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Eternal Lives, Eternal Deaths
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Chapter 2
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Chapter Two
A New Science of the Mind
To establish a new science of the mind – a type of science that is qualitatively different from the materialist paradigm – we will need to choose new assumptions, so that we can move out towards new frontiers of what can be studied (new subject matter). In order to do that, we will also need to change the very methods by which science is conducted – as we’ll see, that will require us to radically rewire how we think and how we acquire new knowledge (new epistemology).
1. New Assumptions
Our investigations into the various anomalies of consciousness, which cannot be explained within the current materialist paradigm, have yielded two new assumptions that could form the framework of a new paradigm.
We have seen that the assumption of matter being primary and producing consciousness was not useful for understanding phenomena such as near-death or out-of-body experiences. To study the mind and the psyche, it would be much more useful to assume that consciousness is primary and that all matter is derivative of consciousness. In this framework, consciousness is the fundamental substrate from which the world emerges and through which it evolves. This evolution, in contrast to the random biological evolution posited by materialist life sciences, occurs through the choices made by living beings throughout their lives. Thus, the 1) primacy of consciousness and the 2) evolution of consciousness should be considered the two fundamental assumptions upon which a science of the mind would be most effectively built.
It is important to note that the consciousness-based paradigm proposed here is not dualistic in nature. It is not merely acknowledged that there are non-physical, spiritual or mental phenomena in addition to physical things, but it is assumed that the whole world is derived from consciousness. Reality is seen as a mental product, like a virtual reality brought into being by information processing. Thomas Campbell, a physicist who worked closely with Robert Monroe designing sound technologies to induce out-of-body experiences, proposed such a paradigm. In his book, My Big TOE (Theory of Everything), he describes the universe as a virtual reality created by a Larger Consciousness System (LCS), of which we, as individual consciousnesses, are ‘avatars.’ Physical reality is designed to facilitate consciousness interaction and development (evolution). Campbell’s modern, virtual reality theory is a contemporary example of the consciousness-based paradigm, which has its historic precedents, most notably in Hinduism and Buddhism. In the non-dual Vedic tradition of Advaita Vedanta, the fundamental reality is Brahman, which is pure consciousness, from which the entire universe arises (Maya). Similarly, Buddha taught that ‘it is your mind that creates the world,’ especially Mahayana philosophers of Buddhism, such as Nagarjuna and Asanga, emphasize the primacy of consciousness and the external world as a projection or manifestation of the mind. Similarly to Campbell’s LCS, the storehouse consciousness taught in the yogic school (Yogacara) is considered the fundamental layer of consciousness from which all experiences arise.
To embrace the consciousness-based paradigm does not mean condemning materialism. We are neither verifying nor falsifying either worldview, we are only judging their usefulness for different subject matters. We may think of a blind man and a deaf: neither of them can access the full spectrum of human perception, but their respective senses allow for specific uses. The blind man may not make a decent painter, but could be an exceptional musician – making melodies the deaf man won’t hear, but who can paint vibrant shapes and colours. We would not want engineers who build bridges or airplanes to root their thinking in the consciousness-based paradigm (or any other form of idealism), but in the same way, we do not want psychologists to root their thinking in materialism. This mistake has been made in the past, but now, times are changing. Now, we move forward into multidimensional realms, studying death, out-of-body experiences, and past lives.
We have seen that the assumption of matter being primary and producing consciousness was not useful for understanding phenomena such as near-death or out-of-body experiences. To study the mind and the psyche, it would be much more useful to assume that consciousness is primary and that all matter is derivative of consciousness. In this framework, consciousness is the fundamental substrate from which the world emerges and through which it evolves. This evolution, in contrast to the random biological evolution posited by materialist life sciences, occurs through the choices made by living beings throughout their lives. Thus, the 1) primacy of consciousness and the 2) evolution of consciousness should be considered the two fundamental assumptions upon which a science of the mind would be most effectively built.
It is important to note that the consciousness-based paradigm proposed here is not dualistic in nature. It is not merely acknowledged that there are non-physical, spiritual or mental phenomena in addition to physical things, but it is assumed that the whole world is derived from consciousness. Reality is seen as a mental product, like a virtual reality brought into being by information processing. Thomas Campbell, a physicist who worked closely with Robert Monroe designing sound technologies to induce out-of-body experiences, proposed such a paradigm. In his book, My Big TOE (Theory of Everything), he describes the universe as a virtual reality created by a Larger Consciousness System (LCS), of which we, as individual consciousnesses, are ‘avatars.’ Physical reality is designed to facilitate consciousness interaction and development (evolution). Campbell’s modern, virtual reality theory is a contemporary example of the consciousness-based paradigm, which has its historic precedents, most notably in Hinduism and Buddhism. In the non-dual Vedic tradition of Advaita Vedanta, the fundamental reality is Brahman, which is pure consciousness, from which the entire universe arises (Maya). Similarly, Buddha taught that ‘it is your mind that creates the world,’ especially Mahayana philosophers of Buddhism, such as Nagarjuna and Asanga, emphasize the primacy of consciousness and the external world as a projection or manifestation of the mind. Similarly to Campbell’s LCS, the storehouse consciousness taught in the yogic school (Yogacara) is considered the fundamental layer of consciousness from which all experiences arise.
To embrace the consciousness-based paradigm does not mean condemning materialism. We are neither verifying nor falsifying either worldview, we are only judging their usefulness for different subject matters. We may think of a blind man and a deaf: neither of them can access the full spectrum of human perception, but their respective senses allow for specific uses. The blind man may not make a decent painter, but could be an exceptional musician – making melodies the deaf man won’t hear, but who can paint vibrant shapes and colours. We would not want engineers who build bridges or airplanes to root their thinking in the consciousness-based paradigm (or any other form of idealism), but in the same way, we do not want psychologists to root their thinking in materialism. This mistake has been made in the past, but now, times are changing. Now, we move forward into multidimensional realms, studying death, out-of-body experiences, and past lives.
2. New Subject Matter
The anomalies we studied (consciousness beyond the brain, consciousness beyond death, life after life) take us into realms – like crossing a magical threshold – where the laws of physics no longer seem to apply. Floating out of your body? Communicating with dead relatives? Hearing conversations while you are dead? It all sounds impossible, but as the iconic book-title by Stanislav Grof When the Impossible Happens suggests, the ‘impossible’ tends to happen when the nature of consciousness is explored open-mindedly. This does not mean that the laws of nature as hitherto discovered should be considered invalid, but rather that new layers of reality are waiting to be discovered.
In his illuminating book Flatland, Edwin Abbott presents a brilliant allegory that demonstrates how the world can appear vastly different when viewed from other dimensions. The fable begins in two dimensions, where tiny folks of geometrical figures (triangles, squares, and lines) live on a flat surface. All they can experience are two dimensions. They can only move ahead and back, left and right, but they aren’t able to go up and down. Certain things we would tell them from our higher (third) dimension would sound like mystical mumbo-jumbo to them. For instance, if we claimed that we could always see them, even inside their houses – which are merely squares to us – they would find it baffling. Likewise, if we placed three fingertips on their flat surface, they would perceive only three separate dots and struggle to grasp that these dots are interconnected as parts of the very same hand. Even if we lifted one of them out into our 3D space and then returned them to their world, conveying the truth they saw to their fellow Flatlanders would be extremely challenging – just as we have been told by mystics of all ages that ‘everything is interconnected’ yet such statements remain unintelligible from our usual, 3D point of view.
