origin of the Idealist philosophy. He correctly reported in the Parable of the
Cave that if we have limited information, we have limiting beliefs about
reality.
Aristotle, Plato’s student, contrarily proposed that only information derived from the normal senses enters the mind. This idea was picked up and refined to allow supernatural intervention by Thomas Aquinas, which became the prevailing philosophy of the Roman Catholic Church for cen- turies. As the dominant force in the West, the Thomistic structure of logic provided the rationale for flat-Earth and geocentric beliefs of the period. Ecclesiastic power provided justification for the persecution of opponents; thus, learning was controlled by Western theology for centuries.
After undergoing subtle changes and refinements, Thomism reached full fruition as a result of the dualistic philosophy of Rene Descartes early in the 17th century. Spirit and matter, Descartes concluded, were of two independent, noninteracting realms. Interaction between the two was lim- ited to the transitory indwelling of the “soul” in humans and an occasional “miracle” of supernatural origin. Being a renowned philosopher and mathematician within the Church, his conclusion of dualism legitimized research into physical phenomena without ecclesiastic oversight.2
But soothsayers and witches could still be persecuted, as their abilities were demonic, and neither human nor divine. So it was in this spirit of tolerance that science and religion began to progress down separate paths. Today the policy of noninterference and peaceful coexistence is still at the core of our Western thinking, in spite of differing fundamental assump- tions and mainstream scientific discoveries of this century that point to the need for integration. It is apparent that characteristics attributed only to the spirit world are likely inherent in matter itself—ephemeral, inter- connected, ubiquitous, and creative. And it is equally important to point out that many known characteristics of evolved matter are the same as those that would be needed in a spirit world—existing, sensing, thinking, reasoning. Although Plato and Aristotle stand at the head of a divided road separating internal and external sensing, it was Aquinas, and then Descartes, who perpetuated and accentuated the division into two separate realms of mind and matter. But mind and matter are not separate realms; rather, two inseparable aspects of a single evolving reality. They are, essen- tially, dyadic.
For the past three centuries Newton has served as the bedrock of Western scientific thought. His intellectual foundation rests upon the Cartesian duality, which has allowed a materialist philosophy to arise, and with it epiphenomenalism, the doctrine that consciousness is a byproduct
of the laws of physics and biology. All theologies, on the other hand, pre- sume that consciousness—god consciousness, at least—is the preeminent, fundamental “stuff” from which the universe is structured. In the most radical of theological views, matter itself is but an illusion. Thus the peace- ful coexistence between classical science and theology has had its roots for 300 years in a seemingly fundamental conflict about the nature of consciousness.
But science has finally probed deeply enough into the structure of matter to discover only two things: empty space and energy. And even the empty space is now believed to possess an energy—vacuum energy, or what is also referred to as the zero-point field. The zero-point field is defined as the field of quantum fluctuations that exists at a temperature of absolute zero and fills all space. It has also been interpreted as that field of energy that underlies and is in dynamic exchange with all matter. This is the basic, infinite, unstructured quantum potential from which existence arose. Even if the quasi-steady-state theorists are correct, and matter is continuously created in numerous galactic clusters rather than the single point of cre- ative origin called the big bang, the field of quantum fluctuations still underlies existence of all matter. Thus, everything we know (and every- thing we don’t) arose (or arises) from the zero-point field of energy. (Some writings use the term nuether.)
Beyond the range of observation available with modern instruments, nature still appears to be, for the time being, ineffable; which is to say, it is not completely describable. However, work continues unabated to dis- cover measurable properties of the zero-point field and to observe very high-energy interactions of particles. But we’ve discovered that matter is interconnected nonlocally and “resonates” in same mysterious manner throughout the entire universe, and that patterns repeat themselves as though a template were being used over and over again at different fractal scale sizes. To top it all off, there seem to be basic feedback loops that suspiciously resemble the process of learning. Such abstract descriptions of nature, however, are constructs of the human mind, and have existence only within the vault of our own consciousness. In other words, they may or may not be accurate models of what nature is actually doing. After all, the mind itself is an evolving product of nature. Only by testing our maps against the territory of nature, as technology evolves to permit it, can we become more certain of reality.
To reveal the nature of mind while simultaneously probing the mind of nature requires a single, interconnected, interactive approach quite different from that of Descartes, Newton, and Einstein. Science has en- tered the realm where the abstract, ineffable, and ubiquitously intercon- nected prevail—the realm previously dominated by theology alone. But we can no longer keep the two separate in our thinking: Matter, which has
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been considered the real reality, is at its bottom nothing but empty space containing energy—a mental abstraction; and mind, which has been con- sidered undependable, ethereal stuff, is our only source for discovering “reality.” Together they point to nature as being but a single reality, yet one with two related aspects: physicality and mentality—or, in other words, existence and knowing.
