Michael Prescott's Blog

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In our last adventure, we looked at the Gnostic myth of creation as presented in The Secret Book of John, one of the ancient documents found at Nag Hammadi. As a story of God's origins and the subsequent creation of the material world, the myth is interesting but perhaps not particularly persuasive.

There is, however, another way of looking at it, which may have more relevance to most of us than the cosmological interpretation. We can view the story from a psychological angle, or perhaps more accurately, from the angle of one's personal spiritual growth.

If we were to retell the story that way, it would go something like this:

in the beginning there is pure awareness, our state of mind as a newborn infant. There is as yet no self-awareness, no separate sense of self.

At a certain point, self-awareness develops. The young child is able to distinguish between himself and the world around him – between the experiencer and what he perceives.

Along with self-awareness, a host of mental faculties gradually comes into existence, creating new mental constructs and categories in the child's mind and holding the promise of potentially unlimited development.

At this point, however, self-awareness takes a detour, evolving into the ego. The ego can be seen as a misshapen and incomplete form of self-awareness, cut off from much of the higher wisdom of the mind, isolated and arrogant.

The ego comes to see itself as the ruling power – in fact, as the most important thing there is. In effect, the ego becomes a kind of tin god, requiring subservience and banishing any thoughts or feelings that jeopardize its preeminence.

While the ego holds sway, the person's outlook is narrow, crabbed, often envious and spiteful, or greedy and acquisitive, or vengeful and malicious. The ego creates a kind of personal hell for the person in its thrall.

To escape the tyranny of the ego, what's required is the knowledge of higher spiritual realities. In other words, gnosis.

Gnosis allows the person to cast off the ego and ascend to a higher plane of psychological development and spiritual understanding. This ascent entails a reawakening of the forgotten mental faculties eclipsed by the ego. When the full range of these faculties has been restored, the person has achieved his full potential and has been, so to speak, united with the mind of God.

The parallels are pretty clear, but are even clearer if we place them side-by-side in this handy chart (click for a clearer, uncropped version) :

This way of looking at the story may make it more meaningful to some of us. How the Gnostics thought of it is an open question. Perhaps some of them saw it purely as cosmology and took it literally; they were probably the ones who felt the need for exhaustive lists of demons who could be called out in exorcisms. Perhaps others saw it both ways, as a cosmology and as a guide to one's personal life. And perhaps a few saw it exclusively as a psychological-spiritual guide, with the cosmological elements presented purely as camouflage to disguise the deeper truth from those who were not fully initiated.

Jesus is made to say (in Matthew 13:10-13) some words that may reflect a Gnostic influence, or at least the influence of esoteric doctrines in general, which conceal their highest truths from most seekers:

To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. For to the one who has, more will be given, and he will have an abundance, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. This is why I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand.

The French objection

Conservative writer David French recently penned an article for the National Review website called “Post-Christian America: Gullible, Intolerant, and Superstitious.” I thought it was worth commenting on.

French begins by criticizing the view held by many secular humanists that if Christianity is defeated, society will become more rational. He writes:

Many of the best-educated and least-religious people I knew weren’t all that reasonable. They held to downright irrational views about reality. I remember an elite-educated secular friend in Philadelphia who scoffed at my wife’s Christian faith; this friend was also convinced that her child had an “indigo aura” that imbued him with special gifts. I recall conversations with Harvard Law School classmates who laughed at the New Testament but thought reincarnation was “cool.” And how can I forget the strange sight of Harvard students walking in and out of the neighborhood witchcraft store?

He goes on to cite a New York Times story reporting that “America’s less religious citizens are far more likely to believe in things such as ghosts and UFOs than people who attend church.” The Times writer locates the motive for such beliefs in “the pursuit of meaning. The less religious participants [in a series of studies] were, we found, the less they perceived their lives as meaningful. This lack of meaning was associated with a desire to find meaning, which in turn was associated with belief in U.F.O.s and alien visitors.”

French ads that “post-Christian Europeans have their own tendencies to believe in elves, trolls, and mental telepathy.”

After some musings on the deleterious consequences for national politics and civil discourse, French concludes:

Human beings are hard-wired to search for meaning and purpose. As we conduct that search, will our nation and culture continue to value and respect the faith that grants hope of redemption, patience through present suffering, and a means to discern between good and evil? Or will it continue to shun the way, the truth, and the life in favor of a grab-bag of ghosts, UFOs, and wishful thoughts? The choice isn’t between reason and religion. It’s all too often between religion and superstition. Post-Christian America will be a less rational place.

There’s a lot to unpack here.

First, French is not wrong to say that people – or at least very many people – have an innate need to find meaning in life. While there do seem to be individuals who never give a thought about any higher purpose and just go through life from day to day, they are probably an exception to the general rule.

Second, it seems pretty clear (as French suggests) that some people have merely taken the Christian hope of a Savior descending from on high to redeem our beleaguered planet, and have reimagined it as benevolent ETs descending in spaceships, like Klaatu in The Day the Earth Stood Still, to rescue us from ourselves. 

Third, it’s true that Christianity has developed a complex and erudite theology that can serve as a comprehensive explanation of good and evil, happiness and suffering, and the ultimate purpose of human life. Meanwhile, popular alternatives do not offer anything nearly as intellectually nourishing or sophisticated.

That said, some of French’s other views stand on less solid ground.

For one thing, he seems to assume that people could find what they want and need in Christianity, but that they perversely turn away from it and seek less satisfying alternatives. What’s more likely is that they have tried Christianity, or at least looked into it, and found that it simply does not satisfy them. It’s not that they’re searching for meaning because they’ve given up Christianity; it’s that they gave up Christianity because it didn’t answer their quest.

Undoubtedly, people who open themselves up to non-mainstream spiritual options are at risk of accepting dubious or outright silly ideas. But this is simply the price paid for exploring unfamiliar terrain.

More important, it’s an error – in fact, a logical fallacy – to lump together all unorthodox beliefs as equally baseless. “Elves” and “mental telepathy” do not occupy the same position on the spectrum of empirical evidence and scientific research. As far as I know, there's no evidence or research regarding elves, while there is more than a century of evidence of and research into mental telepathy, including such robust and massive studies as the ganzfeld and autoganzfeld experiments. Even such an outspoken Skeptic as Richard Wiseman has stated:

I agree that by the standards of any other area of science that remote viewing is proven, but [this] begs the question: do we need higher standards of evidence when we study the paranormal? I think we do.

Wiseman later clarified that he didn’t mean to single out remote viewing but was speaking about psi in general: “It is a slight misquote, because I was using the term in the more general sense of ESP – that is, I was not talking about remote viewing per se, but rather Ganzfeld, etc as well. I think that they do meet the usual standards for a normal claim, but are not convincing enough for an extraordinary claim.”

Nobody could say that by the standards of any other area of science, the existence of elves has been proven.

Or take French’s conjunction of indigo children and reincarnation. The notion of indigo children is trendy in certain New Age circles, but I don’t think it’s supported by any hard evidence. On the other hand, reincarnation is supported by surprisingly powerful evidence, mainly in the form of the spontaneous recollections of past lives by young children. Thousands of such cases have been identified and documented worldwide, some of them extremely striking.

While the current spirituality movement undeniably lacks the intellectual heft of Christianity, with its legacy of world-class thinkers like St. Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, it is still in its early days. It’s arguable that we’re experiencing a paradigm shift from traditional religion to a new, more empirically grounded spiritual outlook that will require new philosophical insights and explications. Transition periods are always uncomfortable and messy, but in the long run, they can result in progress.