To make phenomena ‘intelligible’, i.e. accessible from our 3D perspective, the study of consciousness within the old paradigm has been strongly reductionist. Psychology – as Erich Fromm remarked – ‘became a science lacking its main subject matter, the soul.’ (Psyche (ψυχήí) in Ancient Greek means both ‘soul’ and ‘mind’.) It does so because in order to fulfil the scientific criteria of objectivity, reproducibility, and measurability, subjective experiences were dismissed. Parapsychology, on the other hand, attempted to squeeze subjective, multidimensional experiences to fit the criteria of the materialist methodology, doing an even greater disservice. As we will see below, a new paradigm, with a new subject matter requires a new methodology.
Consciousness or mind science will not be based on objective, reproducible measurements, as it will need to include personal experiences and subjective qualities. We must not strive to copy natural ‘hard’ sciences, rather find a unique way to conduct systematic observations which do lead to empirical model-making – but also allow for taking the observer’s consciousness and subjective experiences into account.
Let us now take the challenge and see how the methodology (epistemology) for a science of consciousness could be constructed – surely, we will need to open our minds to new and unexpected avenues.
In his illuminating book Flatland, Edwin Abbott presents a brilliant allegory that demonstrates how the world can appear vastly different when viewed from other dimensions. The fable begins in two dimensions, where tiny folks of geometrical figures (triangles, squares, and lines) live on a flat surface. All they can experience are two dimensions. They can only move ahead and back, left and right, but they aren’t able to go up and down. Certain things we would tell them from our higher (third) dimension would sound like mystical mumbo-jumbo to them. For instance, if we claimed that we could always see them, even inside their houses – which are merely squares to us – they would find it baffling. Likewise, if we placed three fingertips on their flat surface, they would perceive only three separate dots and struggle to grasp that these dots are interconnected as parts of the very same hand. Even if we lifted one of them out into our 3D space and then returned them to their world, conveying the truth they saw to their fellow Flatlanders would be extremely challenging – just as we have been told by mystics of all ages that ‘everything is interconnected’ yet such statements remain unintelligible from our usual, 3D point of view.
To make phenomena ‘intelligible’, i.e. accessible from our 3D perspective, the study of consciousness within the old paradigm has been strongly reductionist. Psychology – as Erich Fromm remarked – ‘became a science lacking its main subject matter, the soul.’ (Psyche (ψυχήí) in Ancient Greek means both ‘soul’ and ‘mind’.) It does so because in order to fulfil the scientific criteria of objectivity, reproducibility, and measurability, subjective experiences were dismissed. Parapsychology, on the other hand, attempted to squeeze subjective, multidimensional experiences to fit the criteria of the materialist methodology, doing an even greater disservice. As we will see below, a new paradigm, with a new subject matter requires a new methodology.
Consciousness or mind science will not be based on objective, reproducible measurements, as it will need to include personal experiences and subjective qualities. We must not strive to copy natural ‘hard’ sciences, rather find a unique way to conduct systematic observations which do lead to empirical model-making – but also allow for taking the observer’s consciousness and subjective experiences into account.
Let us now take the challenge and see how the methodology (epistemology) for a science of consciousness could be constructed – surely, we will need to open our minds to new and unexpected avenues.
3. New Methodology
It is in the nature of opposing paradigms that they are mutually incommensurable: The new paradigm cannot be proven or disproven by the rules of the old, and vice versa. This is an extremely important point that is frequently overlooked: The methodology of the old paradigm cannot work for the new.
Imagine, for instance, if – following the Copernican Revolution – people knew that the Earth revolved around the Sun and not the other way, but would still insist on gaining knowledge with pre-Copernican methods (i.e. finding God’s revelations through interpreting the Bible or expecting Moses to bring down the laws of physics from the Mount Sinai carrying a stone tablet). It sounds ridiculous, but the same happens today whenever someone wants to study consciousness with the methods of the materialist paradigm, by conducting experiments and applying the criteria of objectivity, controllability, and reproducibility.
Here, I would like to present three thought experiments to illustrate the absurdity of applying the methods of the materialist paradigm to the study of consciousness.
Thought Experiment Nr. 1: The Scientist’s Dream (Challenging Objectivity)
Let’s think that a scientist goes to sleep at night and dreams about conducting an experiment. Will he be able to use the results of this experiment later on, after he has woken up? Of course not, since the experiment itself was not conducted in an objective reality ‘out there’ but was the product of the scientist’s nightly mind.
Within the consciousness-based paradigm, our entire reality – nightly as well as daily – is seen as derivative of consciousness. Reality is not seen as objective as hitherto assumed. The observer’s consciousness has an influence on the perception of reality. The thoughts, sentiments, and energies of the person will co-create the results. Rupert Sheldrake calls this the ‘illusion of objectivity’ which can be most challenging to accept for those scientists who have invested much in the old paradigm. After all, if they cannot objectively observe phenomena, what is it they can rely on? For their peace of mind, we must note that the old, objective methods still work in 3D reality and can continue to be of use for physical sciences. Consciousness researchers, however, shall only conduct experiments if they treat the consciousness of the experimenter (and the subjects) as one of the variables.
Thought Experiment Nr. 2: The Scientist’s Cat (Challenging Reproducibility)
The following thought experiment has originally been created by physicist Erwin Schrödinger in 1935 and has become widely known as Schrödinger’s cati. The famous setup is as follows: A closed box contains a cat and a deadly device that is switched on randomly. The main question theoretical physicists wanted to answer since the 1920s was related to the state of the cat in the container. How can one correctly describe the state of the cat before any measurements are done? It turns out that the only consistent treatment of this problem necessitates two new concepts, previously unknown in physics. First, the correct description of the cat is a superposition of two states, namely ‘the cat is alive’ and ‘the cat is not alive.’ Only the sum of these two states allows one to describe the system correctly. Second, it is only the observation that decides, whether the cat is alive or not. This means that the observation process does change the state of the cat, since the sum of two states (‘alive’ plus ‘dead’) has now collapsed to a single state (‘alive’ or ‘dead’). In other words, observation does change the system.
If experimental results depend on the consciousness of those who perform it, the experiment will only be reproducible by persons whose consciousness (thoughts, sentiments, and energies) are of a comparable quality. Consciousness of a different quality would produce different results. This challenges the classic scientific criterion that a valid experiment must be reproducible by any third- party researcher. Within the consciousness-based paradigm (where the quality of the experimenter’s consciousness is a variable) events will only be reproducible for those with a similar quality of consciousness and – inevitably – not by others.
As an example of this, we have experiments in parapsychology that produced promising results while conducted by sensitive and believing individuals, yet failed when repeated with the participation of opposing sceptics. When interrogation specialist Cleve Backster from the CIA came to the idea of attaching a polygraph (lie detector) to one of his office plants, he noticed a change in the electrical resistance whenever he harmed or just intended to harm the plant. Backster interpreted this primary perception in plants as evidence that plants can feel and have an ability comparable to human extrasensory perception (ESP), such as telepathy. However, when Backster’s experiment became subject to the MythBusters television show (2006) on Discovery Channel, no effects in plants could be registered. Does that prove that plants have no primary/telepathic perception, or could it mean that two different types of consciousness (Backster, on the one hand, who sensitised himself to his plant, and the television sceptics, on the other hand, who explicitly aimed at ‘busting the myth’) produce different results?