The evolutionary process that created everything we know provided us with six sensors to receive information from the external world. One of the sensors is an internal “feeling,” which is still ill-defined scientifically. The feeling sense in humans is clearly associated with intuitive processes, subconscious memories, nonlocal perception of information, and of course, internal evaluation of the state of physical well-being. But beyond this meager description there has been little detailed analysis in scientific lit- erature. Even modern medicine, after asking where it hurts, promptly loses interest in this sense (psychiatry excepted). Fortunately, in the last few years, biology and medicine are now seriously investigating below the traditional level of chemical functioning of the body to uncover the un- derlying electromagnetic and quantum processes.
I came to realize that the internal feeling sense is likely the most an- cient and primitive of an organism’s information management processes, likely originating with nonlocal resonances at the molecular and cellular level of simple organisms. Before linguistic capabilities were well devel- oped in early humans, we already had the capacity for this feeling sense, creativity, imagination, and problem-solving. The evidence lay in the fact that animals far less complex than ourselves respond to internal feelings. We call it instinct, but it is nevertheless an internal sensation that drives the horse to seek water. Visualization, creativity, and problem-solving are all required to create tools, cooperate in the hunt, or to organize socially— all of which are observed in the animal world, even in species far removed from the primates, our nearest evolutionary kin. This is clearly indicative of an inner life of significance in all species, well before the linguistic period of humans. So we can infer that primitive humans, and likely all animals with a brain, have an internal representation of the external world. As language was developed, words were created to represent certain inter- nal pictures. We often think these labels are actually attached to the world around us, but complications arise by this way of thinking, as there is then a tendency to believe that they represent the absolute meaning of things. Our names for objects and ideas are only descriptions of our internal rep- resentations. We only know what the world outside the vault of conscious- ness looks like; how it tastes, smells, sounds, and feels. But we don’t know what it actually is. Our sensory information only provides a limited set of clues as to what lies beyond the domain of our selves.3
Tens of thousands of years after developing the spoken language, hu- mans learned the value of the written symbol. Written symbols represent the symbols of the spoken language, which in turn map the images and thoughts the mind/brain creates. Human communication, both oral and written, is then reintroduced (fed back) through the senses into the thought process to create another cycle of internal visualization and thinking. A tangled hierarchy of symbolism results from this nonlinear feedback pro- cess, which is really just a hierarchy of information. Unless care is taken to note the sources of information, it becomes a jumbled mix, an alphabet soup. Art and music are interpreted emotionally with prelinguistic func- tions, bypassing this jumble.
Nevertheless, the mind attempts to imbue this jumble with meaning, to rearrange it, make sense of it all. The rational, thinking portion of the brain wants it to form a logical, coherent, and consistent structure. The rational, thinking function of the brain very likely evolved specifically to help manage this tangled hierarchy of verbal symbolism. The mind makes connections and gives meaning in its effort toward rationality. But the “reasonable” structure that one brain creates is not necessarily the same as what another creates, which gives rise to the vastly different interpreta- tions we humans give to the same events. We often find other “reasonable” structures totally unreasonable, and here you have the root of all human disagreement and conflict. The brain creates internal consistency and or- der, not absolute consistency and order.
Today we know that our reasoning process begins in the frontal lobe of the left hemisphere, which is a more recent accomplishment of the evolutionary process. The linguistic developments likely accelerated a need for self-reflection and critical analysis, which emerged only a few millen- nia later. When we use our well-honed intuition, we call into play the extensive pattern recognition and holistic functions of the right brain, somewhat independent of the messy reasoning and language processes. We err when we attach absolute significance to the symbolic representa- tions presented to the internal screen of our awareness, either rational or intuitive. We also err, as did Descartes, when we assume that our internal states evolved differently than those of our animal cousins.
Our human descriptions of external reality are a culturally defined consensus on the meaning of the images and symbols central to that cul- ture. Such consensus is arrived at through the exchange of informational symbols. Therefore, “knowing” is just a meaning (another internal label) we attach to information when there is a feeling of certainty about the assigned meaning of that information. But additional information can eas- ily invalidate our knowing. This is why our better judgment prompts us to seek the second opinion, or to seek independent validation.
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Having studied the physical and the mystical simultaneously, I saw parallels emerge from the data, similar patterns of structure between religions and this new brand of physics. They are subtle, but nevertheless there.
The origin of all religion is rooted in the mystical experience. From the earliest Shamans and tribal medicine men, humans of all cultures have discovered that under certain conditions one can seemingly perceive in- formation from beyond the immediate environment (nonlocally).1
With the help of ritual to allow the mind to transcend the mundane, the Shaman can see with the eyes of an eagle and discover the approach of an enemy. He or she can commune with buffalo and assure the success of a hunt, and resonate with the flora to discover healing herbs. In my travels through the years I’ve had the privilege on many occasions to visit with Native American medicine men, the Kahuna of Hawaii, Shamans of the South American tribes, and Voodoo priests of Haiti.
What I’ve learned firsthand is that the similarity in their understand- ing of these extended human capabilities is remarkable, though not coin- cidental. The differences are in the cultural metaphor and the details of the rituals they use—rituals that spring from the environmental setting of the people. That is to say, the differences in attaining altered states of consciousness are superficial, but the cultural mindset, interpretations, and ritual that spring from their traditions may be vastly different.