Finally, it’s worth remembering that, for all the admirable theological complexities of Christianity, the religion is ultimately founded on stories like this:

After Jesus and his disciples arrived in Capernaum, the collectors of the two-drachma temple tax came to Peter and asked, “Doesn’t your teacher pay the temple tax?”

“Yes, he does,” he replied.

When Peter came into the house, Jesus was the first to speak. “What do you think, Simon?” he asked. “From whom do the kings of the earth collect duty and taxes—from their own children or from others?”

“From others,” Peter answered.

“Then the children are exempt,” Jesus said to him. “But so that we may not cause offense, go to the lake and throw out your line. Take the first fish you catch; open its mouth and you will find a four-drachma coin. Take it and give it to them for my tax and yours.”

(Matthew 17:24—27)

French tells us that the choice is “between religion and superstition.” It may be more correct to say the choice is between age-old superstitions codified as respectable theologies on the one hand, and, on the other, challenging new approaches based on present-day observation, experience, and research. 

The mark of Zoroastrianism

First, I want to thank the many readers who contributed ideas on my last post about the future direction of this blog. Right now my inclination is to follow Bruce Siegel's suggestion and post less often, while still keeping the focus on the paranormal. I also think Roger Knights had a good idea about reposting older material, though I don't plan to do so on a regular basis. Julie Baxter had good thoughts about Leslie Flint and other psi phenomena that have not been treated thoroughly, or at all, in this forum. I think Eric Newhill is right in saying that political discussions become too contentious; and there are plenty of political sites already.

I'm no doubt overlooking a lot of other people who made valuable contributions. The bottom line is that I appreciate all your input.

And yes, I am open to guest posts. This has been my policy for a while, so please don't be shy about taking me up on it.

This new post is on a subject that I admittedly know little about. Until recently the only thing I'd read about Zoroastrianism was Gore Vidal's historical novel Creation, which takes place during the so-called Axial Age and features Zoroaster's (fictional) grandson as the narrator. It's a good book, but I read it years ago and don't remember it very well. Recently, however, I did some online research into Zoroaster, also known as Zarathustra, and the religion he founded, which predates Christianity by at least 500 years and which was a major belief system in the ancient world. Zoroastrians practice their faith to this day, though in greatly reduced numbers.

Two things in particular interest me about Zoroastrianism. The first are certain obvious similarities to Christianity, and the second are parallels with modern spiritualism, including some of the speculations that I've offered right here.

 

The mark of Zoro ... aster?

I'll start with the Christian parallels. I should point out that I'm deriving most of this information from the Wikipedia entry on Zoroastrianism, which seems to be well-sourced. As always when dealing with Wikipedia, some skepticism may be advisable, since the quality of the entries varies tremendously, and the content is constantly changing.

According to Wikipedia, Zoroaster was drawing water from a river for use in a ritual when a spiritual being appeared to him and allowed him to see God. In Matthew 3:16, Jesus was undergoing baptism in a river when the spirit of God descended on him like a dove.

Afterward, Zoroaster encountered six other spiritual beings who taught him the rest of what he needed to know; only after this did he begin his ministry. After his baptism, Jesus is said to have gone off into the desert for an extended period, during which he saw visions and overcame temptations, before commencing his ministry.

Zoroaster acquired only one follower in his homeland and found success only after traveling abroad. Jesus acquired no followers in his home village and reportedly said (Mark 6:4) that a prophet is without honor in his own town.

Zoroaster taught that there is only one God, that God is entirely good, that the various pagan gods are inferior heavenly beings (many of them demons), and that man's free will is (at least partly) responsible for his pain and suffering in what would otherwise be a paradise on earth. All these views are consistent with Christianity and also with Judaism, which was developing into its modern form during the Axial Age.

Zoroaster taught that the forces of chaos and order were perpetually in conflict, and that our free will allows us to choose which side to take. It is the individual's responsibility to choose rightly. The darker forces will eventually mount a final assault at the end of days, but will be decisively defeated by a savior-figure who will be born of a virgin. After their defeat, the dead will be raised and restored to earthly life, this time with immortality. Needless to say, all of this is strongly reminiscent of Christianity.

The parallels I've selected may make it seem as if the two belief systems are virtually identical, but that's only because I have cherry-picked the most interesting similarities. I could have selected other details highlighting notable differences between the two faiths. For instance, Zoroastrianism emphatically rejects asceticism and monasticism, insisting that the purpose of life on earth is to participate in life and gather experiences, not to shut oneself off in a monastic cell or to deprive oneself of any experience, including physical pleasure. Zoroastrianism also rejects spirit-body dualism, conceiving of both earth and heaven in similar terms. In these respects, Zoroastrianism is arguably similar to Gnostic Christianity, but not to Christianity as generally practiced today.

Still, it would be hard to argue that even orthodox Christianity was not, at the very least, influenced by Zoroastrianism in its formative centuries.

What about modern spiritualism? Zoroastrianism holds that the individual soul preexists earthly incarnation. During this pre-birth phase, the soul is joined with its guardian spirit. While incarnated on earth, the soul is separated from its guardian, which watches over it and attempts to protect and guide it when possible. After death, the soul is reunited with its guardian spirit, achieving wholeness again.

This is pretty similar to the spiritualist idea that the individual soul is an extension of a higher self or oversoul, from which it detaches during its period of earthly incarnation and to which it returns after the incarnation is complete.

After death, Zoroastrianism tells us that souls are judged according to their thoughts, words, and actions while on earth. Souls that pass the test will enjoy paradise, but with the caveat that continuing spiritual struggles can be expected even in postmortem existence. The ongoing battle between order and chaos is apparently not limited to this physical plane.

Souls that fail the test of judgement are relegated to a hellish sphere of existence – but not for purposes of punishment and not for all eternity. Instead, the sojourn in hell is temporary, and the purpose is to reform the soul. Ultimately this process must prove successful; it is the destiny of every soul to be reunited with its guardian spirit (= higher self) and with God.

The Zoroastrian concept of God transcends gender. God is called Ahura Mazda, a name that connotes both male (Ahura = Lord, masculine) and female (Mazda = Wisdom, feminine). It can be translated as Wise Lord. Yet God, for all his/her power, is not omnipotent. This idea of a less-than-omnipotent God has led some commenters to classify Zoroastrianism as a form of pantheism in which God/consciousness emerges from a self-creating universe, although this seems to be a later interpretation and probably not the original idea.

I find it interesting that as we go back in time to a comparatively early stage of religious development, we find a number of ideas that match up quite well with spiritualist teachings today: a pre-incarnational existence for the soul; separation from and reunion with a higher self; a division of the spiritual world into heavenly and hellish spheres, with the hellish spheres intended as temporary way stations for the moral improvement of the soul; a God that is neither male nor female, is not omnipotent, and may be immanent, not transcendent; a universe that is still a work in progress, with the balance between systemic order and chaos determined by the choices of individual incarnated beings.

Again, I don't want to exaggerate the parallels. There are certainly differences. For example, many people in the spiritualist community embrace reincarnation, but Zoroastrianism rejects reincarnation except in the limited sense of the resurrection of the dead after the final judgment.

Even so, the similarities are at least worth looking at.

Oh, and for the dog lovers out there: the dog is sacred in Zoroastrianism. This in itself strikes me as a pretty good recommendation of the religion.

Guest post: The transformation of “VR” information in higher dimensions

Matt Rouge gives us another insightful guest post, this time exploring the possibilities inherent in higher dimensions of reality. Enjoy!