Thought Experiment Nr. 3: The Scientist’s Table (Challenging Measurability)
Following up on the ideas of Edwin Abbott about Flatland, let us think of a scientist who has a table upon which the 2D beings (like triangles and circles) live. Suppose this scientist lifts a few of these beings out into space but then puts them back on the table. Now, these beings, having gained some awareness of higher dimensions, attempt to measure space in their two-dimensional world. Since their world lacks one of the three necessary coordinates for measuring volume (height) their efforts to directly measure space would inevitably be futile.
Similarly, if we apply the criterion of measurability in a multidimensional context, we will inevitably run into limitations and make errors. We cannot expect scales of a lower dimension to effectively measure phenomena in higher, unknown dimensions. For instance, one common difficulty in describing near-death experiences arises from the fact that time behaves differently in different states. During life review experiences, events often seem to flash by simultaneously, illustrating how our understanding of time and its measurability can be fundamentally limited by our dimensional perspective.
Imagine, for instance, if – following the Copernican Revolution – people knew that the Earth revolved around the Sun and not the other way, but would still insist on gaining knowledge with pre-Copernican methods (i.e. finding God’s revelations through interpreting the Bible or expecting Moses to bring down the laws of physics from the Mount Sinai carrying a stone tablet). It sounds ridiculous, but the same happens today whenever someone wants to study consciousness with the methods of the materialist paradigm, by conducting experiments and applying the criteria of objectivity, controllability, and reproducibility.
Here, I would like to present three thought experiments to illustrate the absurdity of applying the methods of the materialist paradigm to the study of consciousness.
Thought Experiment Nr. 1: The Scientist’s Dream (Challenging Objectivity)
Let’s think that a scientist goes to sleep at night and dreams about conducting an experiment. Will he be able to use the results of this experiment later on, after he has woken up? Of course not, since the experiment itself was not conducted in an objective reality ‘out there’ but was the product of the scientist’s nightly mind.
Within the consciousness-based paradigm, our entire reality – nightly as well as daily – is seen as derivative of consciousness. Reality is not seen as objective as hitherto assumed. The observer’s consciousness has an influence on the perception of reality. The thoughts, sentiments, and energies of the person will co-create the results. Rupert Sheldrake calls this the ‘illusion of objectivity’ which can be most challenging to accept for those scientists who have invested much in the old paradigm. After all, if they cannot objectively observe phenomena, what is it they can rely on? For their peace of mind, we must note that the old, objective methods still work in 3D reality and can continue to be of use for physical sciences. Consciousness researchers, however, shall only conduct experiments if they treat the consciousness of the experimenter (and the subjects) as one of the variables.
Thought Experiment Nr. 2: The Scientist’s Cat (Challenging Reproducibility)
The following thought experiment has originally been created by physicist Erwin Schrödinger in 1935 and has become widely known as Schrödinger’s cati. The famous setup is as follows: A closed box contains a cat and a deadly device that is switched on randomly. The main question theoretical physicists wanted to answer since the 1920s was related to the state of the cat in the container. How can one correctly describe the state of the cat before any measurements are done? It turns out that the only consistent treatment of this problem necessitates two new concepts, previously unknown in physics. First, the correct description of the cat is a superposition of two states, namely ‘the cat is alive’ and ‘the cat is not alive.’ Only the sum of these two states allows one to describe the system correctly. Second, it is only the observation that decides, whether the cat is alive or not. This means that the observation process does change the state of the cat, since the sum of two states (‘alive’ plus ‘dead’) has now collapsed to a single state (‘alive’ or ‘dead’). In other words, observation does change the system.
If experimental results depend on the consciousness of those who perform it, the experiment will only be reproducible by persons whose consciousness (thoughts, sentiments, and energies) are of a comparable quality. Consciousness of a different quality would produce different results. This challenges the classic scientific criterion that a valid experiment must be reproducible by any third- party researcher. Within the consciousness-based paradigm (where the quality of the experimenter’s consciousness is a variable) events will only be reproducible for those with a similar quality of consciousness and – inevitably – not by others.
As an example of this, we have experiments in parapsychology that produced promising results while conducted by sensitive and believing individuals, yet failed when repeated with the participation of opposing sceptics. When interrogation specialist Cleve Backster from the CIA came to the idea of attaching a polygraph (lie detector) to one of his office plants, he noticed a change in the electrical resistance whenever he harmed or just intended to harm the plant. Backster interpreted this primary perception in plants as evidence that plants can feel and have an ability comparable to human extrasensory perception (ESP), such as telepathy. However, when Backster’s experiment became subject to the MythBusters television show (2006) on Discovery Channel, no effects in plants could be registered. Does that prove that plants have no primary/telepathic perception, or could it mean that two different types of consciousness (Backster, on the one hand, who sensitised himself to his plant, and the television sceptics, on the other hand, who explicitly aimed at ‘busting the myth’) produce different results?
Thought Experiment Nr. 3: The Scientist’s Table (Challenging Measurability)
Following up on the ideas of Edwin Abbott about Flatland, let us think of a scientist who has a table upon which the 2D beings (like triangles and circles) live. Suppose this scientist lifts a few of these beings out into space but then puts them back on the table. Now, these beings, having gained some awareness of higher dimensions, attempt to measure space in their two-dimensional world. Since their world lacks one of the three necessary coordinates for measuring volume (height) their efforts to directly measure space would inevitably be futile.
Similarly, if we apply the criterion of measurability in a multidimensional context, we will inevitably run into limitations and make errors. We cannot expect scales of a lower dimension to effectively measure phenomena in higher, unknown dimensions. For instance, one common difficulty in describing near-death experiences arises from the fact that time behaves differently in different states. During life review experiences, events often seem to flash by simultaneously, illustrating how our understanding of time and its measurability can be fundamentally limited by our dimensional perspective.
New Methods for a New Science - Expanded Knowledge Systems
If, however, the methodology of the materialist paradigm cannot be used to study consciousness, the great question arises: What methods do we have to discover consciousness?
We are looking for an approach that is not based on the criteria of objectivity, reproducibility, and measurability but still delivers scientific explanations of the nature of reality. This would be science in a wider sense: a systematic, empirical framework that allows for the making of self-consistent models, while it includes subjective, qualitative experiences and even knowledge that may come from non-cognitive sources. It would be a science of the mind.
While working out a new methodology will not happen overnight and must be the collective effort of whole generations of new paradigm researchers, fortunately, we have historical precedents to learn from. In the following, we shall look at some of these expanded knowledge systems, in which subjective phenomena have been systematically studied, sometimes even beyond cognition.
Knowledge Acquired through Meditation, Altered and Expanded States of Consciousness
When it comes to developing a science of the mind, one of the most sophisticated historic precedences can be found in Tibet – the ‘inner science civilisation par excellence,’ as Robert Thurman called it. Buddhist tradition – in stark contrast to religions elsewhere – discourages blind faith and subjects every aspect of reality, inner or outer, to careful analysis and critical scrutiny. ‘Doubt it, don’t just accept it’ the Buddha himself taught. For centuries, in the monastic universities of Tibet, utmost attention was dedicated to the inner sciences: understanding the mind, to transform one’s mental habits and perceptions as a way out of suffering.