When I met with the Kahuna of the Pacific islands a few years ago, I noted how they greeted me with easy smiles. Their manner of movement and thought seemed to reflect a harmonious kinship with the land and sea of their lush tropical islands. One evening I spoke with a few of the older natives who told me of what they call the “psycho-navigation” techniques of their ancestors. Generations ago they crossed vast ocean distances in
frail boats, and unerringly found small islands using their knowledge of wind, sky, and sea—but mostly by using their finely honed intuitive skills. They spoke most easily of kind and loving spiritual connections to all life as fundamental to their existence. This is reflected in their graceful, sen- sual dances, and the feasting of their ceremonies and celebrations.
Similarly, the Native American Shamans of the Southwest tribes em- phasize the interdependent relationships of nature, with rituals of purifi- cation for the mind and body before calls upon the spirit world for insight, guidance, and sustenance. But their land was more harsh and foreboding. Likewise, their demeanor expressed a more stoic and determined aspect toward life, the spirit world, and the rituals that help bring them together. The dances and rituals of supplication seem to have a greater intensity and urgency in this harsher land. Among the Voodoo priests of Haiti, the fre- quent mood changes in blood-letting rituals and animal sacrifices speak of a more foreboding side of the psyche. The malevolent spirits are to be appeased and enlisted in the human struggle for survival, and then safe passage for the soul through the terrors in the afterlife. Dances that express emotional abandonment, and the inducement of trance states, cre- ate an electric aura of mystery and dark otherworldliness among the ritual participants.
But they all have in common the belief that the visions perceived in trance and dreams are exactly what they appear to be—assistance, ob- tained through either benevolence or supplication, from a spirit world. Great effort is made through sacrifice, ritual, and offerings to maintain that cooperative relationship with natural spirits, usually for the same rea- sons and with the same sense of commitment that prompted Abraham to offer his son Isaac as a sacrifice to Jehovah, as recorded in the 22nd chap- ter of Genesis. The fundamental notion is to keep the spirits happy at all costs, as they are more powerful than we. Visions of this interior world are just as real and important as physical events on the exterior. And one leads into the other. Religion may be described as the exoteric cultural inter- pretation of the esoteric mystical experience, which arises from within the pre-linguistic functions of the brain.
The interpretation, or meaning, of the mystical experience began to change noticeably from uncritical acceptance to examination, analysis, and understanding, in four different cultures in the sixth century BC. Phi-
losophy arose.
Under the influence of Lao Tse in China, Gautama Buddha in India, Zoroaster in Persia, and the early Greek scholars, critical analysis took hold. Within decades of one another, each began to question indepen- dently the nature of the inner experience. And like the parable of the four blind men examining the tail, leg, ear, and trunk of an elephant, each
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culture emphasized a different aspect of the whole, though there is re- markable agreement as to the virtues required for the well-lived life.
The Taoist approach observes the interconnected fabric of the whole of existence, and emphasizes placing oneself in harmony with the move- ments in nature. The followers of Buddha learn to control the inner expe- rience through disciplines of the mind and detachment from physical desire. Zoroaster learned to harness the power of intentionality to influence the course of natural events, producing followers of great influence. From Zoroastrian Persia came the Magi to Jesus’s birth, presumably sorcerers of great capability, from which came our term magician. The Greek scholars concentrated on the rational thinking capabilities of the mind, though it is believed that Socrates was also an adept in the Zoroastrian school in Persia before reaching eminence on his own in Athens.
These four great schools of thought, when taken together, complement each other and contribute to a broader understanding of the capabilities of the mind and consciousness. All are required to help complete the picture. This evolutionary sequence clearly suggests that our emotional responses to any information certainly preceded development of the intellect. And emo- tion may be considered as an energetic response to an internal feeling.
In the Middle East another extraordinary development had already taken place. Here the Hebrews had consolidated the early Shamanistic reliance upon multiple natural spirits and deities into a single deity with the forbidden proper name YHWH. Of course, the Semitic culture that produced the Hebrew tradition later spawned Christianity and Islam, both of which center around the idea of a single omniscient, omnipotent, creat- ing, anthropic god.
As I studied the similarities and the complementary features of the world’s mystical traditions, it occurred to me that the mystical encounter by Abram of Ur, later Father Abraham, with the one omnipotent source of creation, might have been an esoteric insight presaging the idea of conscious energy as the single source of existence. Steeped in the tribal Shamanistic tradition of prior centuries, however, his insight was interpreted, given literal meaning, and explained as external, otherworldly, and anthropic. Today we might interpret it as an internal vision.
A radically different explanation for the one-God concept is found in the writings of Zecharia Sitchin, a Sumerian scholar. Though largely ig- nored by other Middle Eastern scholars, Sitchin’s translations suggest that the account in Genesis of creation is an abbreviated version of tablets