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When we ask ourselves whether the Afterlife exists and make attempts to explore its nature and properties, we are, by implication, trying to explain Reality itself. Thus, it’s no surprise that Michael has written many posts about the nature of Reality on this blog, one of which was the recent The VR Thing. This post dealt with different levels of reality: is our experience “less real” at a lower level (this world) but “more real” at a higher level (the Afterlife)?

In the post, Michael provides several famous quotes that reflect this view, as well as a concise summary of his virtual reality model:

[E]arthly life is a fully immersive role-playing game. This game is designed by our higher self, with which we are in only tenuous contact while embodied. The game is meant to be challenging and instructive. The stakes are, in one sense, real — we gain real wisdom and personal growth. In another sense, the stakes are illusory —[film critic Roger] Ebert's “elaborate hoax.”

As so often happens, this post led to an interesting discussion in the comments, with many concurring to some degree with the view that “realness” can vary. The question was also raised of how the game-like aspect of the model can jibe with the seriousness of human suffering.

On the whole, the VR model appeals to me as a New Ager. We regularly talk about “dimensions” and “Ascension,” the process by which we as individuals and the physical world is rising through dimensions and increasing in vibration. I think the concept of dimensions matches well the VR model, which requires at least two: the less real or “hoax” dimension and the more real or “Higher Self” dimension. Since VR is based on some concept of information, could it be that information itself transforms based upon the dimension in which it is experienced or “presented”? Further, is it possible that our perception of “less real” and “more real” is based upon the interrelationship of information and dimension?

I think so.

Most of us have probably played the video game Tetris at some point. Pieces come down from the top of the puzzle, and the player must to rotate them so that they form solid horizontal lines, which disappear, making room for more falling pieces. Let’s take a look at the pieces:

 

 

In the second dimension, the three pieces on the left have no chirality (they are the same as their mirror image), whereas the four on the right (two pairs) do have this property (they are different from their mirror image). Those who have played Tetris will know that it is easier to deal with the three pieces on the left than the four on the right: the latter require more brainpower to understand what spaces they will fit when rotated.

Yet, the four pieces on the right completely lose this limitation in the third dimension, since we can simply pick them up and flip them over. In 2D, the green L-shaped piece is an object different from the yellow reversed-L-shaped piece. In 3D, aside from their color, they are the exact same object.

Chirality also exists in the third dimension. I first learned the word when I worked in the drug industry, as molecules can be chiral. A good everyday example is gloves: a glove for the left hand is the same for the right, except for chirality; yet this simple difference prevents a glove for one hand from being worn on the other. In the fourth dimension, however, a glove for the left hand can simply be “flipped over into” a glove for the right hand. The “flipping” process is very difficult for us to imagine, since we are used to 3D geometry; nevertheless, in 4D, a left-handed glove is the exact same object as a right-handed glove.

These are examples from geometry, but the properties of higher dimensions, as we New Agers understand them, are not limited to those pertaining to physical space. Further, “information,” as understood in the VR model, refers to much more than concrete objects and mathematically definable objects; the term would relate to virtually (no pun intended) everything we can experience, including emotions, abstractions like “justice” and “beauty,” and thought itself. Chirality, or an analogous property (binary or otherwise), could apply to any aspect of or thing within Reality; indeed, even to the category of real/unreal itself.

For an example of this, we turn to the book Reimagination of the World: A Critique of the New Age, Science, and Popular Culture by David Spangler and William Irwin Thompson (Bear & Company, 1991). (I was turned onto this book by a very smart guy named Jason Wingate, who has commented on this blog in the past.) The two authors have been leaders in the New Age movement, and their intellectual depth is impressive. Although the book is 25 years old (and some of its content comes from lectures older than that), I am pleasantly surprised at how consistent it is with current New Age thought. Or perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised if in fact our philosophy and model of Reality is “right” or “righter,” relatively speaking, than some others.

On page 120, David Spangler writes,

You may remember the story of Flatland, in which a two-dimensional square encounters a three-dimensional sphere. At first, the square cannot comprehend what the sphere is because it has no experience of that third dimension along which part of the sphere’s being extends. Viewing the sphere along the linear dimension of the two-dimensional plane that is the square’s home, the sphere appears cut up into a succession of ovals. Our experience of higher dimensional beings can be very similar.

When we try to imagine these beings, we often leave out these additional dimensions. The result is to flatten them into human caricatures. This may be important for us to initially contact and understand one of these entities, but we should remember that it is a simplified representation, often bearing as much relationship to the real entity as a stick figure does to one of Michelangelo’s paintings.

I’ll note in passing that Michael has cited on multiple occasions on this blog the novel Flatland by Edwin Abbot (1884). On page 130 of Reimagination, in a different chapter that comes from a lecture, there is this interesting exchange that deals directly with the matter of “realness”:

AUDIENCE PARTICIPANT: Are you saying that the beings who come through channels, like Ramtha and Ma Fu and Lazarus, aren’t real or are only psychological crutches? […]

DAVID: […W]hether these beings are real or not is less important to me than the impact our images of these beings can have in our lives. […] The job of the inner worlds is not to tell us how to live but to empower our ability to unfold our own higher dimensionality. We are not born individuals so we can turn our individuality over to another being, becoming a clone of his or her opinions, beliefs, and attitudes. We are individuals so that we can add a unique perspective to the universe and make a unique contribution to a higher geometry of co-creation and compassion.

Whether these beings are real or not in themselves, as they enter into our nested sphere, into our dimensionality, they must take on characteristics that allow communication to take place. In many instances, this means entering into a body of manifestation that is built up from the unconscious needs and desires of the channel and of the audience. In this instance, the being speaks to us through an interface that is part window, part mirror. […]

Channeling is an art. We oversimplify it when we think of it as an entity entering into a person’s body. That image really belongs to an earlier conception of the body and soul as truly separate things. These images abound in our spirituality and metaphysics: the body as vehicle, the soul as driver, and so on. The relationship is really more subtle and complex. The body is part of the soul and vice versa. They interrelate and co-create each other in profound ways, and both are aspects of a larger geometry that might be called our spirit. […]

Wow. There is nothing here that doesn’t sound completely fresh, modern, and insightful to me. In the space of a few paragraphs, he has cogently commented on many issues that this blog has explored, including the “transmission model” of consciousness (I think he implies here the hybrid model, which I myself believe). Further, I think Spangler’s words have deep implications for the VR model itself: instead of there being a pure dichotomy of hoax versus real or game versus higher purpose, we may be experiencing tiered co-creation in which the levels are interdependent and the hierarchy can find itself turned on its head. His use of the word “interface” is perhaps also not coincidental.

Let’s look at an example of how a channeled entity that is “unreal” here could be “real” in a higher dimension. Leonora Piper (I cited the Psi Encyclopedia!) was a famed medium whose “control,” or guide to the spirit world, in many sittings was “Phinuit.” This spirit talked about himself as though he had been a real person on earth, but research failed to provide verification of his actual existence (there is a lot about this issue at the link).

Spangler’s viewpoint, however, shows us how a spirit like Phinuit could still be “real” on some level. Phinuit could be both window and mirror, a co-creation of himself, Piper, and the sitters.

Further, going back to the example of chirality, from the viewpoint of the spirit in his higher dimension, it may appear that the “unreal” facts of his life on earth are no different than facts that to us are “real.” As we progress to higher dimensions, some differences may disappear, yet new ones may appear. The chirality of Tetris pieces disappears in 3D, but the chirality of gloves appears (since 3D objects can’t exist in 2D) and then disappears in 4D. Similarly, some distinctions between real and unreal may appear and then disappear as we go up from 3D.