Tibetan Buddhist methodology is based on direct experiences that come from introspection and meditation. Different mental states and phenomena thus observed are subjected to rigorous philosophical debate and analysis in order to frame theories and concepts. Knowledge thus gained is considered valid when the theoretical insights find alignment with personal meditation experiences through integration. This is a constant feedback loop that allows for the development of inner processes, so that the mind, by learning about itself, continues to evolve.
The dialectic debating culture makes Tibetan mind science a highly developed system of logic; yet, its depths cannot be communicated through cognitive concepts alone. If we, for instance, read through Tsongkhapa’s Six Yogas of Naropa, we find instructions on how to gain lucidity in the dream state (ultimately preparing for gaining lucidity in death). Some of the instructions may not be accessible with direct logic, like visualising the Tibetan letter A at the throat chakra before falling asleep. Yet, if we consistently practise just that, our dream life is beginning to change, and we get access to knowledge that was previously unreachable. Through the practice, our consciousness changes in a way that new knowledge can flow in. This is an example of a system where (along with other contemplative practices) various meditation practices and the resulting altered states of consciousness carry information.
The Western world began to take meditation more seriously during the 1960s, notably through the pioneering work of Herbert Benson from Harvard University. He experimented on the effects of transcendental meditation on heart rate, discovering the adverse effects of stress and the beneficial effects of relaxation on the body. He found that mind and body form a single system: The mind, through meditation, can bring about the relaxation response in the body and contribute to its healing. His work also marks the beginning of the current paradigm war: When Benson first published his book The Relaxation Response, he experienced much hostility. It was ‘considered scientific heresy for a Harvard physician and researcher to hypothesize that stress contributed to health problems.’ Since then, we can notice a shift in the paradigm, as now, half a century later, the correlation between stress and various illnesses is widely acknowledged.
Other astonishing effects of meditation – like the ability of Tibetan gTum-mo practitioners to dry wet sheets on their naked backs in freezing temperatures – also indicate that the meditation experience can be strongly related to the body.
Knowledge Carried Through Bodily Awareness and Movement – Kinaesthetic Knowledge
In the Western scientific tradition, all knowledge is expected to be cognitive: Only the brain is thought to process information. In contrast, many of the ancient systems involve the body and all its emotional, energetic dimensions in the process of gaining new knowledge. Tibetan Buddhism itself, for example, has its roots in the Yogic traditions of India, where body postures (mudras) are taught to effect not only the musculoskeletal system but the flow of prana (life force energy) through the body.
In martial arts traditions, students are often taught a predefined, detailed, and precisely choreographed sequence of movements called kata in Japanese, which are still practised in dojos all around the world, understood as tools to train combat moves. However, as Buddhist martial arts teacher, Hayashi Tomio, explains, these movement sequences were traditionally much more than that. Kata were ‘kinaesthetic treatises’ in which old masters left their knowledge about subtle energies embedded. The workings of subtle energies could not be put into words, hence they were taught through bodily movements that would give the student direct and systematic experiences thereof. In this system – similarly to other martial arts, such as TaiChi and Aikido, as well as various yogic and tantric practices – knowledge was developed kinaesthetically. Instead of verbal or mathematical theories, movement and bodily awareness carried information.
Fortunately, Western psychology is slowly but surely rediscovering the importance of all the information that is stored and processed in the body. There is a thread running through the history of psychoanalytic traditions – initially more hidden, then increasingly visible – concerning the liminal issues between the psyche and the body. Think of Freud’s concept of libido and his idea that suppressed sexual fantasies find somatic expressions in hysteric attacks. This investigation reached an interesting height in the works of Wilhelm Reich, Freud’s eccentric and ingenious student – whose new ideas were so contentious that he brought upon himself a full-blown paradigm war. Towards the end of his life, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration destroyed all his equipment (the so-called orgone accumulators), burned all his books, and Reich was imprisoned for two years. Yet, his legacy remained, especially his concept of body armour is now widely accepted: the idea that psychological coping mechanisms are ‘stored’ in the body in the form of muscle spasms or chronic tension (from rigidity to pain), impeding the flow of energy. In the Reichian tradition, the body is not merely seen as a biological mechanism but as an intelligent system, through which the life force energy flows. Reich called it the orgone energy which is known in various traditions by other names, such as the Chinese chi or qi, the Hindu/Tibetan prana, or Bruno Grönig’s Heilstrom, to name a few. Today, there is a whole movement: the worldwide Embodied Tribe consisting of various practitioners using a range of different methods – from dance movement therapy through hands-on bodywork to (neo)-tantra – all of which work on the basis of mind-body integration.
The subtle energy concept is an excellent example of something that has been discovered and experienced by countless mystics, yogis, and healers throughout the ages. While it remains undetected and unmeasured by scientific instruments, trained or talented individuals can sense it directly. It is vital for understanding consciousness within the new paradigm, where it is assumed that consciousness is not merely a product of the brain, but belongs to a wider field of information potentially connecting all life.
In past life regression sessions, working with the body can be particularly useful, for example, using body sensations to trigger memories or subtle energies to transmute a problematic experience. The information coming through these channels shall not be underestimated. For example, it is transmitted that nothing less than the foundations of relativity theory came to Einstein in an altered state of consciousness, in the form of kinaesthetic sensations in his muscles.
Knowledge Carried through Symbolic Meaning
Many of the consciousness-related anomalies are ineffable, as they reach into dimensions no literal words or direct language can express. Just as a cube (a 3D object) cannot be depicted on a piece of paper (a 2D surface), only a representational drawing of it, higher realities cannot be expressed directly, only by using symbols and metaphors as conduits of meaning.
Historic civilisations that were invested in understanding consciousness and all its afterlife dimensions, often conveyed knowledge symbolically. This may not have only been for secrecy, as commonly assumed, but to express something in this representational, non-conceptual way that cannot be expressed otherwise. John West – based on research conducted by Schwaller de Lubitz – has shown that the Great Temple of Luxor from Ancient Egypt follows the outlines of a symbolic model of the human body. At appropriate places, it highlights the energy points, known today as chakras, along with their evolutionary relevance. According to West, the entire temple is designed to promote understanding. Here, the evocative power of harmonic proportions and symbols carry information.
Symbols carry multifaceted meaning that transcends linear thinking. According to C G Jung, they emerge from the deeper layers of the psyche where they carry not only individual but universal meanings. ‘Eternal symbols’ recur from the collective unconscious that connects all humanity across time and space. Some are so universal that our psyche inherently interprets their meaning, as part of its natural ‘language.’ Imagine, for instance, that you are invited to a wedding, where they serve a round cake. The universal symbolism inherent in the shape of the circle fits well to the occasion: It represents wholeness, unity, the divine order (think of the halo around saints and angels) and the healthy psychological Self. It would almost be impossible to imagine a wedding with a half-circle or a broken-circle shaped cake: That would instantly evoke an eerie sense of unease among the guests, signalling disruption or incompleteness, especially in the context of a wedding where unity and harmony are key themes.
