it wants to sit down and cry, while horseflies are biting and the sand is deep. The world seems to have conspired against us: carrying the bike hurts our shoulders, our feet keep stumbling, the load shifts, everything happens slowly and with difficulty.

Yes, this is certainly not the world of normality—but whoever ends up in such a situation is there precisely to move beyond normality. They just may not know how. And then, somehow, it usually still happens. Those for whom “somehow” is not enough can practice it and shape it intentionally as well—that is why it is worth engaging with mental anatomy.

The quality of presence determines both our experience and our possibilities when we reach our limits. Struggle is one possible response, but so is accepting that there is no separation. We are connected by millions of threads to the space around us, which is why we can draw from it instead of fighting against it. This is the basis of strength.

A broader understanding of fitness is worth countless extra watts: those who do not lose focus, do not fall apart, and at most cry out of joy—or while letting something go—save themselves enormous amounts of energy. Of course, this does not always happen at the snap of a finger. Everyday life carefully walls everyone in, making it far from easy to reach our own center. It is not easy, but it is possible. It just takes practice (training)—yes, this too.

Everyone can become capable of paying attention to the signals of their own body and of grasping their own emotions. Those who possess this knowledge do not merely slip into a flow state; they are able to consciously create it.

If this topic has sparked your interest and you would like to learn more about mental anatomy, then listen to our podcast episode with László Fekete, founder of Énerőműhely, and Péter Oláh, adventure and ultra cyclist.

Subscribe and Follow Us!

Listen to us on your favourite podcast platform, and follow KLND on social media for the latest episodes! If you are interested in our "inner circle" and would like to join an adventure cycling community, check out the KLND Club. You can find details here: https://www.klnd.fun/pages/klnd-club

YouTube
Spotify
Apple Podcasts