The issue of human suffering may also transform as we progress through the dimensions. If you grew up a Christian as I did, you probably heard something to the effect that God would right all wrongs and dry all tears. This may be a metaphor for what I speculate “actually” happens: the “information” of suffering does not disappear in higher dimensions but rather transforms into something bearable, perhaps even desirable. Frequent commenters Art and Bruce tend to emphasize Oneness and Love as the ultimate Reality. In contrast, among the regulars here, Eric and I have tended to insist that evil is an actual issue that can’t be waved away (though I would also say we do not necessarily disagree with Art’s and Bruce’s observations, generally speaking). Perhaps we are all correct. Perhaps Oneness and Love are the “end result,” not because other aspects of reality simply go poof, but because they exist in a different manner in higher dimensions.

Obviously, this is a big topic, and I find it hard to think of any neat conclusion to my speculations and observations above. Perhaps, in a higher dimension, one already exists.

Guest post: Did Leibniz anticipate an information-based reality?

Once again, Matt Rouge offers some fascinating philosophical insights, this time focusing on Leibniz's theory of monads. Take it away, Matt ...

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Thank you, Michael! Always an honor and a pleasure.

On this blog, Michael frequently talks about the theory that information is in some way fundamental to reality, and I subscribe to this view as well. But the word “information” has a connotation problem. In a recent comment on this blog, our friend Bruce Siegel said,

If it's a choice between over-using one or the other, I'll choose "consciousness" because it refers to a *living* thing rather than a dead one.

Bottom line: I think life/consciousness/love is central to both the universe and my own being, not some abstract, bloodless, nebulous, concept like "information." […]

For me, the undue focus on "information" is closely related to an obsession with matter. And that's because in its normal use "information" is always associated with some form of physical substrate.

Bruce has done me the favor of outlining rather completely the problems with using this word to mean what we want it to mean in this case. But what if someone had solved this issue way back in 1714? And what if he had, likely without understanding he had done so, elucidated the theory of information as fundamental to reality in a concise, intelligible, and illuminating way?

I think that that, with his La Monadologie (The Monadology), mathematical and philosophical genius Gottfried Wilhelm von Leibniz did exactly that. Here is the complete text. It’s not very long, so I’m going to go over much of it right here. For the sake of brevity, I won’t quote and comment on everything, but I invite you to read the entire text as I go through it.

Leibniz

Now, before we begin, I will ask you to mentally participate in this way: Imagine that when Leibniz says “Monad,” he is actually saying “unit of information.” Further, please accept for the moment my definition of “information.” It is not limited to data contained in a medium like paper, silicon, or neurons. Rather, it is any fact, thought, or qualia. Ultimately, it is any actual or potential object of awareness. Perhaps you will agree that, if you read the text with these concepts in mind, The Monadology leads to some stunning insights.

Without further ado…

1. The Monad […] is nothing but a simple substance, which enters into compounds. By ‘simple’ is meant ‘without parts’.

2. And there must be simple substances, since there are compounds; for a compound is nothing but a collection or aggregatum of simple things.

We can see the Monad as a unit of information and compounds as relationships with other information. Information ultimately does not have parts in the physical sense, though it may be divisible and compoundable in our minds.

3. Now where there are no parts, there can be neither extension nor form nor divisibility. These Monads are the real atoms of nature and, in a word, the elements of things.

Ah, right away we get some good stuff. Monads have no geometric characteristics or form whatsoever, which is true of information. In other words, information is non-local. Further, it is nevertheless fundamental to what we call “physical reality.”

4. No dissolution of these elements need be feared, and there is no conceivable way in which a simple substance can be destroyed by natural means.

Information is indestructible, in other words.

7. Further, there is no way of explaining how a Monad can be altered in quality or internally changed by any other created thing; since it is impossible to change the place of anything in it or to conceive in it any internal motion which could be produced, directed, increased or diminished therein, although all this is possible in the case of compounds, in which there are changes among the parts. The Monads have no windows, through which anything could come in or go out. […]

This matches pretty well how we think of information: we cannot alter information itself, but we can alter how we form “compounds”/relationships with it in our minds.

14. The passing condition [i.e., changes in the Monad], which involves and represents a multiplicity in the unit or in the simple substance, is nothing but what is called Perception, which is to be distinguished from Apperception or Consciousness, as will afterwards appear. […]

There is a lot that comes before this, but in essence Leibniz argues that monads must be different from one another; otherwise, they would not exist as units. Further, they must be subject to change. So what is the content of the monad? Perception! And this makes sense with respect to the definition of “information” I earlier described. The unit of information is essentially the object of awareness, however the mind at that moment chooses to relate to it (e.g., looking at the face instead of the entire person, looking at the nose instead of the face, and so on).

Now we are getting into pan-consciousness and, since monads are non-local, the holographic universe that friend and frequent commenter Art espouses. This theme will only be spread on thicker as we proceed.

Manuscript page of The Monadology

17. Moreover, it must be confessed that perception and that which depends upon it are inexplicable on mechanical grounds, that is to say, by means of figures and motions. And supposing there were a machine, so constructed as to think, feel, and have perception, it might be conceived as increased in size, while keeping the same proportions, so that one might go into it as into a mill. That being so, we should, on examining its interior, find only parts which work one upon another, and never anything by which to explain a perception. Thus it is in a simple substance, and not in a compound or in a machine, that perception must be sought for. Further, nothing but this (namely, perceptions and their changes) can be found in a simple substance. It is also in this alone that all the internal activities of simple substances can consist.

Here is a brilliant insight by Leibniz that also gets into the problem of qualia. If we were to increase the size of the brain, we would see neurons and so on, but we would not see perception itself. Materialists would say that perception lies in the relationships between neurons, but what if perceptions lie within information itself? That is, the perception is its own content. This is a kind of Copernican Revolution in reverse, in which information does not revolve around the mind, but the mind revolves around the information; or rather, the mind is a relationship among infinite non-local modes of experiencing awareness.

18. All simple substances or created Monads might be called Entelechies, for they have in them a certain perfection (ἔχουσι τὸἐντελές); they have a certain self-sufficiency (αὐτάρκεια) which makes them the sources of their internal activities and, so to speak, incorporeal automata.

Here is perhaps the word that can replace the bloodless word “information”: entelechies. Also, Funkentelechy vs. the Placebo Syndrome. George Clinton knows his Leibniz!

19. If we are to give the name of Soul to everything which has perceptions and desires in the general sense which I have explained, then all simple substances or created Monads might be called souls; but as feeling is something more than a bare perception, I think it right that the general name of Monads or Entelechies should suffice for simple substances which have perception only, and that the name of Souls should be given only to those in which perception is more distinct, and is accompanied by memory.

This is directly relevant to our discussions of souls and what kinds of things might experience the Afterlife. A soul, in other words, is a sufficiently complex relationship among entelechies that also has access to memory (which itself is information, or more entelechies, I would myself add in explanation).

26. Memory provides the soul with a kind of consecutiveness, which resembles reason, but which is to be distinguished from it. Thus we see that when animals have a perception of something which strikes them and of which they have formerly had a similar perception, they are led, by means of representation in their memory, to expect what was combined with the thing in this previous perception, and they come to have feelings similar to those they had on the former occasion. For instance, when a stick is shown to dogs, they remember the pain it has caused them, and howl and run away.

An interesting observation by Leibniz. Our minds are constantly running on the fuel of association between various pieces of information.