Symbols, as well as their variations, distortions, and aberrations are studied in various contexts of psychotherapy. Inner images, as for instance evoked in katathym-imaginative therapy, can reveal internal states, conflicts, fragmentations, or unresolved trauma. (As a simple example, a meadow – symbolising the internal landscape – can be lush, green or dry, deserted, immediately conveying a sense of contentment or depression. A river – symbolising the flow of life and life force energy – can be fresh and clear, signalling vitality or murky, indicating a difficult or chaotic emotional state.) Specific symbols can represent multilayered content – their meaning is not fixed but changes and evolves with the individual. A tree can simply signify a type of plant, or the tree of life, representing the shamanic universe with its tripartite structure of underworld (roots), middle world (stem), and upper world (branches reaching towards the sky). Even more subtly, it can represent the structure of the human psyche that is also rooted in the physical, but grows through life up towards higher worlds (roughly corresponding to the Freudian es, ego, super-ego). In Jewish mysticism Sefirot, the tree of life, ‘grows’ from the foundational level of base instincts (Yesod), through the Self (Tiferet) towards the spiritual realms of divine will (Keter), thus reaching the higher multidimensional worlds, no literal words can penetrate.
With symbols we can also reach into the recesses of the psyche, which may be inaccessible to the conscious mind. If we assign symbols to psychic contents that cannot be fully fathomed (for example, conflicting parts), new, hitherto unexplored aspects can emerge and present themselves for transformation. Helpers, inner resources, positive memories, values, goals, and visions can all be expressed and anchored into the consciousness through symbols.
Knowledge Carried through Synchronistic Events
Symbols are not the only elements of the psyche’s non-linear language. According to Jung’s acausality principle, synchronicities occur in ways that seem to defy Aristotelian logic. These meaningful coincidences occur when an inner event (for instance, a patient telling about a dream of a scarab) coincides with an outer event (a similar insect appearing at the window of the therapy room) in a way that it holds great meaning. (In this particular case, Jung’s patient was so caught up in Cartesian-rational thinking that it hindered her therapeutic progress. When Jung opened the window and grabbed the insect to present her the scarab from her dreams, it broke her resistance and catalysed a therapeutic breakthrough.)
Synchronistic events are characterised by holding deep significance for the experiencer, while escaping explanations through causal logic. The rational mind is bound to exclaim in disbelief: What are the chances that an insect such as from a dream would come by the window and fly into the therapy room? To which the psyche replies: All I know is... that it has happened and I was transformed by the experience. You tell me: how can such deep transformation occur by mere coincidence?
Synchronicities are yet to be explained scientifically but if we revisit our Flatland analogy, we can gain some insight into their nature. Imagine, you place three fingertips on the flat surface where the two-dimensional Flatlanders live. Your hand, a three-dimensional object, will appear as three separate dots in their dimension. If you remove your hand, all three dots will disappear simultaneously. The Flatlanders may suspect a connection, as they all disappeared simultaneously but they will not be able to explain the correlation – only observe it. Something similar may be happening in cases of synchronicity: Even if we don’t see the connection from our dimension, we can detect that it did not happen by mere chance, because of the co-occurrence and meaning it holds.
Symbolic meaning and synchronicities are not things we can understand within the contemporary mainstream paradigm. Yet, they hold great therapeutic and evolutionary value, hence need to form an important part of our investigation into the nature of consciousness. They point beyond our current limits of comprehensibility – exactly the realm where a new paradigm is meant to take us.
Knowledge Induced Through Landscape Setting
Among indigenous peoples, notably the Aboriginals in Australia, we can find sophisticated, holistic systems of knowledge embedded in the landscape. The Songlines or Dreaming-tracks are invisible pathways which meander all over Australia, kept in oral tradition through song and dance. Songlines weave together knowledge about geography (like oral maps, with each verse corresponding to a specific geographical feature), ecology (information about local flora and fauna), legal and social matters (such as boundaries, land ownership, kinship, and alliances), even astronomy (with some songs corresponding to star constellations or celestial events). The system, however, holds much more than merely encyclopaedic knowledge. Songlines are organic parts of the living landscape, created when the Ancestral Beings walked and dreamed the world into existence during the Dreamtime. The Songlines connect the indigenous people to the original, creative consciousness, as well as the living energy and knowledge inherent in the landscape. Like for the Quechua people in Peru who talk about vivas rocas (living rocks), not only flora and fauna, but waters, rivers, rocks are seen as being alive and as sources of inherent knowledge.
Here, in the Northern Highlands of Hungary, where I write, a visiting friend once observed the landscape – like at countless other sites of the Earth – to be covered in a kind of cultural permafrost. Though invisible, this permafrost prevents us from connecting with the deeper layers of the land that lie beneath layers of political and cultural sediment. Just as the true core of our Self is often concealed beneath layers of trauma, conditioning, and limiting beliefs, human civilisation has also left its deposits upon the land. Yet, these layers can be removed. Just as we can gradually free ourselves from the effects of trauma and dysfunctional conditioning through inner work, so can we clear our perception to reconnect with the primordial archetypal essences of the landscape.
Where the landscape is pure and primal, we can begin to feel the genius loci, the intelligent consciousness living in various features of the Earth. We all know sites that exude a mystical aura waiting to resonate with a dormant, wild, and ancient part of our soul, ready to awaken. Such sites, like Stonehenge in England, Newgrange in Ireland, or the subterranean halls of the Hypogeum in Malta enable us to cross through a veil into a world beyond logic, beyond right or wrong, good or bad, light or dark. The genius loci communicates with us through a universal code older than language, whispering to us without words a truth… that our lives have a greater purpose than being ‘human resources’ in a machinery serving corporate profit. At these landscapes set in mystery we are reminded that we are part of a much greater whole, to which we belong, unconditionally.
Knowledge here is embedded in natural symbols and settings. As a paragon, here in the Northern Highlands of Hungary, we can find some mysterious rock sites, where small niches were carved into volcanic rock. Historically, their age and origin remains unknown. Local tradition calls them Beehive Stones, on the basis of a once popular theory according to which these niches were remnants of medieval bee-keeping. If we, however, explore these sites with an open sensitivity, a multidimensional reality opens up and the impression becomes clear that they were not created for any practical purpose, such as making honey. We see that the rocks were not chosen randomly: The ancients have selected many of the towering shaped volcanic rocks, that reach upwards like ancient ziggurats, built to reach heaven. Like dancing dervishes, spiralling upwards, these sites were built as portals, perhaps for the dead, perhaps for the living to remain connected with a realm that transcends time and space. No, these sites were not beehives (to reach some you need Alpinist climbing skills); these are standing witnesses for humanity’s early attempts to connect with the transcendental.
The profound impact landscape settings can have on our mind, must be taken into consideration when we study consciousness, like a variable in physical experiments or a catalyst in chemistry. We have already seen how the ancient Greek psychomanteums were located remotely, at awe-inspiring, subterranean caves, and how their modern revival was set up by Raymond Moody at an old mill where nothing reminded the client of their current reality, so they could fully be immersed in personal memories. A similar approach has been suggested for past life recalls by Wagner Alegretti in his book Retrocognitions. The Brazilian consciousness researcher suggests setting up a retrocognitarium for the purpose of remembering past lives. It would be a room stripped of anything that evokes our current time, instead decorated with timeless objects or artefacts reminiscent of a certain era. While it may not always be possible to set up antique rooms, go deep into caves, or escape our culture, the idea should be embraced: Our environment speaks to us, and if we want to listen to deeper, more eternal truths, we must pull our attention away from radio, television, and mass media. Instead, as much as possible, we must find timeless places, or make our way home into the wilderness, to be among the rocks, the trees, and the stars which remember the eternal things we ourselves want to be reminded of.