27. And the strength of the mental image which impresses and moves them comes either from the magnitude or the number of the preceding perceptions. For often a strong impression produces all at once the same effect as a long-formed habit, or as many and oft-repeated ordinary perceptions.

28. In so far as the concatenation of their perceptions is due to the principle of memory alone, men act like the lower animals, resembling the empirical physicians, whose methods are those of mere practice without theory. Indeed, in three-fourths of our actions we are nothing but empirics. For instance, when we expect that there will be daylight to-morrow, we do so empirically, because it has always so happened until now. It is only the astronomer who thinks it on rational grounds.

Some more good observations. I think these passages reflect an important aspect of spiritual development: getting out of habit (lower-dimensional thought) and moving toward true reflection and understanding (higher-dimensional thought).

33. There are also two kinds of truths, those of reasoning and those of fact. Truths of reasoning are necessary and their opposite is impossible: truths of fact are contingent and their opposite is possible. When a truth is necessary, its reason can be found by analysis, resolving it into more simple ideas and truths, until we come to those which are primary.

46. We must not, however, imagine, as some do, that eternal truths, being dependent on God, are arbitrary and depend on His will, as Descartes, and afterwards M. Poiret, appear to have held. That is true only of contingent truths, of which the principle is fitness [convenance] or choice of the best, whereas necessary truths depend solely on His understanding and are its inner object.

Leibniz is here describing what I call “a priori reality” and “a posteriori reality,” which I think is a very important distinction. For example, the truths of mathematics are true in all possible universes, are uncreated, and unalterable. God/Source cannot influence them and is in fact bound by them. We have the ability to understand these truths (at least to some extent, currently, with our human minds), but they are not “information” in the same sense as, say, the perceptions I have of the room I am in.

47. Thus God alone is the primary unity or original simple substance, of which all created or derivative Monads are products and have their birth, so to speak, through continual fulgurations of the Divinity from moment to moment, limited by the receptivity of the created being, of whose essence it is to have limits.

There is a lot before this in which Leibniz talks about the nature of God. But the above sounds to me quite close to the New Age definition of Source. This “original simple substance” could also be called, per the Sanskrit term of Indian thought, “Cit,” or universal consciousness. Leibniz is of course operating in the traditional top-down European mode of thinking about spirituality. I personally add in the concept that all entelechies are striving to compose Source/Cit. There is therefore causality in both directions, in my view.

53. Now, as in the Ideas of God there is an infinite number of possible universes, and as only one of them can be actual, there must be a sufficient reason for the choice of God, which leads Him to decide upon one rather than another.

It’s interesting that Leibniz had the concept of multiple universes. He goes on to argue that this must be the best possible universe, since that is the only choice per se that a perfect God can make. I don’t agree with this argument, but it does lead to some interesting thinking on his part:

56. Now this connexion or adaptation of all created things to each and of each to all, means that each simple substance has relations which express all the others, and, consequently, that it is a perpetual living mirror of the universe.

Things are connected and adapted to achieve the perfection that God wills. I don’t agree with that, but here Leibniz has conceived of the holographic nature of reality—all the way back in 1714.

57. And as the same town, looked at from various sides, appears quite different and becomes as it were numerous in aspects; even so, as a result of the infinite number of simple substances, it is as if there were so many different universes, which, nevertheless are nothing but aspects of a single universe, according to the special point of view of each Monad.

OK, wow. In other words, all entelechies (in my conception actual or potential objects of awareness) are reflections of each other and of the entirety, Source.

58. And by this means there is obtained as great variety as possible, along with the greatest possible order; that is to say, it is the way to get as much perfection as possible.

This jibes with Michael’s recent speculation: “Of course, a brainstorming session makes no sense if the solution to the problem is already known. Brainstorming is something we do when we don't know the answer. Which leads us to the conclusion that the universe, or whatever lies behind it, doesn't know all the answers. The universe is a work in progress, and the various experiments – whether successful or failed – are  its way of working out its own unanswered questions.”

60. […] For God in regulating the whole has had regard to each part, and in particular to each Monad, whose nature being to represent, nothing can confine it to the representing of only one part of things; though it is true that this representation is merely confused as regards the variety of particular things in the whole universe, and can be distinct only as regards a small part of things, namely, those which are either nearest or greatest in relation to each of the Monads; otherwise each Monad would be a deity. It is not as regards their object, but as regards the different ways in which they have knowledge of their object, that the Monads are limited. In a confused way they all strive after the infinite, the whole; but they are limited and differentiated through the degrees of their distinct perceptions.

This statement is directly analogous to the concept of the holographic universe, even though holography or even photography didn’t exist in Leibniz’s day. Each monad has a clear perception of what it is itself about and a less clear perception of that to which it is more distantly related. Similarly, as a holographic plate is broken into pieces, each of the pieces still contains the entire picture but is fuzzier the smaller it is.

69. Thus there is nothing fallow, nothing sterile, nothing dead in the universe, no chaos, no confusion save in appearance, somewhat as it might appear to be in a pond at a distance, in which one would see a confused movement and, as it were, a swarming of fish in the pond, without separately distinguishing the fish themselves.

The parts before this are quite interesting but long. In essence, everything in the universe in all dimensions is conscious and alive.

70. Hence it appears that each living body has a dominant entelechy, which in an animal is the soul; but the members of this living body are full of other living beings, plants, animals, each of which has also its dominant entelechy or soul.

Here is where we get into our recent discussions of the I-Thought. I would say the “dominant entelechy” in any mind is Cit itself, or Universal Consciousness. Through psycho-spiritual mechanics, this nature in turn leads to the I-Thought, and so on, relating more or less strongly to other entelechies as it reflects the entire Universe in its own manner.

77. Thus it may be said that not only the soul (mirror of an indestructible universe) is indestructible, but also the animal itself, though its mechanism may often perish in part and take off or put on an organic slough.

The parts before this need to be read through the lens of modern science, but Leibniz is here in essence stating what I believe is the reason why we experience an Afterlife: our minds are relationships between indestructible units of information, or entelechies. “Mirror of an indestructible universe” is in the original—not my addition!

78. These principles have given me a way of explaining naturally the union or rather the mutual agreement of the soul and the organic body. The soul follows its own laws, and the body likewise follows its own laws; and they agree with each other in virtue of the pre-established harmony between all substances, since they are all representations of one and the same universe.

The mind-body problem was the bugbear of the philosophers of the time: How can the soul interface with the body if they are of two different natures? Here Leibniz takes nothing less than a radical approach: the holographic universe and the interrelatedness of all things.

83. Among other differences which exist between ordinary souls and minds, some of which differences I have already noted, there is also this: that souls in general are living mirrors or images of the universe of created things, but that minds are also images of the Deity or Author of nature Himself, capable of knowing the system of the universe, and to some extent of imitating it through architectonic ensamples, each mind being like a small divinity in its own sphere.

I think this statement reflects the concept of dimensionality of thought: that is, the greater the dimension of our thought, the closer it is to God/Source. Thus, there is consciousness in all things, but minds can be of varying levels.

So that’s my gloss on the text itself, and now I’d like to do a bit of more freestyle commentary.

First, while I don’t agree with everything Leibniz says in The Monadology, I do think he anticipated many future developments in thought, some of which jibe very well with today’s advanced physics and recent trends in spirituality (New Age, if you will).

The thing that is quite stunning to me is that Leibniz was taking an approach to atomic theory that completely ignored the concept of extension, or the void of space, which Descartes had emphasized in his Meditations as fundamental to the understanding of physical reality. At the same time, Leibniz doesn’t just hint at a concept of a holographic universe—he states it outright.