Discovering historic precedents to a science of mind and finding its own methodology is of paramount importance. Humanities in general and psychology in particular seem to have suffered from a strange inferiority complex in relation to hard sciences. Psychologies in the 20th century – psychophysics (Fechner, Boring), experimental psychology (Wundt), neuropsychology, behaviourism (Pavlov, Skinner) – were full of attempts to turn psychology into a hard science. However, to work on the psyche with the same methods as on biological cells, tissues, and organs is as unwise as trying to manipulate the hardware of a computer in order to change its software
We need to establish a soft science to study all things related to consciousness. The ideas outlined in this chapter only constitute first attempts: It will take generations of consciousness researchers to collect data, find new methods, and firmly establish a new paradigm. Meanwhile, we must not be shy to conduct research that is likely to appear messy, mainly consist of anecdotal evidence, and a lot of speculative content. Whenever new areas of science are established, the boundaries between art and science will not always be clear – and we must be all right with that. Artists, like Leonardo da Vinci studied and described the flight of birds for centuries, before the Wright brothers could turn the descriptive data into the solid science of building an aircraft. It is necessary to break new grounds first, before more exact studies can be conducted. As we are expanding our investigation into new, multidimensional realms while exploring innovative methods, we must acknowledge that we are in a transitory stage.
The Austro-Hungarian author, Arthur Köstler, who has written a lot to help understand consciousness from a broader perspective, distinguished two styles of creative development: association – working within a rigid set of rules and a confined set of themes – and bi-sociation – a dramatic break with tradition, in order to explore entirely new horizons. Consciousness science is right now in a stage of bi-sociation. It will take generations of consciousness researchers to collect data, find new methods, and establish the paradigm before it can become more regulated.
Until then, we must move through the twilight lands at the boundaries between science and art. The lantern of healthy scepticism should keep us safe from getting lost in the swamps of superstition and with our mind open should we get over the misty mountains of blind belief towards the clear horizon of new, empirical knowledge.
Once the groundwork for a soft science of consciousness has been completed, I trust that the paradigm war will come to peace. At that point, it will become evident that the materialist and consciousness-based paradigms are not mutually exclusive but rather complementary, each serving distinct purposes. The ‘old’ materialist paradigm will remain valuable for studying purely physical phenomena and driving technological progress. At the same time, we will have a non-religious, non-dogmatic, and non-limiting system to investigate the cycles of life and death, allowing us to better understand the reasons behind our existence.
In the next chapter, we shall embark on a journey through the cycles of life and death, as understood by new paradigm consciousness research. We will weave together teachings of the historic mind sciences, such as Buddhism and yoga, with materials from hypnotherapy sessions as well as interviews with people who had experiences beyond ordinary reality. Prepare, as we take a ride into our leading-edge knowledge about who we are, why we are here, and where we are headed.
We are looking for an approach that is not based on the criteria of objectivity, reproducibility, and measurability but still delivers scientific explanations of the nature of reality. This would be science in a wider sense: a systematic, empirical framework that allows for the making of self-consistent models, while it includes subjective, qualitative experiences and even knowledge that may come from non-cognitive sources. It would be a science of the mind.
While working out a new methodology will not happen overnight and must be the collective effort of whole generations of new paradigm researchers, fortunately, we have historical precedents to learn from. In the following, we shall look at some of these expanded knowledge systems, in which subjective phenomena have been systematically studied, sometimes even beyond cognition.
Knowledge Acquired through Meditation, Altered and Expanded States of Consciousness
When it comes to developing a science of the mind, one of the most sophisticated historic precedences can be found in Tibet – the ‘inner science civilisation par excellence,’ as Robert Thurman called it. Buddhist tradition – in stark contrast to religions elsewhere – discourages blind faith and subjects every aspect of reality, inner or outer, to careful analysis and critical scrutiny. ‘Doubt it, don’t just accept it’ the Buddha himself taught. For centuries, in the monastic universities of Tibet, utmost attention was dedicated to the inner sciences: understanding the mind, to transform one’s mental habits and perceptions as a way out of suffering.
Tibetan Buddhist methodology is based on direct experiences that come from introspection and meditation. Different mental states and phenomena thus observed are subjected to rigorous philosophical debate and analysis in order to frame theories and concepts. Knowledge thus gained is considered valid when the theoretical insights find alignment with personal meditation experiences through integration. This is a constant feedback loop that allows for the development of inner processes, so that the mind, by learning about itself, continues to evolve.
The dialectic debating culture makes Tibetan mind science a highly developed system of logic; yet, its depths cannot be communicated through cognitive concepts alone. If we, for instance, read through Tsongkhapa’s Six Yogas of Naropa, we find instructions on how to gain lucidity in the dream state (ultimately preparing for gaining lucidity in death). Some of the instructions may not be accessible with direct logic, like visualising the Tibetan letter A at the throat chakra before falling asleep. Yet, if we consistently practise just that, our dream life is beginning to change, and we get access to knowledge that was previously unreachable. Through the practice, our consciousness changes in a way that new knowledge can flow in. This is an example of a system where (along with other contemplative practices) various meditation practices and the resulting altered states of consciousness carry information.
The Western world began to take meditation more seriously during the 1960s, notably through the pioneering work of Herbert Benson from Harvard University. He experimented on the effects of transcendental meditation on heart rate, discovering the adverse effects of stress and the beneficial effects of relaxation on the body. He found that mind and body form a single system: The mind, through meditation, can bring about the relaxation response in the body and contribute to its healing. His work also marks the beginning of the current paradigm war: When Benson first published his book The Relaxation Response, he experienced much hostility. It was ‘considered scientific heresy for a Harvard physician and researcher to hypothesize that stress contributed to health problems.’ Since then, we can notice a shift in the paradigm, as now, half a century later, the correlation between stress and various illnesses is widely acknowledged.
Other astonishing effects of meditation – like the ability of Tibetan gTum-mo practitioners to dry wet sheets on their naked backs in freezing temperatures – also indicate that the meditation experience can be strongly related to the body.
Knowledge Carried Through Bodily Awareness and Movement – Kinaesthetic Knowledge
In the Western scientific tradition, all knowledge is expected to be cognitive: Only the brain is thought to process information. In contrast, many of the ancient systems involve the body and all its emotional, energetic dimensions in the process of gaining new knowledge. Tibetan Buddhism itself, for example, has its roots in the Yogic traditions of India, where body postures (mudras) are taught to effect not only the musculoskeletal system but the flow of prana (life force energy) through the body.
In martial arts traditions, students are often taught a predefined, detailed, and precisely choreographed sequence of movements called kata in Japanese, which are still practised in dojos all around the world, understood as tools to train combat moves. However, as Buddhist martial arts teacher, Hayashi Tomio, explains, these movement sequences were traditionally much more than that. Kata were ‘kinaesthetic treatises’ in which old masters left their knowledge about subtle energies embedded. The workings of subtle energies could not be put into words, hence they were taught through bodily movements that would give the student direct and systematic experiences thereof. In this system – similarly to other martial arts, such as TaiChi and Aikido, as well as various yogic and tantric practices – knowledge was developed kinaesthetically. Instead of verbal or mathematical theories, movement and bodily awareness carried information.
Fortunately, Western psychology is slowly but surely rediscovering the importance of all the information that is stored and processed in the body. There is a thread running through the history of psychoanalytic traditions – initially more hidden, then increasingly visible – concerning the liminal issues between the psyche and the body. Think of Freud’s concept of libido and his idea that suppressed sexual fantasies find somatic expressions in hysteric attacks. This investigation reached an interesting height in the works of Wilhelm Reich, Freud’s eccentric and ingenious student – whose new ideas were so contentious that he brought upon himself a full-blown paradigm war. Towards the end of his life, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration destroyed all his equipment (the so-called orgone accumulators), burned all his books, and Reich was imprisoned for two years. Yet, his legacy remained, especially his concept of body armour is now widely accepted: the idea that psychological coping mechanisms are ‘stored’ in the body in the form of muscle spasms or chronic tension (from rigidity to pain), impeding the flow of energy. In the Reichian tradition, the body is not merely seen as a biological mechanism but as an intelligent system, through which the life force energy flows. Reich called it the orgone energy which is known in various traditions by other names, such as the Chinese chi or qi, the Hindu/Tibetan prana, or Bruno Grönig’s Heilstrom, to name a few. Today, there is a whole movement: the worldwide Embodied Tribe consisting of various practitioners using a range of different methods – from dance movement therapy through hands-on bodywork to (neo)-tantra – all of which work on the basis of mind-body integration.
The subtle energy concept is an excellent example of something that has been discovered and experienced by countless mystics, yogis, and healers throughout the ages. While it remains undetected and unmeasured by scientific instruments, trained or talented individuals can sense it directly. It is vital for understanding consciousness within the new paradigm, where it is assumed that consciousness is not merely a product of the brain, but belongs to a wider field of information potentially connecting all life.
In past life regression sessions, working with the body can be particularly useful, for example, using body sensations to trigger memories or subtle energies to transmute a problematic experience. The information coming through these channels shall not be underestimated. For example, it is transmitted that nothing less than the foundations of relativity theory came to Einstein in an altered state of consciousness, in the form of kinaesthetic sensations in his muscles.
Knowledge Carried through Symbolic Meaning
Many of the consciousness-related anomalies are ineffable, as they reach into dimensions no literal words or direct language can express. Just as a cube (a 3D object) cannot be depicted on a piece of paper (a 2D surface), only a representational drawing of it, higher realities cannot be expressed directly, only by using symbols and metaphors as conduits of meaning.
Historic civilisations that were invested in understanding consciousness and all its afterlife dimensions, often conveyed knowledge symbolically. This may not have only been for secrecy, as commonly assumed, but to express something in this representational, non-conceptual way that cannot be expressed otherwise. John West – based on research conducted by Schwaller de Lubitz – has shown that the Great Temple of Luxor from Ancient Egypt follows the outlines of a symbolic model of the human body. At appropriate places, it highlights the energy points, known today as chakras, along with their evolutionary relevance. According to West, the entire temple is designed to promote understanding. Here, the evocative power of harmonic proportions and symbols carry information.
Symbols carry multifaceted meaning that transcends linear thinking. According to C G Jung, they emerge from the deeper layers of the psyche where they carry not only individual but universal meanings. ‘Eternal symbols’ recur from the collective unconscious that connects all humanity across time and space. Some are so universal that our psyche inherently interprets their meaning, as part of its natural ‘language.’ Imagine, for instance, that you are invited to a wedding, where they serve a round cake. The universal symbolism inherent in the shape of the circle fits well to the occasion: It represents wholeness, unity, the divine order (think of the halo around saints and angels) and the healthy psychological Self. It would almost be impossible to imagine a wedding with a half-circle or a broken-circle shaped cake: That would instantly evoke an eerie sense of unease among the guests, signalling disruption or incompleteness, especially in the context of a wedding where unity and harmony are key themes.
Symbols, as well as their variations, distortions, and aberrations are studied in various contexts of psychotherapy. Inner images, as for instance evoked in katathym-imaginative therapy, can reveal internal states, conflicts, fragmentations, or unresolved trauma. (As a simple example, a meadow – symbolising the internal landscape – can be lush, green or dry, deserted, immediately conveying a sense of contentment or depression. A river – symbolising the flow of life and life force energy – can be fresh and clear, signalling vitality or murky, indicating a difficult or chaotic emotional state.) Specific symbols can represent multilayered content – their meaning is not fixed but changes and evolves with the individual. A tree can simply signify a type of plant, or the tree of life, representing the shamanic universe with its tripartite structure of underworld (roots), middle world (stem), and upper world (branches reaching towards the sky). Even more subtly, it can represent the structure of the human psyche that is also rooted in the physical, but grows through life up towards higher worlds (roughly corresponding to the Freudian es, ego, super-ego). In Jewish mysticism Sefirot, the tree of life, ‘grows’ from the foundational level of base instincts (Yesod), through the Self (Tiferet) towards the spiritual realms of divine will (Keter), thus reaching the higher multidimensional worlds, no literal words can penetrate.
With symbols we can also reach into the recesses of the psyche, which may be inaccessible to the conscious mind. If we assign symbols to psychic contents that cannot be fully fathomed (for example, conflicting parts), new, hitherto unexplored aspects can emerge and present themselves for transformation. Helpers, inner resources, positive memories, values, goals, and visions can all be expressed and anchored into the consciousness through symbols.
Knowledge Carried through Synchronistic Events
Symbols are not the only elements of the psyche’s non-linear language. According to Jung’s acausality principle, synchronicities occur in ways that seem to defy Aristotelian logic. These meaningful coincidences occur when an inner event (for instance, a patient telling about a dream of a scarab) coincides with an outer event (a similar insect appearing at the window of the therapy room) in a way that it holds great meaning. (In this particular case, Jung’s patient was so caught up in Cartesian-rational thinking that it hindered her therapeutic progress. When Jung opened the window and grabbed the insect to present her the scarab from her dreams, it broke her resistance and catalysed a therapeutic breakthrough.)
Synchronistic events are characterised by holding deep significance for the experiencer, while escaping explanations through causal logic. The rational mind is bound to exclaim in disbelief: What are the chances that an insect such as from a dream would come by the window and fly into the therapy room? To which the psyche replies: All I know is... that it has happened and I was transformed by the experience. You tell me: how can such deep transformation occur by mere coincidence?
Synchronicities are yet to be explained scientifically but if we revisit our Flatland analogy, we can gain some insight into their nature. Imagine, you place three fingertips on the flat surface where the two-dimensional Flatlanders live. Your hand, a three-dimensional object, will appear as three separate dots in their dimension. If you remove your hand, all three dots will disappear simultaneously. The Flatlanders may suspect a connection, as they all disappeared simultaneously but they will not be able to explain the correlation – only observe it. Something similar may be happening in cases of synchronicity: Even if we don’t see the connection from our dimension, we can detect that it did not happen by mere chance, because of the co-occurrence and meaning it holds.