But Leibniz goes beyond merely anticipating ideas that others, perhaps in ignorance of The Monadology and his other works, have fleshed out to a greater extent in the 20th and 21st centuries. That is, he does more than simply allow us to say, “Wow, it was cool he was thinking of this stuff in 1714!”

Rather, he sets forth ideas in The Monadology that can take us further toward the truth than we’ve already gone. To wit:

• He suggests, as I put it, the reverse Copernican Revolution of seeing the mind proceed toward mental content and inhering in it, as opposed to containing it. Entelechies are each their own “perception” or content, the relationships between which (“compounds”) form the whole.

• In his argument of the enlarged mill, he gives us a clue as to the nature of qualia. Instead of looking for qualia in the relationships between the parts (neurons, etc.), we may see that they are “simple substances” or entelechies with which our minds can form a relationship. That’s not a full explanation but is a big hint, I believe.

• Reality is not based upon geometry (i.e., the Universe does not equal the void of space and its contents) but on relationships (“compounds”) between units of mental content (“monads/entelechies”). This insight has direct relevance to psi, spiritual matters, and the Afterlife, in which we consistently see that physical distance is irrelevant.

• Further, the base units of matter are only superficially atoms broken further down into electrons, quarks, and so on. Although Leibniz in The Monadology is describing the workings of what we would call the “physical universe,” he does away with extension entirely in his explanation. Monads have no size or geometric qualities whatsoever. I took a 400 level course in college specifically about Leibniz, and this absence of geometry was something everyone had a hard time wrapping their heads around. I think the implications for understanding quantum mechanics and other aspects of reality are immense, since our minds have a natural and understandable tendency to form geometric models that lead us to extrapolate incorrectly.

• The transmission hypothesis becomes unnecessary. Since the base unit of reality, the monad/entelechy is mental, there is nothing to transmit from one “place” to another. Rather, minds/souls/spirits (these all being the same thing) inhere in reality by dint of relationships. As Leibniz observes, the relationships can be stronger or weaker in quality, even though everything is ultimately interrelated.

• Consequently, the Afterlife becomes easier to understand. When a person dies, some relationships become weaker while others become stronger. There is no need for a soul to “pop out of” the body, since the human soul inheres relationally in the entire universe (Source, Cit, etc.).

• Leibniz’s concept of “pre-ordained harmony” was also well ahead of its time. Today, we could analogize that this harmony is a computer program by which information is controlled. Since this could be another “bloodless” concept, we can further describe it as the mode of “perception” of Source and entelechies it comprises.

Those are some observations, but I have hardly squeezed the orange of The Monadology of all its juice. I encourage the reader to go through the rather brief text and draw further conclusions, for I think increased attention to this remarkable document can help us understand better both physical and spiritual reality and resolve the artificial dichotomy between the two.

Beyond Physicalism

Some of the authors of Irreducible Mind have put out a follow-up book, Beyond Physicalism. It's quite expensive (about fifty bucks in either the hardcover or Kindle edition), but if it's anything like the first book, it should be well worth the price. 

From the book description: 

Beyond Physicalism is the product of an unusual fellowship of scientists and humanities scholars who dispute these [materialist] views. In their previous publication, Irreducible Mind, they argued that physicalism cannot accommodate various well-evidenced empirical phenomena including paranormal or psi phenomena, postmortem survival, and mystical experiences. In this new theory-oriented companion volume they go further by attempting to understand how the world must be constituted in order that these “rogue” phenomena can occur. Drawing upon empirical science, metaphysical philosophy, and the mystical traditions, the authors work toward an improved “big picture” of the general character of reality, one which strongly overlaps territory traditionally occupied by the world’s institutional religions, and which attempts to reconcile science and spirituality by finding a middle path between the polarized fundamentalisms, religious and scientific, that have dominated recent public discourse.

And here's one of several laudatory quotes, this one from Andreas Sommer of Cambridge University:

Some of the philosophical problems that occupied William James longest and deepest, along with solutions he thought most promising, have literally been written out of history. This volume presents the first serious collective attempt since James’ death to revive his project. Its chapters are characterized by an intellectual ethos reminiscent of the ‘father’ of modern American psychology himself: sympathetic open-mindedness made fruitful through disciplined, calm and penetrating rigor. 

Whoever fights monsters

I was thinking of doing a post on opinions and keeping an open mind and not demonizing one's opponents and so forth. Then I came across a column in the Village Voice (of all places) that said it better than I ever could.

The political blog Ace of Spades introduced me to this item. Ace does a great job of setting the table. He talks about how goofy the columnist is, how he tweets absurd messages and weird pics of himself, how he writes silly songs and apparently considers himself a master of the art of partying. All of this is intended to convince us that the guy cannot possibly have anything intelligent to say, and that his reply to a reader's question about getting along with his "right-wing a--hole" father will be a comical exercise.

And then we get a surprise (bold emphases added by me):

Go back and read the opening sentences of your letter. Read them again. Then read the rest of your letter. Then read it again. Try to find a single instance where you referred to your dad as a human being, a person, or a man. There isn't one. You've reduced your father -- the person who created you -- to a set of beliefs and political views and how it relates to you. And you don't consider your dad a person of his own standing -- he's just "your dad." You've also reduced yourself to a set of opposing views, and reduced your relationship with him to a fight between the two. The humanity has been reduced to nothingness and all that's left in its place is an argument that can never really be won. And even if one side did win, it probably wouldn't satisfy the deeper desire to be in a state of inflamed passionate conflict.

The world isn't being destroyed by democrats or republicans, red or blue, liberal or conservative, religious or atheist -- the world is being destroyed by one side believing the other side is destroying the world. The world is being hurt and damaged by one group of people believing they're truly better people than the others who think differently. The world officially ends when we let our beliefs conquer love. We must not let this happen.

When we lump people into groups, quickly label them, and assume we know everything about them and their life based on a perceived world view, how they look, where they come from, etc., we are not behaving as full human beings. When we truly believe that some people are monsters, that they fundamentally are less human than we are, and that they deserve to have less than we do, we ourselves become the monsters. When we allow our emotions to be hypnotized by the excitement of petty bickering about seemingly important topics, we drift further and further away from the fragile and crucial human bond holding everything together. When we anticipate with ferocious glee the next chance we have to prove someone "wrong" and ourselves "right," all the while disregarding the vast complexity of almost every subject -- not to mention the universe as a whole -- we are reducing the beauty and magic of life to a "side" or a "type," or worst of all, an "answer." This is the power of politics at its most sinister.

And much more. As they say on the intertubes, read the whole thing.

Persistence of visions

Here's a thought experiment.

Suppose that, millennia ago, a handful of people had genuine mystical insights as a result of near-death experiences, deathbed visions, or states of extreme physical or emotional distress. As word of these experiences spread, other people tried various ways to induce such experiences at will. Finding that certain plant products could bring about altered states of consciousness, they concluded that these altered states were the equivalent of the "real" experiences they were seeking.

But ... they were wrong. The real visions, which were (and are) exceedingly rare, just can't be reproduced on demand. And over the centuries, the drug-induced visions became indiscriminately mixed up with the much rarer genuine visions, creating confusion and leading spiritual seekers astray, just as outcrops of fool's gold can mislead prospectors.