Symbolic meaning and synchronicities are not things we can understand within the contemporary mainstream paradigm. Yet, they hold great therapeutic and evolutionary value, hence need to form an important part of our investigation into the nature of consciousness. They point beyond our current limits of comprehensibility – exactly the realm where a new paradigm is meant to take us.
Knowledge Induced Through Landscape Setting
Among indigenous peoples, notably the Aboriginals in Australia, we can find sophisticated, holistic systems of knowledge embedded in the landscape. The Songlines or Dreaming-tracks are invisible pathways which meander all over Australia, kept in oral tradition through song and dance. Songlines weave together knowledge about geography (like oral maps, with each verse corresponding to a specific geographical feature), ecology (information about local flora and fauna), legal and social matters (such as boundaries, land ownership, kinship, and alliances), even astronomy (with some songs corresponding to star constellations or celestial events). The system, however, holds much more than merely encyclopaedic knowledge. Songlines are organic parts of the living landscape, created when the Ancestral Beings walked and dreamed the world into existence during the Dreamtime. The Songlines connect the indigenous people to the original, creative consciousness, as well as the living energy and knowledge inherent in the landscape. Like for the Quechua people in Peru who talk about vivas rocas (living rocks), not only flora and fauna, but waters, rivers, rocks are seen as being alive and as sources of inherent knowledge.
Here, in the Northern Highlands of Hungary, where I write, a visiting friend once observed the landscape – like at countless other sites of the Earth – to be covered in a kind of cultural permafrost. Though invisible, this permafrost prevents us from connecting with the deeper layers of the land that lie beneath layers of political and cultural sediment. Just as the true core of our Self is often concealed beneath layers of trauma, conditioning, and limiting beliefs, human civilisation has also left its deposits upon the land. Yet, these layers can be removed. Just as we can gradually free ourselves from the effects of trauma and dysfunctional conditioning through inner work, so can we clear our perception to reconnect with the primordial archetypal essences of the landscape.
Where the landscape is pure and primal, we can begin to feel the genius loci, the intelligent consciousness living in various features of the Earth. We all know sites that exude a mystical aura waiting to resonate with a dormant, wild, and ancient part of our soul, ready to awaken. Such sites, like Stonehenge in England, Newgrange in Ireland, or the subterranean halls of the Hypogeum in Malta enable us to cross through a veil into a world beyond logic, beyond right or wrong, good or bad, light or dark. The genius loci communicates with us through a universal code older than language, whispering to us without words a truth… that our lives have a greater purpose than being ‘human resources’ in a machinery serving corporate profit. At these landscapes set in mystery we are reminded that we are part of a much greater whole, to which we belong, unconditionally.
Knowledge here is embedded in natural symbols and settings. As a paragon, here in the Northern Highlands of Hungary, we can find some mysterious rock sites, where small niches were carved into volcanic rock. Historically, their age and origin remains unknown. Local tradition calls them Beehive Stones, on the basis of a once popular theory according to which these niches were remnants of medieval bee-keeping. If we, however, explore these sites with an open sensitivity, a multidimensional reality opens up and the impression becomes clear that they were not created for any practical purpose, such as making honey. We see that the rocks were not chosen randomly: The ancients have selected many of the towering shaped volcanic rocks, that reach upwards like ancient ziggurats, built to reach heaven. Like dancing dervishes, spiralling upwards, these sites were built as portals, perhaps for the dead, perhaps for the living to remain connected with a realm that transcends time and space. No, these sites were not beehives (to reach some you need Alpinist climbing skills); these are standing witnesses for humanity’s early attempts to connect with the transcendental.
The profound impact landscape settings can have on our mind, must be taken into consideration when we study consciousness, like a variable in physical experiments or a catalyst in chemistry. We have already seen how the ancient Greek psychomanteums were located remotely, at awe-inspiring, subterranean caves, and how their modern revival was set up by Raymond Moody at an old mill where nothing reminded the client of their current reality, so they could fully be immersed in personal memories. A similar approach has been suggested for past life recalls by Wagner Alegretti in his book Retrocognitions. The Brazilian consciousness researcher suggests setting up a retrocognitarium for the purpose of remembering past lives. It would be a room stripped of anything that evokes our current time, instead decorated with timeless objects or artefacts reminiscent of a certain era. While it may not always be possible to set up antique rooms, go deep into caves, or escape our culture, the idea should be embraced: Our environment speaks to us, and if we want to listen to deeper, more eternal truths, we must pull our attention away from radio, television, and mass media. Instead, as much as possible, we must find timeless places, or make our way home into the wilderness, to be among the rocks, the trees, and the stars which remember the eternal things we ourselves want to be reminded of.
Discovering historic precedents to a science of mind and finding its own methodology is of paramount importance. Humanities in general and psychology in particular seem to have suffered from a strange inferiority complex in relation to hard sciences. Psychologies in the 20th century – psychophysics (Fechner, Boring), experimental psychology (Wundt), neuropsychology, behaviourism (Pavlov, Skinner) – were full of attempts to turn psychology into a hard science. However, to work on the psyche with the same methods as on biological cells, tissues, and organs is as unwise as trying to manipulate the hardware of a computer in order to change its software
We need to establish a soft science to study all things related to consciousness. The ideas outlined in this chapter only constitute first attempts: It will take generations of consciousness researchers to collect data, find new methods, and firmly establish a new paradigm. Meanwhile, we must not be shy to conduct research that is likely to appear messy, mainly consist of anecdotal evidence, and a lot of speculative content. Whenever new areas of science are established, the boundaries between art and science will not always be clear – and we must be all right with that. Artists, like Leonardo da Vinci studied and described the flight of birds for centuries, before the Wright brothers could turn the descriptive data into the solid science of building an aircraft. It is necessary to break new grounds first, before more exact studies can be conducted. As we are expanding our investigation into new, multidimensional realms while exploring innovative methods, we must acknowledge that we are in a transitory stage.
The Austro-Hungarian author, Arthur Köstler, who has written a lot to help understand consciousness from a broader perspective, distinguished two styles of creative development: association – working within a rigid set of rules and a confined set of themes – and bi-sociation – a dramatic break with tradition, in order to explore entirely new horizons. Consciousness science is right now in a stage of bi-sociation. It will take generations of consciousness researchers to collect data, find new methods, and establish the paradigm before it can become more regulated.
Until then, we must move through the twilight lands at the boundaries between science and art. The lantern of healthy scepticism should keep us safe from getting lost in the swamps of superstition and with our mind open should we get over the misty mountains of blind belief towards the clear horizon of new, empirical knowledge.
Once the groundwork for a soft science of consciousness has been completed, I trust that the paradigm war will come to peace. At that point, it will become evident that the materialist and consciousness-based paradigms are not mutually exclusive but rather complementary, each serving distinct purposes. The ‘old’ materialist paradigm will remain valuable for studying purely physical phenomena and driving technological progress. At the same time, we will have a non-religious, non-dogmatic, and non-limiting system to investigate the cycles of life and death, allowing us to better understand the reasons behind our existence.
In the next chapter, we shall embark on a journey through the cycles of life and death, as understood by new paradigm consciousness research. We will weave together teachings of the historic mind sciences, such as Buddhism and yoga, with materials from hypnotherapy sessions as well as interviews with people who had experiences beyond ordinary reality. Prepare, as we take a ride into our leading-edge knowledge about who we are, why we are here, and where we are headed.