If this is the case, how could we possibly distinguish between real visions and counterfeit visions - between gold and fool's gold? We might start by noting that NDEs and deathbed visions seldom seem rooted in paranoia and fear, while drug-induced visions frequently do. To my knowledge, NDErs never encounter grotesque humanoid alien insects, but a remarkable number of  DMT users have seen such beasties. I don't think NDEs or deathbed visions involve the kinds of visual phenomena that LSD users routinely report (e.g., swirls of color, "breathing" walls, synesthesia). And so forth.

So if we're going to assume that NDEs and deathbed visions are probably genuine spiritual experiences (in part because of their sometimes compelling veridical components, and in part becayse they dovetail with channeled material from apparently reputable sources), then it seems at least arguable that, for the most part, LSD trips, DMT experiments, and other such practices are counterfeit spiritual experiences.

This way of looking at things is not necessarily correct, but it could fit the facts.

A rebuttal would be that some NDEs and deathbed visions are scary, just like bad drug trips. This is true, but only in a minuscule proportion of reports. When Nancy Evans Bush wrote a book about unpleasant NDEs, she could only find a handful of cases, and even some of those don't sound particularly hellish (e.g., simply floating in a void). Maurice Rawlings, the one investigator who insists on a high proportion of truly hellish NDEs, seems to have pushed this position to advance his evangelical Christian beliefs. Other researchers have not been able to reproduce his results, and there are accusations that Rawlings distorted his data.

In short, while undoubtedly there are some scary or negative NDEs (as well as deathbed visions - e.g., the dying vision of the Emperor Augustus, if it has been reported accurately), the vast majority of cases appear to be positive. The same is emphatically not true of drug trips, which are often frightening, upsetting, even panic-inducing, and may promote feelings of paranoia and despair. It took years of effort for Nancy Evans Bush to find even a few well-documented hellish NDEs. It's not at all difficult to find examples of bad drug trips. As Rosie O'Donnell would say, "Google it."

Here are five bad LSD trips ... a mushroom trip with lasting ill effects ... a peyote trip with devastating consequences ... a scary DMT trip ... another really bad DMT trip ... and don't forget about the DMT "insectoids"! I found all those references, and dozens more, in a few minutes of Googling for the term "bad trip" + the names of particular substances. I could easily link to hundreds, perhaps thousands, of cases. Meanwhile, it's doubtful there are more than a dozen or so well-documented hellish NDEs, if even that many.

The fact that drug trips can go bad does not, in itself, prove that they're a false path to spiritual insight. But the fact that such a large percentage of drug trips go badly, while only a trivial percentage of NDEs and deathbed visions are scary or nightmarish, suggests to me that there is a fundamental, qualitative difference between the two kinds of experiences. And if they are qualitatively different, it's certainly arguable that one set of experiences is largely genuine, and the other set largely is not.

It's always tempting to think there is some shortcut to spiritual enlightenment, and for millennia, many sincere seekers have used psychedelic substances as such a shortcut. But maybe, just maybe, there is no shortcut. Maybe there are no cheats, no loopholes. Maybe we just have to practice patience and accept a degree of uncertainty and doubt.

And, who knows? Patience and the willing acceptance of uncertainty just might be the very spiritual qualities we seek. 

Bam!

Recently I came across an interesting interview with David Webster, a philosophy professor and author of a new book called Dispirited. The excerpts that caught my attention are here; the full interview is here. 

Webster says he begins his book (which I haven't read) with the following declaration: 

When someone tells me that they are “Not religious, but very spiritual,” I want to punch them in the face.

Hard …

Now, I don't know about you, but when I read a statement like that, it makes me think that the author may be in need of a dose of spirituality himself. 

Of course it's hyperbole, and as the opening sentence of a book it succeeds in capturing the reader's attention, which is what opening sentences are supposed to do. Still, it is a tad off-putting, especially coming from a college professor whose field of expertise is Religion, Philosophy and Ethics. 

But what's got Webster so riled up about spirituality, anyway? The answer is found in his book's not-very-subtle subtitle, How Contemporary Spirituality Makes Us Stupid, Selfish and Unhappy.

In the interview, Webster elaborates: 

Stupid—because its open-ended, inclusive and non-judgemental attitude to truth-claims actually becomes an obstacle to the combative, argumentative process whereby we discern sense from nonsense. To treat all claims as equivalent, as valid perspectives on an unsayable ultimate reality, is not to really take any of them seriously. It promotes a shallow, surface approach, whereby the work of discrimination, of testing claims against each other, and our experience in the light of method, is cast aside in favour of a lazy, bargain-basement-postmodernist relativism.

To some extent I agree with this. It's my basic complaint about New Agery. There is too much blanket acceptance of untested (often untestable) claims. However, it's not true of all spiritual traditions or approaches. It is more common in what might be called "vulgar spirituality," or Oprah-style feel-good spiritual pablum.

And even in its most popularized form, this approach to life does offer some benefits. For one thing, it makes many people happier than they might otherwise be -- not an insignificant matter. For another, it may put people in touch, at least glancingly, with higher spiritual truths that have sustained human beings for thousands of years. Admittedy, these truths are presented in an adulterated and dumbed-down version; still, that's better than nothing. Isn't it? 

Selfish—because the ‘inner-turn’ drives us away from concerns with the material; so much so that being preoccupied with worldly matters is somehow portrayed as tawdry or shallow. It’s no accident that we see the wealthy and celebrities drawn to this very capitalist form of religion: most of the world realizes that material concerns do matter. I don’t believe that we find ourselves and meaning via an inner journey. I’m not even sure I know what it means. While of course there is course for introspection and self-examination, this, I argue, has to be in a context of concrete social realities.

Possibly true. New Agery does seem to appeal to people's narcissism, and to encourage it. On the other hand, sometimes immersion in spiritual teachings and experiences can make one a better person. For instance, reading a lot about the life review in near-death experiences can make one acutely aware of how one treats others, and can make compassion and helpfulness seem more important than competitiveness and self-seeking. Kenneth Ring devoted a whole book to this idea, pointing out that even people who've never had an NDE often show spiritual progress after reading or hearing about other people's experiences.

I also think it's hard to argue that hardcore materialists are necessarily better, more caring people than those who are spiritually inclined, even if their brand of spirituality is of the "vulgar" variety. There is an awful lot of angry invective and personal score-settling on the part of the more vocal atheists and skeptics. P.Z. Myers and Penn Jillette are two obvious cases in point. Even skeptic Ray Hyman is on record as saying, "As a whole, parapsychologists are nice, honest people, while the critics are cynical, nasty people." 

So I have mixed feelings about the author's first two points. But it's with his third point that he really loses me. 

Finally, I argue that the dissembling regarding death in most contemporary spirituality—the refusal to face it as the total absolute annihilation of the person and all about them—leaves it ill-equipped to help us truly engage with the existential reality of our own mortality and finitude. In much contemporary spirituality there is an insistence of survival (and a matching vagueness about its form) whenever death is discussed. I argue that any denial of death (and I look at the longevity movements briefly too) is an obstacle to a full, rich life, with emotional integrity. Death is the thing to be faced if we are to really live. Spirituality seems to me to be a consolation that refuses this challenge, rather seeking to hide in the only-half-believed reassurances of ‘spirit’, ‘energy’, previous lives, and ‘soul’.

Although I agree that longevity movements are problematic, overall I find a raft of difficulties with this analysis.

First, Webster is apparently unaware that there is, in fact, a considerable body of empirical evidence pointing to postmortem survival. Those who maintain this belief are not necessarily "dissembling" or refusing to face facts, as he assumes. In many cases they have been persuaded by reading about, or directly experiencing, phenomena that do not readily lend themselves to any other explanation. One might even argue that the materialists' unwillingness to properly address this mass of evidence is indicative of their refusal to face facts. 

Second, having lived as both an atheist with no belief in an afterlife, and as a theist with a pretty strong belief in an afterlife (though not an absolute certainty), I can't agree that the former approach represents healthy, vital living, while the latter entails a cramped, bloodless existence. I felt considerably less grounded, less alive, and more pessimistic, unhappy, and simply empty in my atheistic days than I do now. Many other people report the same thing. Again, look at NDErs -- typically, they find themselves living life more joyfully and with more zest and courage than they did before their experience. And this change of attitude is not simply a result of surviving a close call with death. According to their own accounts, it is their personal conviction of life after death (derived from the NDE) that gave their lives a new direction and purpose. Indeed, when you contrast the energy of NDErs and other spiritually inclined types with the exhausted ennui of stridently secular cultures, it seems that spirituality has a definite edge. 

But don't tell David Webster. By way of demonstrating his commitment to "a full, rich life, with emotional integrity," he just might punch you in the face.  

Everyday insanity

Yesterday I learned that there may be an effort by members of my condominium association to remove a tree that stands directly outside my unit. When I woke up today, the first thing I found myself thinking about was the tree. The more I thought about it, the more exercised I became. I could not stand the thought of losing the tree. I spent most of the day dwelling on the problem, envisioning various strategies to protect the tree, and considering fallback positions if the tree should in fact come down. I put in a work order to have some groundcover cleared away by the landscaping crew so as to determine whether the root system of the tree poses any threat to the sidewalk or nearby driveway. I called a tree surgeon to arrange an appointment so I could get an expert opinion on the health of the tree and whether it ought to be removed. I was so distracted by this problem that I found it difficult to work, even though I'm overburdened with projects at the moment and have several deadlines I'm trying to meet.

And then at some point in the evening, a little ray of clarity broke into the turbulence of my thoughts. I found myself thinking, What the hell, man? It's only a tree.

At that point, I was able to step outside of my emotional connection to the tree, my feeling that any attack on the tree was an attack on me personally, my egoic attachment to this tree which is an extension of my home and therefore an extension of myself. That's not to say I was suddenly okay with the prospect of the tree coming down, if it is in fact healthy and not posing a threat to the sidewalk, etc. But at least during this period of clarity I was no longer fuming and obsessing.

Later, I happened to look out the window at the tree, and the simple sight of it immediately brought back a lot of the rage, frustration, and exasperation I'd been feeling. I could easily have gotten caught up in another whirlwind of negative thinking if I hadn't consciously pull back.

What this little episode illustrates, I think, is a simple point that has been made often enough by Eckhart Tolle and similar writers, but remains insufficiently appreciated–namely, the ego is insane.

I mean this literally. There is a sane part of us, but it is not the ego. The ego is capable of lucidity when lucidity serves its self-defined interests. But it is equally capable of brazen irrationality when irrationality serves its perceived interests. It is also very adept at disguising irrationality and making it appear perfectly sensible, at least to ourselves, and sometimes to others.

The ego is not our friend. The ego is looking out only for itself. The ego wants to enlarge itself, and it does so by getting us worked up, angry, righteous, obsessed, vindictive, frustrated, and defensive, among many other things. Occasionally it may actually be beneficial for us to experience one or more of these states of mind, but most of the time it is not helpful. Not helpful to us, that is. It is very helpful to the ego.

It is true that most of us identify with the ego and have trouble drawing a distinction between the "I"  and the ego. And that's just the way the ego likes it. The more we identify with it, the more power we give it and the less able we are to resist its siren song. People who are totally in the grip of the ego, without any ray of clarity from the higher self or true self, are psychotic. They may be walking around in public, they may be successful in their field, they may even be admired and envied, but they are still psychopaths.

It is entirely possible for a person to be very successful in a material sense, outwardly normal and even likable, and still be, in fact, insane. Actually, I think this state of affairs is more common than we like to admit.

But all of us have an ego, and all of us are insane to one extent or another. Maybe there are a few very enlightened gurus who have overcome the ego completely, though I wouldn't count on it. But the overwhelming majority of human beings on the earth, and probably every human being you or I will ever meet, is in the grip of the ego much of the time, and therefore is functionally insane for a good part of his or her life.

People wonder why they see so much cruelty in the world, so much craziness, so many examples of man's inhumanity to man. But if you consider that nearly all of us are insane at least part of the time, and many of us are insane most of the time, the cruelty, craziness, and inhumanity of the human species is less surprising. To be honest, it is a little surprising that things aren't even worse. The better angels of our nature do seem to temper our egoic tendencies more often than we might expect.

Lately on this blog, I've been talking a lot about manias, and specifically the idea that the heyday of Spiritualism as a cultural, social, and religious movement may have been characterized by an atmosphere of mania, or perhaps more accurately, by recurrent waves of mania erupting at different places in different times, not unlike the witch hysteria of an earlier era. But how can otherwise rational people become subject to any sort of mania? Well, perhaps they can't; but the trouble is, people are not “otherwise rational.” As creatures of the ego, they are insane for a good part of their lives, so it's not surprising that their individual insanity should sometimes coalesce into a group insanity, and that this insanity should seem perfectly reasonable to the people who are subject to it.

That's why I have to treat with skepticism even the most sober accounts of séances and other purportedly paranormal experiences if they were supplied by people whose rationality and objectivity had been compromised either by excessive personal enthusiasm or the larger insanity of a mass movement. These people were convinced that they had witnessed paranormal or supernatural phenomena of epochal importance. Naturally they became intensely committed to the reality of what they had seen. Their commitment was reinforced by sharing their experiences with others who felt they had seen the same things. This commitment became an extension of the ego, and any attack on that commitment–any questions raised about the validity of the phenomena–were felt as an attack on the ego. And the ego will go to astounding lengths to protect itself from such an attack. It will marshal all of its resources, including all of the intellectual capabilities of the mind it is using (and I do think the ego uses the mind, not in a symbiotic relationship but parasitically;  the ego is, in a sense, an alien entity that clings to the mind in order to sustain itself).*

A mind that has been hijacked by the ego can believe itself to be entirely lucid, objective, even unusually perceptive–while spouting sheer nonsense. Some behavioral psychologists use the term “thought attack” to describe the cascading avalanche of irrational thoughts that can lead to severe anxiety, depression, violence, etc. But all ego-based thinking is a thought attack to some degree. And while we are caught up in it, we are no more able to extricate ourselves from our racing thoughts than from a descending mountainside of snow.

I think we need to keep this in mind when we evaluate any eyewitness accounts or recollections of paranormal events, especially those from the frenetic halcyon days when Spiritualism, like Revivalism before it, was burning like a prairie fire across the nation. Again I have to say: the ego is not our friend. It is not interested in truth or facts or even logic and reason, except as these may be used to serve its own purpose, which is to survive and grow stronger. The ego is not a reliable guide. It will intentionally mislead us if, by leading us astray, it can aggrandize itself. The ego is not honest or rational or moral, though it may speak in the language of reason and morality when it pleases.

The ego is really the devil in us all, the original sin that taints us. We ignore it at our own risk. And nowhere is this more true than when matters of ultimate spiritual significance–the nature of life and death, and the meaning of it all–are at stake.

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*It's possible that the relationship orginally was symbiotic, i.e., mutually beneficial, but it does not seem to fit that description today. At the very least, the relationship seems to do much more harm than good in modern society.